Daydreamer

Lucy

“Why weren’t you at your desk?” Will snapped over the phone.

“I was.”

“Then why did it take you so long to pick up? Honestly, I’m not sure how many neurons are actually firing inside your tiny mind most days. We need tea. You can manage that, right?”

“Yes, I can manage that,” I muttered miserably.

Fifteen minutes later I’d set up the tea trolley with the help of the lovely catering lady whose job it actually was to deliver the tea; Will just wanted me to do it as some sort of power trip. He was such a dick. I hobbled into the meeting room and then froze at the entrance. At one head of the long conference table was Felix, looking absolutely delicious as always. The rest of the table was filled with various executives and partners, including Will and Victoria, but I did a double take when I spotted Ollie, the duke, sitting next to his half-sister and looking just as intimidating as he always did. Fortunately, Ollie barely glanced in my direction – nobody ever really noticed the tea lady after all. But even more shocking was the man sitting at the other end of the long table: Harry York. I stared at him like a deer trapped in the headlights, praying that he didn’t realise who I was.

I’d only met him very briefly about a year ago, at my agent Madeline’s insistence. Harry ran an investment company, but he and his wife were massive epic fantasy readers. He’d contacted Madeline and offered to provide financial backing if she could broker a deal with Netflix to a series based on my books. Part of the reason was so I would consider meeting his wife who was also a fan. It was going to be an anniversary gift to her.

Unfortunately, at that stage of my life I’d barely left Little Buckingham, and by the time I’d made it into London, I was totally overwhelmed. I was supposed to be meeting Harry and Madeline at a crowded restaurant. It was really fancy, and I felt completely out of place. Luckily, Maddie was there before Harry. Once I made it over to her, I didn’t even sit down at the table. I just burst out with, “Sorry, I can’t do this,” and basically ran out of there. But on my way out I collided with Harry (I recognised him from my extensive Googling). He didn’t know who I was of course, so he just reached out to steady me with his hands on my upper arms, said sorry even though it very much was not his fault, smiled down at me then walked away towards Madeline once I was safely on my feet. I felt awful afterwards, but I did make sure to send him signed books for him and his wife in time for their anniversary. Madeline was exasperated, but she knew me pretty well by then and was used to my reclusive ways. She said she’d just told Harry that I was “a bit of a rare one” and that I didn’t leave my hidey-hole very often (which was a fair comment).

That incident had been one of the triggers for me moving to London. I knew I needed to stop being such a wussbag and get out there. Nowadays, if you didn’t show your face at book signings everyone could just assume you were some sort of AI robot, which wasn’t a good look. Plus, I did actually want to meet my fans. To connect with them in the real world. The letters and emails I got from them were wonderful and meant a huge amount to me. The least I could do was woman up for them and come out of hiding. I hadn’t even really meant for my identity to be a secret. LP Mayweather was my actual name. But I was never comfortable with having author photos taken and nobody had ever made the connection to me, so it was really just an open secret. If people asked, I would have told them – but nobody ever asked.

I was fairly confident that Harry York wouldn’t remember me from that brief encounter in the restaurant – especially not after my recent transformation, and in this environment. When he and his wife came into the office last week, I’d made sure to keep myself hidden in the background; now I was front and centre, pushing a squeaky tea trolley.

Felix glanced at me and then scowled. He seemed to be having trouble getting used to the transformation that he himself had asked for. God knows why. I was now a carbon copy of every other woman in the office. I gave him a brief smile. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it again, and then shook his head to clear it.

“Right, well, as I was saying,” he said in that sharp, commanding tone that I found so sexy. Missing dimple aside, there were some aspects of Business Felix that really buttered my muffin. I could have listened to his bossy voice all day. “The Hyde Park Project is now set in stone. To suggest that it’s not a sound investment is deeply insulting. And to block us from using Blue Sky Designs is unbelievable.”

“Bullshit,” Harry York said, and I nearly dropped the teacup I was holding. Crikey, people thought I was unprofessional wearing a jumper to work? This guy said the s-word in meetings! “You haven’t even managed to broker the land deal fully yet. How do we even know that planning will go through? I’m not letting the Buckingham Estate throw good money after bad. And as far as my wife’s architecture firm goes – I’m not willing to have them involved in such an unstable project.”

I watched in fascination as Felix’s hand on the table clenched into a fist. It was the only sign that Harry was getting to him. His face remained perfectly calm.

“She was perfectly fine with it when she came into the office last month,” he gritted out. “What’s changed?”

“Now now, chaps,” Ollie spoke up. “No need for tantrums.” He was the only one smiling, and his comment was met by stony glares from both Harry and Felix. I decided I’d better actually serve the bloody tea rather than stare at Felix like a deranged stalker, so I picked up a teacup and started limping to the table.

“I will not be drawn into a—” Felix broke off just as I’d reached Victoria with her tea. I was hoping I’d got it right. There was an actual colour chart for Victoria’s tea preference, citing the exact shade she wanted it at different times of the day. The woman was certainly strange. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure the tea I’d presented to her now was more the five-o’clock lighter shade than a ten-in-the-morning shade.

“Lucy,” Felix snapped, and I jerked in surprise at the use of my name. Half the tea spilt onto the saucer as I was putting it down. “Why are you limping?”

My eyes went wide as I looked across at him. He was staring at me expectantly, totally ignoring the fact that there were at least ten other people listening to this exchange and that he was interrupting what seemed to be an extremely tense meeting. I cleared my throat, glancing around at the curious faces and then back at Felix.

“I twisted my ankle. But, er… it’s fine. I guess I just need a bit more practice in heels.” I let out a small, nervous laugh, which he cut off.

“You need to go to the emergency department,” he said in that commanding tone. Now, whilst I’m not saying the commanding tone didn’t do it for me, actually being issued commands (and ridiculous ones at that) was slightly irritating, however sexy the command-issuer was.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Wouldn’t want to waste NHS time and all that.” I gave another little laugh in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, which fell very flat.

“Felix, let Hop-a-long serve the tea,” said Will in an amused tone, edged with irritation. “She’s been limping all morning. She’s fine.”

Felix’s gaze flew to Will, his expression so cold I almost shivered. Will shrank back in his chair, his smile wavering.

“Lucy,” Felix said. “Take a seat at the table. We’ll talk about your ankle after the meeting. Will, get the fuck up and serve the fucking tea yourself.”

I opened my mouth to try and say again that I was fine, but Felix’s eyes flashed back to me again.

“Sit.” His command snapped through the space, and without any conscious thought, I sat straight down in the chair just behind me. Felix stared at me for a second more, something working behind those gorgeous dark eyes, his mouth pulling up at one side in what might have been the ghost of a self-satisfied smirk before he masked it. He turned his attention back to Will. “I wasn’t fucking around, Brent. Stand up and serve the tea. Now.”

Will’s face flushed and he shot me a murderous look before pushing back from his chair and storming over to the tea trolley. I twisted my hands in my lap as heat hit my cheeks.

“Lucy Mayweather!” My head shot up at Ollie’s deep voice. He was grinning at me from across the table. “What the fuck are you doing here, love? Last time I spoke to Mike he told me you never left the village.”

“Er…” I glanced around at all the faces staring at our exchange and I flushed with embarrassment. Christ, these entitled public school boys just said and did whatever the heck they wanted, didn’t they? “Hi.” I gave Ollie a small wave, and he grinned across at me. But then, proving my earlier point, he got up from his seat and strode around to my side of the table. When he reached me, he pulled me up from my chair, gave me a hug and then pulled back to stare at me.

“Jesus, you look so grown up. Not a woolly jumper in sight.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ollie,” snapped Felix. “Let her go so she can sit down. She shouldn’t be on that ankle.”

Ollie rolled his eyes but did release me so I could sit back down on the chair. “He always this bossy?” he muttered in my ear once I was seated and I bit my lip. With another grin, Ollie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before striding back to his own seat again.

“Sit the fuck down,” snapped Felix, sounding absolutely furious. He was glaring across the space at Ollie, his hands on the table as if about to push up to standing, a muscle ticking in his tightly clenched jaw.

“I guess the answer to that is yes,” said Ollie to me with another grin. When he took his seat, he looked between a still furious Felix and me and raised an eyebrow.

But when I glanced around the table, I realised that Ollie’s surprising display of affection was the least of my worries. Harry York was staring at me, a small frown marring his forehead.