My Summer in London

Chapter 1

M

iss 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.

Serena?

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.

I instantly felt faint when those vivid, metallic eyes captured me.

Holy fucking heaven and hell.

Chapter 2

H

ow do you like London? Is this your first time?" Margery Elliot asked me in a soft, gracious tone.

Apart from the terminal and the view from the cab, I hadn’t seen much of the city.

Making a small smile, I made a curt nod. Yes. Ma’am? Madam? Everyone was so formal here; as a result, I wasn’t sure how to address her. Maybe Mrs. Elliot would do, like how the rest addressed her in her household? Yeah, it sounded much better. I … uh … This is my first time.

Margery was very well poised, and with the way she spoke, it was as if she was saying something beautiful all the time. It was impressive and hypnotizing at the same time, which made me wonder if she even knew or remembered how to yell at all. She was very soft spoken, very unlike my spontaneous, temperamental yet passionate mother.

After inquiring about my mom and my life back in Cali, she then directed her attention to her son, asking about some event they were organizing. The opportunity of them conversing gave me a chance to study him unnoticed.

After our peculiar introduction upstairs, I was surprised Cruz stuck around to join his mother and me for tea. If the situation were reversed, I would most likely stay the heck away from someone who couldn’t stop staring at me, which was, by the way, hard to do, even when I was sitting across from him and his mother.

It was like my eyes were trained on him. Whatever he did—clear his throat, smile, speak, or the way he sipped his tea—I took it all in, and thus far, I hadn’t found anything repulsive about him. For the past thirty minutes, I had been trying to find something that would turn me off, yet he still remained perfection.

The ends of his hair curled on the sides, and I was itching to touch them. It reminded me of JFK Junior’s hair, but much better because Cruz had silver eyes, like hot molten mercury, indefinable, untouchable, unattainable.

It was extraordinary for me to be sitting here, sipping tea, mindlessly having a conversation, all the while day dreaming about the guy sitting across from me. Apart from niceties, he hadn’t really said much to me.

I’m home! a loud voice came from down the hall, making me instantly tense, while Margery perked up at the booming voice.

That must be Archer, my youngest son, she informed me with a proud smile. Archer? she gently called out to him.

The one and only, Archer loudly responded as he entered the sitting room.

Dressed in all black, he took the available seat next to me before extending his hand. Ah, you must be the mysterious Serena. Welcome to the family.

Oh, God. Brothers, two blindingly hot brothers, one with silver eyes and the other blue, but almost alike. The only difference was the height and muscle mass. Though Cruz was clearly the better looking of the two, Archer, I assumed, was the friendliest because he already felt comfortable around me by the way he was sitting too close for propriety’s sake.

Are you here to join us for dinner? Cruz asked him in a cool manner.

Not entirely. I’m just here to check-in is all. I have this thing tonight that I have to attend … He trailed off before granting me his sole attention. Want to come? I’d like to show you around.

Before I had the chance to respond to Archer’s question, Cruz butted in by asking, And what do you mean by this ‘thing’? Your usual parties and conquests, I take it?

Archer rolled his eyes at his brother. Oh, do cheer up, Cruz. You act as if you’re not merely a few years older than myself. It’s a bloody party, not a funeral.

Why don’t you both take her? Margery cheerily proposed, lightening the mood after the short-term burst of tension. I’m sure Serena would love to see what people your age do around here.

Yes, please do, I silently encouraged, too giddy at the thought of having alone time with Cruz, even if it was with his brother.

The scene wouldn’t be fitting for Cruz, Archer stated in a mocking tone.

And what scene would that be? his less than pleased brother flung the question at him, seeming more irritated than before.

Fun folks. You’re more into uptight, bore fests and air kisses.

The irritation that was pasted on his face seconds ago seemed to have disappeared, and in came the cool, collected Cruz. Just because I’m the responsible one, it doesn’t make me a boring person.

You really need to stop fighting like hounds. Your father would be aghast to see you two bicker like ten-year-olds, Margery reprimanded them, hoping to put a halt to their nonstop counterarguments.

Archer shrugged. Fine. All right. I’ll lessen the jabs. He cocked his chin towards his brother before giving him a shit-eating grin. All jests aside, dear brother, I do highly respect you.

Brilliant, then I’m coming along, Cruz stated, seeming pleased with himself.

That settles it, then, their mother commented, finalizing everything.

Oh, dear. Two brothers who were competitive against each other: check. One chick who was hyperventilating at the thought of partying with not one but two gorgeous men on her side: check.

This ought to be an interesting night.

Chapter 3

B

efore I arrived in London, I wouldn’t have pegged myself as the type to ponder what to wear for a night out with guys. I wasn’t that kind of girl. Well, I thought I wasn’t … until tonight.

The contender was between a pink mini dress and a denim skirt, matched with a cream, sheer, lacey, silk chiffon. Since I was a So Cal kinda gal, I tended to opt for clothes that were pretty and comfortable; therefore, the skirt and silk chiffon won my decision in the end.

Once the clothing debacle was over and done with, it was time to test out the newly refurbished bathroom with the deep Victorian bath that closely resembled a coffin. Odd thoughts aside, the vintage-esque feel of modern meets old money was a nice mesh of where I was in my life in this moment.

With my background, I wasn’t trained in historical art, which the whole country practically was comprised of. The intricate details on the buildings were extraordinary. I hoped to learn as much as I could before going back home. Obviously, they did things differently here, and more importantly, since the Elliots were a different breed than I was used to, it would be an interesting dynamic to witness.

I wouldn’t consider myself an awkward outcast. In fact, I was popular in my old school, being that I was on the cheerleading squad, dance, and in theatre, which was the polar opposite to my business finance major. As a result, moving here and starting from scratch with no friends or family to speak of was terrifying. However, along with those feelings, there was a lot of excitement, as well, because the unknown was—well, it was the unknown, and who knew what could transpire in a year.

Although living in the same household with two dashingly handsome men definitely ignited a lot of excitement. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Keeping this kind of company would place Aaron in the dust … until I barely even remembered him.

Yeah, this was the upside of going away for a year after a painful break-up. It was easy to get on and live life again. Being far away from home was thrilling, not to mention being around guys who were interesting and quite different than me. Regardless, my main goal in coming here was to have experience and to see if I could possibly qualify for an internship somewhere. That would definitely be the icing on the already lavish, scrumptious cake.

Where’s your brother? The question flew out my lips the moment I found Archer. Instead of greeting him like one normally would, I regarded him like we were old friends and not an acquaintance trying to bond, hoping to merge into a friendship.

I was hoping my major blunder on etiquette wasn’t noted as I tried to cover my reddening cheeks with an easygoing smile.

He had to tend to something on short notice, so he might not be able to join us after all, Archer responded without hesitation as he studied my outfit with gusto before beaming at me. But cheer up. At least you’ll have me all to yourself. He then winked at me before laughing at his own expense.

Playing along, all the while grinning like a blushing idiot at his penetrating eyes, I couldn’t help blossoming from his intense scrutiny.

My, aren’t you the forward kind?

That, I am. I promise not to disappoint. His smile grew wider, his eyes sparkling like diamonds as he sexily cocked his head to the side.

Fuck. He was too suave at flirting, while I was new to all of this. Four years of being in a monogamous relationship had made me rusty.

His thick, dark hair and impressively magnetic blue eyes put the word dreamy to shame. Therefore, even though his hunk of a brother wasn’t around, Archer wasn’t one to be brushed off, either. It’s as if Cruz was the demigod and Archer the god—not as amazing as the demigod, but still a god. And yes, he could also easily make my heart speed up like crazy.

I knew it was superficial and too cliché, but hell, my body was acting of its own accord. I mean, in all seriousness, I was a twenty-one-year-old living in a new country, living in a new house. Everything was foreign and different, and the newly minted me wanted to come out and play.

Yes, playing would be nice.

I wasn’t trying to shamelessly justify my flirtation by blaming my heartbreak and trying to move on from it, but after the hurt, I deserved to live like normal girls my age would—living life to the fullest. Consequently, that was what I wanted to do—live life with no regrets.