Chapter 8

Betsy stared at the garment bag hanging on the door of the wardrobe and tried her best not to feel terrified. She hadn't seen Nick since she had agreed to be his fake girlfriend. She was avoiding him and he had made himself scarce. The man was probably giving her space. She knew she probably looked like some spooked deer on the edge of fleeing.

Shaking her head, Betsy stretched out a shaky hand and laid it over the nondescript garment bag. There was only an hour and a half before the party was due to start. The kids were already dressed. She had seen to that before even considering her own attire. Now she wished she had given more thought to it.

"I can do this. I can totally do this." She murmured. Pulling the zip down, Betsy then parted the material to reveal the treasure which was hidden within. "And I can't do this. I really can't do this."

Inside was a nineteen twenties inspired dress. It was heavily beaded, the embellishments adding to the old style glamour. No doubt it also added zeros on to the price tag. Betsy stroked her fingers over the blush coloured material and sighed. It was beautiful but it was too much.

"Get yourself together Betsy, it's only a party. It's only people."

Pulling the dress from the bag, the blonde shrugged off her dressing gown and stepped into the garment. It fit like a glove, so close to her form she couldn't help but wonder how Mr Davenport had known her sizes. There was something wrong with the boss knowing just how big her butt was and how small her waist was.

"Don't think about it, just do up the zip and then get your make up done Betsy. All of this will be for nothing if you make the man late to his party." She muttered, reaching a hand behind her to try and snag the zip.

She cussed as her fingernails caught the tip of the zip but did not quite reach.

"Here, let me help you with that." Nicholas stated from the open doorway, his voice deeper than usual as he came to stand behind his employee.

Betsy glanced over her shoulder and gasped at the sight of Nicholas Davenport striding towards her with purposeful strides. He was dressed in a white shirt – one which was not fully buttoned so that Betsy got an eyeful of the flesh beneath. She gulped and turned her head away.

Within a few steps Nick was directly behind her and was glad that she was no longer looking into his eyes. It would have been difficult to try and maintain any kind of eye contact when he was in such close proximity. Still the effect was intoxicating. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

It was wrong to enjoy it but Betsy couldn't resist relishing in the warmth. It took away a chill within her body which she hadn't even realised she possessed. And that was without him touching her.

Closing her eyes, Betsy bit her lip hard enough for it to sting. Clarity – she needed lots of it. No matter how much she was feeling, she had to keep her head. He was her employer. She was his housekeeper. Nothing would ever work out well between the two of them.

Reaching out a hand, Nick swept her hair over her shoulder so it was out of the path of the zip. The brush of his finger along the curve of her neck as he did so was just a coincidence. Still, Betsy blushed.

Nick, a blush on his own cheeks, knew he would never forget the sight of his young housekeeper wriggling into the vintage thirty thousand pound dress. He hadn't told her how much it cost. She wouldn't have accepted it but when he had seen it hanging in the boutique he knew there was no other dress for her. And he was right. Her hips had swayed side to side as she had unconsciously tried to wriggle into the delicate fabric of the dress without causing any snags of tears. It was the most simple and erotic sight he had ever witnessed.

Leaning close, Nick ran his fingers up the length of Betsy's back. His fingers stroking over the skin between the open folds of fabric while his other hand followed with the zip. Betsy shivered under his touch, her head bowed so that he was unable to see his face. It was wrong to do it. He knew it but Nick just had to know. He had to know if the skin was as soft as it looked.

He paused, his fingers still holding onto the zip. Then, realising the position they were in, he abruptly stepped away clearing his throat as he did so.

"It's a perfect fit." He stated blandly, keeping his face perfectly blank as his housekeeper turned on her heel to look at him.

Betsy's mouth felt dry and her hands clammy. Disorientated was the only word to describe how she felt in that moment. She felt completely undone by the single touch of a man who was so unattainable and unavailable that it was just ludicrous she could even feel this way. It had been too long – far too long- since she had felt the touch of a man who was not cold and indifferent to her.

"T-thank you," She stuttered awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she did so. Her cheeks burned hot under the intense gaze of Mr Davenport – it was like being a giddy teen all over again. "For the help and the dress of course."

Nick's face gave away nothing as he nodded his head curtly and responded with an abrupt, "Of course."

Forcing her lips into a smile, Betsy looked from the man she was supposed to be playing house with and her toes peeking out from beneath the dress. Madness – pure madness. There was no way she had been in her right mind when she had agreed to this. Does the insanity plea work outside of court?

Despite the panic welling within her stomach, turning it all up on itself, she knew she would go through with this. If not for Nick Davenport, then she would have to do it all for his children. They were slowly taking over her heart and the mere thought of living a life without seeing their cheeky smiles was like looking at a future without sunshine. Betsy wasn't sure she could ever go back to living in the darkness.

"Is it time to go?" She blurted when her boss made no attempt to leave but instead stood there and watched her.

The gaze was intense. With that single look it was as though he was looking stripping through her defences and staring straight into her soul. He let his eyes linger for a moment longer, shook his head in the negative and then spun on his heel.

Betsy, swiping a blonde strand off of her face, watched his retreating back with wide eyes. It was only when he disappeared from her view did she allow her gaze to drop down to her toes once more. Then, she released the breath she had been holding. It was an unconscious move, one she hadn't even realised she had been doing.

The man affected her. There was no denying that.

It was crazy. Wrong.

And yet Betsy found she couldn't regret it.

After everything she had been through since last year she had thought she would never be able to feel like this again. She certainly hadn't for the man she married. Even now should only feel indifference for her ex. Her hand stroked over her stomach as the past reared its ugly head once more. Its effects were muted this time – as if time and distance had made their ability to inflict crippling wounds lessen.

Dropping her hand away, Betsy closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, she turned and faced the long freestanding mirror which had been installed into the room at some point during the day.

Betsy felt beautiful. Despite the lack of makeup she couldn't stop from turning side to side to admire herself. The dress clung to her body, showing off her figure while hiding the lumps and bumps she hated so much. And then there was her hair. Her hair now had honey coloured highlights woven through the strands making it dazzle and when it wasn't in the chignon it now hung around her shoulders. She supposed if someone was being paid over a hundred pounds to cut and style her hair they should have been damned good.

Most surprising was how it changed the way she viewed herself. Betsy didn't feel like an awkward twenty something divorcee, she felt like a strong beautiful woman. It was something her wedding dress had never made her feel. It was something her Ex had never made her feel either.

With that realisation, Betsy stumbled back a step as if hit by a physical blow. She knew with certainty then that she had made the right choice. Divorce was not something she had ever planned on but there was nothing left to salvage.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Betsy stepped up to the mirror and carefully applied her makeup. She wanted to look beautiful, like she belonged of the arm of one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. And yet, Betsy would hate it if they thought she was trying too hard to fit in.

She carefully applied mascara, the smallest bit of eyeliner and a nude coloured gloss to finish off her look. Finally, Betsy stepped into a pair of pale gold heels. She teetered for a moment as she adjusted to the stiletto heels and then picked up her clutch and headed out of the door.

The children were waiting in the foyer. Delilah had a dress in a similar shade of pink, her fluffy skirt flaring outwards and ending just below her knees. She had a pink fluffy shrug wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm in the cold evening air. Tommy looked adorable in his little suit, a miniature of his father as they both paced back and forth. The smaller male was always a few paces behind and kept having to run so that he could catch up once more.

Her lips twitched into a smile, pausing to enjoy the scene and commit it to memory.

"I hope you're not waiting for me." Betsy asked demurely, stepping forwards so that all of their attention centred on her.

The children squealed and rushed to her, their little arms wrapping around the blonde's waist as they did so. She bent down and gave them each a hug before looking up over their heads to stare at their father. Nick hadn't moved, he was frozen in place and for a moment she thought that he had stopped breathing because he was so still.

For a second Betsy thought he was going to compliment her but then he opened his mouth. "Of course we were waiting for you. You're late."

Betsy frowned at him but bit back any reply. It wouldn't help matters.

Instead, she took the children's hands in hers, her clutch propped between her side and her elbow as she headed towards the door. Nick seemed to snap out of it then. He pulled the clutch free before standing at his daughter's side and taking her hand in his.

It took just twenty minutes to reach the restaurant. Nick had made all of the reservations, ensuring everything was planned from the menu available for the evening to the wine which would be served with each course. He had even paid extra to ensure that only his most favoured members of staff were on hand to serve them at the table. It might have been extreme in the eyes of most people but Nick knew the key to success was precision and planning.

As the car idled out the front of the restaurant, Nick glanced over at his fake girlfriend. Betsy, who had been all blushes back in her bedroom, was now looking rather sickly. Her face had lost its colour and her hands were gripping desperately on to the edge of the seat. She was oblivious to the children chattering away at her side, her eyes staring straight ahead and at nothing else.

In an unprecedented move, Nick stretched out a hand and laid it over the top of hers. Her skin was cold under his warm hands but, despite the shock of her cool skin, he picked up her hand and twined his fingers with hers, giving her hand a squeeze as he did so. The gesture drew to the woman from her daze but she still appeared to be out of sorts.

"It's going to be okay. They're just people." Nick heard himself say, wondering why he was even trying to comfort the woman.

"They're not just people. They're important people you are trying to impress," Betsy croaked, looking up at him through her lashes, her hands squeezing his unconsciously in an attempt to gather her strength. "I just want to do this for you, to make everything right. I know how much this means to you."

Nick frowned as he stared at her face. There were no signs of deception. Her face was open and honest. She wasn't trying to leverage him for a pay out or trying to use his name to further her own career. She was a mystery.

"Thank you."

She startled, looking up at him with wide eyes. "For what? I haven't done anything yet."

Chuckling, Nick ran his free hand through his hair all too aware of the little ears listening in on their conversation.

"You've done enough, more than enough."

Betsy nodded her head, brushing a curl from her face. "Are we going to do this?"

She made no move to remove her hands from his. She didn't want to admit it but she was more than a little terrified of what was to come. No matter that it was all pretend, she couldn't remember the last time she had been the woman on someone's arm.

"Sure," he replied, staring at her for several long seconds before knocking on the window beside him.

On command, the driver pulled open the door to the car and stood to the side so that they could all exit. Nick released his housekeeper's hand so that he could exit first and then turned back so he could help her and the two children out of the vehicle. Lifting his son into his arms, the dark haired man then entwined his fingers through Betsy's even as his daughter clung to her skirts.

There were a few members of the press standing outside of the door. They spotted him and his family almost immediately and it took everything within him not to let out a loud groan as the camera flashes started. They bombarded them one after another in a barrage. Tommy whimpered and buried his head in to Nick's chest.

Holding him tighter to his body, the man stared over at the camera even as he pulled the beautiful woman at his side into his hold. He could feel her hand trembling so he gave it a squeeze, using it to draw her closer. There was another flash.

Turning his head, Nick glanced down at the woman as his side, took in her deer-in –the-headlights expression before leaning down and pressing his lips on to her temple. She turned and met his gaze, her eyes even wider than before as she looked up at him and only him. He would have liked to have thought those wide eyes were because she was so enthralled with him but he knew that reality was not that kind.

Still, maintaining eye contact, he lifted her hands and kissed the back of her hands. The camera flashed. He knew that tomorrow there would be pictures of him, his children and Betsy on their first public outing. There would be lies, speculation but he knew, this moment would lead many to believe this was the start of something serious.

Squeezing her fingers once more, he looked away.

"No more pictures please ladies and gentlemen. We are late to dinner as it is." He nodded his head at the camera wielding fiends standing just a few feet away and then pulled their rag tag group into the restaurant.

Betsy's mouth dropped open as they stepped inside and she had to forcefully close it to stop herself from looking like a fool. They were in a restaurant, one which looked as if it charged hundreds of pounds per plate of food. There were just a few people in the restaurant. They were seated at clothed tables, perfectly buffed and polished cutlery in their hands.

She felt herself being towed between the tables. If it hadn't been for Nicholas' strong grip on her hand she would still have been standing the hallway, staring at the world she had always stood outside of. Yet as she passed by tables, and people caught sight of her hand being held by none other than Mr Nicholas Davenport, she was the one drawing stares.

Ducking her head, Betsy's mouth felt dry. It was like some alternate reality. She lifted her head and met the stare of a woman who was sat just a few feet away. She was young, busty and beautiful yet as Betsy met her stare couldn't miss the jealous glare that was directed straight at her. The woman's eyes lifted to the gorgeous Mr Davenport and Betsy knew without a doubt that the only thing the woman coveted was the man who held her hand so tightly.

Lifting her chin, Betsy met her stare head on and smiled at the woman. She felt more than a small bit of pleasure when the blonde woman scowled indelicately and looked away. When she felt a tugging on her skirt, the blonde glanced down in time to see the Delilah Davenport stopping to stick her tongue out.

"Hey," Betsy chastised half-heartedly, reaching out to snag the small girls hand and pulling her along so that they could keep up with Nick and Tommy.

Nick pulled them to a stop before they could reach the table. He stared down at their small group. The children tugged impatiently on their hands but his gaze was centred all on Betsy. He stared deeply into her eyes, reassuring himself that she was okay to do this. She smiled, even if it was a little shaky, and nodded her head.

Lifting her hand, he placed a kiss on the back of it in the briefest caress. Then, letting out a breath, he smiled.

"It's show time."