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Then the man in the corner lifted his hand and gave the tiniest wave.
He looked young—probably around her own age. There wasn’t a hint of grey in his short dark hair, and his blue eyes were piercing.
If he was the head of Hunter Hotels when he was that young, then he was definitely the ruthless kind. She made a mental note to be polite but to stay on her guard.
His suit was expensively cut—the sort that had been hand-made by a good tailor, rather than bought off the peg—and she’d just bet if she looked under the table his shoes would be the same kind of quality. His shirt was well cut, too, and that understated tie was top of the range. He radiated money and style, looking more like a model advertising a super-expensive watch than a hotel magnate, and she felt totally scruffy and underdressed in her jeans and T-shirt. Right then she really missed the armour of her business suit.
He stood up as she reached his table and held out his hand. ‘Thank you for coming, Ms Thomas.’
His handshake was firm and a little tingle ran down Nicole’s spine at the touch of his skin against hers. How inappropriate was that? They were on opposite sides and she’d better remember that. Apart from the fact that she never wanted to get involved with anyone again, the fact Gabriel Hunter was her business rival meant he was totally out of the running as a potential date. Even if he was one of the nicest-looking men she’d ever met. Didn’t they say that handsome is as handsome does?
‘Mr Hunter,’ she said coolly.
‘Call me Gabriel.’
She had no intention of doing that—or of inviting him to call her by her own first name. They weren’t friends; they were business rivals.
‘How do you like your coffee?’ he asked.
‘Espresso, please.’
‘Me, too.’ He smiled at her, and her heart felt as if it had done a backflip.
‘If you haven’t been here before, I’d recommend the Guatemala blend.’
‘Thank you. That would be lovely,’ she said politely.
This was the kind of café that sold a dozen different types of coffee, from simple Americanos and cappuccinos through to pour-over-and-siphon coffee; and she noted from the chalk board above the counter that there were a dozen different blends to choose from, all with tasting notes, so this was the kind of place that was frequented by serious coffee drinkers. The kind of coffee bar she half had in mind for the Electric Palace, depending on whether she kept it as a cinema or turned it into a craft café.
But Gabriel Hunter unsettled her.
She wasn’t used to reacting like that towards someone. She hadn’t reacted to anyone like that since Jeff. Given her poor judgement when it came to relationships, she really didn’t want to be attracted to Gabriel Hunter.
Focus, Nicole, she told herself sharply. Business. Work. Nothing else.
Gabriel came back to the table carrying two espressos, and set one cup and saucer in front of her before sitting down opposite her again.
She took a sip. ‘You’re right; this is excellent. Thank you.’
‘Pleasure.’ He inclined his head.
Enough pleasantries, she decided. This was business, so they might as well save some time and cut to the chase. ‘So, what are these mutual interests you wanted to discuss?’ she asked.
‘Our businesses are next door to each other. And they’re both works in progress,’ he said, ‘though obviously the hotel renovation is quite a bit further on than the cinema.’
‘Are you thinking mutual customers?’
‘And mutual parking.’
His eyes really were sharp, she thought. As if they saw everything.
‘Are you really going to run the place as a cinema?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘Why would I discuss my business strategy with a competitor?’
‘True. But, if you are going to run it as a cinema, I’m not sure you’ll manage to make it pay, and it’s not going to be good for my business if the place next door to me is boarded up and looks derelict,’ he said bluntly. ‘Most people would choose to take the Tube into the West End and go to a multiplex to see the latest blockbuster. One screen doesn’t give your customers a lot of choice, and you’ll be competing directly with established businesses that can offer those customers an awful lot more.’
‘That all depends on the programming.’ She’d been researching that; and she needed to think about whether to show the blockbusters as they came out, or to develop the Electric Palace as an art-house cinema, or to have a diverse programme with certain kinds of movies showing on certain nights.
‘With your background in banking—’ well, of course he’d checked her out and would know that ‘—obviously you’re more than capable of handling the figures and the finance,’ he said. ‘But the building needs a lot of work, and restoring something properly takes a lot of experience or at least knowing who to ask.’
‘It’s been boarded up for the last five years. How would you know the place needs a lot of work?’ she asked.
‘Because if you leave any building without any kind of maintenance for five years, there’s going to be a problem,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Anything from damp caused by the tiniest leak in the roof that’s built up unnoticed over the years, through to damage from mice or rats. None of it will be covered by insurance—assuming that there was any premises insurance in place at all while it was closed—because that kind of damage counts as a gradually operating cause.’
There was definitely insurance in place. That was the first thing she’d checked. But she also knew he had a point about uninsured damage. And she’d noticed that he was using legal terms as if he was very, very familiar with even the tiniest of small print. She’d need to be very careful how she dealt with him.
‘And then there’s the state of the wiring and the plumbing,’ he continued. ‘Even if the rats and mice have left it alone, the cabling’s probably deteriorated with age, and do you even know when it was last rewired? For all you know, it could still be nineteen-fifties wiring and it’d need replacing completely to make it safe. Without safe wiring, you won’t get public liability insurance or any of the business licences you need.’
Just when she thought he’d finished, he continued, ‘And then there’s lead piping. Unless your water pipes have been completely replaced since the nineteen-sixties, there’s a good chance you’ll have lead piping. You’ll need to get that replaced—just as we’re having to do, next door.’
She didn’t have a clue when the wiring had last been done, or even how to check what its current state was like, or how to check the water pipes. ‘That’s precisely why I’m having a survey done,’ she said, grateful that Clarence had suggested that to her. ‘So then I’ll know exactly what needs to be done and what to ask builders to quote for.’
‘So where are your customers going to park?’ he asked.
‘The same place as they would at the multiplexes in town—there’s no need to park, because they’ll either walk here or take the Tube,’ she countered. ‘Where are yours going to park?’
Even though he was pretty impassive, there was the tiniest flicker in his eyes that gave him away. And then she realised. ‘That’s why you want to buy the Electric Palace,’ she said. ‘So you can raze it to the ground and turn the space into a car park.’
‘It’s one option.’ He shrugged. ‘But if the building is in better condition than I think it is, it could also work as the hotel’s restaurant or conference suite.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not a restaurant. It’s a purpose-built cinema.’
‘But it’s not a listed building. The use could be changed very easily.’
She stared at him. ‘You’ve already checked that out?’
‘As we do with any building we consider developing,’ he said, not looking in the slightest bit abashed. ‘If a building’s listed, it means we’ll have to meet strict criteria before we can make any alterations, and it also means extra site visits and inspections—all of which adds time to a project. And time is money.’
She blinked. ‘Are you saying you rush things through?’
‘No. Cutting corners means offering our clients a substandard experience, and we don’t do that. Hunter Hotels is about high quality,’ he said. ‘What I mean is that if a building isn’t listed, then we don’t get the extra admin hassle when we renovate it and we don’t have any enforced down-time while we wait for inspections.’ He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Then again, if the council were to decide your cinema ought to be listed…’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘No, I’m pointing out that you need to get various licences. The council might look at your application and decide that a purpose-built Edwardian kursaal really ought to be on the Statutory List of Buildings of Special Architectural or Historical Interest. Especially as there aren’t many of them left.’
His voice was bland, but she was pretty sure he was enjoying this. Gabriel Hunter was a corporate shark—and he’d just spotted a weakness and was playing on it. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘It feels as if you’re threatening me.’
‘Not at all. I’m just warning you to be prepared, because you clearly don’t have any experience of dealing with premises—and, as your building’s been boarded up for the last five years, there’s a pretty good chance you have hidden damage that’s going to take a lot of time and money to sort out. The longer it takes to get the building up and running, the longer it’ll be before it starts to pay for itself, and the more likely it is that you’ll run into other roadblocks.’
Gabriel Hunter was being perfectly polite and charming, but Nicole thought that he was definitely trying to worry her to the point where she’d think that the burden of restoring the cinema would be too heavy and it would be easier to sell the place. To him. ‘The Electric Palace isn’t for sale,’ she repeated. ‘So, unless you have some constructive suggestions—like offering my clients a special pre-movie dinner menu—then I really don’t think we have anything more to talk about, Mr Hunter.’
‘A special dinner menu is a possibility. And in return you could offer my clients a special deal on ticket prices.’
‘You seriously think we could work together?’ And yet she couldn’t shake the suspicion that this was all a smokescreen. She knew that Hunter Hotels wanted her to sell. ‘I’ve just refused to sell my cinema to you. Why would you want to work with me?’
‘It is what it is,’ he said.
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Clarence says that all the time.’ The words were out before she could stop them.
‘Who’s Clarence?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Nobody you know.’ Clarence had nothing in common with Gabriel Hunter, and it was extremely unlikely that they knew each other. Even if they did know each other, in real life, they were so different that they probably loathed each other.
Clarence.
It wasn’t exactly a common name. Gabriel didn’t know anyone else called Clarence, whether in real life or online.
Surely Nicole couldn’t be…?
But, as he thought about it, the pieces fell rapidly into place. Georgygirl had just inherited a commercial building—a business she’d been mysterious about. He knew she hated her job, and was planning to take a sabbatical to see if she could turn the business around and make it work.
Nicole Thomas had just inherited the Electric Palace and, according to his sources, she was taking a sabbatical from the bank.
So was Nicole Thomas Georgygirl?
This was the first time he’d actually connected his online and real life, and as the penny dropped it left him reeling.
The girl he’d met online was warm and sweet and funny, whereas Nicole Thomas was cool and hard-headed. Georgygirl was his friend, whereas Nicole Thomas had made it very clear that not only were they not friends, they were on opposite sides.
The whole reason he’d resisted meeting Georgygirl was because he’d been afraid that they’d be different in real life, not meeting each other’s expectations. And then he’d lose her friendship, a relationship he’d really come to value over the months.
It looked as if his fears had been right on the nail. Georgygirl was completely different in real life. They weren’t compatible at all.
Nicole clearly hadn’t worked out yet that he was Clarence. Even if she’d researched Hunter Hotels, she wouldn’t have connected Clarence with Gabriel. He’d let it slip that he worked in the leisure industry, but that was such a broad category that it was unlikely she’d connect it with hotel development.
Given that they didn’t like each other—he ignored that spark of attraction he’d felt, and that surge of protectiveness he’d felt towards her—maybe he could leverage the ruins of their friendship. He could keep pointing out the downsides of the building and the difficulties she was going to face; then he could offer her an easy option. One he hoped she’d take, and she’d sell the Electric Palace to him.
OK, so he’d lose Georgygirl’s friendship completely. But he’d pretty much lost that anyway, hadn’t he? Once she knew who he was, she’d turn away from him. He’d be naive to think it could be different and could ever lead to anything else.
‘I guess you’re right,’ he said. ‘We probably don’t have mutual interests. I’ll let you get on. Thank you for your time.’
‘Thank you for the coffee,’ she said.
He gave her the briefest of nods and walked out before his disappointment could betray him.
Later that evening, a message came in on Gabriel’s screen.
Hey, Clarence. How was your day?
OK, I guess, he typed back, feeling slightly uneasy because he knew exactly who she was, while he was pretty sure she still didn’t know the truth about him. How was yours?
Pretty grim. I met the guy who wants to buy my business.
Uh-oh. Clarence would be sympathetic; Gabriel wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear what she had to say about him.
OK… he said, playing for time.
He’s a corporate shark in a suit, she said.
Ouch. Well, it was his own fault. He should’ve told her face to face who he was when he’d had the chance. Now it was going to get messy. He’d limit the damage and tell her right now.
I had a meeting today too, he said. With someone I was expecting to be my enemy, but who turned out to be someone I’ve been friends with for a long time.
That’s good, isn’t it? she asked.
He wasn’t so sure. But he was going to have to bite the bullet.
Nicole, I think we need to talk.
Nicole stared at her screen. She’d never, ever given Clarence her real name. So why was he using it now? How did he know who she was?
Then a seriously nasty thought hit her.
She dismissed it instantly. Of course Clarence couldn’t be Gabriel Hunter. He just couldn’t. Clarence was kind and sweet and funny.
But he knew her real name without her telling him. And there was no way he could have connected Georgygirl with Nicole Thomas. They’d never shared real names or the kind of personal details that would link up. So the only logical explanation was that Clarence was Gabriel.
Are you trying to tell me *you’re* the corporate shark? she typed, desperately wanting him to tell her that he wasn’t.
But his reply was very clear.
I don’t think of myself that way, but you clearly do. Yes. I’m Gabriel Hunter.
Clarence really was Gabriel Hunter?
She couldn’t quite take it in.
And then she felt sick to her stomach. Yet again, she’d fallen for someone and he’d turned out to be using her. Jeff had only asked her to date him and then move in with him because he’d wanted promotion and his boss had a thing about only promoting young men if they were settled. And now Clarence had betrayed her in exactly the same way: he hadn’t made friends with her because he liked her, but because he’d wanted to leverage their friendship and persuade her to sell the Electric Palace to Hunter Hotels.
What a stupid, naive fool she was.
How long have you known who I am? she demanded, wanting to know the worst so she could regroup.
I only realised today, he said. When you talked about Clarence. Then the pieces fitted together. You’d inherited a business and you were taking a sabbatical to see if you could make it work. So had Georgy.
But you didn’t say a word to me at the café.
I might have got the wrong end of the stick. There might’ve been another Clarence.
Because it’s *such* a common name? she asked waspishly.
OK. I wanted time to get my head round it, he said. Right then I didn’t know what to say to you.
So how long have you known that the Electric Palace was mine?
We knew it belonged to Brian Thomas—we’d approached him several times over the last couple of years and he’d refused to sell. We didn’t know who his heir was until his will was made public. Then we contacted you—and at that point I didn’t know you were Georgy.
He really expected her to believe that?
But now it’s out in the open, he continued.
And how.
There’s something I’d like you to think about.
Against her better instincts, she asked, What?
You know that art café you talked to me about, a couple of months ago? If you sell the cinema, that’d give you the money to find the perfect place for it. To find a building you’re not going to have to restore first. It’ll save you so much time and hassle. It’d give you the space to follow your dreams straight away instead of having to wait while you rebuild someone else’s.
Nicole stared at the screen in disbelief. He was picking up on the private dream she’d told him about in a completely different context and was using it to pressure her into selling?
You actually think you can use our former friendship to make me sell to you? she asked, not sure whether she was more hurt or disgusted. Oh, please. You’re a corporate shark through and through. The Electric Palace isn’t for sale—not now and not in the foreseeable future. Goodbye, Clarence.
She flicked out of the messaging programme and shut down her laptop before he could reply.
It was hard to get her head round this. Her friend Clarence was actually her business rival, Gabriel Hunter. Which meant he wasn’t really her friend—otherwise why would he have tried to use their relationship to put pressure on her to sell?
And to think she’d told him things she’d never told anyone else. Trusted him.
Now she knew who he really was, her worst fears had come true. He wasn’t the same online as he was in real life. In real life, she disliked him and everything he stood for.
She’d lost her friend.
And she’d lost the tiny bit of her remaining trust along with that friendship.
CHAPTER FOUR
GABRIEL’S MOOD THE next day wasn’t improved by another run-in with his father—especially because this time he couldn’t talk to Georgygirl about it and there was nobody to tease him out of his irritation.
He also couldn’t share the bad pun that a friend emailed him and that he knew Georgy would’ve enjoyed. He thought about sending her a message, but she’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. That ‘Goodbye, Clarence’ had sounded very final.
She didn’t message him that evening, either.
Not that he was surprised. Nicole Thomas wasn’t the kind of woman who backed down. She was a cool, hard-headed businesswoman.
By the following morning, Gabriel realised why his dark mood refused to lift. He missed Georgygirl. She’d made his life so much brighter, these last six months. It had felt good, knowing that there was someone out there who actually understood who he really was, at heart. And he was miserable without her.
Did she miss Clarence, too? he wondered.
OK, so Nicole had called him a corporate shark. Which he wasn’t. Not really. He wasn’t a pushover, but he was scrupulously fair in his business dealings. His real identity had clearly come as a shock to her. Hers had been a shock to him, too, but at least he’d had time to get his head round it before he’d talked to her, whereas he hadn’t given her a chance to get used to the idea. Then she’d accused him of using their former friendship to make her sell the cinema to him, and he knew she had a point. He had tried to leverage their former friendship, thinking that it was all that was left.
But if she missed him as much as he missed her, and she could put aside who he was and see past that to his real self—the self he’d shared with her online—then maybe they could salvage something from this.
In any case, their businesses were next door to each other. It would be the neighbourly thing to do, to take her a coffee and see how she was getting on. The fact that he was attracted to her had nothing to do with it, he told himself. This was strictly business, and maybe also a chance to fix a relationship that he valued and he missed.
He dropped in to his favourite coffee shop—the one where he’d met Nicole the other day—picked up two espressos to go and two dark chocolate brownies, then headed for Mortimer Gardens.
The front door to the cinema was closed, but when he tried the handle it was unlocked. He opened it and went into the lobby. ‘Hello?’ he called.
Nicole came into the lobby from what he assumed was the foyer, carrying a clipboard. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘I brought you coffee.’ He offered her the paper cup and one of the two paper bags.
She frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because we’re neighbours. You’ve been working hard and I thought maybe you could do with this.’
‘Thank you,’ she said coolly and politely, ‘but there’s really no need.’
He sighed. ‘Nicole, I don’t want to fight with you—and I could drink both espressos myself and eat both brownies, but that much caffeine and sugar in my system at once would turn me into a total nightmare. Take pity on my staff and share it with me.’
‘I…’
He could see the doubt in her face, so he added, ‘For Clarence and Georgy.’
She shook her head. ‘Forget Georgy. She doesn’t exist. Any more than Clarence does.’
‘We do exist—we’re real. And can you please just take the coffee and cake instead of being stubborn and stroppy? They don’t come with strings attached.’
She stared at him. Just when he was about to give up and walk away, she gave the tiniest nod. ‘I guess. Thank you.’ She took the coffee and the brownie. ‘Though actually I do feel beholden to you now.’
‘There’s no need. It’s just coffee. As I said, no strings. I’m being neighbourly.’
‘I guess I should be neighbourly, too, and invite you to sit down—’ she gestured to his suit ‘—but you’re really not dressed for this place.’
‘Maybe.’ He noticed that she was wearing jeans and another old T-shirt, teamed with canvas shoes; her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun. Out of habit from her banking days, or just to try and stop herself getting so dusty? Who was the real Nicole—the banker, or the girl who dreamed of the stars?
‘I was just working through here.’
Gabriel followed her through into the foyer, where she’d set up a makeshift desk at one of the tables. She’d taken down the boarding on one of the windows to let some light in.
‘Lighting not working?’ he asked.
‘The electricity supply’s due to be reconnected some time today,’ she said. ‘I’m using a torch and this window until then.’
‘And you have some spare fuses in case some of the circuits blow when the electricity’s back on?’
She folded her arms and gave him a narrow-eyed look. ‘I might be female, Mr Hunter, but I’m neither stupid nor helpless.’
He sighed. ‘That wasn’t what I was implying. You know I know you’re not stupid or helpless. What I’m saying is that I have a couple of electricians next door if you run into problems, OK?’