Submitting to the Billionaire(32)

I only sober up when I have to speak to Nigel. I talk to him for about  ten minutes but I don't tell him about the agency. I can't bring myself  to. I'll tell him if the agency actually accepts my work. After lunch  Nikolai calls. He has never called me before and I feel nervous and  tongue-tied. Like some schoolkid talking to her crush.

"Sophia tells me one of the agencies asked for the rest of your book," he says.

"Yes," I say awkwardly.

"Do you want to celebrate it?"

"Yes," I croak.

"Dinner?"

"Okay."

"Do you have a restaurant you'd like to go to?"

"I'd like to go somewhere local."

"Local? The food is probably not very good."         

     



 

"I think I'd like to go to a pub and have fish and chips or pie."

There is a silence. "All right. If that's what you want. I'll get Sophia to book something."

"I don't want to go to a place where we have to book. I just want to  turn up, have a drink at the bar then eat in the restaurant."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun. Maybe we can go somewhere we can bring Storm too."

"Storm?"

"The husky."

"You want to bring the dog?"

I giggle. "Yes. I'll ask around and find a place that allows dogs."

"Er  …  right. If that's what you really want."

"It's what I really want."

"See you later."

"Bye, Nikolai. And thank you."

I hang up and smile with happiness that Nikolai and I didn't argue. It's  funny, even though I just saw him last night I miss Nikolai. I miss his  smile. I miss having him inside me. I miss his silver eyes raking over  my body. I even miss his sarcastic sense of humor.

Before Nikolai arrives I get my first Thank-you-but-no-thank-you letter.  Even though Peter Thiel's agency have asked for more chapters, the  rejection is still somehow hurtful, and I am again glad I did not tell  Nigel. Peter Thiel could still reject me.

I am dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt when Nikolai comes through the  door. He too is wearing blue jeans. They hug the tops of his muscular  thighs and make him look rugged but really sexy too. He stops when he  sees me and smiles.

"So, we're slumming it today, huh?" he says.

I smile back, my heart in my throat.



Storm, Nikolai and I end up at the Bricklayer's Arms. We have a pint of  ale in the garden and Storm makes friends with a black lab. The man who  owns her comes over to talk to us. He is a middle-aged Irishman and he  just doesn't get it that Nikolai doesn't want to talk. Completely  oblivious he talks for all of us. He tells us he lives around the corner  from the pub. I think he is hilarious and I have a wonderful time  listening to his jokes. When it is time for us to leave Storm cries.

"Ach  …  he's in love," he says with a wink.

He tells us he is thinking of having a barbeque at his place on Sunday  afternoon. "Why don't the both of you bring your dog around then?"

He thinks we are couple. "Yeah maybe," Nikolai says.

"Here, put my number in yer phone and give me a call on Saturday," he says.

For a second Nikolai doesn't know what to do. He glances at me, then he takes his phone out and inputs the man's number.

When he is gone I tease Nikolai. "Are you going to his barbeque?"

"I'd rather cut my arm off and eat it," he says.

"So why did you take his number?"

He frowns. "I don't know why. I've never done something like that before."

We move to the restaurant. Just as Nikolai had warned, the food is not  very good, but it is one of the best nights I've ever had in my life.  Nikolai is so well read, so knowledgeable, that I just sit there staring  at him in awe.

We finish the night in my bed. All the things I couldn't say with my  mouth, I say with my body. Nikolai doesn't leave my bed until the early  morning hours.





Chapter Forty-One





Star





I spend the next two days in London. The routine is the same. I wake up,  have breakfast with Celine and then I go see my dad. I write for a  while then I while away the hours and wait for the night to come. For  Nikolai to come to me.

That day would have been the same if the Peter Thiel Agency had not  called. Daria Elizabeth Bowen wants me to go in and meet them!

"Can you come today?"

"Sure," I say, stunned.

I dress in a yellow shirt and a pair of gray trousers. I put my hair up  so it looks more formal, and Alexis drives me to their office at the  Embankment. My hands are clammy with sweat. I ring on the doorbell and  identify myself. Someone buzzes me in.

I push the door open and walk down a short corridor. I open another door  with the sign that says Peter Thiel's Literary Agency. A woman in a  bright red skirt and a dowdy green blouse walks up to me. Her short  brown hair is full of grey roots. She extends her hand out to me. "Hey,  I'm the one who read your book and just loved it."

I grin at her. "Hello, Ms. Bowen."

"Call me Daria. Everyone does."

"Okay."

"I didn't think you'd be so young."

"Oh," I exclaim worriedly.

She holds her hands up. "But it's good. It's all good. Youth is good 99.99% of the time."

I laugh.

"Come with me. We'll go get a cup of tea. Peter wants to meet you too, but he's just finishing up another meeting."         

     



 

"Okay."

I follow her to a room with a long table and chairs around it. "This is our conference room. Have a seat."

I take a seat and look up at her.

"Isn't this exciting?" she asks.

"You cannot imagine how much," I tell her sincerely.

She smiles. "You deserve it. You wrote a really good book. Did you say  that you have five more with the same characters already written?"

I nod.

She winks. "Tell that to Peter when he comes in. You'll make his year."

"I will?"

"Oh absolutely. He's planning to sell your book for loads of money."

My eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I sold a cat book last week for £15,000, but Peter will get more for yours."

I can feel myself grinning from ear to ear. £15,000? I've never earned a penny in my life. "Really?"

"For sure."

Then Peter Thiel comes in and the mood changes. I'd already seen a  picture of him on the Internet so I am not surprised when he comes in  with a straw hat and a red bowtie. Appearances are deceiving, because he  is shockingly sharp and clever and plays his cards very close to his  chest. He welcomes me to the agency, congratulates me on having written a  fine book, and beyond that I learn nothing more.

When I get into the car I see him standing at the first-floor window  looking down. I wonder what he must think to see me getting into a big  expensive car with tinted windows. Unsure whether to wave or not I am  saved when he raises his hand first and waves.



Funnily enough I tell Rosa, Cindy, Celine, Sophia, Nan, Grandad, Mum,  Nikolai, and even Andrei about being accepted by the agency, but I don't  tell Nigel. I don't know why, but I decide to tell him only if the  agency actually finds a publisher who wants to buy the book. After all,  I've read on the net that some people find agents, but then can't find a  publisher to take their book on.

My father comes out of hospital and moves in with Nan. It is a great  relief for the whole family and it feels like a big burden has lifted  off my shoulders. No matter what happens now my dad is safe. The  hospital bills are taken care of and he is on the mend.

I meet Rosa and Cindy for lunch and I realize as I am sitting with them  that this month with Nikolai hasn't turned out to be the ordeal that I  thought it would be. It's actually become my greatest adventure. I'm  learning new things. New opportunities are coming my way, and the time  away from Nigel is making me realize how small my life was before.

I had made my own existence so small and insignificant.

Basically I was Nigel's glorified housekeeper. I did nothing other than  write, keep house, and garden. I hardly went out without him. I learned  nothing new. I got my monthly allowance and I could spend that how I  liked, but any big purchases I had to ask permission.

Even the thought that I would have my own money, money that I earned by  myself, made me feel dizzy with excitement. Outside of the beyond  amazing sex, Nikolai and I have settled into a cautious relationship.  Sometimes he gives me the impression he wants more. Then at other times  he pushes me away and makes it clear there is nothing between us but the  sex.

There is just over two weeks left of our time together and a big part of  me feels extraordinarily sad that my time will soon be over, but I  understand that I can't have Nikolai.

He is too rich, too handsome, too mysterious, too unreachable, too  sophisticated, too cold, too sexually experienced for me. I'm just an  ordinary girl who happened to take his fancy one night in a restaurant,  but I know it won't last. It can't last. I don't know much about how  billionaires operate, but I imagine after a month, he will be bored with  me and be on the look out for the next woman to fill his bed.