I take the tube to Waterloo and get on the train to Virginia Water station. The train is almost empty and I sit in a carriage with one other person and stare out of the window unseeing. My mind churning with thoughts. Sometimes I catch my reflection smiling like some lovesick fool. I wonder what he must be doing. Probably still in bed. I think of his lips going down my stomach, kisses fluttering like butterflies.

When the train gets to Staines I call my aunt, and by the time I exit Virginia Water Station she is already waiting at the car park. I fling my knapsack into the boot of the car and get into the passenger seat.

‘You all right?’ she asks, smiling at me and turning the key in the ignition.

I smile back. ‘Yeah. Did you have to wait long?’

‘No, I just got here.’

‘So where is this antiques fair then?’

‘At the Runnymede Hotel. It’s only ten minutes away. Hopefully we’ll find something special for your mom’s birthday.’

‘I hope so too,’ I say, and suddenly miss my mom. I take my mobile out and send her a message.

I love you, mom. <3x

Her reply is instantaneous.

‘Mom sends her love. She’s at grandad’s,’ I tell my aunt.

She smiles. ‘I’ll call her tomorrow.’

Her phone rings and she fits her ear piece and says, ‘Hello.’

With a sigh I turn to look out of the window.

Virginia Water is a stockbroker belt and fittingly we are flanked on either side of the tree-lined road by massive mansions. My aunt often says that her family is the poorest in Virginia Water. My uncle bought his property for an unthinkable sum of £220,000 twenty years ago before it became the real estate haven for the City boys. Now her home is worth more than £2.2 million. ‘One day I’ll sell my house and be a millionaire,’ she always jokes.

Less than ten minutes after we hit the A30, we turn into Runnymede Hotel. I trail after my aunt from table to table looking at brick-a-brac that I would have cheerfully thrown out, but it is apparently still considered of value.

A chipped porcelain cup that a woman wanted £5.00 for, a dusty doll with a scratched face going for £20.00, yellowing tablecloths, a purple feather boa, but none of it puts my aunt off. She is determined that she will find a gem in that junk, and she is right. We, well she, finally finds a surprisingly pretty Victorian Cameo brooch pin with pearls that I know mom will love. My aunt bargains and gets £7.00 taken off the price. I hand over £30.00 and the vendor wraps it up and puts it into a bag for me.

Afterwards we have lunch at the hotel, then we head over to her house. My niece, Tabitha, who is eight years old comes running from the garden next door. She is wearing her swimsuit and her hair is in pigtails.

‘Come for a swim, Aunt Tori,’ she begs.

‘I’m too tired. I didn’t sleep well last night and now that I have had a big lunch I think I’ll take a nap for a couple of hours, but look what I got you.’

‘What?’ she asks excitedly.

She runs off after I give her a packet of gummy bears. I throw myself on the couch and almost immediately fall asleep.

I wake up to the sound of my aunt’s panicked voice calling me.

‘There’s a big black Lamborghini stopping outside the house.’

I blink sleepily.

‘Heaven’s above, a man who looks very much like Cash Hunter is coming out of it.’

I sit bolt upright. ‘What?’

My aunt turns away from the window and looks at me, her eyes shining with inquisitiveness. ‘Looks like he is coming up our driveway, Tori.’

I stare at my aunt with horrified eyes.

‘Would you like to freshen up first, or are you OK with him seeing you with drool on your face?’ she asks calmly.

With a yelp I jump up and dash up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs I hear my aunt say graciously, ‘Do come in. She’s upstairs. I’ll give her a quick shout.’

She then pretends to call up the stairs. ‘Tori, you have a visitor.’

I rush to the bathroom and my aunt is right. I look a right mess. With shaking fingers, I hurriedly repair my hair, splash some cold water on my face and slick on a lick of lip gloss and spray some perfume from a glass bottle. Too late I realize that it is air freshener. Shit. I try to wash it off my skin as best as I can before I go downstairs.

‘Hello,’ I greet, with a little awkward wave of my right hand. Cash looks like a living god in my aunt’s sitting room.

He lets his eyes wander hotly down my body. Damn him. I feel my cheeks begin to flush and my heart rate soar.

My aunt smiles at me. ‘I’m just about to make some tea. Would both of you like some?’

‘That’s really kind, Mrs. Carter, but I was hoping to take Tori out on a picnic.’

My aunt’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. ‘Oh. Yes, of course. What a splendid idea. Yes, yes, you must take advantage of this fine weather. That’s if Tori is happy with the idea, of course.’

I feel both eyes turn towards me.

‘What have you got in your picnic basket?’ I ask.

He grins. ‘I have no idea. I ordered the deluxe picnic basket from my local delicatessen.’

‘That’ll do,’ I say with a grin.

‘What time will you be bringing Tori back?’

I laser my aunt with an I’m not twelve look.

‘Just kidding,’ she says with a laugh.

Both Cash and I pretend to laugh with her.

‘Right, we should be off,’ Cash says.

‘I’ll call you later,’ I tell my aunt.

‘Please do,’ she says with emphasis, as she walks us to the front door. She remains at the doorway and watches as we walk down the drive. There is at least half-a-foot between us.

I smile up at him. ‘So how did you find me?’

‘Do you remember answering a little question called next-of-kin on your employee form?’

I nod. ‘I thought that information was personal and confidential.’

‘I slipped into that category last night when I was eating you out. Now might be a good idea to wave at your aunt, Buttercream.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ I say as I turn around to wave jauntily at my aunt.

My aunt waves back.

When I turn around Cash too is waving at my aunt.

He opens the car door and I slip into the black interior. Inside it is all sleek lines and so super masculine, I feel a bit like Naomi Watts when she was carried in King Kong’s oversized, leathery palm.

‘Fancy,’ I say.

‘It’s always nice when a girl is impressed by your … equipment,’ he says with a predatory grin.

‘Do you know I sometimes fantasize about slapping you?’

He laughs and guns the engine. The roar is incredibly Alpha. I get why these kinds of cars are standard issue for successful men the world over. It’s a good ole my-roar-is-louder-than-yours chest beating competition.