Page 19 of Coming Home

To anyone else who has already skimmed over them, there is nothing amiss, but still, I have a niggle in my stomach. My gut instinct is telling me that there is something wrong with this deal.

The problem is that the numbers that didn’t add up were Uncle Ray’s. The financials from Shaun’s people are solid. Clean, clear, and 100% accurate. But I have found a few discrepancies with Uncle Ray’s. Hidden down so low, where no one would see them. At first, I thought I was wrong. Having looked at these papers so intensely, I was nearly seeing double, but after a few days’ break and reassessing, the issues are still here. I am sure of it. In fact, the documents I looked at last week on another deal also didn’t add up. I am starting to see a pattern, and I don’t like what I have found. I decide that I will talk with Stephen about it.

I pinch the top of my nose. I am in my office at Heatherstone. Sitting in my chair, melting into the soft leather. I put my head back on the head rest. I have an office so I can concentrate and embed myself into a corporate workplace again, to see how it all feels, and if it is something I really want.

Stephen is in the office down the hall, in a foul mood, so I let him have his space. Clearly, his love affair with the model was over and he didn’t take the break-up too well. I don’t want to bother him with what I have found yet; I will give him a day or two to get out of his funk. I have already casually investigated a few people in the finance team, to see if I could gleam any further information. I don’t know if money laundering is commonplace in corporate America, but from where I am sitting, this is what I currently suspect, and it frightens me. Surely, Uncle Ray wouldn’t be mixed up in something illegal. There must be another explanation, I am sure of it.

The office phone rings, and I pick up. “This is Scarlett.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” his voice hums through the phone and tingles straight down my body. I am sure there is no way that a man could make me orgasm just by his voice, but Shaun could be a front runner in that challenge.

“Is that a demand or a request, Mr. Marshall?” I ask as I try to calmly hide my beating heart and panting breaths that have overcome me the minute I heard his voice through the phone. I really need to get myself under control.

“My driver will pick you up from your house at 7pm. I have a table reserved at Menton’s. I look forward to seeing you tonight.”

The phone clicks. He hung up so I didn’t have a chance to decline. Not that I was going to. After relaxing in my bath on the weekend where I spent over an hour thinking about his text message, I decided that I feel an energy between us that I want to explore. I know that the photos I saw online are not anything to worry about. I also spoke to Stephen, and he said that he had given Shaun my number, reiterating that he is a good guy.

So, I am going to go for it.

I pack up my desk and head out for the afternoon. I am going to dinner, my first date in a very long time, and I am going to ensure that Shaun gets a date he will never forget. While I am no model, I know what my assets are and how to play them up. I can only hope that he likes what he sees. I text Katie, knowing that she will be the best shopping partner in crime, and she agrees to meet me at Copley Place so we can hit the shops to find the perfect outfit. I run out the door, suddenly full of energy.

As I look through the racks of designer dresses, I still haven’t found the perfect one, until I hear Katie gasp. “This is it! This would be perfect for you!” She is excited for me to be going on my first real American date. She has been flitting in and out of the stores with me all afternoon to try and find the perfect dress. I walk over to where Katie is standing and take in the bold red figure-hugging dress.

Katie starts nudging me to the change area. “Try it on.”

I am infected by her enthusiasm and try on the dress in record time. Walking out from the privacy of the change rooms, I look to Katie for her opinion.

“Perfect. He is not going to be able to keep his hands off you,” she squeals, prompting other customers to look over.

“I’m still not sure I am his type…”

“Stop it. He asked you out, he saved you on that dance floor, and you had a pretty strong connection at the gala. Now woman up and go get that man! Stop doubting yourself, go out, have a good night, and please, for the love of god, ravish his body and give me all the details tomorrow.”

Laughing, I quickly change back into my work clothes and then we find the perfect pair of shoes before I say goodbye to Katie and hit the hair and beauty salon for a quick blow dry and manicure. I am now primped and plucked from head to toe and back in the car on the way home to finish getting ready.

Once inside, I realize that no one is at home, which is odd because I thought Uncle Ray or Aunt Emily would have certainly been here. I am relieved, though, because I can’t lie, and I don’t want to have to explain to Uncle Ray that I am going out with Shaun. Not tonight. I want tonight to be a fresh new beginning, and Uncle Ray’s hatred of the man will only dull my sparkle. Likewise, I send my security away for the night; I want a normal date, under normal circumstances tonight.

I keep my makeup minimal and natural. I slip on my dress and shoes, and as I am organizing my purse, I hear the doorbell. Right at 7pm, at least he is punctual. Before I answer the door, I spray my favorite perfume, Jo Malone English Pear & Freesia, and slowly walk down the stairs, through the quiet house to meet the driver Shaun sent.

I open the door, expecting to walk out to the car, but stop short when I see Shaun standing right in front of me. My breath catches in my throat as I take him in. My eyes run from his shoes up his sharp dark suit, then I take in his broad shoulders and admire his chiseled jaw. I look at his sparkling green eyes that I can get lost in, and dark hair, which is slightly falling down his forehead, and I itch to touch it. I want to touch it all.

“Good evening, Miss Foster.” he smirks seductively as he looks at me, his gaze taking in my eyes, then my lips, trailing down my body and back up again. He takes my hand and kisses my fingers, our trademark connection. “You are breathtaking,” he says as he leans forward and softly brushes his lips against mine, which causes me to blush and sends shockwaves through my body. It is like my body hums just for him.

He pulls away just slightly so that he can look into my eyes, our noses nearly touching, and I feel his other hand grip my hip to pull my body toward his as a low growl escapes his throat. It is the most sexual position I have been in since we jumped on each other at the club, but it also feels more intimate and connected. Before we get lost in each other, he steps back and pulls me toward the car. I realize I haven’t had a chance to utter any words, which is a good thing, as I am speechless after that welcome.

His driver is standing near the car with the side door open for us. We slide into the car and start our journey to the restaurant, and not once has he let go of my hand which he is drawing circles on with his fingers. “I have been thinking about you a lot, Princess.” I look up to him, meeting his stare. His words have such an effect on me and his sweet nickname for me makes my heart race every time he says it.

Breaking out of the trance I am in; I finally find my voice. “I have been thinking about you too.” I can feel the blush rise in my cheeks, and I wish I could control my bodily emotions when I am around him, but it appears that my body will do whatever it wants. A small smile appears on his face, and he kisses my knuckles again.

We fall into a companionable conversation during the short journey to the restaurant. Never taking our eyes off each other. As we get closer to our destination, he bends his head, so his lips are near my cheek and whispers, “You are an intriguing and beautiful woman, Scarlett. I want you. All of you.” I can feel his warm breath on my cheeks, but before I can reply, the car stops, and the restaurant doorman opens our door. We have arrived at Menton’s. A high-end restaurant known for its amazing food and talented chef. I hear Shaun sigh in frustration and look away, but I squeeze his hand to give him a little signal to tell him everything is fine. When he feels me squeeze his hand, his head whips back to face me. My eyes meet his, and he smiles which in turn makes me smile, and within a few seconds, we are giggling like a couple of school kids, breaking the tension.

Shaun steps out, and I slide across the seat before he grabs my hand again and pulls me closer to him as we make our way into the restaurant, me molding into his side.

“Good evening, Mr. Marshall,” a tall brunette woman who looks like a Brazilian supermodel greets us, smiling at Shaun and giving me the once over the minute he looks away. “We have your table all ready for you, at the chef’s table as requested.”

I roll my eyes, subtly. Shaun is a magnet for these women, and her obvious flirting does nothing to calm my nerves or build my waning confidence.

Shaun simply nods, and we follow her through the restaurant. It is stunning, very luxurious and elegant. Lights are dimmed low and beautiful music is playing in the background. Fresh white linen is on each table, and the bar runs the length of the room with a wide array of alcohol on offer. Shaun doesn’t seem to notice, but as we walk through the restaurant to get to our table, all heads turn and look at us. I am sure for any girl in my position it would feel intimidating, but for me, I find it terrifying. My breathing is starting to get faster and shorter, and I am sure my hands are sweating, and I stiffen which Shaun seems to notice. He pulls me closer to him and places his hand on the small of my back as we continue to walk to our table which gives me comfort. The fact that he can read me and understand what my body feels and needs is really uncanny.

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