Frankie's point of view:
"I would love to buy him a new one for Christmas, but the funds just aren't allowing it." Flo sighs. I toss my bag by my feet on the old wooden floors of the crooked little coffee shop, shivering as I pick up the warm cup of tea and let the steam warm my lips. "He loves that bike, it'll kill him if he needs to get rid of it and the way he was talking to Paul yesterday, that's what it looks like. Steve says that the gasket can't be fixed."
I frown. "There's nothing that can be done?"
"Nothing, we've checked." She replies, softly sighing. "The guys at the club want to help get him a new one but dad would go insane, he would think they're seeing him as a charity case now."
That's where I obviously take my stubbornness from.
"I mean, I can ask Jason and David to give me some extra loads in work. I'll start working late nights. I'll even take on Saturdays, Sundays if I need too." I tell her, emptying a sachet of sugar and swirling it with a spoon. "Just try and find out what his bike is, or if he wants a newer model. Obviously don't tell him that I'm paying for it -"
"Frankie, no." Flo interrupts loudly. "You're now overworking yourself. No, I won't allow it. Paul and I have savings-"
Now I interrupted her. "You're not touching your savings. They are for Viv. Let me handle it Flo, I promise, I'll be fine. Trust me." Vivian's little cry was heard in the background and I smile. "Go see what she wants. I'll call you later."
"Please Frank, don't go crazy."
"Where's the fun in being normal?" I joke. Bidding her goodbye, I set the phone down and fish the notepad from my bag. My Christmas list had begun even if it was only the beginning of November. I wanted to be organise this year unlike last when I was caught in the rush of Christmas Eve panic and hour long queues.
Dad, Flo, Vivian, Paul..
Jason.
His name was wrote across the line before I could think, with a question mark hovering beside it. I tap the end of the pen against my lips letting battle in my mind of whether or not to score his name out or leave it and but him a small token.
Token.
As my scribbles absentmindedly across the line below, a tap startles me from the window. With wide eyes, I hug the notepad to my pounding chest. He enters, the ding above his head and the laugh leaving his lips.
"Jason!" I shriek, my hand still over my vast beating heart. He grins cheekily, lowering himself to the rugged armchair facing me. "You don't do that on people! Jesus."
"What's that?" He beams, lifting his chin to try and peak at the book on my lap. I snatch it back to my chest, narrowing my eyes and watching his grin spread further. He sunk back and poked his tongue out childishly.
"Okay who are you and what have you done with Mr Moody?"
"Mr Moody?"
Shit.
"Uh - nothing."
His bellowing laugh bounces through the empty cafe, just the waitress letting her eyes dance across to us. I dip my head, groaning and using my hair as a curtain to mask the embarrassment that crept across my cheeks.
"Is that my nickname in the office? Mr Moody?" He laughs, nose wrinkling and eyes creasing. "Who came up with that?"
"Please, you can't tell them I told you." I whine. "Everyone calls you Mr Moody, and David Mr Chrippy. Obvious reasons, of course."
"Hey!" He yelps. "I am not moody."
I roll my eyes. "Your mood changes like the wind. Getting past that - what are you doing here? It's Friday afternoon- crap, was I supposed to be working late?"
"You really panic, don't you." He smirks, interlinking his fingers and settling them on top of his jutted out stomach. "But no, you're not working late today. I told you yesterday to clock off early, didn't I? No, in fact, I didn't even know you would be here. I was on my way to Ms Lemon's next door but I'll not lie and say I wasn't going to find you afterwards."
In shock I said, "You were?"
"I wanted to apologise for yesterday's dinner with my parents." He nervously replies, rubbing the pad of his thumb along his slightly stubble jaw. After his days in the office and letting this grooming grow out of control, I was glad to witness the tidied shave back creating that sexy stubble.
Wait what?
"What?"
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Will there ever be a day, Miss Fields, that you have a conversation with me and not blank out?"
I blush. "Sorry."
"As I was saying," He trails jokingly with the corner of his mouth suppressing a smirk. "I wanted to make it up to you. So, I'll pick you up at eight."
"Excuse me? What? Why, what for?"
"See - if you were listening I said that I would like to take you out to make up for it. As a apology if you were." He tells me, leaning forward and resting both elbows on his knees. "So, I'll pick you up at eight."
"Jason -"
He holds up a finger and smiles. "Before you say that I don't need to, that you would prefer to sit at home with a takeout and it's the little things that count, and that I don't need to spend money, yada-yada-yada." His cheekily smirk reappears and at pouted lip and furrowed brows at his accusations, which sounded exactly like what I was about to say. "I want to do this for you. It's just to say thank you, and that I'm sorry for my dad making you uncomfortable."
When Jason and I returned from the walk around his parents beautiful garden, my mouth lying agape the entire time as my eyes sparkled with the fairy lights that where winded around trees and over the archway that lead down the garden path to the pond at the bottom, Rachel apologised on Colin's behalf and told us he wouldn't be joining us for the rest of the night. Jason tried extremely hard to mask the disappointment, although he fooled Rachel, I could see right through him.
"Nowhere that involves you paying with a cheque book, okay?" I warn him, giving in to his offer. He makes a cross over his heart, grinning wide before standing back up again. "I'll see you at eight, Jason."
"Eight." He nods firmly. He turns to leave, holding the door slightly ajar before he turns back to me."Oh, and Frankie?" I hum. "I don't want anything for Christmas."
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Another thing about Jason, he was extremely punctual.
Eight on the dot my door knocked. Hoping to the door as I try to wriggle my foot into my ankle boots, I take a look at my appearance before I greet him. It would only be my luck to have the lipstick smudge on my teeth. He turns himself and without warning, a small gasp escapes my painted lips.
A gathering of flowers is cradled between his fingers and secured with another black silk ribbon. While his face resembled the red in the coronations he was holding and the shy little smile on his lips looking like he was a toddler who was in the wrong, I hold my hand on my chest.
"Jason." I breathe. "They're gorgeous."
"Thank you, but I think the flowers are nicer." He lamely jokes and I swat his arm teasingly. As I step aside, he hands me the bouquet. "I was on my way to Ms Lemon's when I saw you in the coffee shop. I was getting you these even if you rejected my dinner invite. That was just a lucky shot."
"Why?" I question with my head slightly tilted in curiosity although my heart had picked up speed once again. "I didn't need flowers."
"Well, you said a small gesture speaks a thousand more words than a more extravagant and expensive one." He begins, nervously bringing his hand to rub the back of his neck. "And, even if you turned down my offer for dinner, I figured I could still give you these as an apology."
I had no words, just a melting heart and rising heat. His embarrassment was obvious, and it made me giggle. "That's the sweetest thing someone has said, or done, for me. Thank you."
He shrugs his shoulders. "You've taught me well. Will we go?"
My genuine grin slowly becomes force as I am reminded yet again that this was all was seen as just a lesson for him. A lesson on how to love. I nod however and tuck my bag beneath my arm, locking the door and following him downstairs to his car, this time not driven by him.
"Thank you Graham." Jason says to the driver, who holds the door open to the stretch limousine. With alarmed eyes, I thank Graham too as shuffle inside before Jason.
"Who is Graham? Why are we in limousine, and why aren't you driving your car - or cars."
Jason chuckles, reaching forward and pulling a glass of champagne from the ice bucket with two glasses. Blissfully the limousine pulls away from my apartment block and I could see onlookers giving the tinted vehicle a curious look.
"Graham is my driver when I need him too be. We're not driving my car because I want to treat you tonight. Not only to apologise, but to say thank you." He starts, handing me the bubble flute of liquid. "I sprung this ridiculous idea onto you about helping me find love, helping me figure out who liked me for me and not for everything I made. You've made my eyes open and now I realise, that if a woman likes me - truly likes me, then she won't want the lavish lifestyle. She just wants me."
While I was gleaming with pride, amazed at both him and I - him for seeing through Natasha's ways and realising that he didn't need to buy affection, that he didn't need to buy fondness and he certainly didn't need to buy love. And myself for attempting to use my knowledge from books and movies alone to make him think the way I did. The way a relationship should be, the way a woman should treat a man and visa versa.
All because I read way to many romance novels.
"I'll drink to that." I smile softly. Our glasses clink together and I lip at the sweet liquid, my nose wrinkling causing Jason to laugh. "I don't drink champagne - clearly." I reach forward, setting the glass cautiously into the holder. "So, where are you taking me?"
He grins cheekily, bringing the rim of the glass to his lips. "You'll see."
If there was any way, shape or form that I would feel uncomfortable - it was now. In a dimly lit booth at the end of a incredibly upmarket restaurant that's classical music seemed to be on loop. The waiters spoke with low voices as they took our drinks orders and they disappeared without another utter of a word. Jason smirks at me from over his menu and I narrow my eyes at him.
"What?"
"Nothing." He teases, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip and erasing his smirk. He lays down his menu, moving forward to lean on the table. "So, I have another confession."
I rest my menu down. "Why does that sound worrying?"
He chuckled. "It's nothing bad, I promise. It's actually a, how can I say it, proposition?"
My ears perked and I lift my chin eagerly. "What is it?"
"Did you always want to be a receptionist?" He asks and I laugh slightly, covering my mouth with my hand quickly. "I take it as a no then."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude." I apologise. "But no, I didn't. I didn't do three years slaving away and getting myself into debt to become a receptionist. No - I think I told you before that I studied to -"
"Become a interior designer." He smiles sheepishly and dipping his head in a silent apology for cutting me off. I close my gaping mouth, matching his smile as I nod. "You've told me. Why did you come to work for me and David though? I know you said about nobody wanted your opinions on designs, but why did you give up?"
I thank the waiter as he puts down a glass of red wine as I run my finger and thumb against the stem of the large wine glass. He waits for my answer, keeping quiet and staying in his hunched position even though I could speak in a whisper and he would still hear me over the lull in the restaurant.
"Funds." I state simply, my eyes fixated on the pool of dark liquid. "I was twenty-two, fresh into the business and even if I had a degree, I didn't have many jobs behind me except for the odd person around my neighbourhood. I was desperate, I was paying for promotions that got me nowhere. Nobody cared for my opinions. I was too young - that's all I heard. Too young to know what I was talking about, too young to have any experience or taste, too young to take on big tasks. Eventually, I couldn't pay my website guy or pay for the posters I was sticking on every post or wall all over the city. So, I gave up."
"But you enjoyed it?"
"Interior design was the only thing I enjoyed. I expressed myself through my work, the colours I chose or materials I used. When my mom died, I went into a very dark place where I seen nothing but black until one morning."
"What happened?" He asks slowly. "Don't tell me if it's too raw. Please, forgive me for intruding."
His hand reaches for my wrist and glides over the small risen part of skin that I badly burnt with the curling iron weeks ago. With that simple touch, a calming aura passes over me and my knotting insides settle.
"I took a panic attack during the night, in my sleep. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move and I couldn't breathe and there was just me. Dad was working, Flo was at Paul's and I was alone - alone and struggling to breathe." I begin, my wavering voice cracking slightly in which he picked up on and squeezed my fingers. "I was struggling and the more I was panicking, the more I struggled. My dad worked in the small corner store at night, and for whatever reason, he came home early and thank god he did. Thank god he did."
"Frankie.."
"From that minute, when I could breathe - everything changed. Colour was back, the breaths I breathe were fresher and I could feel again. I wasn't numb, I wasn't cold. I was me - I was finally normal." Whilst talking, I didn't notice the tear falling from my lashes until it splashed the back of Jason's hand. I rub my cheek quickly, smiling and reassuring his concerned look. "I started my course the following week."
"Do you miss it?"
I nod with a small, breathless laugh. "I do. It sounds stupid, it's only interior design after all but it was my passion, much like how your business is yours. Does that make sense?"
"A lot." He smiles gently. "Which gets me back to the proposition. How would you like to become a interior designer for J.D's?"
What?
"What?"
He grins widely. "I've already spoke to David about it. We thought, since we're buying more properties and building new hotels, why would we want to hire other companies to design our business when we have you? You would plan it all, obviously we'll need some say but to be fair if I had it my way it would stay monochrome and David's would be like a unicorn throwing up."
David was a lot more colourful. It matched his personality.
"You don't need to decide right now but -"
"When do I start?"
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I got this mega rush of ideas for this story and I'm so excited. I've got a list as long as my arm to write about and I promise, within the next five chapters - things get interesting!!
250+ view guys, I'm so grateful! Thanks to every single person who has read, voted, added to your reading list etc.. You've made me so incredibly happy!
PS: I also have another book called The Divorcee, and the toyboy that I would love to continue but I'm thinking of possibly writing another, this time slightly different. More action romance? What do you think?
Please vote and comment xoxo