Love in London by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Ten

Oz

It doesn’t take me long to get back home, but even so, I find myself looking up in surprise and wondering how I got here. I don’t remember a single step after leaving that hotel lobby. I must have moved completely by muscle memory – which is a little terrifying, given the distance I crossed in the dark.

I sink down on the couch in my living room, letting my keys clunk onto the table without paying any attention to where I’m leaving them, and drop my head into my hands.

What a day.

I don’t know that I ever spared much more than a passing thought to Gabby before today. Gabriella. She was just Dean’s daughter. A figure in his life, but not so much in mine. A part of the background.

And how can it be that now, she’s the only thing I can even see, despite the fact she’s no longer in front of me?

I replay the day’s events in my mind’s eye. That first moment seeing her, not knowing it was her. Her beautiful figure in that tight white dress, her hips swaying side to side as she walked, the way it made me want to grab hold of her there and then. And later, when we met in the lobby, I saw that it was her. The initial surprise, the way it was followed by a burst of lust so strong it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

I want her. I’ve wanted her all day. The things I would do to her…

In my mind’s eye, I can see myself going back there. Marching right up to her hotel room door and knocking. In my imagination, she’s still just as she was, as though only a moment has passed. Maybe even waiting on the other side, knowing that I would come back for her, that I couldn’t possibly walk away.

And why had I walked away?

I can see myself pushing her into the room and slamming the door closed behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. Tearing that white dress right off her body, and unveiling it in its full glory. I can only imagine what she looks like based on what I’ve seen on the outside, but damn if I don’t already know she would be the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.

In my fantasy, she’s not wearing any underwear, even though I know she must be. I just want to rip that fabric out of the way and have her ready for me, ready to claim. I would take her there and then, not even bothering to make our way over to the bed, unable to move a single step for the delay it would cause…

Damnit. I shake my head and get up, trying to rouse myself from this intense craziness that seems to have come over me. Why am I feeling like this? I don’t have these types of fantasies – at least I haven’t for a long time, and definitely not this intense. It’s like I can almost taste her with my eyes closed. Or at least, dream of how she would taste. I don’t do this.

Women don’t turn my head like this. I’ve long since given up on finding the right person who would be a good match for me. I’m not interested in someone who just wants money or power from being by my side. Almost all of the women who ever try to get close to me are so transparent that it makes me sick. I know what they want, and it’s not my sparkling wit or the chance to curl up next to me in sweatpants on a rainy afternoon. They want the glamor, the lifestyle, the things I can provide for them.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t even bat an eyelash at taking Gabby to an expensive restaurant and ordering everything. Because she didn’t ask. Didn’t expect it. She just thought it would be dinner with her dad’s best friend, a simple meal to welcome her to my country.

And that’s where the problem lies.

Of course, she wouldn’t be clingy and annoying like all the others – she doesn’t see me that way. I’m sure she doesn’t. She’s too innocent, too young. Probably just thinks I’m too old for her, more to the point.

I could change that. Just one night with her, and I could make her see me the way I am. The right man for her. That’s all it would take, and I know she would fall into my arms the way she’s meant to.

But that fierce determination I feel only has me coming back to that same question: why is it that Gabby makes me feel this way? Makes me want to claim her so badly?

She must be special. The only woman like her in the whole world. Maybe that’s why she’s the only one for me, my perfect match. Fate has brought us together so we would be in the right place at the right time, and now all we have to do is take that leap into the dance that will bring us together for good.

Except I just said goodnight to her and walked away instead of making a move, and I didn’t even get her phone number.

Damnit. How can I be so smooth when it comes to matters of business, and yet forget a thing like that?

I find myself pacing up and down across the floor, thinking. I could easily contact her. It’s not like I don’t know her father, after all. That’s all it would take – I could just text him or call him and ask what her number is. I could even come up with some excuse as to why I need it – pretend that I was supposed to give her some materials on my alma mater or so on. But it feels wrong. Not only would I be betraying his trust by lying to him, but it’s also… I don’t know. Juvenile. Calling up a girl’s father to ask for her number. Like I’m still a kid, myself.

Most of all, I don’t want to remind her that the only way we know each other is through her dad. No, she needs to see me as myself, a separate entity. Only then will she be open to anything I might suggest.

And I will suggest it. Good god, will I. I just need to find her first.

I know where she’s going to be this week, the colleges. It probably won’t be hard to track her down. I don’t know what time her tour starts tomorrow or where the meeting point is, but it shouldn’t be difficult to find her. And if it is, I know a person or two on the staff still who might be able to get me the details.

I’m not letting her get away.

Tomorrow, I find Gabby – and I make her mine. And this time, nothing is going to stop me.