Page 1 of Eluding the Billionaire
Chapter one
Katie
Present Day
Thefastintercitytraincuts through the lush green fields of the English countryside, speeding toward London. I’m on my way back from a weekend visit with my old school friend, Sarah. She’s still one of my best friends and lives in Bath, one of my favorite places in England.
The weekend was fun. Sarah is always the life of the party and wouldn’t allow anything less. Yet I still remain gloomy.
This weekend, I wasn’t in the mood for flirting with random, hot, single guys, even if Bath does seem to have more than its fair share. It’s probably one of the reasons Sarah enjoys living there so much.
My head dips sideways to rest against the cold glass of the train window while I continue to stare unseeingly at the blur of passing scenery. The slight vibration as the train zooms along the tracks is, in a strange way, soothing with the consistency of the unbroken rhythm. My eyes drift closed, and my mind wanders off along a well-trodden path of self-reflection.
I haven’t felt much like dating for a while, and it wouldn’t take me long to work out exactly when things changed. When everything shifted.
I do love living in the UK, in particular, London, with a historic building down every street, a pub around every corner, and the loyal team I’ve built in the new office. Carlson Publishing might be the family business, but my stepdad and stepbrother Hunter, who is the new CEO, don’t give me a free ride.
It took a leap of faith for them to agree to let me head up the fledgling London office of our publishing company nearly one year ago now. My stepdad wanted to wait for me to get more experience before throwing me into the deep end. It’s not that he doesn’t trust in my abilities, but more that he’s overly protective of me, like all the males in my family. I have three stepbrothers who take their protective roles seriously. Hunter is the oldest, Blake is in the middle, and Logan is only a few months older than me. Something he never lets me forget.
Hunter was the one who convinced my stepdad to give me a chance. He’s my strongest advocate but also the most protective of my three brothers. It’s just the way he’s wired. He has always taken care of us like it’s his life’s mission. He’s the one we ran to as kids when we were scared. The one we still go to when we have a problem.
I miss being able to wander into Hunter’s office in Manhattan for a chat. His office door was always open to me.
More than that, I miss living in Midtown. It was so cool living across the hall from Logan, with Hunter’s penthouse just an elevator ride away. Even Blake, who doesn’t work for Carlson Publishing, had a place that was only one block’s walk from us.
It’s funny how, in my rush to leave the protective bubble of my loving family, I never considered how much I would miss them. The holiday season can’t get here soon enough. In a couple of weeks, I’ll be back in Manhattan for the Carlson Christmas Charity Gala, where I’ll get to see them all again.
I release a heavy sigh, and a foggy circle momentarily appears on the train window. I wish it was just a case of being homesick that caused my somber mood. No, my unusually despondent outlook can mostly be blamed on a man. Not just any man, but a man I can’t get out of my head. A man who sucked out some of the enjoyment of living in London, and what makes it worse is that I let him.
How many months has it been? I mentally count back to when I last saw Drew.
Damn. Five months now. Too long for me to have hope for any kind of future for us, but not long enough to forget him. Not that it’s even an option for me to forget him because in the not too distant future, I will have to face him again for purely business purposes. I’m dreading it which is why I can’t get him out of my head.
I can’t believe that after all this time he’s reached out to me only once via email. A business-related email at that, like we were mere professional acquaintances. There has been no personal contact, and certainly no mention of our last time together when we did a whole heap of very unbusinesslike things.
It’s become increasingly clear with the passing of each week that, for him, it was all about the sex, and none of it meant anywhere near as much as it did to me. I don’t doubt he enjoyed our time together. There was no denying our sexual chemistry, and he did track me down for a repeat. But then nothing since. Even now, my cheeks heat when I remember how easily I fell into him.
Over the intercom of the train comes an announcement that we will be arriving at Paddington Station in thirty minutes, and my eyes pop open. I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket and begin to scan through my work emails wanting to make sure that in the last couple of hours I haven’t missed anything important. But I’m soon distracted by my earlier thoughts of Drew, and I can’t resist rereading his email. Maybe it was churlish of me to reply with equal formality before advising him that I would be passing his request on to my chief editor. Let’s see how he likes being brushed off.
I feel like such a fool for thinking, even for a short time, that we could have been more.
Sarah was right when she said I need to move on. She would know, being that she’s always in and then out of relationships, none of them more than a few months long. With that kind of experience, she’s mastered the art of moving on. I wish I had the same resilience my friend possesses. It’s pathetic to still be stuck on a guy who I’ve only spent a few days with. Especially when he never promised me more than that.
The phone in my hand begins to vibrate with an incoming call and, as if I somehow conjured her up, I see that it’s Sarah.
“Hey, girl. Are you missing me already?” I answer more cheerfully than I’m feeling.
“Of course. But I was really ringing to make sure you haven’t forgotten your promise.” I grimace, glad we aren’t FaceTiming. I was hoping with all the cocktails she drank last night that she wouldn’t remember the promise I made.
A silly promise that was part of a bigger plan to get my spark back. I think it was over our third or maybe fourth cosmopolitan that she said I needed to get back out into the dating world. And I vaguely remember that by the sixth, I was making a pinky promise that I would go on a date within the next week.
I can’t hold back a heavy sigh before replying, “I haven’t forgotten. But I refuse to get on one of those dating apps. Maybe I can ask that guy in the terrace house next door if he wants to go for a drink. Not that I even know his name. We’ve only said hello a couple of times.”
“Good. I want to hear all about it. Remember, I know what you’re like, getting all caught up in your head and constantly overthinking everything. Just do it. Enough of this wallowing in self-pity … I won’t stand for it.” This has me laughing out loud, and a few passengers in the nearby seats turn and stare.
I duck my head and whisper into my cell. “I need to go. We’ll speak soon, and thanks for this weekend.”
I disconnect the call and tap my cell to my head. Why did I promise to date someone? Ireallydon’t want to.
