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That’s because she’s never out.
Charlotte Prescott is the only daughter of Harold Prescott, and younger sister of fellow billionaires Edward Prescott and William Prescott.
She became a multi-billionaire after her father split their family estate five years ago to invest in legalised gambling. Prescott holdings now has the largest casino portfolio in the world with an estimated worth of twenty-nine billion dollars.
Famously known for her low-profile, Charlotte was the driving force behind the extension and establishment of the new £160 million National Philanthropic Fund in 2016.
The fund, which she chairs, was established by her late mother over fifteen years ago.
She is also an arts patron who sits on the boards of the Art Gallery of London and the United Kingdom Theatre Company.
Charlotte Prescott’s estimated wealth currently sits at four billion pounds.
I raise my eyebrows, winded by what I’ve just read. Fuck me.
No wonder she’s so guarded.
I sip my scotch with a shaky hand, and I read the next article.
For almost twenty-five years, Harold Prescott’s only daughter Charlotte has been one of the great mystery women of the United Kingdom. From birth, the third born child of Harold and his wife Angelique was an enigma. Hidden away in private schools from an early age, Charlotte grew up shy and socially awkward until, as an adult, she became as fiercely private as her father—inaccessible. Charlotte is rarely seen in public and is stringently guarded as she is considered to be her family’s most valuable treasure.
Some say that for the past five years, since her mother’s death, Charlotte has actively chosen to live a reclusive life.
Rarely seen in public, only usually attending charity events, Charlotte resides in her family’s private country estate.
Fuck. I slam my computer shut in disgust with myself. I keep seeing her disappointed face when I hesitated accepting what she so bravely offered. She thinks I didn’t want her because she was a virgin. If only she knew how far from the truth that is.
* * *
I walk into the restaurant at 7:00 a.m. Masters and Sebastian are at our usual table and have already ordered for me. We do this every Monday. It’s hard to find time to see each other, so we grab it while we can.
“Hey,” I say as I slide into my seat.
They both frown as they look over at me. “What’s wrong with you?” Seb asks.
“Nothing.” I take a paper from the table and flick it open. “How was your weekend?” I ask.
“Better than yours, obviously.” Masters tuts. “What happened in Nottingham last week?”
“Nothing.” I sigh.
They both smile. “She wouldn’t see you?”
I blow into my cheeks. “She saw me.” I flick the pages of the paper angrily.
“Well, what happened? We want details.”
“No details.” I look up to my two friends. “You were right, though. She is well and truly out of my league.”
“How so?”
“She’s a virgin.”
They both stare at me, and I swear, it’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
I throw my hands up in the air. “I know, right? What the actual fuck is that about?”
“Oh, hell,” Masters whispers, running his fingers over his stubble. “So, what happened? She told you she was saving herself for marriage, and then kicked you out?” Seb asks.
