An Unexpected Romance

Chapter 2

ANGEL

Saturday mornings are usually bliss for me. I wake up to an empty house, I cook myself a full english whilst listening to the radio and I relax on the sofa with no reason to rush around. I excuse all my staff on weekends also so i can have this bliss of being a normal thirty two year old bachelor.

However this Saturday is very different; it is utter chaos in my living room in preparation for my public appearance at some charity ball tonight. Terrence the head of my PR team looks like he is about to have a meltdown, shouting at some poor sod down the phone. I have my seamstress Wendy pulling at me as she does last minute adjustments to my tailored suit, and my assistant Bianca is sitting on the sofa with a laptop making sure my car is organised for tonight as my usual driver is on long term sick leave.

It doesn’t help things that I am in the worst possible mood known to man. These last few months have been hell since my ex girlfriend of almost six years overdosed. I sound like an arsehole, yes, but Megan was a mistake, and now everyday I am being punished for her problem. Clients are refusing to do business with me, or if they are they are going to extreme lengths to keep the press from finding out. Terrence has done his best, told me to avoid all tabloid events for the last few months, which to be honest isn't exactly a punishment as I hate them. Small talk with people I don't actually wish to be around is the definition of hell in my book.

Tonight's charity ball is my reintroduction into the public eye, as Terrence describes it. Apparently donating a huge chunk of money whilst wearing a tailored suit really helps improve your image, who'd of known. Either way I am not enjoying the intrusion on my Saturdays that I usually love so much. 

I am interrupted from my tantrum by Bianca confirming that I'm being picked up at six this evening in a black Rolls-Royce; at least that's something to look forward to, I am a sucker for nice cars. Bianca then goes to make me some food as it's eleven and i haven't had breakfast, my stomach is putting up a complaint. 

Once Wendy is finished I get dressed back into grey jersey shorts and a plain white t-shirt, flopping myself down onto the sofa. Terrence is finally off the phone and is pacing checking through his written notes.

“Terrence, you are acting like you are the one who;s about to part with half a million pounds, and deal with a room of insufferable knobs” I joke, putting my hands behind my head, “Sit down and relax”

He ignores my comment and continues to pace,

“Remember Moretti, if anyone asks about the incident, or even brings it up..”

“I know” I interrupt, rolling my eyes “Deflect the question, talk about what a wonderful cause that we are supporting and how happy I am to be able to change the lives of many individuals”  I tack on my best fake smile. We have already been over this at least three times this morning, and who knows how many in the weeks leading up to tonight. Terrence never doubted my side of things even for a minute, I pay him a lot but i could tell he wasn’t faking his loyalty.

“Good to see you have listened to me for once” he grumbles. I groan internally, he is still pissed because I outright refused to go to Megan’s funeral. He advised it, as it would improve the public's view of me in relation to the death, but there was no chance I could be persuaded. Avoiding anything to do with her is the only way I can get my mind off what she did, I will never forgive her, not even in death.

Bianca comes back in with a loaded plate of bacon pancakes, and i sit up pleased,

“I thought you’d prefer this to the green smoothie” she smiles handing me the plate. She isn't wrong, I have a kale veggie smoothie all week and it doesn't taste any better no matter how many times I drink it.

“Thank you Bianca” I take the plate off her and immediately begin to devour the stack. I am pretty sure I hear Wendy tutting from the sewing machine, but ignore her anyway. Terrence’s phone begins to ring

“Go for Terrence” He answers, his face twists in to distress “You are f*****g joking...yeah ...Alright… yeah… thanks for the pre-warning Jone '' Terrence hangs up with such force i think he might chuck his phone to the floor.

“What's up?” i say through a mouthful of food, “Someone wearing the same colour tie as me”  

Terrence clearly does not appreciate the humour from the death stare i receive,

“Megan's Mother is attending tonight” he announces in a calm voice

I almost choke on my mouthful before quickly swallowing. Unlike my feelings towards Megan, I actually really like her Mother, Rena Harts. Growing up in care homes I hadn’t experienced family before. Rena took me under her wing when me and Megan initially started dating, and quickly became a mother like figure. However I imagine she no longer shares the same feelings towards me. I suddenly feel sick, I put the plate on the floor and put my head in my hands. I haven’t discussed Megan with anyone other than Terrence, and the public's view on the situation and my relation to Megan's death is based solely off her social media and the five minute snapshots that showed our relationship together. Her Mother was the only one who saw the true side of our rocky relationship, surely she would be no better than to believe anything the media says. Trauma affects everyone differently however, losing her only child cannot be easy. Especially when it is published everywhere.

“Maybe we should postpone, there's got to be another event later in the year”

“No, this has been in the works for over a month. The Sinclair Charity Ball is the biggest event of this year, and your best opportunity to repair your reputation, as well as rub elbows with potential clients” 

I look up in shock at his new found confidence when he was panic pacing only five minutes ago.

“Avoid Ms Hart without causing attention to the fact. If she approaches, be polite, and if her daughter is brought into discussion do not respond. No matter what she says, whether she shouts at you or breaks down on your shoulder. Do you understand?”  He looks at me with pleading eyes for me to follow his advice

“Yes” I answered, swallowing my nerves. I am in for a hell of night, I can feel it in my bones. I just need to make it through this and trust Terraces advice, it is what I pay him for after all.

The day flies by quickly with more preparation and a last fitting of my suit. I dismiss Bianca around three in the afternoon, and Terrence leaves with my seamstress not long after. He spent the rest of the day reciting the advice, and making sure I felt confident dealing with Rena. I am thankful when he finally leaves, I need some time to regain my focus and relax. After making myself some more food, I head upstairs and take a shower. I spend a good fifteen minutes standing under the water mentally preparing for the ball ache that tonight is going to be. After a shave I get out wrapping a towel round my hips and look at myself in the large mirror above my sink. My blue eyes are bloodshot from the stress of this morning, usually I am not easily rattled, but tonight holds a lot of importance for repairing my reputation. Hopefully therefore repairing my relationship with clients and giving me some new contracts to keep myself busy. I have sworn off relationships for the foreseeable future, Megan f****d my head up enough for at least a decade, if not two. Throwing myself into my company keeps me busy, and makes me feel important enough to undo some of the damage.

Moretti Management specialises in PI and our most lucrative branch is doing background checks for the extremely wealthy and their companies. A company I formed myself eight years ago has vastly grown and has named me European Businessman of the year currently. For a kid who grew up bouncing between  homes I suppose it's not half bad. Of course with the money and the fame comes people, like Megan. The downside of being who I am. The main reason I avoid socialising at any events like this Charity ball.

I internally groan as I walk out the ensuite into my room, chucking the towel around my waist into the laundry basket. Wendy left my suit freshly ironed hanging in my wardrobe, it doesn't take long for me to get dressed and deem myself presentable enough to be judged by the public. I have twenty minutes until my driver turns up, the perfect amount of time to have a whisky.