Gold Digger

Lottie

“Shit, my arm, Ollie, I—” he screamed as the duke readjusted his grip so Giles’s arm was so far up his back it looked like his shoulder might dislocate.

“No,” the duke said slowly, not seeming to need to expend much effort at all to keep Giles in place. “You can beg me in a moment. First , you will apologise to the lady.”

“You’re going to break my fucking arm!” Giles shouted.

“Then you’d better get on with it,” said the duke. “Right fucking now, Smithe.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “Jesus Christ, please. I’m sorry, okay?”

The smell of the red wine was overpowering, and I really felt like I might vomit then or faint. But I couldn’t let the duke break Giles’s arm, however much he deserved it. The whole table was frozen in horror as they watched it play out. Mr Buchanon looked like he was going to vomit as well, and Blake’s face had paled to an almost unnatural greenish colour.Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Ollie,” I said softly, moving forward to put my hand on his arm. I could feel the muscles bunched under the suit fabric. “Please, just let him go. I’m fine.”

He blinked at my use of his first name. I’d done it to get his attention, and it seemed to do the job. He frowned at me.

“You’re not fine,” he said. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. It’s infuriating.”

I gave him a weak smile. Giles was still struggling under Ollie’s grip, but it was like he didn’t even notice – all his attention was on me. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine. But please… everyone’s looking.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

I squeezed his arm. “Well, I do. And… um, I don’t feel so good.” I wobbled on my feet as a wave of lightheadedness and nausea came over me. The smell and the pain were really getting to me now.

“Shit,” Ollie muttered, finally releasing Giles to reach for me and steady me by gently supporting both my arms under my elbows.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” I’d barely managed to get the whispered words out before his arm was around me, and I was being propelled across the room. When I stumbled, he lifted me so he was practically carrying me. I felt too awful to pull away, so I just let myself be pulled against his chest, trying to breathe in his glorious aftershave and block out the smell of red wine, but it was just too overpowering. Instead of going into the public toilets, he took me through a door marked Staff Only , down a small corridor and into a large office. Thank the Lord, there was an ensuite bathroom. I pushed away from Ollie and flew into it, slamming the door behind me, and then I re-experienced my lunch in reverse, beyond caring that Ollie was only just behind the door and could hear me retching. At least I hadn’t had time for dinner tonight – that was something.

When I was done, I flushed the toilet and managed to wash out my mouth at the sink but felt another wave of nausea as I smelt the red wine again. There was a reason I couldn’t drink alcohol – the smell brought back such horrendous memories it wasn’t worth it. But now, with my entire shirt soaked, I couldn’t get away from it. Without thinking I ripped my shirt off, threw it into the corner of the bathroom, grabbed the hand towel off the rail next to me and sank down onto the cold tiles with it clutched to my chest.

“Lottie?” I heard his deep voice through the door. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I whispered, too low for him to be able to hear. “I’m not okay. My life is a total shitshow, and I have no idea how to claw my way out.”

I closed my eyes and let one tear fall down my cheek. Just a few moments of self-pity. I’d go back to being a “strong, competent, capable caregiver” after that. I snorted. If social services could see me now, they’d restart all their applications to have Hayley taken from me.

“Please, Lottie,” he said, concern threaded through his tone now. “Just let me know you’ve not passed out in there.” Another tear slipped down my cheek, and I didn’t trust myself to speak. “Lottie,” his voice was firmer now. “Answer me, or I will come in anyway.”

Oh shit. I swallowed and tried to get my throat to work, but it was too late. The door swung open, and his huge frame filled the doorway. I swiped at my cheeks, but I knew it was too late. Crying on the bathroom floor in a wine-soaked bra was a new low, even for me.

“Hey,” he said softly as he crouched down in front of me.

“Hey,” I managed to choke out. He glanced at the shirt I’d thrown into the corner, then back at me. I clutched the towel tighter around me.

“I can’t stand the smell of alcohol,” I explained, my voice hoarse. He cocked his head to the side.

“Unusual career choice working in a bar then,” he said through a small, teasing smile.

I snorted. “Ha. Career choice. You’re funny.” People like me didn’t make career choices . People like me took what work we could get to survive. But then he wouldn’t understand that. I flinched when he stood up in a sudden movement and then my mouth dropped open when he started undoing his tie.

“What are you doing?” I managed to get out in a horrified whisper. His suit jacket was the next to go. He chucked it onto the floor of the bathroom. I caught sight of the Armani label and gritted my teeth. Here I was, stressing about how my only decent white shirt was covered in red wine, and he threw Armani suit jackets worth thousands of pounds onto dirty tiles without a second thought.

“Here,” he said. I turned my attention from his jacket to look back up at him, and I stopped breathing altogether.

His shirt was off.

Dear God, his shirt was off, and I knew I should be horrified but I had never seen any man this perfect. Well aware that I should be screaming in this situation, my mouth stayed firmly closed. My eyes roamed over the bunched muscles of his biceps, his broad chest down to his defined abs. When I managed to force my gaze to his face, he was trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m not that kind of girl,” I whispered, and he rolled his eyes.

“Lottie, I’m not getting undressed to assault you in a bathroom after you’ve just been assaulted in my bar. I’m offering you my shirt. If you’ve quite finished checking me out, you could take it.” I blinked and then realised that, yes, he was holding his shirt right in front of my face; I’d just been too fixated on his body to notice it. I cleared my throat.

“I can’t take your shirt. I’ll get wine on it.”

“Take it, Lottie.”

Realising that really this was my only choice, I clutched the towel to me with one hand and used the other to take the shirt. He moved back as soon as I’d taken it from him as if to emphasise his lack of interest in assaulting me. My face flushed with heat. Of course he wasn’t propositioning me. As if he needed to proposition anyone. The man was in the top fifty eligible bachelors in the country, according to Hello! magazine.

Wow, I really needed to stop Googling my employer.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice low and defeated. “For everything.”

He snatched his jacket and tie off the floor before focusing back on me. “Put on the shirt and stay in the office. Do not go back out onto the floor. I’ll be back.” With that, he swept out of the room, and I heard the office door slam behind him.

“Right,” I whispered. “Woman up, Forest.” I pulled off my heels and pushed up onto my feet. His shirt was massive on me. It fell to my knees, and I had to roll the sleeves up a ridiculous number of times to find my hands. I picked up my shoes, glanced at my ruined top but couldn’t bring myself to pick it up yet. When I limped out of the bathroom, I came to an abrupt halt. The blonde woman from earlier was standing in the middle of the office staring at me, still looking immaculate.

“Er… hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she returned but then just kept staring at me.

“Right, I’m gonna go, so?—”

“Ollie doesn’t want you to go.”

I blinked at her. Was she the duke’s girlfriend? She certainly looked like she could be. Blonde, stunning, impeccably dressed.

“Er… sorry, lady, but I’m still gonna go.”

She shook her head. “You can’t go, and he said you need to sit down.”

My eyebrows went up. “Listen, maybe your boyfriend can tell you what to do but?—”

“Sit down, Lottie,” the duke said as he strolled through the office door, back to full commanding, master of the universe mode. Now I’d been bossed around, manhandled and talked down to all night. This was the final straw.

“I’m not sitting down,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ve said thank you for what you did, but my only good white shirt is ruined, I stink of wine, my ankle and wrist hurt, I’ve been totally humiliated and I need to go home now.” Ugh, my voice would have to break over those last few words. I really was pitiful.

“I know, Lottie,” the duke’s voice was back to soft now. Without me even really realising what he was doing, he’d gently manoeuvred me into the chair I was standing next to, pulled up another one, put a cushion on it, lifted my foot up onto the cushion and laid an ice pack over my throbbing joint. It was all done in the space of a few seconds. I tried to protest, but the weight off my ankle and the cold surrounding it felt so good that the words died on my lips. “My car’s being brought around now, alright?”

“You should really listen to him,” his stunning, maybe-girlfriend added. “Ollie always knows the best thing to do.”

I gritted my teeth. I did not want to be lectured on Ollie’s virtues by his girlfriend of all people. The white-hot jealousy actually scared me a little. What right did I have to be jealous over a blinking duke for flip’s sake?

“I can get an Uber home.”

The duke looked down at his phone, muttering, “No need. Car’s here.”

I was just about to speak again when the office door flew open.

“Your Grace,” Thomas the D-word said as he burst into the room. When he saw me he froze. “Er…” he swallowed, then looked back at the duke. “I was told there was a problem with one of the staff?”

The duke straightened up from crouching next to me and I could feel a dangerous energy filling the room as he turned to Thomas the D-word. “No, that is not what I said,” he told him, his voice low and lethal. “I said there was a big fucking problem with the way this shithole is being managed.” I blinked. This was one of the most exclusive bars in London. Actual royalty was here tonight. Most of the wine cost ￡500 a bottle. The Nag’s Head round the corner from me, now that was a shithole. This place, not so much.

Thomas the D-word cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what you?—”

“There is no security.”

“Oh, no, we’ve got security. They’re?—”

“You’ve got security on the door. There is no security on the floor.”

“On the floor?” TTD repeated in confusion. “Why would we need security on the floor?”

“To police the dickheads you let in here.”

“Police the…” TTD trailed off and then shook his head. His voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke again. “Y-you don’t police these people.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” snapped the duke, clearly losing patience. TTD was shaking his head.

“The security is to keep the bar exclusive. The members inside the bar, on the floor. I-I-I-I… you don’t police these people. I wouldn’t dream of… I mean, there’s no way I could set bouncers on any of them.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the duke’s voice was rising now. “ Those people have been routinely making one of your waitresses feel uncomfortable all night until one bastard touched her.” He said touched her as if it was a capital offence. I rolled my eyes.

“Honestly, Your Grace,” I said. “You must know that policing your mates out there is not an option. They pay an exorbitant membership fee to this place, and they’re used to people putting up with their BS. They are not used to being told what to do. Give TTD a break, for flip’s sake.”

“TTD?” the duke asked, but I kept my mouth shut and he frowned. “Look, I don’t care who they are. Nothing gives them the right to treat you like that.”

“That’s not the way the world works,” I snapped, aware that my voice was rising but beyond caring. “People like me serve people like you and we do it with a smile on our faces, putting up with all manner of manure. Now, I don’t have time to sit here listening to this nonsense. If I’m not working and therefore not earning, I want to go home in an Uber, and, seeing as I’ve very likely lost my job, I want to be paid for tonight before I leave and given my tips in cash. Because, Your Grace, there’s a reason people like me work for unbelievable self-pleasurers like TTD here. We need the money . You might think you’re the ruler of the entire known universe, but you can’t upend the pecking order of this country on a whim.”

“I might not be able to ‘upend the pecking order of this country’, Miss Forest,” the duke said in a carefully controlled voice, “but I sure as fuck can tell my manager how to run my bar considering I bloody well own it.” There was a pause. Okay, I did not know that he owned this place. Come to think of it, hadn’t he said “my bar” in the bathroom earlier? Not that it should have surprised me – he did own half of London.

I cleared my throat. “Oh,” I said. “Right, well, in that case, carry on.”

“Thank you,” he said in a dry tone before turning back to TTD. “Security on the floor now , and I want the rest of those dickheads ejected from the club with a lifetime ban. Understand me?”

“Yes, of course,” TTD said, glancing between me and the duke.

“ Now , Thomas,” the duke snapped, and TTD jumped into action, scurrying out of the room without a second look. The duke turned to me again and sighed.

“Lottie, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to insist you let my driver take you home.” I looked between him and the blonde in confusion. She didn’t look the least bit put out, just curious. Her head was still tilted to the side as she studied me – definitely a bit of an oddball. “He’s outside now. I’ll take you to him then I’d better go back and sort out this shitshow.”

He extended his hand to me. I hesitated, but my mind flashed back to him nearly dislocating a man’s arm in an effort to defend my honour, and I felt strangely comforted. I was officially losing it. When I did place my hand in his and his strong fingers closed over mine, I had the weirdest feeling. The only way I can describe it is that at that moment, with my hand in his, I felt as if everything was right. All the stress of the evening melted away. It was just me and him. No duke, no cleaner, no boundaries, no social norms, no shitty entitled parodies of the great and the good out beyond the office door. Just Ollie and Lottie, hand in hand. The feeling was so overwhelming that when my eyes met his, I couldn’t help it; despite the awful evening I’d had, despite all my worries, despite his actual girlfriend standing not two feet away, I smiled at him. And he smiled right back.