My Summer in London (My Summer #1) by Pamela Ann
“The heart that truly loves never forgets.”
“Miss Serena?” The butler with his bushy yet well-kept eyebrows eyed me with hesitation. “Miss Serena Woods?” he reiterated.
Making a slight smile, I nodded towards him. “Yes, that’s me,” I whispered timidly.
His less than warm approach made me feel somehow intimidated. I was sure he could sense that about me. Nervously, I cleared my throat, arching my back a little as I fixed my posture. “Is this the home of Mrs. Margery Elliot?”
“That it is, young lady,” he uttered in a deep, timbered voice before snapping his fingers.
In the blink of an eye, a middle-aged woman appeared to fetch my measly luggage before the standoffish butler opened the door wider, silently inviting me inside.
There was no doubt in my mind that I was out of my depth as I noted my surroundings with immense awe. I’d had no clue Mom had such prominent connections, yet there I was, an exchange student in London for a whole year.
My parents had a decent amount of income, but nothing of this magnitude. Apparently, my mother had once been a neighbor to a woman who married some wealthy Brit, one who had some serious health issues and only recently passed away after a serious battle with liver damage for over twenty-five years. Upon receiving the devastating news, my mother was concerned for her friend, and in the span of a week, she had concocted an ingenious idea. Well, according to her.
I wasn’t all that excited when she suggested I study abroad after my devastating break up with Aaron, my boyfriend of four years. Daunted by my failed relationship and a gnawing need for space, I had succumbed to my mother’s insistence, resulting in my present location in London. Chelsea, to be precise.
“This is Anne. She’ll accompany you to your rooms and help you unpack. You will have approximately an hour to unwind before tea. Would you like that to be brought to you, or would you like to have it out in the garden?”
Tea? I wasn’t sure if I even liked tea. I was more of a coffee drinker than anything.
“Well, I was more hoping to meet Margery before anything else.”
“Mrs. Elliott will be joining you soon. She’ll be back in time for tea,” he quietly informed before giving me a final nod, indicating he was dismissing me.
Not knowing what to do, I glanced at Anne before saying, “All right. Okay, I guess.”
“Come with me, Miss Serena,” Anne said chirpily as she started to stride towards the long, winding stairs that were so superbly polished I could clearly see my reflection without a problem.
Trailing behind her as my eyes gathered my opulent surroundings, I didn’t notice we had come to a halt until she stood and opened the two doors that led to the most beautiful bedroom I would probably ever sleep in for the rest of my life.
The lovely trappings consisted of silk beddings with contrasting pastels and earth colors. It was vibrant and exuded warmth at the same time.
“Mrs. Elliot had this quickly redecorated for your arrival. The final touches were done merely a couple days ago. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She beamed at me as her eyes admired the newly furbished surroundings.
It was beyond lovely.
It was … “Exquisite,” I whispered, still in awe of the understated elegance Mrs. Elliot had arranged because of my arrival. “It’s very generous of her to do something so nice.” I think I like her already, I silently added as my smile grew.
“It gave her something to do. It was a brilliant suggestion by her son.”
Anne was a shy and timid woman who seemed to be in her early thirties. She had a warm, inviting smile and a pleasant demeanor that made me feel comfortable in her presence.
How thoughtful of him. My mom was most likely right. Coming here for a study program not only could help me get all the break-up negativity out of my mind, but at the same time, it would be beneficial to have a long-term houseguest for Mrs. Elliot. It was a win-win.
Striding to the partially opened French windows with a cozy settee next to it, my finger touched the velvety texture of an orchid before I heard someone clear their throat. It sounded so deep I instantly knew it hadn’t come from Anne, but from someone I hadn’t met before.
I spun around, hoping to greet the person, but I lost my voice the moment my eyes landed on him. I felt as though my entire body was sledge hammered with something so fierce I literally was out of breath.
He was the most beautiful thing I had ever set my eyes upon. There was an air about him, the grand machismo, something formidable that made me aware he was decisive when it came to what he wanted, and he went after it without hesitation.
Who was he? More importantly, how old was this man?
My crazed mind instantly halted when he threw me a crooked, lazy smile, and I swooned on the spot, much to my own embarrassment.
Damn, of course he would be packaged with a husky, sexier-than-thou voice.
Still looking like I hadn’t seen a perfect male specimen before, I made a facial expression that seemed as if I was in pain, which must have amused him because he laughed a little. I supposed he was used to these awkward encounters.
“I’m Cruz, Margery’s son,” Mr. Perfection introduced himself with a toe-curling, lopsided grin as he strode towards me, facial pain expression and all.
My Summer in London (My Summer #1)
Written By: Pamela Ann
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