Chapter 1: Discovering Mr X : Chapter 1

Drew: Don’t fuck it up!

I blow out a breath as I close the text and slide my cell phone back into my suit pocket. What the hell does he think I am? An idiot?

I drum my fingers on the counter. Why does it take so long to make one regular coffee to-go? I have another glance at my watch. My flight will board in ten minutes.

“A peppermint tea and a double-shot caramel latte, please,” a delicate voice calls out. I look at the two flight attendants ordering next to me, their figure-hugging red uniforms attracting the glances of every man behind them in the queue.

One, an attractive blond, drops her voice to talk to her friend.

“Are you sure about this, Rach?”

“Holly, it’s fine. It’s just pictures of my feet and legs,” the one with the delicate voice says, her back to me.

I cast my eyes down her petite frame to her red high heels. Nice. She turns in my direction, bending to zip her purse into her wheelie case. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Dark hair and sweet red lips—a sexy Snow-White fantasy right there.

“So, do you just take photos and send them those?” her friend asks as the beauty I’m naming Snow turns back around, oblivious to me.

“Yeah, some guys will even buy stockings or underwear I’ve worn.”

I lean forward, my coffee forgotten as I eavesdrop, not wanting to miss anything. Selling underwear? Maybe this Snow-White isn’t so pure after all.

“Doesn’t it make you feel a bit, I don’t know, weirded out that some stranger is fantasizing about you?”

“Yeah, a bit, but this is the best chance I’ve got at saving a deposit, having something of my own for the first time in my life.” Snow clears her throat. “You know how much that means to me,” she continues, her voice heavy with emotion, “I will never make it on our salary alone.”

Her blond friend sighs. “I know better than to argue with you when your mind is made up; you’re the most stubborn person I know.”

The barista slides my coffee across the counter, and I thank him as I stall over the sugars and stirrers, not wanting to leave before I hear the rest.

“Just be careful, please. There are so many weirdos nowadays,” Snow’s friend continues.

“I will,” Snow says, straightening her back, “but I just need to remember that difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations.”

What the Hell? I almost drop the scalding coffee all over myself, hearing her utter those words. Thankfully, they’re too engrossed in their conversation to notice me.

“If anyone can say that it’s you,” her friend says, smiling at her.

“Yeah, fucked up, but still going. That’s me.”

Interesting. What’s your story, Snow?

“So, how do you do it, Rach? Set up a website?”

“Yeah. ‘Scent from Rachel’ has been live for a week now, and I’ve already had five inquiries about photos.”

“That’s crazy!” Her friend’s eyes widen as her hand flies to her mouth.

Grabbing my coffee, I straighten my jacket and stride off towards the boarding gates. As much as I’d like to listen to the rest of their conversation, I can’t miss this flight. My company’s been working for months to land this contract. If all goes well at the meeting in New York, then a refurbishment project on one of the most iconic hotels in Manhattan will be ours. And I’ll be living in New York myself for a year to head it up.

My flight’s almost finished boarding as I get to the gate.

“May I see your passport and boarding pass, please, sir?” the female staff member asks, one manicured hand extended.

I hand it to her, and she scans it through her computer.

Hang on a minute, where’s my laptop bag? I swing my head around as though it may have magically reappeared by my feet.

Fuck!

I was so distracted listening to that hot flight attendant talk about her kinky side business that I’ve left my fucking laptop at the coffee bar. This can’t be happening!

“I’ve left my laptop; I just have to run back for it,” I say to the gate agent, grabbing my passport and boarding pass back from her.

Her brow furrows. “I’m afraid we’re about to close the gate, sir. You may miss your flight if you don’t board now.”

“What?” I stare at her.

I can’t afford to miss this flight. There isn’t another one that will get me there on time for the meeting. I will have blown months of preparation.

Shit, think, think.

“Look, I’m just going to run back for it now. I’ll be quick. I’ll pay you one thousand pounds to keep the gate open for five more minutes for me!” I say as I slam my coffee down on her desk and spin around, starting back towards the departure lounge.

“Sir!” she calls after me.

“Two thousand!” I yell as I run.

I’ve fucked up. I can’t miss this flight, and I can’t afford to lose that computer. I pray it hasn’t been stolen. The amount of sensitive information on that thing is a fucking lawsuit waiting to happen if someone decrypts it.

My stomach drops as I round the corner and see the coffee bar up ahead.

Closed.

I swallow down the sour taste in my mouth as I run over and realize it’s not completely empty; there’s a security guard speaking into a handheld radio. His eyes are cast down suspiciously on my laptop bag, which is exactly where I left it—on the floor, leaning up against the counter.

Shit! I’m causing a major security incident that’s evacuated the coffee bar. My chest tingles as the realization that I’ve really fucked up seeps in. There’s no way I’m making that flight.

“That’s him!” a familiar voice calls out.

I’m so focused that I almost run straight past and miss her standing to the side with another security officer.

“That’s your bag, sir?” the officer with her asks, tilting his head with a grimace to my offending bag as though it’s a disgraced dog that’s shit on an antique rug.

“Yes!” I pant, coming to an abrupt stop in front of them. My hands go to my hips as I try to catch my breath.

“It’s definitely his,” she says again, barely looking at me. Her eyes glance at her watch and she frowns. “He was in front of me in the line. I recognize his suit.”

The security officer standing with her looks me up and down, and I hold my breath, praying that he will not insist my bag is re-scanned or some shit.

“Go get your bag, sir.” He nods at his colleague to indicate I can approach.

Thank you, God.

I stride over and swipe up my bag. The officer standing with it huffs out a sound of irritation. “Don’t leave your luggage unattended again. More trouble than it’s worth.”

“I won’t, I swear.” I grip the bag’s handle tightly in my fist. I’m never letting go of this fucker again.

The two officers walk away, and I turn back to thank the dark-haired beauty—fuck, I could kiss her right now on those sweet, red lips, I’m so happy to see my bag—but she’s already rushing away in the direction of the departure gates.

“Thank you so much. You’ve no idea how much hassle you’ve just saved me,” I say as I catch up with her. Okay, maybe my day isn’t turning to shit as much as I feared.

“You’re welcome,” she replies.

“Let me thank you somehow, please.” I match her stride. She’s barely looking at me and keeps glancing back at her watch.

“It’s nothing.” She shrugs, speeding up.

“Not to me, it isn’t. You’ve stopped a massive business deal from going down the pan,” I say as I see the boarding gate for my flight coming back into view. Thank fuck, it still looks open.

“I’m sure you could have handled it without the laptop.” She gives me a polite smile without looking up.

“That’s debatable. Have you ever met Griffin Parker?” I joke.

“The guy who owns the Songbird hotel facing Central Park?” she says lightly, like we’re talking about the weather and not the most prominent hotelier in all of Manhattan.

“You’ve heard of him?” I ask, impressed.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She smirks, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “I meet a lot of people in my job.” She leans her head towards me as she walks, and I catch a hint of her perfume—sexy and floral. “A piece of advice; get him talking about his boat, and you’ll be fine.”

I slow down as we near my gate, but she keeps going, her red heels clicking against the tile floor as the gate agent calls me.

“Sir, you need to board now if you want to make the flight.”

“I’m coming.” I head towards her, glancing back over my shoulder.

“How can I thank you?” I call to the dark-haired beauty.

“You just did,” she calls back, never breaking her stride.

“I’ll send you something. Tell me your name!”

She shakes her head. “There’s no need. Besides, I can’t accept anything. It’s against company policy.” She gives me a small wave before she turns the corner and disappears.

I take my seat on the plane. Fucking hell, that was close. She has no idea how much she just saved my ass. This deal is worth millions if my company gets it. No way could I miss the flight and my meeting.

I glance out the window as the plane backs from the stand and run my hand through my hair. There’s something intriguing about this Rachel, as well as the fact she’s sexy as fuck. I love how determined she is to get what she wants, setting up her own website business like that. It takes balls, and despite not knowing her, there’s no way in hell I like the idea of other men buying photographs of her to add to their wank banks.

No fucking way.

Her words, “Get him talking about his boat,” have me thinking. Okay, Snow, let’s play your card and see. If it pays off, I’m going to owe her big time. I know her first name is Rachel. How hard can it be to send something to the airline for her as a token of my appreciation? But she said it was against company policy, and I don’t want to cause her trouble. I’m going to need to be more discreet.

There must be a way I can thank her. I’m not sure how yet, but I’m going to make damn sure I do something.