Dr. Griffin wants me. I can tell that much. But she's so bloody determined to deny her attraction to me. That only makes me want her more. One way or another, I will convince her to tell me her first name. I have to. Calling her Dr. Griffin will get old fast.
Now that I've found my car, I drive back to my flat. Rick chose it for me, so naturally, it's the size of Buckingham Palace, though it doesn't come with butlers or any sort of lackeys who might bow down before me. Not sure I'd like having lackeys, anyway. And all right, I admit the flat isn't quite as big as Buckingham Palace. I exaggerated for effect, though it is too big for one bloke who hasn't gotten a leg over with a bird in months and probably won't anytime soon.
Bloody hell.
I arrive at my temporary home feeling hungry for more than food. Yes, I'm thinking about my sexy adviser and all the ways I'd love to help her loosen up. Maybe I'll even offer her a "special" massage.
No, you ruddy moron, you won't do that.
Since I've already been painted as a gigolo, why shouldn't I act like one?
Because I'm trying to save my business, that's why. My employees back home are counting on me for their livelihoods. I have to behave like a mature adult. Most of the time. Even a businessman gets time off for good behavior, though I prefer my time off to involve bad behavior.
With Dr. Griffin.
I take the elevator up to my third-floor flat and unlock the door with my keycard. Yes, my brother set me up with a flat that has high-tech security, not boring old keys you have to stick into the slot and turn. How can anyone be bothered with that these days? Once I'm inside, I kick off my boots and drop onto the couch, propping my feet on the coffee table.
Then I ring my brother.
"What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?" Richard asks the second he picks up the call, without even saying hello first.
"Trouble? Me?" I make a derisive noise. "I'm a perfect angel."
"A fallen angel, maybe." Rick's tone turns serious. "How are you, Nick? Did our plan work?"
"Do you mean the plan where I flee the country and hide out in the desert, far from everyone and everything I know? Yes, it worked brilliantly."
"Are you homesick?"
"No. I'm…adjusting. That's the best I can do."
He sighs. "I'm sorry. Wish I could do more to help you out of this mess."
"Why are you apologizing? You didn't start the rumor that ruined my life." I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, to calm my nerves. "Those lawyer mates of ours are working on it. I'm sure things will settle down soon, and Lady Prescott will find another way to amuse herself."
I have no idea what "it" is, but I do know Chance Dixon and Rory MacTaggart have joined forces to search for a legal remedy to my problem. Would suing the so-called lady who slandered me help at all? Probably not.
Rick and I talk for a few more minutes, but it's seven hours later over there. We say goodbye so my brother can crawl into bed with his lovely American fiancée, Maddie Solberg. Richard had been a workaholic until he met her, and Maddie had been work-obsessed too. Now, they both are doing exactly what they want when they want and taking plenty of time off to enjoy their shared life.
Sometimes I envy Rick. He has a perfect life these days.
Of course, he did suffer through a legal battle with a duplicitous author and wound up settling the suit rather than fighting it. I know he's gotten past all that. Maddie played a big part in helping him cope and build the life he wanted, with her. I don't see myself getting married, but it would be nice to… I don't know. Find a bit of what Richard has.
But I don't have a woman like Maddie, so I toss a frozen dinner into the microwave and eat it while watching a bloody awful reality show on the telly. Then I go to bed. At nine o'clock.
In the morning, I get dressed and drive to campus. Today, I've chosen clothes that might impress Dr. Griffin more than my jeans and Arsenal shirt had. Maybe she doesn't like football. She liked me dressed that way—I could see it on her face—but it's obvious she thinks I'm a tosser who doesn't take school or work seriously. This morning, I intend to prove her wrong. What is my ensemble for the day?
A light-grey suit without the tie, a light-blue shirt, and black Oxford shoes.
I hope Dr. Griffin likes my outfit.
Why on earth do I care?
Because I'm impressing the woman I plan to seduce. If I can't get a proper cuppa in this country, I can at least have a proper shag.
This time, I make a note of which lot I parked in and which space. They have numbers on the parking meters, so it isn't too difficult to make sure I won't lose my car today.What a sodding moron you are.Yesterday, I was. This morning, dressed like a gentleman who's posh but not uptight, I am ready for action.
Every woman I pass glances at me with appreciation.