Carnage: Book #1 The Story Of Us (Volume 1)(49)

What do I do, make him leave or make the sale? I could be kicking out a potential five hundred pound profit. Shit, f*ck, bollocks, arseholes!

“The Louis, the one you were just looking at, it’s new in this week.”

“Then I’ll take that one, I’d also like a pair of sunglasses and a scarf, whichever you think are appropriate for a twenty one year old.”

I tilt my head sideways. “Your sister’s very lucky.” And very spoilt, I think to myself.

“She has three big brothers, I don’t know if I would call her lucky.”

“I would, I have three big brothers and I consider myself very lucky, I love them like nothing else.” Except Sean. Why did I tell him about my brother’s? Fuckeration, he needs to buy this bag and go! He looks over my face for a few seconds.

“Do you realise, how much your eyes just lit up when you spoke about your brothers?” I blush instantly. Ohhh, for God’s sake, get a grip Georgia; I shake my head and look down at the carpeted floor of the shop but rear back as I feel his knuckle brush across my cheek.

“What happened to you kitten? Why don’t you come over to the wine bar and let me buy you a drink, just a drink, nothing else, unless you want more?” I want to lean into his hand that is now cupping the side of my face, his thumb is gently brushing over my lips but I don’t, I can’t, I won’t.

“What colour scarf were you thinking of?” He smiles gently at me and sighs, puts his hands into the pockets of his light blue denim jeans and rocks back on his heels.

“You choose the colour kitten, I’m happy with whatever you choose, you must be a similar age to my sister so she will like whatever you do.” Closer in age than you could ever imagine I think to myself.

I instantly turn into my mother and become the perfect sales consult, helping him select a pair of Gucci sunglasses, a Chanel scarf and a Louis wallet to match the bag, He stands and watches me while I wrap his purchases in tissue with his hands dug deep in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and a tan sued bomber jacket and he smells absolutely divine, I think it’s Givenchy, my brother Bailey wears it, and there’s a hint of something softer, florally almost, like soap powder or fabric softener, who does his washing for him I wonder? “So, will you come over and have a drink with me? It’s just a drink Georgia, nothing else, we’ve drunk at the same bar lots of times, this time we’ll just be together.”

“Why do you want me to have a drink with you? Why do you always buy me champagne, do you do that for all your female customers?”

“Of course I don’t, I’d be f*cking bankrupt if I bought every bird that walked through the door a bottle of Moet.”

“So why me?”

“Because I want to, you always look so sad and that first time, when I gave the bottle to your friend, the loud one, Ashley, who works here, when you were drinking it, you smiled at me, then you laughed and spilt your drink on your chin and for a split second, you looked happy and I just wanted to see that spark in your eye again.”

I don’t want him to know it was him that I was thinking about that night, that I smiled because I was thinking about how good looking I thought he was, and Jimmie read my mind and stated my exact thoughts out loud, I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want him to be nice, I don’t want him to care, I want him to be a complete arsehole but he’s not, not at all.

“Why do you care whether I’m happy or sad, what difference does it make to you?”

“Because I own the bar and I like my patrons to be happy, now are you gonna come for a f*cking drink with me or not?” He sounds harsh but the look on his face is anything but, he raises his eyebrows and leans away from the till point where I’m wrapping his purchases.