With Love From London

CHAPTER FIVE

GABRIEL PARKED OUTSIDE Nicole’s flat. Nerves fluttered in his stomach, which was absolutely ridiculous, and completely out of character. This wasn’t a real date; it was discussing mutual business interests. There was no reason why he should be feeling like this.

Yet this was Nicole. Georgygirl.

And that made things that little bit more complicated.

He and Nicole were on opposite sides. Rivals. And yet Georgy was his friend. The girl he’d got to know over the last six months and really liked. The one person who saw him for who he really was.

How ironic that, now they’d met in real life, she didn’t see him at all. She saw Gabriel Hunter, the ruthless businessman: not Clarence, her friend.

He shook himself. It was pointless brooding. Things were as they were. All he could do was make the best out of it and try to salvage a few things from this mess. Maybe he could reach a better understanding with her, in business if nothing else.

Nicole lived in a quieter part of Surrey Quays, in what he recognised as a former industrial complex that had been turned into four-storey apartment blocks. The brickwork was a mellow sand colour; one side had floor-to-ceiling windows and the three upper storeys had a wrought iron balcony. There were trees and raised planted beds in the square, and the whole thing was pretty and peaceful—exactly the kind of place where he’d expected Georgy to live.

He pressed the button to her intercom.

‘I’m on my way,’ she said.

Economical with words, as usual, he thought with a smile.

But he was blown away when she walked out of the doors to the apartment block. She was wearing a simple black shift dress, with high-heeled black court shoes and no jewellery. Her hair was still pulled back from her face, but this time it was in a sophisticated updo that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.

‘You look amazing,’ he said, before he could stop himself.

She inclined her head. ‘Thank you.’

And now he felt like he was on his first date all over again. Which was stupid, because as a teenager he’d been overconfident and reckless, never worrying about what people thought of him. He took a deep breath. ‘It’s only a short drive from here.’

‘Short enough to make it more sensible to walk? I can change my shoes.’

‘We’ll drive,’ he said.

He half expected her to make an acerbic comment about his car—a sleek convertible—but she climbed into the passenger seat and said nothing. It wasn’t exactly an easy silence between them, but he had no idea what to say, so he concentrated on driving. And she did nothing to dispel the awkwardness between them, either.

Was this a mistake?

Or was she as confused by this whole thing as he was?

Once he’d parked and they were out of the car, he gestured to the narrowboat moored at the quay. ‘The food at this place is excellent,’ he said.

She read the sign out loud. ‘La Chiatta.’

‘Italian for “the barge”,’ he translated.

‘Effective.’ But then she looked at the narrowboat and the ramp which led from the quay to the deck. The tide was low, so the angle of the ramp was particularly steep. From the expression on her face, Nicole clearly realised she wouldn’t be able to walk down that ramp in high heels. Although clothing was something they’d never really talked about in their late-night conversations, Gabriel had the strongest feeling that Nicole almost never wore high heels and had only worn them tonight to prove a point.

‘We have two choices,’ he said. ‘We can go somewhere else that doesn’t have a ramp.’

‘But you’ve booked here, yes? It’s not fair to the restaurant if we just don’t turn up.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll pay them a cancellation fee so they don’t lose out.’

‘What’s the second choice?’

Something that would probably get him into trouble, but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘This,’ he said, and picked her up.

‘Gabriel!’

It was the first time she’d used his given name and he rather liked it.

But maybe picking her up had been a mistake. Not because she was too heavy, but because she was so close that he could feel the warmth of her skin and smell the soft floral scent of her perfume, and it made him want to kiss her.

That was so inappropriate, it was untrue.

‘Hold on tight,’ he said, and carried her down the ramp before setting her on her feet again.

‘I don’t believe you just did that,’ she said, sounding shocked.

Clearly tonight she was seeing him as Gabriel the corporate shark, not Clarence. ‘No, it was a solution to a problem. By the time we’ve finished dinner the tide will have changed and you’ll be able to walk up the ramp relatively easily.’

She gestured towards the ramp, where a man and a woman were gingerly making their way down together. ‘He’s not carrying her.’

‘Probably because she’s wearing flat shoes. No way could you have walked down that ramp in those without falling over.’ He gestured to her shoes.

‘You could’ve warned me.’

‘I didn’t even think about it,’ he admitted.

‘Or I could have taken off my shoes just now.’

‘And ended up standing on a sharp stone or something and hurting yourself? My way was simpler, and it’s done now so there’s no point in arguing about it.’

‘If you say, “It is what it is”,’ she warned, ‘I might just punch you.’

He laughed. ‘Think about it. It’s true. Come and have dinner, Nicole. Have you been here before?’

‘No.’

‘The pasta is amazing.’

She didn’t looked particularly mollified, but she thanked him politely for opening the door for her and walked inside.

This was supposed to be a business discussion, Nicole thought, so why did it feel like a date?

And she still couldn’t quite get over what Gabriel had just done on the ramp. Even Jeff, back in the days when she was still in ignorant bliss of his affair and trusted him, wouldn’t have done something like that.

What was worse was that she’d liked being close to Gabriel—close enough to feel the warmth of his skin and smell the citrusy scent of whatever shower gel he used.

And, just before he’d set her back down on her feet, she’d actually wondered what it would be like if he kissed her.

She needed to get this out of her head right now. They weren’t friends and they weren’t dating; this was strictly business.

Once the waitress had brought their menus and she’d ordered a glass of red wine—noting that Gabriel was sticking to soft drinks—she looked at him. ‘Is there anything in particular you recommend?’

‘The honeycomb cannelloni is pretty good, and their ciabatta bread is amazing.’

‘Sounds good.’ At least their tastes meshed when it came to food. He hadn’t lied to her about that, then.

Once the waitress had taken their order, he leaned back in his chair. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me tonight, Nicole.’

‘As you say, it’s business and neither of us has time to waste. We might as well eat while we discuss things, and save a bit of time.’

She really hoped that it didn’t show in her voice how much she was having to fight that spark of attraction. She was absolutely not going to let herself wonder what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair, or how the muscles of his back would feel beneath her fingertips.

To distract herself, she asked, ‘So what really happened?’

He looked puzzled. ‘When?’

‘Your teenage incident.’

Gabriel really hadn’t expected her to bring that up. Where was she going with this? Was it to distract him and make him agree to a business deal that, in a saner moment, he would never even have considered? Or maybe he was just being cynical because he’d spent too long in a ruthless business world. Maybe she really did want to know. He shrugged. ‘You said you’d read up about it, so you already know the details.’

‘I know what was reported, which isn’t necessarily the same thing.’

That surprised him, too. She was more perceptive than he’d expected. Then again, how could he tell her the truth? It felt like bleating. And at the end of the day he was the one who’d done something wrong. He shrugged again. ‘I was nineteen years old, from a wealthy and privileged background and full of testosterone. My whole crowd was identikit. I guess we all thought we were invincible.’

‘I don’t buy it,’ she said.

‘Why not?’

‘It was your car, right?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted.

‘Even full of testosterone, I don’t think you would’ve been stupid enough to get behind the steering wheel of a car if you’d been drinking.’ She gestured to his glass of mineral water. ‘And I notice you’re not even having one glass of wine now—which I assume is because you’re driving.’

It warmed him. Even if Nicole did see him as her business rival, someone she shouldn’t even like, she was being fair to him. And she’d picked up on the thing that the newspapers hadn’t. ‘It is. I wouldn’t put anyone at risk like that.’

‘So what really happened?’

He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. I was the one behind the wheel with alcohol in my bloodstream, I was the one who crashed into the shop, and I was the one whose father’s expensive lawyer got me off on a technicality. It was my fault.’

‘You didn’t actually know you’d been drinking, did you?’

He knew she was perceptive, but that really shocked him. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked carefully.

‘Because,’ she said, ‘even given that you might’ve had a lot of growing up to do back then, there’s a massive difference between high spirits and stupidity, and you’re not stupid. Not with the highest First your university had ever awarded and an MBA from the best business school in the country.’

‘So you really did do some digging on me.’ He wasn’t sure if he was more impressed or discomfited.

‘Just as you did on me,’ she pointed out, ‘so get off your high horse and answer the question.’

‘You’re right. I didn’t know I’d been drinking,’ he said. ‘I assume there was vodka in my orange juice—something I wouldn’t have tasted.’

‘So the people who spiked your drink got away with it.’

‘I got away with it, too,’ he reminded her. ‘On a technicality.’

‘Maybe Gabriel did,’ she said. ‘But I know a different side to you.’

She was actually recognising who he was? Gabriel was stunned into silence.

‘You’ve stuck out a job you don’t enjoy, out of loyalty,’ she continued, ‘because your dad sorted out the mess you made, so you didn’t have a criminal record and could finish your law degree. And I think Clarence would’ve done something more. At the very least, Clarence would’ve gone to see the shop owners and apologised.’

He squirmed. Now he really understood why she’d made it up the ranks so swiftly at the bank, despite not having a degree. She was the most clear-sighted person he’d ever met. ‘Do we have to talk about this?’ Because he could see where this was going, and it made him antsy.

‘If we’re really going to work together in any way, shape or form,’ she said, ‘I need to know who you are. Are you the heir to Hunter Hotels, who dates a different woman every week?’

‘Strictly speaking, I haven’t dated at all for the last six months.’ Since he’d first started talking to her online. Which hadn’t actually occurred to him until now. Was that why he hadn’t dated? Because part of him was already involved with her?

‘Or are you really my friend Clarence?’ she asked.

‘It’s not that black and white,’ he said. Part of him was Gabriel, the heir to Hunter Hotels, desperate to make up for his past mistakes and yet feeling stifled. And part of him was Clarence, a man who actually connected with people around him. If the crash hadn’t happened, what would his life have been like? He wouldn’t have had to spend so much time biting his tongue and reminding himself to be grateful. Maybe he could’ve been Clarence all the time. ‘I could ask you the same. Are you Nicole Thomas, the workaholic banker, or are you Georgygirl, who dreams of the stars?’ He paused. ‘And you’ve got the stars, right on the ceiling of your cinema.’

‘Maybe I’m a bit of both,’ she said.

‘And so,’ he said, ‘am I.’

‘So what did you do?’

He sighed. ‘You’re not going to let this go, are you? Nicole, it’s not public knowledge and I want it to stay that way.’

‘Who else knows?’

‘Two others.’

‘Not your father?’

‘No,’ he admitted. Evan Hunter had decreed that everything was done and dusted. The shopkeeper had been paid off, Gabriel didn’t have a criminal record and, although Evan hadn’t said it in so many words, Gabriel would be paying for that mistake for the rest of his life. He certainly had, to date. And he felt as if he’d never earn his father’s respect.

‘The shopkeeper, then,’ Nicole said. ‘And his wife.’

She was good, he thought. Incisive. Good at reading people and situations. ‘I’m saying nothing until I know this stays with you,’ he said.

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Do you trust me?’ he countered.

She sighed. ‘We’re back to the online-or-real-life thing. Two different people.’

‘Are we? Because I’d trust Georgygirl and I think you’d trust Clarence.’

She spread her hands. ‘OK. It’s your decision.’

If he told her, it would give her leverage.

If he didn’t, it would tell her that he didn’t trust her and she couldn’t trust him.

He thought about it. Was it a risk worth taking? Strategically, it meant giving a little now to gain a lot in the future.

‘Obviously my father paid for the damage to the shop,’ he said. ‘But you can’t solve everything with money.’

‘So what did you do?’ Her voice was very soft. Gentle. Not judgemental. And that made it easier to tell her.

‘I went to see the Khans,’ he said. ‘With a big bouquet of flowers and a genuine apology. And I said that money alone wasn’t enough to repay the damage I’d done, so until the end of my degree I’d work weekends in their shop, unpaid, doing whatever needed doing.’

‘Stocking shelves?’

‘Sometimes. And sorting out the newspapers for the delivery boys—which meant getting there at five in the morning. And don’t forget sweeping the floor and cleaning out the fridges.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘It must’ve killed your partying, having to be at work for five in the morning at weekends.’

‘The crash kind of did that anyway,’ he said. ‘It was my wake-up call.’

She looked straight at him. ‘You weren’t just a shop-boy, were you?’

‘I was at first,’ he said. ‘It was six months before the Khans started to believe that I wasn’t just a posh boy slumming it, but eventually I became their friend.’ He smiled. ‘I used to eat with them on Sundays after my shift in the shop. Meera taught me how to make a seriously good biryani, and Vijay taught me as much as my father did about business management and having to understand your own business right from the bottom up. Though in return when I did my MBA I helped them streamline a few processes and negotiate better terms with their suppliers.’

‘Do you still see them?’

‘Not as often nowadays, but yes. Their kids are teenagers now; they were very small when the crash happened. Sanjay, their eldest, is off to university next year, and I’ve given him the lecture about partying and getting in with the wrong crowd.’ As well as sponsoring the boy through the three years of his degree, but Nicole didn’t need to know that.

When the food arrived, she tasted her cannelloni and looked thoughtful.

‘Is it OK?’ he asked.

‘More than OK. You were right about the food, just as you were right about the coffee on Challoner Road.’ She paused. ‘What you did for the Khans…that’s what I’d expect Clarence to do.’

‘Clarence wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go round with the over-privileged crowd in the first place,’ he pointed out.

‘You’re human. We all make mistakes.’

Which revealed that she had a weakness, too. That she’d made a life-changing mistake. One that maybe held her back as much as his did him. ‘What was yours?’ he asked softly.

She shook her head. ‘It’s not important.’

‘I told you mine. Fair’s fair.’

She looked away. ‘Let’s just say I put my trust in the wrong person.’

‘And you think I’m going to let you down, the same way?’

She spread her hands. ‘Gabriel Hunter, known for being a ruthless businessman—is it any wonder I think his offer of help with the cinema comes with strings?’

‘Or you could see it as Clarence,’ he countered, ‘who really needs a new challenge, and a way to take the family business in a different direction.’

‘OK. Just supposing the Electric Palace was yours…what would you do?’

‘Bring the building back to life, and then get it listed so nobody can ever try to raze it to the ground and turn it into a car park,’ he said promptly. ‘In that order.’

She smiled. ‘Right. But seriously?’

‘You’ve got two main rooms, both with projectors, yes?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you know the capacity of the rooms?’

‘There are three hundred and fifty seats in the lower room.’

‘The upper room’s smaller. We’d need to measure it properly, but I’d guess we could fit seventy-five to a hundred.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I really like your idea of taking the Electric Palace back to how it was when it was first built. You’ve got the ceiling upstairs, the parquet flooring and the amazing glass in the foyer. We need to look in the archives and ask on the Surrey Quays forum to see if anyone’s got any old newspapers or magazines, or anything that has pictures or sketches or a detailed description of how it was.’

‘But originally it was a cinema and ice rink,’ she reminded him.

‘I don’t think an ice rink would bring in enough footfall or spend,’ he said. ‘The next incarnation would work better—the cinema and the ballroom. But keep the Art Deco glass. That’s too stunning to lose.’

‘You really want to turn the upstairs room back into the ballroom?’

‘No. I think it’d work better as a multi-purpose room,’ he said. ‘If you didn’t have fixed seats, you could use it as a cinema; but you could also use it as a ballroom and a conference venue.’

‘Conference venue?’ she asked.

He knew he was probably speaking too soon, but it was the perfect solution. A way to work together, so he could help his friend and impress his father. ‘Conference venue,’ he confirmed. ‘The chairs you use for the cinema—they could be placed around the edge of the dance floor on ballroom nights, and they could be moved easily into whatever configuration you need for a conference, whether it was horseshoe or theatre-style. And if you use tables that fit together, they’d also work as occasional tables for the cinema and ballroom nights.’ He warmed to his theme. ‘Or for any club that wants to hire the room—you could still do the craft stuff. Offer people crafternoon tea.’

‘Crafternoon tea?’ She looked mystified.

‘A session of craft—whether it’s sewing or painting or pottery—followed by afternoon tea. Hence crafternoon tea,’ he explained.

‘That’s the most terrible pun I’ve ever heard,’ she said. ‘Maybe. But would anyone really hire that room for a conference? I can’t see it.’

‘You have a hotel next door,’ he said. ‘Which would hire the room as a main conference suite, and there could be breakout rooms for the conference next door.’

‘What about refreshments and meals for the conference delegates?’

‘Depends on your staff and facilities. That’s when we’d work together,’ he said. ‘We’d have to sort out costings and come up with something that was fair to both of us. I’m thinking out loud, here, but maybe you’d do the coffee and a buffet lunch, and I’d do the evening sit-down meal, because my kitchen has a bigger capacity than yours.’

‘Right,’ she said.

‘And then there’s downstairs,’ he said, ignoring the fact that she didn’t seem enthusiastic—once he’d worked out the costings and she could see it would benefit both of them, she’d come round. ‘We have the main cinema. We can restore the seats. As I said, I know specialist upholsterers who can do that.’

‘The seats are old and uncomfortable. The multiplexes offer VIP seating. Maybe that’s the sort of thing I should put in.’

He shook his head. ‘We can’t compete with the multiplexes, not with one full-time and one part-time screen. They have twenty or more screens and can offer staggered film times. We can’t.’

‘So maybe we need to offer something different.’

He wondered if she realised that she was using the word ‘we’. Though he wasn’t going to call her on it, and risk her backing away again. ‘Such as?’

‘When I was looking at what my competitors offer, I saw an idea I really liked—a place that had comfortable sofas instead of traditional cinema seating, and little tables where people could put their drinks or food,’ she said.

‘Like having the best night in, except you’ve gone out for it?’ he asked. ‘So you’ve got all the comfort and convenience of home, but professional quality sound and vision—actually, that would work really well.’

‘And when the ushers take you to your seat, they also offer to take your order for food and drink. Which they bring to you and put on the little table.’

‘I like that. A lot. But serving alcohol and hot food means getting a licence,’ he said, ‘and we’d have to think about what we offer on the menu.’

‘We could have cinema-themed food,’ she said. ‘But it has to be easy to eat. Pizza, burgers, hot dogs and chicken.’

‘Would that replace traditional cinema snacks?’

‘No. Not everyone would want a meal. I think we need to include the traditional stuff, too—popcorn, nachos, bags of chocolates. And tubs of ice cream from a local supplier.’

Her eyes were shining. He’d just bet his were the same. Brainstorming ideas with her was the most enjoyment he’d had from anything work-related in a long, long time. And he had a feeling it was the same for her.

‘You know what this is like?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘Talking to you online. But better, because it’s face to face.’

Then he wished he hadn’t said anything when she looked wary again.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I need the Ladies’.’

‘The toilets are that way.’ He indicated in the direction behind her.

‘Thanks.’

On her way to the toilets, Nicole stopped by the till and handed over her credit card. ‘Mr Hunter’s table,’ she said. ‘The bill’s mine. Please make sure that you charge everything to me.’

‘Of course, madam,’ the waiter said.