I introduce him in Delectably British.
Read this passion-filled enemies to lovers second chance romance for a sneak peek.
Barrett is steadfast and opinionated.
Charlie knows how to push Barrett’s buttons.
In other words, you won’t get enough of Barrett and Charlie.
Get it now > Delectably British
That’s it for me.
I’m diving right back into the next book.
Much love,
Scarlett Avery
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Sneak Peak of Delectably British
CHAPTER 1
Barrett
Wow. It's almost nine o'clock.
“Do you want another vesper martini, sir?”
I lift my eyes from my iPhone and up to the smiling waitress. She’s hunched over in an exaggerated way, displaying her tits. It seems like she’s revealing far more now than when I got here.
“Caroline, is that right?” I ask.
“Yes, sir.” She’s eager.
“I’ll gladly have another one. After all, no one does a martini like the Connaught,” I smile.
“I like strawberry daiquiris, but our high-roller clients love our martinis,” she flirts. “Shaken, not stirred.”
“Yes, please. I know the bartenders at the Connaught Hotel have a penchant for the quietly stirred, never shaken martini, but I like mine à la James Bond.”
“Anything to eat?”
Now that she mentions it, it dawns on me that I haven't eaten since noon. I’m famished.
“Actually, yes. It seems that the person I'm supposed to meet has been delayed.” She does little to hide her disappointment. “I’ll also order the steak frites with truffle mayonnaise. No ketchup.”
“Of course. I’ll be right back with your food.”
“Thank you.”
There are loads of hotel bars in London suitable for a meeting, but the Coburg located inside the Connaught Hotel is the only spot in the city to have their own dedicated martini trolley. It’s no wonder their martinis are the pinnacle of drinks.
As the waiter—I now know as Brian—rolls the trolley towards me, my phone rings. He quirks an eyebrow, but I nod encouraging him to keep on his mission.
“Hello,” I say picking up.
“Hey, Barrett, it’s me.”
“Holt, mate, are you on your way?”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to reach you. I kept calling your old phone number until it hit me. I had to text your secretary to get your new number since she’s the one who confirmed the meeting for tonight. But as she was at a yoga class, her phone was in her locker.”
“Yeah, those wankers who stole my phone a few days ago in Barcelona can rot in hell. What a bloody nightmare.”
“I can just imagine,” Holt sympathizes.
“If you’re calling me then it isn't good news.”
Holt let’s out a long sigh. “I'm so sorry, buddy. I know you've been waiting for almost an hour—”
“There are worse places in London for me to be waiting than the Connaught,” I laugh. My eyes shoot up to the waiter who’s ceremoniously preparing my martini. He nods his agreement.
“At least I know you aren’t roughing it,” Holt says.
“I love that American expression.”
Brian, aka the master craftsman who prepared my martini, drops it in front of me and I mouth, ‘thank you’, before bringing the glass to my lips.
Bloody hell, this is amazing.
“Perfect,” I mouth.
Satisfied, Brian pushes the trolley away and moves to the next patron.
“No, I’m not,” I say picking up where I left off. “I’m sitting in the Coburg bar with martini in hand and privy to a front-row view of the chic shopping area known as Carlo’s Place. What more can I ask for?”
We both laugh.
“I can’t make it,” Holt cuts to the chase.
“I suspected that much. You did warn me,” I say. “I assume it didn’t work out with the new nursemaid?”
“No, this nanny didn’t even last ten minutes. And now, I have an agitated four-year-old and an angry as fuck dog on my hands. I can't seem to calm either of them down.”
Holt Christensen owns a hugely successful record label with headquarters in New York, LA and here in London. He also happens to be one of my best clients.
“No problem, mate. We can meet at another time.”
“Thanks for being so understanding.”
“Of course. You're doing this alone and you're doing a smashing job of it.”
“It doesn't always feel that way. Most times I feel like I'm failing her,” he confesses.
“I think you're selling yourself short, mate. You're an amazing father, Holt.”
“That means a lot to me, buddy.”
“Dah-deeeeee,” a child wails in the background.
“That’s my cue. Sorry, I have to go. My little princess beckons me.”
“Your daughter comes first. Call me when you can reschedule.”
“Will do.”
I hang up and take a long sip of my drink.
It doesn't take long for the waitress to arrive with my food.
“Here you go, sir,” Caroline says dropping two plates in front of me. “I waited because I didn't want your meal to get cold.”
“How thoughtful of you, Caroline. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir.” She's just about to say something when a couple sitting at the next table calls for her attention. “I'll be right back… just in case you need something else from me,” she says. With a wide smile and a twinkle in her eye, Caroline walks away.
She's definitely working it. I'm not sure it's for a huge tip or my cock.
I poke into my golden chips and shove a forkful into my mouth. Mmmm. That’s all it takes to unleash my appetite. Within a few minutes, I polish off everything in front of me. I ready myself to order another martini, when a woman who seems to appear out of nowhere plops herself into the seat next to me.