Cross Your Mind, page 7
“Ah.” She took a sip of water and eyed the polished silverware.
“Is it too much?”
“No, no, it’s just a little overwhelming. I’m not used to it.”
“That is a tragedy I will do my best to amend,” I said sincerely.
She scanned for a menu, but none was on the table. “So, what are we eating?”
“They do a great afternoon tea, I thought we’d enjoy.”
“Like little sandwiches and cakes?”
I nodded. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but at least it would be something familiar, given she ate the same packed lunch every day.
“Sounds good.” Nancy looked out at the view with a restless energy.
“And there’s champagne if you would like it.”
“Well, I’ve still got an afternoon of work to face…but maybe one glass.”
I gestured to the waiter, who brought over a bottle of Dom Pérignon in an ice bucket and poured us each a glass. “To beginnings,” I said, clinking her flute. She smiled and took a sip, looking pleasantly surprised. “So, tell me more about yourself.”
“Sure, what would you like to know?” She unconsciously rapped her fingers against the tablecloth.
I refrained from reaching for her hand. “I’ve been intrigued by your name. It’s classic.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely. Nancy Mitford: nineteen twenties satirist, socialite, Bright Young Thing.”
“Well, I’m definitely not a socialite; I’m too much of an introvert. Bright…I hope so.” She placed her glass down carefully. “How about Sister Nancy?”
“You were named after a nun?”
She laughed out loud, visibly relaxing. “No, the singer. You know, ‘Bam Bam’.”
“I can’t say I do, but I’ll look it up. Why did your father decide to name you after a singer?”
Nancy scoffed. “Mum and Gran named me, although Dad approved of the choice. Mum wanted a name that reflected my roots. Sister Nancy was the first Jamaican female MC, and my mum and Gran both have cy names.”
“Cy names?”
“Lucy was my gran, Tracy is my mum, and yours truly.” She tapped the base of her glass. “I take it from your comment that your father named you.”
“Yes, although there wasn’t as much thought put into it. Over half of my male ancestors were called Alexander. I’m the seventh.”
She chuckled. “He’s not big into originality, then?”
“He’s big into tradition. That’s what matters.”
“Is that why you’re not keen on being addressed as ‘lord’?” Her insight caused me to shift in my seat.
“The title certainly has its uses, but it feels too formal for you.”
She watched me. “That’s a shame.”
Oh really? Something about Nancy seemed too innocent for role-play. But then, you never could tell, especially with the quiet ones. “So, how long have you lived in London?” I diverted.
“My whole life. Born and raised on…World’s End Estate in the west of Chelsea.”
I nodded, already knowing this, but it was a good sign she was willing to say. “I also grew up around Chelsea. Before I attended boarding school, that is.”
Nancy’s brows flashed playfully. “Oh yeah, let me guess. Eton, Harrow?”
“Eton. It’s another of our family traditions. And before that, Wetherby Preparatory School in town.” I couldn’t help but frown at the mention.
She tilted her head. “You don’t sound too thrilled. Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“I enjoyed school, but I preferred boarding to attending day school.”
“Wasn’t boarding lonely?”
“It could be, but I made it my home.”
The waiter interrupted us, bringing over a three-tier silver platter neatly arranged with trimmed sandwiches and an assortment of bite-sized cakes. Nancy thanked him, and I gestured that I’d serve.
“School was better when my brother joined, although he’s two years younger and needed extra support.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s deaf.”
“Are you two close?”
“Very. William also lives in Chelsea. We hang out a lot and row together.”
“I think I’d have liked a brother or sister,” she said, examining a cucumber sandwich before popping it into her mouth.
I smiled at her small admission and retook my seat. “Was that not on the cards?”
“Mum was seventeen when she had me. She and Dad were school sweethearts, but his parents planned to return to Jamaica. He asked her marry him, but she didn’t want to leave Gran. So, Mum, Gran, and I lived together on the estate until she died when I was twelve. Mum never got with anyone else, so it was just us two from then on.”
To my surprise, her tone reflected little sadness. “It sounds lonely.”
“It never felt that way. There were always people around growing up. I’ve known my mates Jem and Kim since our mums went to baby group together. And Gran lived on World’s End since it was built. Between her and Mum, they knew most people by face or name. Their friends would hang out at ours when I was growing up, and Mum’d do their hair. There are like twenty different women I call auntie.” She laughed at the recollection. “And school was right around the corner, my friends went there, and we still hang out.”
I spent a moment considering. “Then, I rather envy you.”
“Really?” Nancy baulked and took another sip of champagne. “That’s the last comment I expected to hear from a lord.” She dropped her gaze, but I wasn’t offended. Her honesty was deeply refreshing.
“It sounds like you’re close to your family, and you enjoy living there.”
She considered my assessment while trying the salmon and cream cheese, not at all phased by showing her appetite. My lips curved, satisfied. “Yes and no. It hasn’t been easy. We’ve always had to scrape by, and we don’t own our place; it’s a council property. But we like living on World’s End. It can get a bad rep, but it’s overstated. We know our neighbours. Mum volunteers with this and that. We still have a community there.”
“Well, that is somewhat rare… I don’t think I’ve said more than three words at a time to my neighbours.”
“So, where’s home for you?” Nancy rested her chin on her palm while sampling a pink macaroon.
My gaze lingered on the sugar coating her bottom lip. “I’ve got a house on The Boltons.”
“Wow, nice location.”
“It’s…quiet. I’ll have to give you a tour sometime.” I rubbed my finger along my chin, testing a theory.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “Sure, I’d like that.”
Silence ensued while we eyed each other. I broke it with a question I’d been dying to ask. “So, why do you ride a motorcycle?”
She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta get around town somehow.”
“That’s not the reason.”
My candour caused her to look down at her plate. “Because it gives me freedom, independence…power.”
“Didn’t you have those things before?”
A veiled expression drew over her, and she looked away at the panorama. “I can’t get over this view.”
“I’d rather look at you,” I said softly.
Her eyes drew back to mine, and I smiled reassuringly, then lifted my flute and took a sip. Her eyes focused on the signet ring. “What’s the design on your ring?
“It’s my family crest, the rose and stag.” I placed my glass down, removed the ring, and held it out for her.
She took it in surprise and examined the emblem.
“The stag symbolises strength, courage, and nobility.”
“And the rose.”
“Beauty, honour, and England.”
She smiled mischievously, handing it back. “That seems like an awful lot for one little pinkie to carry around all day.”
I took the ring and slid it back on my finger. “It’s not that little.”
She blinked a few times, looking scandalised, then hid the blush growing on her cheeks with a long sip of champagne, inevitably finishing the glass. Her eyes widened in further embarrassment, realising she’d broken her one-drink rule less than halfway through lunch. I couldn’t help but chuckle and raised my glass in salute, downing it in one.
She held back a laugh, and I motioned to the bottle of champagne for a refill. She nodded, relaxing once again.
14. NANCY
THE RANGE ROVER WAS STILL PARKED out front when we walked out into the sticky, sun-drenched afternoon, the air around us fizzing with tension. I slid into the welcome air conditioning and tried to gather my thoughts. I’d just enjoyed one of the most intense yet amazing hours of my life with this gorgeous man, and it terrified and excited me in equal measure.
Alex sat a little closer than before and draped an arm over the back of the headrest to face me, his gaze so focused it was impossible to look away from. He reached out tentatively as if waiting for me to pull back. When I didn’t, he cupped my cheek. His skin felt warm and surprisingly rough, likely from rowing. I rubbed against the scratchiness and closed my eyes.
“May I kiss you?” His whisper was breathy, and I realised he was nervous too. My lips parted, searching for a word that didn’t materialise, so instead, I nodded. His warmth enclosed the space before his lips touched mine, feather-soft, grazing back and forth. Then he took my mouth as if starved. The sudden change in intensity stripped my breath, but damn, for all the hype about a first kiss, this was worth the twenty-two-year wait.
My trembling hands slid up his face into the mane of silky hair I’d been dying to run my fingers through since the first day I met him. He shifted with me, his fingers brushing down my neck and around to my back, where his palms flattened, pressing me to his chest.
A beat thumped in my blood so furiously I hoped he couldn’t feel the turbulence beneath my skin. But he didn’t even pause. Instead, his hands continued their descent, sliding down my back all the way to my bottom. He caressed gently at first, then clutched my ass through my dress’s cloud-like fabric and swept me weightlessly onto his lap. I gasped, but while my mind suppressed panic, my body surrendered.
Straddling him, I felt the bulge of his building erection pressed against my thigh where the miniskirt had shifted up, soft Italian cotton eagerly brushing my nylons. Our lips writhed, and I moaned into the kiss, driving him on.
He traced my lips, requesting, seducing, then sealed his mouth over mine. I relented with a whimper, parting for him, and he dipped his tongue, sending a jealous ache between my legs. The taste of champagne, coupled with his intoxicating scent, made me reckless and punch-drunk. My hands remained embedded in his hair, uncertain whether to keep him sealed to my lips or wrench him back.
His fingertips found the heel of my boots and began to travel along the seam. I gripped him tighter, trying to stop the unnerving sensation shooting through my stomach, like jerking awake at the edge of a dream.
Then his hand stopped on my thigh.
Alex pulled back slowly, his lips red and swollen from our kiss, and looked down at the lace welt of my hold-ups. The growl of desire he let out was so bass that I shook. I felt his cock flex as he teased the soft fabric, and my head fell back. Delirious. Torn.
A hand travelled up my body, caressing the edge of my breasts before reaching my throat. I froze, my adrenaline spiking, but he continued around to my braid, pulling me forward to rest on his brow.
“Shall I keep going?” His voice was deep and barely contained.
I nodded against his skin, dying to breathe within the enclosed space.
Alex’s hand slid across the lace to the skin of my inner thigh. Then he kissed me passionately as his middle finger traced the dampened silk of my—
I shoved forward, launching myself off his lap and into the footwell with a thud—legs splayed, hair mussed, and panting through staggered breaths—terror covering my face before I could hide.
“Jesus, Nancy! Are you alright?” Alex clasped my arms.
Our eyes locked for a second, then I looked away. “I’m fine. Sorry, I lost my balance.”
He helped me back to the seat, his hands coming to rest on my flank. I tensed and pulled down the short skirt, suddenly aware of the ripe sweat under my arms, making me feel dirty.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, leaning forward to cover his hard-on.
“No, no,” I tried to console. “I just… I need to take it a bit slower.”
He nodded, but he couldn’t quite look at me. “Of course, I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”
“Me too. It’s okay. I’m fine,” I said, as my arms drew around my body.
The car stopped outside the basement lift, and we paused in the darkened space, knowing there was more to say, but neither of us found the words. Alex looked away, then climbed out and presented his hand. I took it and shuffled off the seat, feeling mortified.
He checked his watch. “I’m going to have to go now.”
“Where to?”
“I have meetings in Canary Wharf this afternoon. I’m unlikely to return to the office before the end of the day.”
“I had a wonderful time,” I blurted, immediately wanting to kick myself. “Lunch was…special.”
Alex’s face softened into a smile. “You’re special, Nancy, that was showing off.” He leaned in, and I hoped he would kiss me again, but he moved around to my cheek, pressing his lips against my skin chastely before withdrawing and getting into the back.
I turned away and called the lift to the top floor, waving to Evelyn as I walked to the secure room. Then, I lost myself in work, trying to ignore the lingering fear.
15. NANCY
BY THE TIME I GOT HOME, I was ready to crash. I hadn’t managed to shake a queasy feeling after the awkward post-date encounter with Alex. Despite analysing data well into the evening, it had sat on my mind, leaving me with a pounding headache and a bowling ball in my gut. I rubbed my belly as I walked to the red brick tower, checking my phone, which had no messages.
Why was I surprised?
Alex had kissed me with such intensity, it was as if his life depended on it—or that’s how it felt. But then, what did I know? He was the only person I’d ever kissed. He probably kissed all his dates with the same passion. I shoved down the ruffled feeling that image left me with and pushed through the door.
There was no way Alex would contact me after that embarrassment. Being cock blocked with a boner was not on any guy’s first date wish list, let alone the duke’s heir: suave, sophisticated, and accustomed to women with experience. Nope, all I’d managed to do was make work awkward for the foreseeable future. Nice one, Nancy.
Sighing at the still-faulty lifts, I turned to climb the stairs. But by the time I rounded the eighth floor, I had to stop. Dizziness was building, and my breath was coming fast. I rested on the concrete steps until my head stopped spinning before making slow progress the rest of the way up to fourteen.
As I lumbered up the last flight, our neighbour Winston came through the hallway door accompanied by his loyal Staffordshire Bull Terrier, Princess.
“Nancy!” he exclaimed in his Caribbean lilt, still wearing his oil-stained mechanic’s overalls. “How’s the motorcycle?”
I smiled. Winston always asked about the bike first. It was professional pride. “It’s purring like a kitten.”
“Any trouble, you come see me.” He gave me a wide grin.
“Course, I’d never go anywhere else.” I crouched to give Princess a scratch behind the ear while she manically groomed her bits. “You okay?”
“Irie. Chelsea’s on a winning streak.” He turned. “Your mama said you’re working in the City.”
No surprise there. Winston had always had a soft spot for Mum. He’d pop in for a cuppa at lunchtime and usually end up tinkering with something or other around the flat. Though from what I could tell, nothing more had happened between them. “Yeah, for Goldfields. We’ve got an audit at Toverton Tower at the moment.”
“That right? In a skyscraper? Fancy!” He gave a hearty laugh. “Gyal, you’re as smart as they come. Knock ’em dead!”
“I’ll do my best,” I called behind me. “Have a lovely evening. Bye, Princess!”
When I entered the flat, Jemima, Kim, AJ, and Mum were waiting. The Weeknd blasted from Capital FM while Jem danced around the lounge, expertly balancing a glass of white wine. Her honey-blonde braids swooshed around her waist as she bopped about with her usual flair. She must have come straight from work, as she was still suited and booted, ready to take on the world and everyone in it.
“Crap, I forgot you were coming over.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.” Jemima laughed, motioning for me to dance.
I put up my hands in retreat. “Sorry, I’m wiped out.”
“Long time no see, fam.” AJ strolled over with his usual cheeky grin, looking fresh with a crisp drop fade and dark thatch of curls on top. He brought me in for a tight hug.
“Lovely to see you. I thought you had a gig tonight.”
“Yeah, got an act I’m promoting in Hackney. I’ll be off in a minute.”
“Sounds like it’s taking off.” AJ was always one to carve his own path. We’d had that alike since we started primary school. Except where I was studious, AJ was the class clown, more likely to be found freestyling in the playground during break than in the library like me.
“It’s got potential.” He shrugged with an all-knowing smile. “I know it’s late, but I got you something for the new job.” From behind his back, he revealed a mini cactus in a pink ceramic pot.
I took it, bemused. “As a reminder to stay sharp?”
AJ flicked a look back at Jemima. “See, I told you she’d get it.” Jem rolled her eyes. “She said I should’ve got a lily or something, and I was like, ‘mi gyal’s practical’. You don’t need to water a cactus.”
I laughed and leaned in for a kiss. “I love it.”
“You best get going, or you’ll be late,” Jemima interjected.
AJ checked his phone. “Yeah, better shift. Sorry I can’t stay for dinner, Tracy.”
