Page 47 of From London, With Love

Of course! It’s only been on my UK bucket list since I touched down at Heathrow. Norcaster is one of many quaint countryside towns within the Cotswolds region. It would look right at home in a Hallmark Christmas movie, which is precisely why it’s on my list.

Honestly, is there anything better than a stereotypical cheesy Hallmark Christmas Classic? No, I don’t think so.

“Mason would like to meet the Friday after next for a few hours.” Carter’s expression shifts; his brows furrow together, and a small grimace replaces his smile. At his son's evident displeasure, Freddie continues, “I know, Friday isn’t ideal for a trip like this, but Mason is an integral member of the board, and it would serve you well to make a good first impression as our new CEO. Plus, it’s a lunch meeting, leaving plenty of time for the both of you to return home that evening.”

Carter begins tapping a finger on his deep mahogany desk, contemplating.?

“Think of it this way; it’ll be an excellent chance for the two of you to get acquainted with one another.”

I stiffen at the mention of Carter and I spending time together in close, forced proximity.?

Why has every word out of his father’s mouth only caused Carter’s furrow to deepen??

It hits me like a smack on the back of the head. Carter isn’t displeased about the Friday meeting, but rather the fact I’m to accompany him.

Ouch.

I am to accompany him.

Unbeknownst to Freddie, this is easily the worst idea he’ll ever have. The sum of Carter, me, a small enclosed space, andtwo hours can only equate to one of two things; disaster or desire.

Although I don’t think I’m ready to put that equation to the test, it doesn’t seem as though I have a choice.

Schooling my facial features into a look of nonchalance, I find myself fiddling with my rings as I think about the things Carter and I already know about each other. More specifically, the intimate ways in which Carter already knows me.

Chapter 21

Carter

“Come again?”

My father turns his head toward me, a smile brightening his face as he lets out a small laugh.?

“Which part didn’t you understand, Son?” My gaze bounces from my father to Lara as I attempt to assess her reaction. Her face, which usually hides nothing, isn’t giving anything away right now. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, but I don’t have time to ponder because Dad is looking at me expectantly.

“Sorry, not what I meant.” My hand reaches to the back of my neck, and I rub it nervously. “Is it imperative that Lara attends? She’s only been here a week and hasn’t started taking notes yet.”

The air in the room changes imperceptibly, and my gaze flicks from my father to Lara. The set of her shoulders has lowered slightly, and I can’t help but think it’s because of what I’ve said. I’ve offended her without meaning to. I’m fucking this whole conversation up, and I’m not even trying.

“Lara, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her eyesmeet mine, eyebrows furrowing minutely before she laughs lightly, the sound ringing out like the sweetest chime.?

“I’m not offended.” Lara’s left shoulder raises and drops, her head tilting ever so slightly the opposite way. “You’re right; I haven’t taken any notes yet, but I’m willing to learn over the next two weeks.”?

Reclining in my chair to feign a nonchalance I certainly don’t feel, I turn my head in Dad’s direction and send out a silent plea—please decide it’s a bad idea,please.

My father’s smile widens as he stands. “Excellent, it’s settled then.”?

Well, shit. So much for that silent plea.

“Victor can drive the both of you. Give him a call to let him know what time, Son.” He claps his hands once, delight radiating off him. “Any who, I best be off. Your mother is expecting me for brunch.”

Dad turns to face Lara from the doorway, raising a hand in farewell. “Lovely to see you, Lara, and good luck.”

With a wink, he’s gone.

The second the door closes behind him, Lara rises. She paces several steps away from the desk before proceeding to turn around and pace back. The sound of her heels on the tiles resembles the click-clack of Winnie’s plastic princess shoes. She gives me a stern look as she stands across from me, trying her hardest to look authoritative with her hands planted firmly on her hips.

The smirk I’m trying to hold back slips free, and her stern look morphs into a scowl. It’s gone as quickly as it came though, replaced by a reluctant grin.

---