Monty comes over, chuckling. “Now what’d you say?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Can we go home and study World History now?” Nineteenth-century political reform in Western Europe is so much easier to comprehend than twelve-year-old girls.
CHAPTER 16
OLIVIA
NOW
We’re in London.
It’s the middle of the afternoon as we pull up to John’s flat in Chelsea, but my body thinks it’s 6:00 a.m., and it feels like I’ve been up all night. Because I was up all night. On an airplane.
I’ve been on my best behavior—as fancy and proper a lady as I can be. I’ve been smiling politely. I’ve saidpleaseandthank you. I only introduced myself to a stranger as Dame Olivia Montgomery-Duckworth-Chatsbury-Puckerton-Twinkletoes of Cleveland once, and the chauffeur found it rather amusing. I haven’t grabbed John’s crotch. I haven’t flashed my tits at him. I haven’t given him any impression whatsoever that my clit is royally engorged, my panties are perpetually drenched, and all I want is to get railed by him ASAP. I’m not letting on that I’m annoyed about how he’s been acting as though he didn’t fingerdoodle me while staring at my reflection in a mirror. I’m not even being passive aggressive, despite the cool and professional demeanor he has employed since the aforementioned time he ate a box lunch in my front parlor.
He almost seems kind of mad at me.
We barely spoke on the eleven-hour plane ride, which is why it was so hard for me to fall asleep in my first-class horizontal pod thing.
And now I’m kind of mad at him, because the street his flat is on is so picturesque and the “flat” John owns is, in fact, a four-story, four-bedroom townhouse with a secluded rear garden and private terrace. It is preposterous that this beautiful home is left empty for most of the year. And it’s up to me to tell him so. It has always been up to me to explain every single thing that is wrong about him.
The chauffeur tips his hat and takes his leave after placing our luggage in the elegant entrance hall. As soon as he shuts the front door, I say to John, “Are you not going to tip him?”
“A very generous tip was included when I booked the service.” He yawns.
“You mean when Iris booked the service for you.”
He removes his glasses and rubs his tired eyes. “I do, yes.”
“I’m guessing you don’t thank Iris enough for the work she does for you, either.”
He frowns as he puts his glasses back on and picks up his suitcase. “I have no idea where that’s coming from, but I just gave Iris a raise, so again, you needn’t concern yourself with this matter.”
“Oh, needn’t I? Well, while I’m at it, might I mention that it is preposterous that this stunning home is left empty when you aren’t in London? What a waste!”
John simply studies me for a moment and says, “The kitchen is always stocked with basic pantry staples, but this is a short stay, so I informed my very-well-paid chief of staff, Iris, that we would be dining out and ordering in this time. You seem peckish. What can I get you?”
“Ifpeckishis snobby nerdspeak forhorny, then yes. I am.”
“It meanshungryand, more specifically,irritable due to mild hunger.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest and huff, for no reason other than the fact that he is not fucking me right now and I’m sick of it. “You are incorrect. I am not hungry for food.”
“All right, then. Just tired. I’ll give you the grand tour after we’ve had some sleep. All the bedrooms are upstairs. There’s bottled water in each of the bedrooms and bathrooms.” He gestures toward the staircase to the right of the entrance hall, opposite the drawing room. “You may use the principal bedroom. I will stay in one of the guest bedrooms.” He picks up my suitcase and then says, “Follow me.”
“I can carry it,” I snap.
“I’ve got it.”
I pout as I pick up my carry-on bag and follow him up the stairs to the second floor. “I’m not that tired,” I whine while yawning.
“That is nonsense. Our bodies think it’s the middle of the night. I have a regimented schedule and a strict protocol for defeating jet lag that I always follow when I travel. I insist that you join me in following this optimized program,” he explains as he climbs one step at a time.
I barely listen while staring at his horrendously magnificent butt.
“This is what works. I never suffer from jet lag,” he declares. “Hydration is important, but getting the right amount of sunlight and sleeping for the correct duration at the right times is key. At four p.m. London time, which is in fifteen minutes, we will take a two-hour nap. Setting alarms for six p.m. We will force ourselves to wake up and then shower—separately,” he says pointedly. “We will take a brisk stroll around the neighborhood in order to get some fresh air and to acclimate. We will return here to order dinner, but we will not eat a heavy meal.
“Afterward, we will ingest a supplement stack consisting of four hundred milligrams of L-theanine, four hundred milligrams of magnesium glycinate, and fifty milligrams of CBD in oil form. We will drink eight ounces of warm water—no more, no less—exactly thirty minutes before bedtime,” he says.
