Chapter 21
By five o’clock, I am more than ready to see William. I have waited all day for this call, for this chance to see him. I grab my iPad, put it in the dock on my desk, and pull up my chair. I access Video Connect, tap his contact button, and request a video connection with him. My stomach does eager flip-flops as I wait for him to accept my call.
And he does.
My heart leaps inside my chest as I see his handsome face, and he smiles the second our connection is made. He looks tired—I can see that by the shadows under his eyes. And, oh my God, is that stubble on his face? I know he is exhausted now, as I have
never
seen him with stubble.
But damn, he looks smoking hot with it.
Really fucking hot.
I quickly drink all of him in, as much as the iPad will let me see. He’s wearing a lightweight khaki-colored sweater and has a T-shirt on underneath it. Oh, God, he’s just so handsome.
And right now this handsome man is waiting for me to speak.
“William!” I cry excitedly. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes, perfectly,” William says, his deep baritone coming through loud and clear. “Can you hear me, Mary-Kate?”
“Yes!” I say, nodding happily. “How are you? William, how are you really? You look exhausted.”
“I am,” William admits, rubbing his hand along his jaw line. “But I am better now that I can see you. Bloody hell, Mary-Kate, I miss you.”
I put my hand toward the screen and he does the same, both of us wishing we could somehow touch each other, but knowing this is the best we can do.
“I miss you, too,” I say. “I miss you so, so much. I hate being in Chicago and knowing you aren’t here.”
“You are wearing your bracelet,” William says, smiling at me.
“I am,” I say happily, holding it up so he can get a good look at it. “Some dashing British man insisted that I have it.”
William grins. “A man of exquisite taste, I can see.”
“Indeed,” I say, laughing. “He has very fine taste.”
“Thank you for wearing a headband,” William says, his eyes flickering sexily at me. “You look fetching as always.”
I touch the black skinny ribbon band in my hair. “Thank you. Perhaps you can help me take it out when you come home,” I say suggestively.
“Indeed,” William says, his eyes flashing. Then he rakes his hand through his wavy hair and a lock of his dark hair falls down across his forehead. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to reach through that screen and push it back into place for him!
“So this is your room?” William asks, and I see his laser eyes looking around me.
I laugh out loud. “I can give you a tour. Hang on.” I remove the iPad from the dock. “Here you are, William Cumberland. My tiny apartment bedroom in Lincoln Park. Don’t get too jealous of my spacious accommodations.”
William laughs, that deep rich laugh that I love so much.
“I shall take that under advisement. All right, details. Tell me how you came up with the interior design for this room. I should know, as I am allowing you to decorate my penthouse. Consider this your portfolio review.”
I laugh so loud I snort, and then he laughs again, too.
“Come on, Peppa, I’m waiting. You should never keep a client waiting, you know.”
I give him a serious look.
“Of course, Mr. Cumberland, how entirely rude of me to make you wait. I do not know if you care to consider extending me the contract after such rudeness,” I say, flirting with him again.
William puts his fingertips in that steeple position against his lips. “I am sure I can think of a way that can be rectified,” he says, his eyes lasering in on mine. “So we can maintain the verbal agreement, you know. So it will be most appropriate to make arrangements for rectifying such rudeness upon my arrival in Chicago, Mary-Kate.”
Oooooooooh, he is so hot when he does that.
“I like your style, Mr. Cumberland,” I say smartly.
William removes his fingertips from his lips. “As I do yours.”
Okay, it is getting really hot in here now. I decide to switch gears before I beg him to let me come to Sydney so I can make out with him like mad in his hotel room.
“Now, shall I show you my functional arrangement of practical, yet entirely decorative décor?”
William laughs. “Please.”
I laugh and show him my vintage blue and white striped wallpapered walls, my upholstered headboard that I made myself with thick white fabric and antique blue buttons, the chambray duvet cover and loads of white and blue floral pillows, the old white book shelves with my favorite cookbooks, and the desk I spray painted and refurbished to match my décor.
I finish the tour and grin at him. “Do you approve, William? Am I to proceed with the project?”
William’s eyes are completely lit up. “You are so talented. Bloody hell, you have vision. It looks like something that should be on the Beautiful Homes Network.”
I blush from his words. “Thank you.”
“And I know you’ll do a brilliant job with the penthouse. In fact, I will let the building know you might be coming in and out to work on the place while I am out. Or if you want to stay there, you can.”
“Stay . . . in your penthouse?” I ask. Immediately I think of his bed. Of sleeping in his bed. Oh, Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I can handle that.
“It might be easier. You wouldn’t have to run back and forth between your apartment and Millennium Park. And you’re closer to the office, too,” William says.
I think of it. Of staying in his place. It would give me more privacy to talk to him when we Video Connect, and I would get a breather from this tense situation with Reese and Emily, too.
And in some small way, I would feel closer to William while he’s so far away.
And that thought seals the deal for me.
“I will,” I say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay, your turn. Show me your suite,” I say. “I want to see what a Presidential Suite looks like.”
William grins. “All right.”
I watch as he takes his iPad and shows me around. Oh. My. God. The suite is utterly stunning. My jaw just hangs open while William gives the tour.
“This is the lounge area,” he says. “You can see the Opera House from here and from the dining room.”
“Holy shit,” I gasp. I see a gorgeous sitting area with a large sofa and a round black coffee table, all with incredible panoramic views of the harbor.
William begins walking into a new room. “Here’s the dining room,” William says. I see a huge table, just huge, with ten chairs around it. “This is where I will be beating my head in negotiations all week.”
I bite my lip. William is going after Snap-shots, a rising star in the photosharing business. He thinks this is an essential cornerstone to the future of his empire, and I know that is why he flew all the way to Sydney to make sure the deal was done.
He shows me a few more things, and finally, he opens the door to the master bedroom.
“This is brilliant,” William says. “Look at this bed!”
I swallow hard. Oh God, help me, it is the sexiest bed I have ever seen. It is a black four-poster king-sized bed, with a sexy, modern linen canopy on top.
And he’s sleeping in that bed.
And it is all I can do to not beg him to let me come to Sydney so I can share that bed with him.
“So that’s all,” William says, turning the iPad around.
I blink, jarred from my thoughts.
“Mary-Kate?” William asks, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say. “I wish I could be there with you.”
“I know,” William says, sinking back down in his desk chair and putting his iPad back in the dock. He rakes both his hands through his hair. “I wish I weren’t even doing this damn Snap-shots takeover.”
“William!” I gasp, shocked. “You wanted this! You said you needed Snap-shots to evolve—”
“That was before,” William interrupts.
“Before what?” I ask, confused.
“It is taking up too much of my time,” William says firmly. “I have a fucking empire, how much more do I need? Why I am I here? Why am I here when I could be—” There is a loud knock on William’s door, interrupting him.
No! No! I want whoever it is to go away! What was William about to say to me?
William furrows his brow. “Bloody hell, hold on.”
Damn it! I bite my lip, willing him to come back after telling the maid he doesn’t need sheets or towels or something.
I can’t see William now, but I can hear him. I hear the door open, and then I hear a woman’s voice.
“Mr. Cumberland, good morning! I know you never take time to eat, so I took the liberty of bringing you breakfast, I hope you don’t mind.”
Oh my God, it is Arabella!
“Ms. Dalton, thank you, but I am really not hungry,” I hear William say.
I hear them come closer. They are now in the living area, and I can see them, but Arabella doesn’t know I am there.
And I begin seething when I see what she is wearing.
Arabella is dressed in a sexy black, bandage-type wrap dress, one that is form fitting and rather much for work. Oh yes. So fucking appropriate for making copies on a Sunday, which is what her tart ass should be doing right now.
“I got a protein power breakfast for you, and some tea with lemon, just the way you like it, Mr. Cumberland,” she says, placing the box and to-go drink container on the coffee table.
“Again, Ms. Dalton, while I appreciate your concern, I am more than capable of getting my own breakfast,” William says firmly.
Yes! William is putting her back in her place and telling her this is not appropriate.
God, I love my man.
“Oh, I know, Mr. Cumberland, but really, I know what you need before these big negotiations. I know better than anybody. We have been together a long time, you and me.”
I want to slap her.
I watch as William’s eyes flicker angrily. I can tell he is done with her and this crap.
“No, Ms. Dalton—” William begins, but Arabella cuts him off.
“You have something on your sweater, Mr. Cumberland,” Arabella says, pointing to his left shoulder.
“What?” William snaps, looking down in distraction.
“There,” Arabella says, moving closer to him.
I watch in horror. If she touches him, so help me I will be on the next flight to Sydney to kick her ass back to England!
She reaches out and lightly flicks her fingertips across his shoulder, picking at a piece of so-called-fluff and brushes it aside.
“There, all taken care of, Mr. Cumberland,” she says, gazing at him with adoration in her eyes. “You know you can count on me to take care of everything. To the smallest detail.”
She is so dead.
Because I am going to kill her.
I watch as William takes a step back from Arabella and folds his arms across his chest. “I am already working,” he says in an icy tone. “I need to get back to
business
.”
“Oh!” Arabella gasps, putting a hand to her chest. “I am so, so sorry, Mr. Cumberland. But we do need to meet sometime this morning to go over the menus and what you want brought up her for the meetings, and at what time you want food delivered.”
“I do not care!” William snaps, going into full-blown irritation mode. “It is
food
. Just make sure you have the right amount and whatever you serve, we will
eat
. Now, please, go to your menu planning and I shall consult with you later about the copies I need made. I am occupied right now with something
extremely important
, and I need for you to leave so I can get back to it
immediately
.”
“Oh. Right,” Arabella says, lifting her chin. “Yes, I will get right on that Mr. Cumberland.”
I am seething as I watch her stand there. Why is she not leaving?
Leave already! I want to talk to my man and you are taking precious time away from us!
“Mr. Cumberland, I cannot help but notice you are extremely stressed,” Araballa says, gazing at him with concern. “I know you need to be at the top of your game tomorrow, so I took the liberty of making a massage appointment for you at the spa this afternoon as a break from your work.”
She is trying to lure him into the spa
!
I want to throttle her. I want to jump through this screen and tell her to stay away from my man.
“What?” William asks, creasing his brow. “Did you really make me a spa appointment?”
“Mr. Cumberland, you must take care of yourself,” Arabella says. “A massage would ease all this tension out of your shoulders. You have to release all this negative energy so you can be at the top of your game for negotiations this week. I made one for myself at the same time.”
She wants to do a dual massage with William. I am so going to explode if she does not get out of his room right now!
William just looks at her, his brow still creased.
“So let me understand correctly, Ms. Dalton,” he says in a very low, very controlled voice, “you think you know what I need and when I need it, is that correct?”
“Well, Mr. Cumberland, you are extremely stressed. I just thought, as your lead assistant, I would take steps to make you feel better to make your job easier. Isn’t that what I am supposed to do?”
“I do not know,” William says. Then he turns and looks right at me. “Let me ask my North American assistant. Ms. Grant, do chime in please. What do you think about that?”