Page 19 of Handle Me

I watched him drive away with a sinking feeling that I couldn’t quite explain.

“Miss,” the valet said politely as he opened the door to the store.

“Thank you.” I managed a smile as I started inside. I was nearly through the door when I remembered his tip.

He waved it away. “I can’t take money without doing work.”

“I need one man to listen to me today,” I told him as I reached over and tucked the notes into his breast pocket. “So just take this.”

“If it pleases you,” he said, sounding uneasy.

“It does.” I didn’t stay for the next round of apologetic refusals. I had grown up in London. My memories of America all came colored with the tint of a childhood I didn’t quite remember. I’d even developed an accent over the years. But every once in a while, I was reminded that I was not a full-blooded Brit. This was one of those times. Just more proof that I didn’t quite fit in anywhere.

I smiled as I disappeared into the glossy storefront, relieved to have a few minutes by myself, fully clothed, and in no danger of Anders finding me in a compromising position.

Barnaby’s had enough pedigree to see me through getting Anders out of his ratty old clothes and into ones that suited his newfound importance. But the company was in the process of a massive rebrand aimed at attracting a younger clientele. The store which had once catered to men on their way to the House of Lords was now becoming a hotspot for fashion-forward young celebrities like footballers and actors. I’d managed to secure them two new feathers for their cap. Anders wasn’t just royalty, he was also a rising star on the racing circuit. With any luck, he would find he actually liked some of the clothing here.

My alone time was short-lived. I was only a few steps into the store when a stylish Chinese man approached. It was obvious from his blue tartan suit and Gucci loafers that he was the stylist I’d arranged to work with today.

“Miss Bishop?” he asked.

For a second, I honestly thought he wasn’t sure and I found myself delighted at the novelty of being asked who I was.

The delight was short-lived, though.

“I’m only joking,” he said quickly. “Of course, I know who you are, Miss Bi—”

“Lola,” I interrupted him. Tasteless jokes aside, I needed him on my side before Anders returned. Two against one was way better odds.

“Lola,” he said, as if trying it on. He smiled like it fit. “I’m Ralph. And where is…?”

“Parking the car,” I explained.

Ralph’s face fell into a puzzled expression.

“Don’t ask,” I said.

“I won’t,” he agreed. “Should we wait or can I show you to your private showing room?”

“I’ll wait.” I wasn’t about to give Anders a single excuse to bail on me. I would be right here by the door in plain sight. Who knows what would happen if he came inside to find me gone? Would he even come looking for me? Or would he just go right back to his car and drive away like I’d done to him last night?

Last night.

“Oh bollocks,” I said under my breath.

“What was that?” Ralph asked, craning his head.

“Nothing! Let’s just stay here until he gets back.”

Ralph filled every second we waited with a rundown of every designer they carried in stock as well as ones they could order in if we had difficulty finding what we needed. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever run out of small talk—and if Anders was coming back.

“Maybe…” I reached for my mobile and began to dial Anders’s number just as he stepped through the door.

“Well, isn’t he a delicious Viking of a man?” Ralph said softly.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” I warned him. “His head can’t handle much more inflation of the ego.”

“Noted.” But Ralph’s eyes sparkled as Anders headed directly toward us.