Hot Deal (Hot Billionaire Daddies #6) - Suzanne Hart
Prologue
Ella
Six months ago
I’m sitting at a bar in Soho, London. I don’t usually do this sort of thing; it doesn’t fit my budget. I’ve been backpacking through Europe for the last two months and it’s not like I have a lot of money to spare. Neither am I a big drinker. I don’t like the way alcohol makes me feel—nervous and jittery and overconfident at the same time. When I want to chill, I usually spend the evening in the common rooms of whichever hostel I’m staying at for the night. There are always people hanging around there, playing music or board games.
Tonight, however, on my last night in London, I’ve decided I actually want to experience the nightlife. Because, why not?
I don’t know if I’ll ever be back here again. This could be my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m twenty-two, and that is what your twenties are for, right? Before the big career and the responsibilities kick in.
That reminds me of Rodney, and I clutch my martini glass a little tighter. I don’t want to think about him. This trip has been good for me. I’ve been thinking about him less every day. I take a sip of the martini and the bitter taste distracts me again. It feels like I’ve just gulped a mouthful of fire.
I splutter and cough, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. Why did I have to order this damn thing? I should have just stuck to wine coolers.
How ridiculous would that make me look?
I am in one of the coolest spots in the whole world. I even pulled out a cocktail dress from the back of my bag. I actually spent money getting the dress steamed for tonight. I spent ages on my makeup and hair. All this effort will be completely ruined if I order a wine cooler right now.
But maybe…just one. Do they even have them here?
I straighten my back, trying to get the attention of the overworked bartender who is at the other end of the counter. I’ve picked a bar that isn’t particularly hopping with a heavy crowd, but the music is loud and there are way too many people ordering at the counter than there are sitting down.
The bartender looks in my direction, and I wave a hand enthusiastically at him. He looks away, purposely ignoring me. I think I even saw an eye-roll. Wow!
“You must be American,” I hear a voice beside me. I haven’t noticed there’s someone sitting next to me, right at my elbow.
I look over and make eye contact with him for the first time. He has thick dark hair that’s styled with a swirl on top. Handsome. Chic. He’s in a dark sweater and formal looking pants. He has a sharp well-maintained beard. Piercing blue eyes. He’s much older than me.
“Yes, is it that obvious?” I finally manage to say. We’ve both been studying each other.
Even though I’ve been sitting at this bar, I wasn’t planning on making conversation with anyone. I just planned on getting a drink or two, then making my way back to the hotel. I have a train to catch at noon tomorrow that’s going to take me to Edinburgh.
“Most people here ignore the bartenders, especially the women, forcing them to come over for their orders. Only an American would wave the way you did. Just seconds away from cooing yoo-hoo.” As he speaks, the corners of his lips curl. He has a sexy smile. I’m riveted by the perfect symmetry of his face, but I find his words offensive.
“Are you saying I’m making a fool of myself?” I snap.
“Steady there, cowgirl. I’m just pointing out the differences between Americans and Europeans.”
“Maybe we’re not afraid to ask for what we want.” I have my eyes narrowed at him. He has a deep voice and a richly refined accent. I haven’t been able to place where he is from exactly.
“You can put down the whip. I’m American too. I’m not trying to attack you,” he says. He’s still smiling. If he’d just stop smiling like a handsome devil, I’d be able to focus on making cracking comebacks.
“Sure sounded like an attack,” I say and tear my gaze away from him. Now I see the bartender making his way towards us. My waving worked! Hah. But I can’t order a wine cooler now. Not while this smart-ass is sitting right next to me.
“I apologize. You successfully got his attention,” the man speaks up beside me.