Notes

If you're thinking this story sounds familiar, you might be right. ;) Here, we meet our two protagonists and watch as fate brings them together.

Big thanks the Kelkat9 and kahki820 for their help getting this one going!

Chapter 1

John Smith excused himself from the group of London elite he'd been roped into mingling with and escaped to the nearest empty room which happened to be a bedroom. Harold Saxon's Kensington home was packed with the rich and influential and John had just about had enough of it. He wasn't even sure how he'd let Saxon talk him into coming to this party of his. He was in town for the week on business, having left the uncomfortable situation at his home in Edinburgh gratefully behind. He and his live-in girlfriend, Joan, hadn't been getting along lately and they'd spent more time avoiding one another than actually being together. Apparently his longtime friend and lawyer, Harold Saxon, had thought he would welcome the glitzy distraction of an enormous party. Sometimes he wondered if Harry knew him at all.

He'd just barely had time to appreciate the absence of party noise when his mobile began to trill and buzz in his trouser pocket. It figured; he couldn't go more than about 10 minutes without the darned thing going off. He pulled the device from his pocket and winced at the number on the touchscreen. Joan. He slid his finger across the screen, accepting the call, and raised it to his ear.

"Hello, Joan," he greeted, making an effort to keep his voice warm.

"John," she returned, her voice smooth. "I thought I should give you a call and let you know…" She trailed off and he had a bad feeling.

"You are still coming, aren't you?" he asked.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "No, I'm not coming, John."

Irritation boiled up within him. He didn't ask her for much but he'd asked her to be here this week. "Joan, you know I need you here this week. I've got a very busy schedule with a lot of social functions to attend."

"I can't be your at your beck and call all the time. I have a life of my own," she told him and he heard the bitterness in her voice. "I'm tired of sitting around this house waiting for you to come home and notice me."

A wave of guilt threatened to swamp the irritation he felt and he quickly pushed it aside. "What am I supposed to do this week then? I need someone to take to these ridiculous parties, I can't do it alone."

He heard her laugh but it didn't sound amused. "You'll figure something out, John, you always do. I just can't go along for the ride anymore."

"That sounds like a threat," he said, his jaw tightening. He paced the empty bedroom, not seeing the expensive, modern furnishings. He was familiar with this moment in a relationship but somehow it always surprised him when he came upon it.

"It's a promise, John," Joan replied and now she sounded tired. "I'll be moved out by the time you're home next week."

He swallowed and was surprised at how little he was surprised and how little he was upset. If anything, the change to his plans for the week here in London upset him more than her moving out. If that didn't tell him everything he needed to know, he didn't know what would. Blimey, the fact that he had yet another failed relationship under his belt was more upsetting. What was wrong with him that he couldn't maintain a wife or a girlfriend for more than a few months at a time?

"That's fine, if that's how you feel, Joan," he said evenly.

"Have a good week," she told him. She knew she was leaving him in the lurch.

There was the irritation again. "Yes, you too."

John hung up and stuffed the mobile back in his trouser pocket. He crammed a hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully styled strands. Now the week that he'd been dreading would be that much worse with no familiar face to share it with. But it did seem to be his fate; being alone. Maybe Harry could set him up with someone. His wife, Lucy, was some sort of a fitness video celebrity and surely had a sizeable collection of single friends. There had to be at least one of them that would be amenable to hanging off his arm at all the social events he had to attend this week.

"There you are!" a voice boomed. John whirled around to see Harold Saxon entering the room, a large smile on his boyish face. "Why aren't you out there, rubbing elbows? There are some great contacts to be made here tonight."

He made a face. "I'm not much in the mood for a crowd tonight, Harry. I just got off the phone with Joan."

"Oh? Is she on her way? Though, she should have been here in time for the party, I'll have to give her a hard time about that when she gets here."

"She's not coming," John said. "She's leaving me."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. Again? That's some track record you have there."

The irritation he'd felt earlier flared again. "I need to get out of here."

Now, Harry looked panicked. "You can't leave now. The cream of London society is out there, waiting to be charmed by you!"

Mind made up, John crossed the room, patting Harry on the shoulder as he passed him. "I think you can handle it, old friend."

"Don't forget, we have the meeting with Mott's people tomorrow," Harry called out as he reached the door to the bedroom.

How could he forget? Mott and his shipyard were the whole reason he was here in London this week. He lifted a hand to indicate he'd heard his friend before he swept out of the room.

The street in front of Saxon's house was a madhouse. Luxury cars and limousines were packed in like sardines, their drivers standing against the side of the house and chatting. Clearly, no one expected to be going anywhere for a good while yet. John quickly located his driver, Alonso, talking to the other drivers. He couldn't even get to him through the tightly configured conglomeration of cars. He gestured to him and shouted, "Can you get me out of here?"

Alonso looked around and shook his head, "I think we're stuck here for a while, boss. I can get us out but it'll probably take a good thirty minutes if not more." He stuck his hand in his pocket, fishing for the keys and gestured to the driver standing nearest him.

"No, no, that's okay," John called out. "I'll get back to the hotel myself."

Alonso looked worried at that but before he could argue, John was charging over to the garage at the far end of the driveway. The only cars not currently blocked in belonged to Harry. A gleaming, bulging, silvery sports car sat at the front of the garage. He gestured to the attendant standing there. "Toss me the keys, will you?"

The attendant shifted on his feet, unsure. Just then, Harry appeared, looking equally nervous. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"To my hotel," John answered. "Can I borrow your car?"

Harry licked his lips. "Sure you can, but John, do you even know how to drive?"

He tossed his friend a roguish grin as the attendant handed him the keys. "Of course!" He opened the door of the low slung vehicle and manoeuvred himself behind the wheel.

John started the car and it roared to life. Dusk was falling quickly now so he flipped a button and the headlights blazed to life. He pressed the accelerator and the car jerked forward. He caught sight of Harry cringing from the garage. Tossing his friend a wave, he turned down the street and gunned the engine.

He completely missed Harry yelling, "You're going the wrong way!" as he sped off into the gathering dark.

An alarm clock buzzed angrily for a minute before a hand snaked out from underneath a rumpled duvet to slap ineffectually at it. Finally, a tousled blonde head emerged and regarded the offending object as she finally turned the alarm off. Rose Tyler groaned as she let her head fall back to the pillow. She could tell by the quality of light coming in through the small window in the room that it was already evening. She'd slept the day away but then she'd expected to. Work had kept her up late last night and she'd been exhausted when she'd finally made it back to the Whitechapel flat she shared with her mate Shireen early that morning.

Rose hated taking the overnight jobs. Spending the night in an unfamiliar place never felt comfortable to her so she rarely slept even when the client did. The money was good, though, and she'd needed what she'd earned last night in order to have enough to pay the rent today. Still, she was glad that she had no appointments lined up for that night. She'd been working more than she liked lately, leaving her less time to study for her A Levels. Her actual A Levels, and not the urban meaning that she'd had to get used to using when she'd joined the escort business two years before. She kept reminding herself that this was just a means to an end. She needed money and this was a quick way to earn it. That was all. She didn't have to keep doing this the rest of her life.

Shireen seemed to enjoy the lifestyle, on the other hand. She'd been the one to urge Rose to give it a try when she'd shown up on her doorstep after her mum had kicked her out. Rose had been out of money, out of luck and out of time. Shireen had been escorting for a good three years by that point, having started as soon as the both of them had left secondary school. She'd never suffered any delusions about her future, knowing this was the best option available to a girl like her, raised on the estate with no money and barely any education.

Rose wanted more from life than that, however. She needed the money right now, but the money wasn't just to survive on. The money would free herself from this life. She might be a professional escort but she prided herself on her freedom and independence. It's why when Shireen had joined up with an escort agency the year before, Rose had stubbornly refused to follow in her footsteps. She didn't want any madame to tell her what clients to see, how much to charge and what services to provide. Sacrificing some of her safety in order to stay in control of her life was worth the trade off as far as she was concerned.

Finally, she felt awake enough to sit up and move out of bed. She stumbled into the shower, mostly just needing it to wake her up since she'd taken a shower before falling into bed earlier that morning. Getting ready was a familiar process, almost like getting dressed in a uniform. It was true, she didn't have any appointments for that night, but she planned to meet Shireen down at the pub and she was always advertising. There'd been many times in the past she'd run into future clients at the pub and she even kept some glossy business cards in her pocket for that reason. She needed to always look the part; enticing. There was no room in her meagre budget for fancy clothes so she had to settle for hand me downs from Shireen's escort friends and with clothes she could find at the local thrift stores.

She picked out a simple but attractive number. It was a slinky dress that hugged her curvaceous figure in all the right places and was a bewitching blue colour. The bluest blue in all the universe. Rose felt powerful as she slipped it over her head and smoothed it down. The hem ended just under her bum, showing the tops of her black stockings teasingly. She pulled on her favourite boots to go with the look, they ended just over the knee and had heels that should have been lethal. She was used to walking on them now without even a wobble. Sitting at her dressing table, she lined her eyes with kohl and stained her lips with lipstick. The finishing touch was a sleek, black wig that was short in the back but longer in the front, the front hanging lower than her square jaw. Combined with the dark eye makeup and the stunning dress and boots, she made quite a spectacle.

As she regarded her reflection in the floor length mirror, Rose knew she wasn't the classic image of a professional escort. She wasn't tall and model skinny. Her breasts were average in size at best. Her grin was maybe too wide and too eager. But she had charm and she had confidence and clients tended to respond to both of those things. Plus, she was very good at giving them what they wanted.

Rose managed her clients through a popular website for finding professional escorts. She prided herself on having a good collection of very positive reviews from former clients. She probably got more business from regulars than anything else. Regulars and referrals from her regulars. She was still new at the game and couldn't charge quite as much as some of the girls could. Especially since she was fairly strict in the services she would and would not offer. She would indulge quite a few kinks but she wouldn't kiss on the mouth. Most clients didn't really mind but it had become an issue a few times in the past. She saw kissing as an intimate thing, something she wanted to keep separate from something she viewed as a business deal. Besides, she did plenty else to make sure her customers were happy.

There was a banging in the hall outside the flat and she could hear the landlord yelling at another one of the tenants about rent. That's right, rent was due today. She crossed the flat to the small stove located in the modest kitchenette. The burner in the back didn't work and she lifted the coils up to reach for the tin underneath where she and Shireen stashed their earnings. Rose opened the tin, expecting to see the wad of notes she'd seen there that morning when she'd added her earnings from last night. Instead, there was less than half the money she was expecting to find there and certainly not enough to pay their rent with. As the colour drained from her face, there was a pounding at the door to the flat.

"Rent!" the landlord called harshly. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed out a few notes to use down at the pub and replaced the tin back in the stove where she'd found it. She'd have to go get the money from Shireen before she could show her face to the landlord. She turned to the window off the kitchenette, the largest window in the flat and opened it. She squeezed through, stepping out onto the fire escape there. It was dangerous and underhanded but she wasn't about to get yelled at or perhaps even evicted tonight.

Rose climbed down the fire escape nimbly, stiletto heels and all and landed carefully on the patch of grass underneath the ladder. She glanced up at the window she'd emerged from before heading around the corner to the pub where she knew she'd find her friend and roommate.

Rose pushed through the crowds inside the Blue Banana, peering through the smoky atmosphere for her friend. Her eyes lit on the booth in the back where Shireen liked to set up residence and she wasn't surprised to find her friend there, wrapped around one Jimmy Stone. Rolling her eyes, she crossed the room as quickly as she could, trying not to make too much eye contact on her way to Shireen's booth.

Jimmy was bad news. She didn't just think so because she had her own sordid history with the bloke. He was the one who had lured her away from school before she could get her A Levels. He was the one who filled her mind with nonsense about dreams and fame and fortune. She'd thought that he would be the answer to her prayers back on that depressing estate. Instead, he'd been a nightmare and had gotten her in more trouble than she'd bargained for. She'd eventually broken things off with him but then he took up with Shireen and things got worse. It was because of her involvement in the whole affair that her mum had kicked her out of the flat at the estate. She'd distanced herself from Jimmy since then but like a bad penny, he kept turning up. And Shireen never could say no to him.

She stood before the booth and waited for the embracing pair to notice her. After a moment, she cleared her throat pointedly. Shireen jumped back guiltily but Jimmy just eased back against the seat and gave her one of his patented slow grins. She resisted the urge to sneer at him and instead focused on her roommate.

"Shireen, do you know what happened to the money we had set aside for rent?" she asked.

The petite brunette nibbled her lip and refused to meet Rose's gaze. "Maybe," she said quietly.

"What did you do with it?"

"Rose, why don't you sit down and join us? I'll order you a drink," Jimmy suggested, snapping his fingers at the barman and indicating their table.

She ignored him and focused on her friend. "Shireen? Tell me where it is."

Shireen patted Jimmy's knee before she scooted away from him and out of the booth. "I'll be right back, baby. Let me go talk to Rose real quick."

The two women walked over to the bar where they could talk in relative privacy. Rose wasn't overly tall but with her stiletto heels, she all but towered over Shireen. Her friend pointedly did not meet her eyes as she began to feast off a bowl of nuts set on the edge of the bar. "Got any clients tonight?" she asked around a mouthful of nuts.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "You know that I don't. Shireen, tell me what happened to the money."

Shireen shrugged and looked over Rose's shoulder. "I needed a little pick me up."

There it was. Rose had feared that Shireen had spent their rent money on drugs but being faced with the truth of it was like a punch in the gut. "That was my money too! We needed it for rent. What are we going to do?" she cried.

"You could take a last minute job tonight," Shireen suggested. "I'm sure one or two might have come up on the site you use." She looked up and saw Rose's stony expression and sighed. "And I could maybe take a job too."

"You know I was looking forward to a night off," she said, hurt bleeding through her voice.

"I know, hon," Shireen said, finally meeting her eye. "I'm sorry… I was weak and then Jimmy came by and… well, you know how it is."

"Yes, once upon a time I did," Rose agreed, remembering all too clearly how Jimmy could be about drugs. She'd never tried anything harder than pot herself, not for lack of Jimmy trying. She hadn't had much sense back then but at least she'd known better than to get pulled into that lifestyle. "Listen, I'm going to head back to the flat, see if I can sneak past the landlord. I'll check the computer, see if any clients have popped up. I'll keep you posted, alright? You have your mobile on you?"

Shireen fished the outdated phone out of her pocket and flashed it. Rose gave her a quick hug before turning to walk out of the pub. "Take care of you!" she called after her. Rose smiled at the familiar endearment.

"Take care of you!" she called back, stepping back out onto the street.

It was a warm night for early September. Summer wasn't quite willing to let go just yet. It was fully dark now and the street was full of Whitechapel residents, out looking for a good time. The thought crossed her mind that maybe she could find a last minute client here on the street. She pushed the notion away; that was dangerous. Not just for her health and safety, but the cops would likely be on her in moments if she tried. No, desperation was not a good reason to ignore her routine in these matters.

Rose hadn't taken two steps down the sidewalk when she heard the grinding of gears behind her. She turned to see the most magnificent sports car she'd ever seen in her life lumbering down the street, as though it were in pain. Another grinding of the gears and it became obvious to her that the driver wasn't very familiar with how to drive such a fine machine. A Bugatti Veyron, she noted enviously as it lurched past her. You're far from home, she thought to herself.

All at once, the car came to a halting stop a few feet down the sidewalk from where she stood. Curious, she approached the idling vehicle. She leaned down to peer into the passenger side window and saw the driver, a man dressed in an impeccable suit and with an artfully tousled head of brown hair, struggling with the gearshift and cursing quietly to himself. The window was cracked so she angled her mouth at the opening.

"Need some help?" she asked.

"I just might," the man murmured before he looked up and met her eyes. His mouth fell open and the first impression she had was his eyes. Big and brown and filled with such expressiveness that she caught herself holding her breath. His gaze traveled down to take in the sight of her form that wasn't obscured by the car door before returning to her face. He swallowed.

"You sure you know how to drive this car, mate?" she said, mostly just to break the silence.

"Fairly sure," he replied, returning his focus to the gear shift as he continued to struggle with it. "As for how sure I am about where I am… that's another matter altogether." Rose caught a hint of Scottish brogue in his voice which she found incredibly attractive. Definitely not from around here then, she thought.

"So you're lost?"

"I don't suppose you could point me in the direction of the Lanesborough? Hyde Park?"

She chuckled. "Mate, you're hell and gone from Hyde Park. I could give you directions," she suggested. Rose considered him for a moment; the fancy suit, the outrageous car. "For a price."

He looked sharply back at her, clearly surprised by her mercenary tactics. "How much?"

"Ten quid."

"Robbery. I'm not paying you ten quid to tell me which direction to head in," he scoffed.

"Suit yourself. Good luck finding your hotel," she replied easily, turning and leaning her bum against the side of the car. Truth be told, she knew what this looked like. Her, in her tart-up outfit, leaning against the body of this frankly magnificent sports car on a busy street in Whitechapel… she knew he'd change his tune about wanting her help but she rather hoped he decided on it sooner rather than later. Preferably before the CCTV took notice.

It was a long, tension filled moment before he spoke again. "Fine, fine. Just get in before you get us both in trouble, alright?"

Rose grinned before turning and letting herself into the car. The interior was like something she'd seen in one of the automobile magazines. Sumptuous leather covered seats, a simple but sophisticated looking dash and softly glowing electronics. It made her think of a plane cockpit. The air in the car was warmer than outside and she was aware that she was sitting on a long coat that had been discarded on the seat. She left it there, instead choosing to fasten her seatbelt.

He was fumbling with a long wallet and pulled out a twenty pound note. "Do you have change for a twenty?" he asked, his eyes drifting down to her legs, or rather, what he could see of her legs from the top of her shining boots to the hem of her dress.

Rose snatched the note out of his hand and tucked it into her bra. "For twenty I'll give you a personal grand tour of the city."

Snorting, the man muscled the car into gear and the car jolted away from the curb and down the street. Rose wasn't entirely sure that she'd made a good decision by getting into this car. It went against all of her own personal rules. But strange as it sounded, she trusted this guy. There was something comforting about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on and she'd always liked a Scottish accent. Plus, twenty pounds was twenty pounds. Beggars can't be choosers and all of that. And maybe, just maybe, she felt in the mood for a little adventure.

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

I guess it wasn't very hard to guess what this is based off of. I'm excited to see everyone likes it so far. There's great things coming in this and I'm having a blast writing it. Here, our protagonists get to know each other a little better. Not like THAT. Not yet, at least. ;)

Thanks so much to kahki820 for being my beta on this!

John Smith fought the gearshift on the Bugatti, finally getting it to shift into second gear. The sports car shuddered unhappily and the girl sitting in the seat next to him cringed visibly. Her outfit said prostitute to him, but he didn't want to assume and risk upsetting her. She was pretty enough, even if her makeup was severe. He couldn't quite judge her age but he could tell that she was at least a few years younger than him. As she gestured for him to turn left onto the next street, he wondered if he'd made a colossal mistake by inviting her into the car. She didn't look dangerous, like she would mug him at knife point, but you never could tell these days.

"Nice car," she said, breaking the silence. "Is it yours?"

He glanced at her. "No."

"Stolen?" He caught a glimpse of her grinning at him, her tongue tucked between her teeth and it sent a frisson of… something through him.

"Not exactly. Borrowed," he clarified and he smiled at her. Her grin deepened and he decided he liked the look of her smile very much. Whoever she was.

"Do you mind if I turn on the air?" she asked.

"If you can figure it out, be my guest. I couldn't even tell you where the wipers are."

John watched out of the corner of his eye as she fiddled with the controls, rolling up the windows that had been down and turning on the air. She acted like she rode in a Bugatti every day. "Very impressive. You're obviously more mechanical than I am."

She giggled a little at that and he was charmed by the sound. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"What gave it away, the accent?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "No, I'm from Edinburgh."

"And where are you staying again?"

"The Lanesborough. I don't know if you know where that is. I'm pretty sure that I don't know where it is. It's near Hyde Park. Are you familiar with that area?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Just because I live in Whitechapel doesn't mean I don't know how to find Hyde Park."

"Point taken," he conceded. There was a tense silence for a minute and he found he was missing her laugh and her grin. "What's your name?"

"What do you want it to be?" she asked, her voice taking on a husky quality. He turned his head and gave her a look and she rolled her eyes again. "It's Rose."

"Pretty name. And what do you… do, Rose?" He was trying to be casual, but the curiosity was starting the get the better of him.

She was biting her lip almost as if she was nervous. She hesitated for a moment before answering, as if deciding what she was going to say. "I'm an escort. A professional escort."

John almost felt giddy that he'd been right in his assumption. "Do you like what you do?"

"It pays." Rose sounded almost defensive but he couldn't resist prying further.

"So do day jobs, I hear."

"Yeah, well, I'm holding out for a management position," she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. She gestured towards his side of the car. "Turn right up here."

He turned the wheel in his hands, the powerful car shuddering under his touch. "It must be dangerous. What you do," he remarked.

"Are you worried about me?" she asked, her eyes twinkling in the darkness of the car. "I take precautions. Always use condoms, I get checked out once a month at the clinic. I make my clients shower and I screen them through email before I set up any appointments. I know what I'm doing. So, not only am I a better shag than most girls out there, I'm probably safer too."

He blinked. He hadn't expected her to be so… professional about it. Still, he couldn't resist jabbing at her more. "Very good. You should have that printed up on a business card."

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, her voice quiet. "Because last I checked, you were the one who needed help. And for your information I dohave business cards."

"I'm sorry," he apologised. He found he didn't like the hurt tone of her voice any more than he'd liked her silence. It made him feel like he'd just kicked a puppy. "I didn't mean to make fun."

John glanced over at a stoplight to see Rose nibbling on the corner of one of her fingernails. "Ugly habit there," he said and she glanced up, startled. "Biting your nails."

She looked down at her nails and shrugged. "If you think this is a nasty habit, then you don't know nasty habits." Still, she folded her hands self consciously in her lap and stared out the window.

He struggled to downshift after leaving a stop sign, cursing quietly again. He couldn't have borrowed a car with an automatic transmission, he had to go with the flash. Rose told him to turn at the next corner and when he did so, he caught her grin next to him.

"This baby must corner like she's on rails," she enthused. He cast her a questioning look. "I mean, isn't it amazing? This car has 16 cylinders. That's incredible. 1200 horsepower and she can go from naught to sixty in 2.4 seconds. They say its the fastest street-legal car out there."

John swallowed his surprise. "You know a bit about cars," he remarked. "Where did that come from?"

"I watch a lot of Top Gear," she said, grinning at him. "Plus, you know, the guys around the estate growing up were big into cars. One of my best friends even became a mechanic. I'd hang around and watch them fix up old cars. Learned a thing or two. What I'd like to know, is how you know solittle about cars?"

He chuckled but there was little humour in it. "My first car was a Rolls Royce. Chauffeur driven," he replied, fighting the gearshift again and the transmission complained loudly. "So where was this estate you grew up on?"

Rose looked concerned about the car. "East London," she said, trailing off as she made a show of looking behind them through the rear window. "You know, I think you left your transmission on the road back there. Do you even know how to work a manual transmission?"

"It would appear that I do not," he said, primly. He thought for a second and made a decision, telling himself that what Harold Saxon didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. "Have you ever driven a Bugatti?"

She obviously thought he was putting her on or poking fun at her background. "No."

"You're about to," he informed her, scanning the side of the road for a spot to pull over.

Rose's jaw fell open. "You're having me on."

He chuckled. "No, I'm not. It's the only way I can get you off my coat." She laughed and he again enjoyed the sound of it.

John pulled off and they quickly changed seats. He settled into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt, trying to tear his mind away from her scent that wafted up to him as he did so.

"I am going to take you for the ride of your life," she told him as she fastened her own seatbelt and tightened her hands on the wheel. "I'm going to show you what this car can really do. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," he replied, grinning.

"Okay, let's go."

"Allons-y!" he agreed and he noticed her give him a strange look.

With considerable skill, she pulled them away from the curb and the sports car shot down the street. John gripped the hanfle on the door but enjoyed the thrill more than he would likely ever admit. As she drove, she lectured him about different specifications this car had that were apparently supposed to be impressive. He made the appropriate noises.

"What do you charge your clients, Rose?" he asked quietly. He hoped he sounded casual but he was afraid she could hear the strain in his voice.

There was a slight pause, again as if she was considering her answer carefully. "I charge a hundred pounds."

"For the whole night?"

She chuckled. "For an hour."

"You must be joking," he said. "You have a safety pin holding your boot up."

"I never joke about money," she replied and from the tone of her voice he knew she wasn't joking. Interesting.

"Neither do I," he admitted. Something they had in common. Then, he chuckled. "A hundred pounds an hour, though. That's pretty stiff."

John caught the sight of her tongue poked between her teeth again as she leaned over across the seat and stuck her hand in his lap. He barely contained a squeak as she palmed the front of his trousers. "No," she said, her voice considering. Then she looked up into his eyes and winked. "But it's got potential."

Rose leaned back in her seat, looking smug and he took a moment to compose himself. She wasn't at all what he would have expected and he had to admit he was intrigued by her.

She steered the car deftly through the congested and confusing streets of London. John was starting to wonder why he hadn't just had her drive from the start and saved the poor car the pain and misery. It was only minutes until she was screeching up to the front of The Lanesborough. A doorman ran over but before he could open the door for her, she was letting herself out. Flustered, the doorman opened his door instead. "Good evening, Mr. Smith. Will you be needing the car again tonight?"

He laughed breathlessly, folding his overcoat over his arm. "I hope not!" The doorman gestured to another man who likely ran the valet and he ran over to retrieve the keys from Rose who was holding them out. Both men studiously avoided staring too hard at her. Her outfit looked even more out of place in front of this posh hotel than it had on the street back in Whitechapel.

They stood facing each other for a few long moments and Rose looked unsure and awkward. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked, considering the position she was in now for the first time.

"Yeah," she said, brushing off his concern. "I'll just grab a cab with my twenty pounds." She grinned for him and he found himself responding.

"Go back to your office?" he joked.

She chuckled. "Yes, I do have some emails to catch up on." He had the impression that she probably wasn't joking about that.

"Well, thanks for the ride. And the tour," he said.

Rose looked around them, at the hotel, the surrounding buildings. She looked a little disappointed and he didn't have to guess why. "Yeah. See ya," she said, stepping back and turning around to go.

"See ya," he replied, watching her go and feeling a strange reluctance. He watched as she walked down the street from the hotel a short way and perched on a bus stop bench. Feeling drawn to her, he walked over to her.

"No cab?" he asked.

"Nah, the bus will do for me." It occurred to him that she was probably interested in saving as much money as possible. He closed his eyes for a moment, making a decision. He might regret this but chances were he would not. He didn't want to be alone tonight and he could easily solve both of their problems right here. At least for tonight.

"I was just thinking," he said. "Did you really say a hundred pounds an hour?"

"Yeah?" she said, looking at him and her hopeful expression erased any doubts he might have been having.

"Well," he began, drawing out the vowel of the word. "I was wondering, if you don't have any previous engagements that perhaps you might not mind accompanying me into the hotel?"

Her smile dawned slowly across her face and he tried not to compare it to the sight of the sun dawning in the east in the morning. "Lead the way," she answered, getting up from the bus stop bench. He was finally getting a good look at her and was surprised at how much he liked what he saw. Her cropped black hair seemed out of place, and her makeup was applied with too heavy a hand for his particular tastes, but her face was pretty and her figure was stunning. Her legs were long and toned, exaggerated by the tall heels on her outrageous boots. She had a small frame, pert breasts and a round bum and he found his mouth watering already.

They walked back to the front of the hotel and she asked him, "I haven't asked yet. What's your name?"

"John," he replied.

"John! That's my favourite name in the whole world," she said, grinning. She nudged his shoulder with her own. "I tell you what, John, this is fate. That's what this is."

He stopped them in front of the doors to The Lanesborough and shook out his overcoat. He held it open for her. Rose looked at him questioningly.

"You may feel more comfortable wearing this," he explained. "This isn't the sort of establishment that rents rooms by the hour."

Her face fell a little as she let him settle the long coat over her shoulders. She pulled it closed in front of her. He led her through the doors and when she looked up again, her mouth fell open. John wondered what this place looked like through her eyes. There wasn't much here that impressed him terribly, but he lived in this lifestyle and had his whole life. To her, the gleaming floors and ornate light fixtures and expensive furnishing and decorations were probably like something out of a movie. She didn't say anything, but she did grab his arm. He grinned and led them across the lobby to the wide staircase that led up to the first floor.

They got a few looks from other patrons of the hotel as they walked up the stairs together but if Rose noticed, she pretended not to. It occurred to him that she was probably used to getting strange looks. Not for the first time, he wondered what she was about. As he rested a hand on her lower back, guiding her up the last steps, he shook the thought from his head. She's just an escort, he reminded himself.

Rose was trying not to gawk around her as John led her to his room. She often met clients in hotel rooms but the fanciest place she'd been in so far had been the Hilton over at Canary Wharf. It was a nice place and she'd been very impressed the couple times she'd met clients there, but it looked like a youth hostel compared to The Lanesborough. She couldn't even imagine what a room cost here. As John guided her down the hallway, she snuck another glance at him from under her eyelashes.

Out of the car and under lighting, he was even more handsome than she'd noticed before. He was tall, very tall, and slim. His brown hair was artfully tousled, styled in such a way that spoke of expensive hair product and even more expensive haircuts. He had a long nose and firm lips and combined with his eyes, it made him look very appealing. John had broad shoulders that she could easily see defined by the lines of his expensive suit. Her eyes drifted down and she took in his narrow waist. Before her thoughts could get the better of her, she reminded herself that she would be getting to experience that narrow waist as well as the rest of him before the night was over.

Being attracted to a client wasn't a new experience for her, but it wasn't a common occurrence either. Generally, it was easier to focus on business if she wasn't attracted. On the other hand, she tended to have more fun herself when she was. Definitely not a priority in her line of work, but a nice bonus.

John led her to a large set of double doors. He worked his key card in the lock and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter before him. For the second time in less than ten minutes, her jaw hit the floor. The foyer to his suite was no less impressive than the lobby of the hotel had been, just on a smaller scale. It was a circular room with a domed ceiling, a delicate looking chandelier hanging down and filling the space with warm light. Columns and archways opened to hallways and she thought that not only was this suite bigger than her flat back in Whitechapel but it was probably bigger than the whole building.

John moved past her and she followed him into what looked to her to be a sitting room. It was enormous and the furnishings made her think of something she'd likely see in Buckingham Palace. She stood in the centre of the room, staring around her while he crossed to a small desk and picked up a telephone receiver. "Hello, room service?" he said into the phone. He glanced at her and asked, "What do you drink?"

Rose moved her mouth but no sound was coming out. He smirked and said into the phone, "Send up a bottle of Dom Perignon."

She recovered herself enough to realise she was feeling more than a little hungry. She hadn't eaten anything since a handful of crisps that morning. "Order us some chips," she hissed as she shrugged out of his coat and tossed it carelessly on the back of the sofa.

"Can you include a bowl of strawberries, please? Thank you." He hung up and smiled at her. She sighed. She could have murdered a plate of chips right then, but strawberries would do.

She continued staring around her, touching the furnishings lightly while John sat at the desk and watched her. "Impressed?" he asked.

Rose rolled her shoulders. She felt decidedly off balance and not in control and it was starting to rub her the wrong way. "No way," she replied. "I come here all the time. As a matter of fact, they do rent this room by the hour."

He smiled at her and she realised she liked what smiling did to his face quite a bit. His eyes relaxed and he got a little dimple there on his right cheek. She crossed the room back to his side and stood over him. "Now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?" she asked, deciding that now was as good a time as any to get down to business.

He blinked. "You know what, I have no clue. I hadn't exactly planned this."

"Do you plan everything?"

He smiled again, though it was tighter and more forced than his last smile. "Always." Rose watched him, how his jaw tensed and his posture stiffened and it occurred to her that he didn't like always having a plan. He was a wealthy man, it didn't make sense to her why he couldn't indulge in some spontaneity on occasion if that's what he wanted to do. She cleared her throat, anxious to clear the air and get the topic back onto business.

"Well, the meter's running and it's your money. Speaking of which, cash will do, in advance."

"Fair enough," he replied, Standing up and reaching into his suit jacket pocket to withdraw his wallet. He passed her a crisp one hundred pound note and she tried to look casual as she folded it up and stuck it into the top of her boot. She looked back up to see him still standing there, staring at her.

"How much for the whole night?" he asked.

She tried to hide her surprise. "The whole night? I don't think you could afford it."

"Try me."

"Three hundred."

He smirked and reached into his wallet and pulled out two more notes. She tried not to gape as she accepted the notes and folded them, tucking them in after the first. She suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Anxious to break the awkward silence, she dug around in her purse and pulled out a selection of condoms. "Take your pick, I've got a whole selection here. Some of them are even flavoured," she told him, winking.

He stared at the packages in her hand. "That's quite the assortment there."

"I'm a safety girl," she chimed cheekily. He indicated one of the condoms and she tucked the rest in her purse. "Okay, let's get this on you then." She reached for the waistband of his trousers.

John slid out of her reach, turning away. "Let's talk some more, first."

"Sure," she said breathlessly. He certainly wasn't like most of her clients. "So… in town on business?"

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and folded it, laying it across the back of the chair at the desk. She tried not to drool at the sight of him in a trim waistcoat and shirt sleeves but it was difficult. He cut quite the picture. "Yes, business," he answered evenly.

"Let me guess… you're a barrister?"

He raised an eyebrow at her as he loosened his tie. "Why do you say that?"

She grinned at him. "I don't know. You have that sharp, useless look about you."

That made him chuckle. He crossed in front of her and sat on one of the chairs in the sitting area. Rose sat on the sofa next to it. "It sounds like you've known a lot of barristers," he remarked.

"I've known a lot of everybody," she murmured. They were quiet for a moment before there was a chiming noise. Rose looked startled but John took it in stride.

"The champagne is here," he told her.

"I'll get it," she offered. She hopped up from her seat and crossed to the foyer, opening the door. A young man in a uniform bustled into the room, pulling a wheeled trolley behind him. He smiled at her before heading into the sitting room with it.

"Is in here fine?" he asked. John nodded to indicate that it was. He returned to the foyer where he paused next to Rose, staring at her. She stared back, challenging him.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded. The way this guy was looking at her, she was feeling judged. If there was one thing she hated, it was being judged by someone that didn't know the first thing about her.

Chuckling, John got to his feet and crossed the room to the poor waiter. He pressed a twenty into the man's palm and thanked him for his help. The man tipped his hat and left the suite. Rose blushed.

"Sorry, I didn't see that one at all."

"It's okay," he said, still amused. "Here, let me pour you some champagne."

Rose returned to the sofa and sat, watching as he deftly opened the champagne and poured her an elegant flute full. She accepted the glass and sipped at it. It wasn't like any champagne she'd ever had before, the taste was so light and crisp, the bubbles tickling her nose and throat as she swallowed. This had to be pretty expensive stuff. He offered her the bowl of strawberries and she drew one out, biting into the end.

"Do you have a wife? A girlfriend?" she asked after she swallowed.

John settled back into the chair and watched her. "I have both."

Both. Interesting. "And where are they?" she wondered. "Shopping together?"

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "They should be, they're both very good at it." He paused, twirling his own champagne flute and watching as she ate. She began to feel a little self conscious, the way he was staring at her. "My ex-wife, Reinette, returned to Paris after our divorce. She lives in the house we kept there now. My girlfriend, Joan, is moving out of our house in Edinburgh even as we speak."

John sipped at his champagne and nodded, regarding the flute approvingly. "It's a very good year," he remarked.

"Oooh, thank god," Rose said, grinning.

He laughed softly and she liked the sound. He leaned forward, offering her the bowl of strawberries again. "Have another," he suggested.

"Why strawberries?" she asked, taking one and nibbling on it.

"They bring out the flavour of the champagne." He replaced the bowl on the table next to his chair and she noticed he didn't take one for himself. Instead, he watched closely as she ate hers.

Rose swallowed and looked at the champagne and strawberries and felt a sudden desperate giggle rise up in her throat. "I get this whole seduction thing you've got going on here, but you do realise that I'm pretty much a sure thing, yeah?"

"Yes, I do know," he assured her. "Humour me."

Raising an eyebrow, she leaned forward and withdrew another strawberry from the bowl. Rose bit into the plump fruit slowly, making sure that he was watching her mouth as she did so. She continued to gaze at him as she took a slow sip of the champagne and then licked away the combined juices of the strawberry and the wine from her lips. He swallowed, his eyes never leaving her.

"You are very beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward towards her.

"Sweet talker," she replied, her voice husky as she focused on his mouth. His mouth… oh, no.

He leaned closer and she knew he meant to kiss her. Rose pulled back and she could tell he was a little startled at her sudden withdrawal, especially after all her talk of being a "sure thing".

"I'm sorry," she said. "I… I don't kiss on the lips."

John quirked an eyebrow and the confused expression was adorable on him. She leaned forward quickly and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Is there anything else you won't do?" he asked, looking genuinely curious.

She smiled and sat back. "Why don't we cross that bridge when we get to it?" she suggested. "Are you sure you want me for the whole night?" Last night had been an all-nighter and while the money had been nice, she was still somewhat tired from the flip to her schedule. Of course, she hadn't gotten nearly as much cash from that as she had for this one.

He smiled gently. "Yes, I'm sure. I… don't want to be alone tonight."

She seriously doubted that this man, attractive and wealthy as he was, had any problems with being alone. Still, there was that sad look in his eyes that she couldn't quite understand. How could a man who had everything she ever would have wanted have such sad eyes? "First things first, I need to go use the washroom. I'll be right back."

Rose found a small bathroom just off the foyer to the suite and ducked in there. She use the loo and washed her hands in the sink. She'd brought her small handbag in with her and she fished the notes out of her boot and bra and tucked the money safely away in her coin purse. Next, she dug out some dental floss that she kept in there for when she ate away from home. She began to floss in the bathroom vanity mirror when there was a short knock on the door and it opened suddenly.

"Rose, I was just wonder if you wanted…" John began but he trailed off when his gaze zeroed in on her hiding the floss behind her back. "What do you have there?"

"Nothing," she said, backing away as he stepped further into the bathroom.

"Let me see what you're hiding," he demanded and she could see the businessman in him right there, the man used to getting his way.

"It's nothing," she insisted, jerking her chin up at him. "Do you mind? I'll be out in a minute."

He regarded her, his expression stony. "Okay, that's it. Maybe you need to leave. I will not have drugs in here."

Rose's mouth fell open. "Drugs? Drugs? That's what you automatically assumed? What, do you have a Great Big Book of Stereotypes that you keep by your bedside and did it tell you that all whores do drugs?"

At least he had the grace to look a little sheepish. "Well if it's not drugs, then what is it?" He grabbed her arm and brought it out from behind her back, revealing the dental floss.

"I ate all those strawberries," she said as a way of explanation. "You shouldn't neglect your gums." She felt embarrassed and she didn't even know why. She relaxed when a huge grin broke across his face, making him suddenly look years younger.

"Are you going to let me finish?" she asked, tapping the floss container impatiently against the counter.

"You are full of surprises," he told her, tapping a finger on her nose.

Rose relaxed and leaned into him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's an unusual thing," he said softly. "Very few people surprise me."

"Yeah? Well you're lucky. Most of em shock the hell out of me," she remarked, turning back to the mirror to continue her flossing. She caught sight of him in the mirror, still watching her. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're watching."

"I'm going," he said and he winked before walking away. She grinned at her reflection. She was already enjoying herself and they hadn't even gotten to the 'good stuff' yet.

Chapter 3

Chapter Summary

Let's face it, this chapter is pretty much just smut.

Thanks to Kahki for the beta!

SPECIAL_ albums/qq349/slackermama1275/Photobucket%20Desktop%20-%20Marilyns%20MacBook%20Air/My% -REPLACE_ME

Rose was sprawled on the floor of the sitting room, surrounded by food and drink. The flat screen television, which had been ingeniously hidden behind a painting over the fireplace, was now playing an old episode of I Love Lucy. Rose giggled and popped a warm chip into her mouth as Lucy mugged for the camera. She'd eventually coaxed John into ordering more room service while he took a quick shower and she now had a plate of chips, a bag of crisps and a platter of various fruits and cheeses arranged around her on the floor. She was laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows as she watched the telly. Taking a long drink of her champagne, she looked over to where he was sitting at the desk. He was talking on his mobile, trying and failing to ignore both her and the television.

"Yes, that may be true, Vance," John was saying into his mobile. He listened to Vance's response and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. But I still need the numbers on Mott Industries."

Rose giggled at the television and nibbled on a chunk of cheese. He felt this sudden desire to chuck the mobile and join her on the floor, giggling at the telly and munching on chips. He wondered, for a wild moment, why he couldn't. Just toss all the responsibility over his shoulder and just let go for a change. God, the impulse was strong. He resisted, but barely.

"Mmhmm. I've got them from New York, now I need them from Paris," John went on and now he just wanted to get Vance off the phone so he could focus more on Rose. Especially on that curve of her bum as she wiggled into the carpet. "I'll call down and get them when I want them. Yes, thank you very much." He hung up at last and tossed the phone onto the pile of papers on the desk. He stood up and crossed the room, dropping into the chair nearest where she lay on the floor.

"I have a little carpet picnic going on here. Are you sure you don't want another drink?" she asked him.

He snorted softly. "I'm high on life. Can't you tell?"

Rose chuckled at him before returning her gaze to the telly. She grinned. "You know, I never saw this episode before. This is hilarious."

Rose was finishing off her champagne, and on the telly, Lucy began to step into an enormous barrel of grapes. John glanced at the screen to see that face Lucy was making was comical and Rose didn't even try to hide the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. She was beautiful like this, no pretension and no tough exterior. She looked younger than he'd determined in the car and now he couldn't tell if she was a couple years younger than him or more like fifteen years younger. He didn't think she was younger than 20 at least, so that was something. He didn't care at that moment how old she was, however, all he cared about was how alive she looked. She was unlike any of his other girlfriends had been, and definitely unlike his ex-wife. The difference was damned refreshing.

She was still laughing when she turned her head and caught him watching her. He knew his expression was hungry. He'd put her off before because he wasn't comfortable yet; he'd wanted to talk some more. Then he'd gotten distracted with business. But now he was more than ready to put that all aside and begin enjoying what he'd paid for and for what he foolishly was hoping she was happy give.

John kept his eyes on her as she grew more aware of his look. Her eyes were darkening and she was no longer noticing the television or the antics taking place on the screen. He watched as she pushed away the plate of fruit and cheese and began to crawl to him. Rose kneeled in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. She didn't speak a word and that was fine with him. The time for talking was clearly past them. Reaching under the leg of his trousers, she ran her nails lightly up and down his calf. He fought the urge to let his eyelids drift closed.

"What do you want?" she asked softly.

"What do you do?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Everything. Except kiss on the mouth."

"That works out well then," he said. "Neither do I."

Withdrawing her hand, she got to her feet. She stepped over to the couch and selected a large, square throw pillow and brought it back over to him, dropping it at his feet. As she settled herself on her knees on the pillow, he quirked an eyebrow. Clearly, she knew what she was doing. She grabbed the remote control off the table next to his chair and hit the mute button before turning her attention back to him.

Rose pulled herself up between his legs and began to stroke at his chest. Nimbly, she began to unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat and then his oxford one by one. His eyes were still on her as she parted the fabric and leaned forward to press her lips to the centre of his chest. Her lips were soft and supple and the sight and the sensation of her mouth on his skin evoked an image in his mind of her mouth on other parts of him. He swallowed thickly but determinedly kept his eyes on her. She brought a hand up to scrape through his sparse chest hair, teasing at a nipple and the sensation sent bolts of electricity through him.

She leaned back and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she was up to when she reached down her body and grasped the hem of her clingy blue dress and began to draw it up her figure. His gaze was riveted as her form was revealed to him in this achingly slow manner. John caught sight of lacy black knickers, a smooth trim belly and then her breasts encased in matching black lace. His mouth went completely dry as he memorised the lines of her body and he had to remind himself to keep his hands at his sides and let her take control of this moment. Once the dress was over her head, she tossed it aside and her eyes met his, her hungry look mirroring his own.

Rose turned her head for a moment and caught sight of the telly. Lucy was cavorting around in the barrel now, an expression of delight on her face. She couldn't stop her answering grin and she looked up and met his eyes. He smiled back at her. She refocused and kissed down to his stomach before gently grasping his hips and pulling him towards her. He obliged her, slouching down in the chair, more than willing to be putty in her very capable hands. Her fingers danced across his hip and she traced the outline of his erection through the fabric of his trousers for a moment before she flicked open his button and drew down the zipper. She pulled on his trousers and pants and he lifted his hips briefly to allow her to draw both of them down at once.

She was taking her time, he noted. He wondered how often her clients would pay for the whole night like this and she would be free to just take her time this way. Her unhurried movements were calm and calculated and, from his perspective, sexy as all hell. She pulled his dress shoes off, followed by his socks, neatly tucking the socks into the shoes before pushing them to the side. Then she finished pulling his pants and trousers off, folding them as well and setting them off to the side. Then she drew her fingers up his legs, one on each side, dragging her nails up from his ankles, past his knees and towards his groin. John fought to keep his eyes open and on her so that he wouldn't miss a single moment, a single expression on her face, but it was so difficult. He wanted to screw them shut, throw his head back and arch towards her touch. He wanted to gasp and groan and murmur her name. His body very nearly was trembling with the effort it took to restrain himself.

Finally, she was touching him. Her fingers traced lightly over his erection, feeling him from base to tip, not quite stroking. As he watched, she reached down into the top of her boot and pulled out one of the condoms she'd shown him earlier. She opened it and unrolled it onto his length and he saw that it was purple. He raised an eyebrow at her and she winked back.

"Grape flavoured," she told him and he nearly chuckled but then she was stroking him again and higher thought escaped him once more. Right when he was about to break control and beg her for more, Rose leaned forward and licked him with the flat of her tongue. She ran her tongue around his tip, feeling each part of him before finally taking him into her mouth more fully. Sweet mercy, he swore to himself. Her hand chased after her mouth as she took him deeper and deeper still and John had a very hard time holding onto his composure now.

Reinette hadn't ever liked to do this very much and with Joan it had been been an occasional occurrence at best. He'd even gone so far as to convince himself that maybe this act wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. John found he was quickly revising that position right here and right now. Slowly, she drew off of him and before he could even whimper at the loss of her hot mouth around his flesh, she was licking up the length of him, from base to tip. One hand massaged his testicles, then grasped the base of his cock while the other rested firmly on his hip, holding him steady. Rose continued to tease him like this, licking and caressing and fracturing his control until all at once she took him into her mouth and sucked hard.

John wasn't able to stifle the gasped explicative that escaped his mouth as she set up a steady rhythm. Her cheeks hollowed and her tongue danced and she was taking him deeper into her mouth than any woman had ever done to him before. He could feel his climax gathering at the base of his spine, tickling and itching and begging to be let free. Rose didn't back off but instead seemed to redouble her efforts, bobbing her head faster, swirling her tongue in tighter circles and increasing the suction until he thought he might just fly off that chair altogether before it was all said and done.

"Going to…" he managed to gasp, finally unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He didn't really want to come so soon, so early in the proceedings but he was having a hard time grasping his control. He tried to think of something, anything, to delay what was quickly becoming inevitable.

Rose reached down with the hand that had been stilling his hip and stroked his balls in time with her movements. It was just enough to totally undo him. Throwing his head back, he shattered. He came hard, pulsing into the condom and he was able to wrench his eyes open just in time to see her sucking and licking and slowing her movements, trying to bring him down gently. It was a glorious sight.

He finally settled and she released him with a soft pop. She smiled at him then, leaning forward to press an almost tender kiss to his belly and he couldn't help but smile weakly back at her. Discreetly, she removed the condom and discarded it in the waste bin next to the chair.

"Did that break the ice?" she asked, sitting back on her heels. Dear God, he thought, she's still wearing the ridiculously sexy boots. And not much else.She grinned at him, her tongue stuck between her teeth in what he was quickly realising was a trademark of hers.

"Oh, I'd definitely say so," he answered, almost chagrined at the hoarse quality of his voice.

Rose got to her feet and stepped forward, lowering herself to sit across his lap. He was surprised at the sudden intimacy of the move but considering what she'd just gotten finished doing to him, her sitting in his lap was downright innocent by comparison. She rested her head against his shoulder and he idly stroked her arm.

"Tell me something about you," she prompted quietly.

He was going to have to stop being so surprised by the things she would say and do. "About me?" he asked. "Why me? I'm not interesting at all."

John could feel her lips curl into a smile against the wrinkled fabric of his oxford. "I think you're plenty interesting. Why'd you pick me up tonight? You could have any girl you wanted, I bet. Why me?"

"I told you, I didn't want to be alone tonight," he explained. "And, well, I suppose I was looking to avoid any romantic entanglements. I told you that I have an ex-wife and, as of this evening, an ex-girlfriend. Relationships aren't my strong suit."

"And you thought I'd be simpler?"

"Yes, I did. Plus… you intrigued me," he admitted.

She laughed, short and harsh. "There's not much to me," Rose promised. "What you see is what you get."

He wasn't ready to tell her, but that was exactly what he found so intriguing about her. She was quite unlike anyone else he knew and it was such a refreshing, honest change that it was no wonder he'd wanted to bring her into his world, even if only for the night.

They talked for a little while longer. She told him about Shireen, her friend and roommate; how they'd grown up together on the estate, how they'd both chased after boys in school and how her friend had introduced her to this life she now lead. She didn't go into any details but his imagination filled in the blanks. John had a crazy thought just then; that if he had a time machine he'd love to go back to the moment where she decided her life was at a dead end and take her away before she felt backed into that particular corner. He snorted inwardly at his own romantic imaginings. It was definitely a foolish thought.

After a few more minutes of talking, he began to feel stirrings in his groin as she would unconsciously wriggle on his lap. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Why don't we continue this in the bedroom?"

Rose sat back and looked at his face, a smile blooming across her features. She slid off his lap and stood, holding her hand out to him. He took it gratefully and stood. "Lead the way," she murmured.

John led her to the master bedroom, just a short walk down the hall from the sitting room. He flicked on the light and turned to her, watching her reaction. The room was sumptuous and elegant and he would be damned if she didn't look amazing, standing there in nothing but her knickers, bra and thigh high boots as she looked around her. Decorated in baby blues, silvers and golds, the room had no doubt seen a good portion of the world's rich and famous. And in the enormous, canopied king sized bed had no doubt slept some of the most power people on the planet. That knowledge alone was enough to give him a thrill and he wondered if it was thrilling to her as well.

"Nice bed," she remarked, cocking an eyebrow at him as she moved past him and sat down with a bounce on the edge of the mattress.

"I've had worse," he said, pulling his open waistcoat and oxford off of his shoulders and letting them fall to the floor.

Rose reached into the top of her boot again, pulling out the rest of the condoms she had stashed there. She set them on the night table and then reached down to unzip her boot but he quickly crossed the room to her and stilled her hand with his own. "Let me," he requested.

She nodded and leaned back on her hands, watching him as he drew down the zip on the boot and pulled it off her leg. As much as he had enjoyed the sight of her in those boots, he suddenly felt a stirring of regret that she was keeping these legs of hers covered like this. Long and shapely and just gorgeous, he couldn't resist leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. He repeated the process with the second boot, complete with the kiss, except this time he placed it a little higher on her thigh. Her sharp intake of air went straight to his groin and he began to harden again. He caught her eye and she had a predatory gleam in hers that he wondered at. John was about to advance on her, press her back into the mattress and move over her when she sat up and put a manicured hand on the centre of his chest and pushed him back.

She stood and smoothed her hands up to his shoulders, turning him so that his back was to the bed and she was standing before him. He wasn't at all used to this, to the woman taking control like this. He had always been the one to make the moves, to determine the pace and tone of the moment. Having that control taken ever so gently out of his hands was thrilling on a level he hadn't anticipated. With a gentle push from her, he sat back on the bed. He scooted back, up towards the headboard and watched as she slowly stripped out of her bra and knickers, knowing exactly how to move her hands and catch his eye in order to heighten his anticipation. Damn, she was good.

Rose was naked now and if he'd dreamed her up in his mind (had he dreamed her up? Was this even real?), he doubted he could have conjured a more perfect form with his imagination. John had barely enough time to digest this thought and wonder where in the world it had come from before she was on the bed, crawling over him. She scratched her fingers down his chest before reaching behind her to take his erection in her hand. She stroked him and he grew impossibly harder. He could feel the sweat starting to stand out on his brow. Leaning over him, she retrieved one of the condoms from the night table and opened the package swiftly. She unrolled the condom onto his erection without so much as breaking the mood. She licked her lips and grinned wickedly at him before levering herself up over his hips.

"You ready?" she asked, her voice incredibly husky.

"As I'll ever be," he murmured, running his fingers up her sides.

She still had ahold of him as she carefully lowered herself onto his length. She was already so ready for him and she was hot and tight and he swore he saw stars burst behind his closed eyelids. When she was lowered all the way onto him, she began to rock her hips and he forced his eyes back open. She moved slowly over him, her motions smooth and controlled and he wished he had the same sort of control right now that she had. Somehow, she was undoing all his composure as if she had a blueprint to his nervous system and she knew it too. John very suddenly wanted so much to erase her composure just as thoroughly as she'd erased his.

He traced the edges of her breasts before taking their weight in his hands. Brushing his thumbs over her nipples, he murmured,"What do you like?"

Rose grinned wolfishly and rocked harder against him causing him to bite back a gasp. "If I wanted you to get me off, I would have paid you three hundred quid," she panted, circling her hips faster. "You just lie back and let me drive." She quirked an eyebrow as she reached behind her to touch the base of his erection, letting her fingers drift down over his scrotum and he groaned. She chuckled and the sound sent fire through his veins.

Growling, he crushed her body against his and rolled them violently over so that she was underneath him. Before she could even open her mouth to protest, he was slamming into her hard and fast. John knew, dimly in the back of his mind, that he should be doing something for her, trying to make this just as good for her as it was for him but he was well out of control now.

Still, he began to feel her flesh flutter against him as he pounded into her and she was gasping in his ear and in the end that was all it took to send him flying over the edge. As he strained against her, riding out his orgasm, he could feel her trembling underneath him and in that small moment he could pretend that she wasn't an escort and that he hadn't just paid a virtual stranger for sex.

John rolled off of her and was gratified to see that she was breathing just as hard as he was. He reached over and stroked her arm as he caught his breath again. He focused on the gathered design of the fabric on the underside of the canopy over their heads until he was sure he could feel his limbs once more. He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked over his shoulder at her. She had a satisfied and somewhat surprised look on her face. Catching his look, she grinned at him.

"Good?" she gasped.

He grinned back at her. "Excellent," he replied. "I'll be back, just going to get a shower."

John padded out of the room and into the en suite. He disposed of the condom in the bin there and then stepped into the large shower, turning the water on hot and steamy, just the way he liked it. He let the stream of water pound over the muscles of his shoulders, knowing that under different circumstances, he would have had much stiffer muscles than he did. It had been a long, hard day and coupled with the phone call to Joan and the ensuing panic that had overcome him at Saxon's house, he knew he would have been one big knot of tension tonight if he hadn't stumbled upon Rose.

It occurred to him that he didn't even know her last name. It also occurred to him that he wanted to remedy that and perhaps learn anything and everything that he could about her. Rubbing a hand over his face, he reminded himself that she was just an escort and that she'd be gone in the morning. This was not a relationship and she was not his. He wasn't used to having a casual fling like this and his emotions about it were all over the map. For now, he settled on gratitude. He was very glad that he hadn't had to face the night alone. He was glad for her company, if nothing else. Plus, she had been amazing. Maybe he'd have to have a word with her about raising her rates because she was certainly worth more than just three hundred quid a night.

When he finished in the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to rub his hair dry as he walked back into the bedroom. Rose lay sprawled on her stomach the bed, the duvet pulled up to her waist and her blonde hair spilled across the pillow. Blonde hair? John glanced at the night table and saw a wig of black hair perched there. He smirked. It looked like he would also have to have a talk with her about how much better she looked with her natural hair. He paused for a minute and stroked a finger down the curve of her cheek. Asleep, with the majority of her heavy makeup since worn off and the wig discarded, she looked young and vibrant and beautiful. He would have to remember to tell her so before she left.

John crossed the room to the dresser and drew out a fresh pair of pants along with a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Shrugging into the clothing, he gave Rose's sleeping form one last look before he left the bedroom to go look over some more contracts at his desk in the sitting room. Sleep was overrated anyway.

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary

It's the morning after but as luck would have it, the adventure isn't over for our unlikely couple.

Big thanks to Kelkat9 and Kahki820 for the beta!

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The groundskeepers were hosing down the pavement and collecting any garbage that had accumulated overnight as Jack made his way to the hotel entrance, a fresh newspaper tucked under his arm. His sharp, blue eyes cut across the grounds and he was pleased to see that everything looked in as fine a condition as it had the evening before when he'd left. He greeted the employees by name as he walked through the gleaming front entrance of the Lanesborough. Everyone here knew Jack Harkness, the unflappable and well respected the hotel manager. Jack took his work very seriously. His hotel was considered one of the finest (if not the finest) in all of London. Of course, with such high praise came serious pressure. Guests at his hotel payed a considerable price to be pampered and catered to and if they felt they weren't being pampered and catered to appropriately, he was often the first one to hear.

Still, this was a far better position than the one he'd left in America. The parent company had recognised his skill and when they'd offered this position at the Lanesborough just three years before, he'd leapt at the opportunity. He'd never regretted his decision. But as he approached his office and was intercepted by the night manager, Harriet Jones, he started to wonder a little. She had that look on her face and he groaned.

"Let me put down my paper and get a cup of coffee," he told her. "And then you can tell me what happened."

Harriet practically vibrated nerves while he prepared his coffee from the single-serve machine he kept behind his desk so he finally just sunk down in his chair and rubbed a hand over his Hollywood-handsome face. "Okay, lay it on me."

"Mr. Smith brought a guest back to the hotel with him last night," she told him, her face a mask of seriousness.

Jack's eyebrows shot up as he regarded his night manager. "Seriously? That's what has you so upset you look liked you sucked on a lemon before I got here? So what? And which Mr. Smith?"

Harriet made a small expression of exasperation before she quickly covered it. "It's the Mr. Smith."

"Oh," he said, thinking about the current occupant of The Lanesborough Suite. "He has a guest? Why is this a big deal?" Jack thought back through his memory to when Mr. Smith had checked in a couple days before and recalled something about his girlfriend joining him. That was probably it.

"He didn't check her in, for one thing," Harriet told him, sniffing. Her expression was still stiff and disapproving and Jack had the impression that there was something else going on here that she wasn't telling him.

"That's easily taken care of. Mr. Smith is a priority guest, Ms. Jones. Surely we can cut him a little slack on this," he admonished.

"Yes, but that's the other thing. His guest. She's… well… she's a lady of ill repute."

Jack stared at Harriet for a long moment, not sure whether or not she was jerking his chain. "Are you saying he brought a prostitute back to the hotel with him?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes, sir," she replied, looking relieved to have finally expelled the burden of her knowledge onto someone else.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face again. His mind raced as he considered the implications. Mr. Smith had brought her in at night, when there was less likely to be too many patrons to be scandalised by the event. Jack had a hard time understanding why a rich, attractive and powerful man like Mr. John Smith would need to find a prostitute to keep him company. Heck, even if he'd been that desperate for female companionship, it was a little known and never publicised service that the hotel would locate an appropriate escort from a reputable agency for guests who found themselves in need. What had the man been thinking?

"Has she left yet?" Jack asked Harriet, hoping against hope that she had and that any further issues were now null and void.

The older woman shook her head and looked miserable about it too. Jack cursed under his breath. "That's about my luck too." He sat up and gulped at his coffee then set the cup down with a clank. Harriet jumped a little. "Thank you for letting me know, Ms. Jones. I'll deal with it from here."

Rose cracked an eyelid open, momentarily confused by the quality of the light coming through the windows and the soft, silkiness of the sheets under her cheek. After a minute or so, where she blinked at her surroundings, she finally remembered the events of the night before. The Bugatti, John, the Lanesborough and the sex…

Oh dear god, the sex.

It wasn't unheard of that she enjoy herself with a client. In fact, it was always a rather nice bonus. To enjoy what you're paid to do is everyone's dream, isn't it? Still, it always seemed to be more of an accident rather than a purposeful thing. Last night had definitely been an accident. John hadn't tried specifically to please her and she hadn't striven for it herself either. Still… nice bonus.

She sat up and looked to the other side of the bed. The duvet on the other side of the bed remained mostly undisturbed and she wondered if that meant he'd never slept in here last night. There were three other bedrooms in this suite, she'd checked, and she felt a little bad that he must have felt he should sleep elsewhere instead of next to her.

Rose stood up and stretched. Definitely still naked. She must have fallen asleep quickly last night. Usually, she at least put her underwear back on before drifting off. She walked into the en suite, used the loo and washed up in the sink. Combing her fingers through her long blonde hair, she made a face in the mirror. Her makeup was streaked and mostly worn off anyhow so she used the sink and some soap and a washcloth and washed her face quickly. Satisfied for the time being, she turned to walk out and spotted a fluffy white dressing gown hanging on a hook next to the door. Smiling, she grabbed it and put it on, tying the belt around her waist. It was enormous on her, practically swallowing her whole, but she felt cozy and pampered wearing it.

Walking out of the bedroom, she started to look for John. As she searched, she began to feel nervous. She thought things had gone great between them last night but maybe now, in the harsh light of day, they wouldn't get along so well.

Rose was just poking her head into the sitting room when she could hear his voice from down the hall. It sounded like he was on the phone. And, like last night, she had no clue what he was talking about.

"Of course Mott is going to fight. We expected that." John sounded all business. "He's run his company for a very long time now."

"He wants to meet you face to face," a voice was saying through a speaker. "I don't think you should. It's a bad idea."

"I know you don't think I should," John was saying and she followed the sound of his voice down the hall. "Do it. Tonight, set it up. I'll meet him for dinner."

"Oh, John, John," the voice was saying, sounding exasperated. "Please rethink this. You especially shouldn't go alone."

John chuckled. "He is a feisty old guy."

"If you say the wrong thing to him, we could end up in court. We could lose this whole deal."

"That's always a risk with these things, Harry. That's why I love what I do," John was saying, his tone softening. "Set it up."

Rose poked her head into the room, unsure if she should interrupt. John's head snapped up and he caught her eye. He grinned at her and gestured for her to come in. He was sitting at the table, dressed in an oxford and trousers, an assortment of food laid out there. He was talking animatedly into the desk phone set up in the middle of the table. She perched uneasily on a chair near him.

"Oh and Harry?" he said, as an afterthought. "About your car?"

"Oh god," the voice from the speakerphone groaned. "What did you do?"

"It corners like it's on rails," John told him, winking at Rose.

As he leaned across the table to hang up the connection, she could hear the voice shouting, "What? What does that mean? John? John!"

He sat back in his chair, chuckling. He seemed in a very good mood this morning and she couldn't help but wonder how much of that was due to her and the wonderful things they'd done together last night.

"Good morning," he said to her, sipping at a cup of tea and indicating a cup for her sitting next to a plate of pancakes.

"Hi," she greeted, chewing her lip nervously. "You didn't wake me up. I'm sorry, I'll be out of here in a minute."

John waved a hand, looking unconcerned. "No need to rush. Have some breakfast. I didn't know what you liked so I ordered a little bit of everything."

Rose surveyed the offerings on the table and felt her mouth begin to water. She hadn't seen quite so much food all in one place in a very long time, if ever at all. "Okay, thanks," she replied, picking up a pancake from the plate and eating it with her fingers.

He was still smiling at her. "What?" she said around a mouthful of pancake.

He gestured at her head. "Blonde. I like it. Much better."

Oh, her hair. She'd forgotten about the black wig. She fingered her blonde hair nervously. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." John watched her for another minute before shifting his attention to the newspaper on the table next to his tea. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, too good," she answered. "I forgot where I was."

He looked up and grinned. "Occupational hazard?"

She looked at him sharply, looking for something snide in his demeanour but found nothing but good humour in his twinkling brown eyes. "Yeah," she agreed. "Did you sleep at all?"

He shrugged and took another drink of his tea. "A little, on the sofa. I had some contracts to go over."

Rose considered him for a few moments. "Okay, you don't sleep and you don't do drugs. You barely drink and you eat less than I do. What do you do? 'Cos I figured out that you're not a barrister."

"That's right," John said, sounding amused. "I buy companies."

"Sounds impressive," she remarked, taking another bite of the pancake in her hand. "What kind of companies?"

"The kind that are having financial difficulty."

"Does that mean you get them for a bargain?" she asked, genuinely curious.

He snorted. "The company I'm looking to buy this week, I'm getting for the bargain price of about one billion pounds."

Rose had been sipping at her tea and she almost choked. "A billion pounds?" She couldn't even conceive of that kind of money. It wasn't an amount, it was a concept.

"Yes," he replied.

"Wow," she breathed. She took another bite of pancake and spoke around the mouthful again. "You must be really smart." When he just laughed, she swallowed and shrugged. "I didn't even get my A levels. How far did you get?"

"I went all the way," he told her, reaching across to grab a slice of wheat toast from one of the plates. He munched on it thoughtfully.

"Your parents must be very proud of you." John didn't answer, in fact, he looked more pensive now and she wished she hadn't brought it up. Apparently, his parents were a sore subject. She could understand and appreciate that. "So, you don't actually have a billion dollars, do you?"

"Not for the business, no. I get it from bank loans and investors. It takes a lot of work and a lot of negotiation skills."

"So you don't make anything yourself?" she asked. When he looked at her questioningly, she elaborated. "You don't build anything?"

"No, no," he answered. He looked a little disappointed to admit that. He finished off the slice of toast and stood from the table. He walked back down the hall towards the bedroom and she trailed after him.

"What do you do with the companies after you buy them?"

"I sell them," he said simply. Rose followed him into the wardrobe where he picked out a tie and, standing the collar of his oxford up, put it around his neck. He began to try to make a knot but was having difficulty.

Rose batted his hands away. "Here, let me do that," she said, stepping in front of him and taking the ends of the tie in her hands. She began to work swiftly, her fingers working from muscle memory. "So you sell them."

"Well," he began, and she could see he was trying not to look at her. "I don't sell the whole company. I break it up into pieces and then I sell off the pieces. When a company is in trouble, the pieces are often worth more than the business as a whole."

She chewed her lip as she worked. "It sounds kind of like stealing cars and selling them for parts."

John sighed. "Sort of. But much more legal."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, unconvinced. It still sounded sketchy to her. She finished the knot and smoothed it down before turning him to face the floor length mirror on the wall. "There. See? Now, it's perfect."

He touched the knot and looked impressed. "Not bad at all," he murmured. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I screwed the debate team in school," she joked and when she noticed his horrified expression she swatted him on the arm. "I had a grandfather! He was nice to me and he liked to wear ties on Sundays."

John looked decidedly relieved as he removed his suit jacket from a hanger and shrugged into it. She couldn't begin to decipher that one.

"Do you mind if I take a swim in your tub before I go?" she asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to indulge in a long bath in a tub.

"Not at all," he said. "Just stay in the shallow end."

Rose groaned and rolled her eyes. He left the bedroom, probably with the intention of gathering up his contracts and things before he left for the office and she headed towards the bathroom and the promise of a nice, hot soak.

John was stuffing contracts into his briefcase when his mobile rang. He knew it was Harold Saxon even before he saw the caller id. He flicked his thumb across the screen to answer it and then wedged it between his shoulder and his ear.

"Hello again, Harry," he said.

"Hey. Listen, I'm on my way out the door but I wanted to let you know that Mott is all set for tonight. He's agreed to meet you for dinner."

"Fantastic," John said, snapping his briefcase closed. He grabbed the mobile and held it more securely to his ear.

"He's bringing his granddaughter. Word is, he's grooming her to take over. Supposed to be a real spitfire. I don't know," Harry groused.

"Ah, yes," he murmured. "I heard about her. A very intense young woman named Donna. Her husband plays polo."

"Look, I have to say this again and I know you won't listen but… I don't like you going to this alone."

John didn't pay attention to half of what Harry was saying because he was suddenly distracted the sound of singing somewhere in the suite. For a moment, he wondered if a television had been left on somewhere. As he followed the sound, he realised that it was, in fact, Rose singing in the bathtub. He stepped into the en suite and found Rose, up to her neck in frothy white bubbles, iPod earbuds in her ears, eyes closed and singing along with the music. Truth be told, she wasn't half bad.

"I'd trade my soul for a wish, pennies and dimes for a kiss, I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way," she sang, completely and utterly unaware of his presence. He smirked as he looked down at her.

Harry was still talking in his ear, unaware of his suddenly divided attention. "Look, I just think it'd be better if you… if you had a date to take with you. You know? John? Keep it social and light, not just focused on business."

"Hey! I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe," Rose trilled along with the music, rubbing a silver mesh scrubber along her arms in time to the music she was hearing in her ears. John was utterly charmed. He wasn't sure if the overall effect of the sight before him was sexy or just adorable or some sort of complicated mixture of both. He just knew that he liked it.

"John? Did you hear me?" Harry said in his ear.

"Oh! Yes. Yes, I'm here."

"What is that? What am I hearing?"

His mind raced for a quick explanation. "It's the maid. She's singing."

"And all the other boys try to chase me, but here's my number, so call me, maybe?" Rose continued her serenade. John found himself smiling.

"John, I know a lot of nice girls… Lucy has a lot of friends… Just let me-"

"No, you don't," he cut his friend and associate off. "Besides, I already have one."

"What? How?"

"You just concentrate on finding out what Mott is up to, okay? I'm on my way," John said, hanging up. He slipped the mobile in his pocket and continued smiling at Rose while she sang. This was possibly the best idea he'd ever had or the worst. The solution, whichever way he looked at it, seemed so brilliant through. So many issues solved in one neat business transaction, which was what he was best at.

"Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad! I missed you so bad! I missed you so, so bad! Before you came into my life, I missed you sooooo- oh!" Rose's eyes opened and she saw him standing there and her voice trailed off as a blush stained her cheeks. She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and looked down, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "You have a lovely voice."

"Don't you knock?" she asked, lifting her eyes to him.

"Rose, I have a business proposition for you," John said, putting on his best serious business voice. Rose stopped scrubbing for a minute and fixed him with a look, raising one of her eyebrows.

"For me? I have no companies in trouble to sell to you, sorry."

"I'm going to be in London until Sunday," he told her. "I'd very much like it if you would spend the week with me."

There was a deafening silence in the bathroom as Rose gaped at him. The silver mesh scrub in her hand fell into the bubbles, unheeded by her. "Really?"

"Yes. I'd like to hire you as my employee," he elaborated. "Would you consider spending the week with me?" He was surprised at how nervous he was about her answer. John told himself that even if she told him no, he could easily find someone else to accompany him to social functions. Surely, she wasn't the only eligible lady in London.

Rose continued to gape at him, her mouth opening and shutting in a fine imitation of a fish. He hurried on, hoping to entice her with what he felt was probably her first priority, "Of course, I will pay you to be at my beck and call."

That seemed to snap her out of it. "Look," she began, squaring her jaw as she sat up in the tub. The bubbles covered her, but just barely. "I'd love to be your 'beck and call girl', but you're a rich, good looking guy. You could get a million girls for free."

"I don't want a million girls," he said, leaning against the wall and click his tongue against the backs of his front teeth. "I want a professional. I'm looking to avoid any romantic entanglements this week. That is the last thing I need right now."

She was considering his offer seriously now, a smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. "If you're talking about 24 hours a day… It's going to cost you some serious money."

"I was expecting that."

"Alright," she said, rubbing her hands together. "Here we go." She almost looked excited to be engaging in negotiations with him. He felt a thrill coursing through him as well, so he knew how she felt.

"Give me a ballpark figure. How much?" He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her.

"Six full nights… days too…" She chewed on her lip for a few moments. "Four thousand pounds."

"Now, wait a minute," he said, holding up a finger. "Six nights at three hundred a night is eighteen hundred pounds."

"Yeah, but you want the days too."

"Two thousand," he countered.

"Three thousand," she returned.

John grinned. "Done."

"Holy shit!" Rose cried out. She laughed and then sunk underneath the bubbles.

He chuckled and watched as her knees came up at the other end of the tub, dancing up and down in her excitement. "Rose," he said. There was no answer. She burst back up out of the bubbles, her face and hair covered with suds and he tried again. "Rose, is that a yes?"

"Yes," she spluttered and he took a hand towel and swiped at the bubbles covering her face. "Yes!"

She got out of the tub then and he tried not to stare too creepily as she bundled herself in the white dressing gown again. With deft motions, she twisted her hair into a towel on the top of her head and then beamed at him. He smiled and walked out of the en suite with her close on his heels. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"I'll be gone most of today. I want you to go out and buy some clothes," he told her, handing her a small stack of large notes.

"You should think about traveler's checks. Or maybe online payments. I've been thinking about setting up an account myself," she remarked as she accepted the notes and tucked them into the pocket on her dressing gown.

"We will most likely be going out in the evenings and you'll need something appropriate to wear," he told her as he walked to the sitting room to retrieve his briefcase from the desk there.

"Like what?"

"Nothing too flashy or too sexy. Like the dress you were wearing last night," he instructed. "Conservative. Do you understand?"

"Boring," she determined.

"Elegant," John clarified. "Any questions?"

"Can I call you Johnny?" she asked, grinning her tongue-touched smile at him.

He smirked. "Not if you expect me to answer."

He reached the foyer and he turned to smile at her. She smiled back, looking so fresh and young and gorgeous in her towel and dressing gown. "I would have stayed for two thousand," she said.

"I would have paid four," he replied. "I'll see you tonight."

"Baby, I'm going to treat you so nice," she promised, her eyes flashing at him. "You're never going to want to let me go."

"Three thousand pounds for six days," he reminded her. "And Rose, I will let you go." John gave her another grin before he let himself out of the suite and walked, whistling a tune, towards the staircase.

The door to the suite clicked shut and Rose leaned back against it, a smile curving her mouth. "But I'm here now," she murmured to herself. Her smile grew and then she was racing down the hall towards the bedroom.

She whooped as she leapt upon the king-sized bed, the towel in her hair coming loose and her arms flailing as she laughed and hollered in the empty suite, her voice echoing through the rooms. "Three thousand pounds!" she cried. It was an amazing amount of money. And it wasn't even the money that she was so desperately excited and happy about. It was the freedom that money represented.

Living this life was never her end game. She wanted to finish her education and find a career that would allow her to live her life on her own terms. Becoming an escort, that was just her best option to achieve that goal. She was reasonably good at it, she always got good reviews from the website she found her clients through. Rose took a certain amount of pride in her work too, she liked to give her clients the best experience she could. Still, it wouldn't be lying to admit that her heart wasn't really in it. She'd learned long ago that romance was something that only existed in movies, but she still held out some hope that maybe somewhere there would be someone she'd like to spend her life with. The chances of finding that someone while living her life as a professional escort were slim to none.

After this week, Rose would finally have the means necessary to leave the escort business behind. Sure, it wasn't a fortune and there were probably people who would think that three thousand pounds was just a drop in the bucket. She would have to budget carefully and find a job to help pay the bills. But a shop girl's salary would be a lot more doable with that sort of financial cushion behind her. A weight was lifting off her chest and Rose felt she could breathe again.

Still grinning, she reached for the phone on the night table. She dialled her flat and prayed Shireen would pick up the phone. She'd tried several times the night before to get ahold of her but she hadn't answered the phone in the flat or her mobile. It rang several times before she heard her friend pick up and grunt a "'lo?" into the receiver.

"I called and I called," Rose admonished. "Where were you last night?"

"Mum?" Shireen's voice was panicked.

"It's me, Rose," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh. Hey. I was out partying. Where are you?"

"You are never going to believe this," she told her. "I got a job last night."

"A job? Where? How?" Shireen demanded.

"Not on the website, actually," Rose explained. "I met him outside the Blue Banana last night, after I left you."

"You picked a guy up on the street? Rose, do you know how dangerous that is? Have I taught you nothing?"

She thought it was rich that Shireen was lecturing her about danger when she was the one mixed up with drugs and Jimmy Stone. "He's not just any guy though, Shir. He's rich. I'm in his hotel suite right now and this place is bigger than our whole apartment building. The bathroom is bigger than the Blue Banana!"

Shireen groaned. "Did you just call to brag or what?"

"Shir, he wants me to stay here the whole week. With him! He's going to pay me three thousand pounds!"

"Bullshit!" her friend cried.

"I'm totally serious! And extra money to buy some clothes."

"You have all the luck, I swear," Shireen griped. "So what's wrong with him? Is he into some really weird stuff?"

"Nope."

"Ugly?"

"God, no. He's gorgeous," Rose sighed.

"Did he give you the money yet?" she asked.

"No, I'll get it at the end of the week."

"Well, that's what's wrong with him then. What have I told you? Always get the money up front!"

"He gave me three hundred pounds for last night and some money to go shopping today," Rose defended. "Which reminds me, I'm going to leave some at the front desk of this hotel. I want you to come by and pick it up. And for the love of God, use it to pay the rent!"

"Alright, alright. Where are you at?"

"The Lanesborough. Just across from Hyde Park. Write it down!" Rose instructed. "If you don't write it down, you'll forget it."

"I'm writing, I'm writing," Shireen grumbled.

"Before I let you go, where do I go looking for clothes? The really fancy stuff?"

"Hyde Park? Oh, you gotta go to Sloane Street, love."

Rose thanked her friend and hung up. She lay on the bed a moment longer, just grinning at her luck. Indulging herself only for a moment, soon she was on her feet and getting dressed again in the dress she'd worn last night. She was reluctant to wear the knickers again and rifled through the dresser drawers until she found a dark pair of boxer briefs belonging to John. She shimmied into them, delighting in how they made her feel just a little bit sexier. Though it probably wasn't needed, given the nature of her dress. After she pulled on her boots, she found a brush for her hair in the en suite. There was no makeup to be had, she would have to stop by a shop and pick some up.

She grabbed her purse and headed out of the suite. Stares followed her as she sailed down the staircase and across the lobby. She tried not to notice all the glares she could feel directed at her but it was difficult. Garnering attention was not a new experience for her, but never before had she felt such judgement. Rose made a quick stop by the check-in desk to drop off an envelope of money for Shireen. The lady at the desk regarded her with disdain but accepted the enveloped and promised to deliver it for her. As she walked away from the desk, she noticed a tall, handsome man step up to the lady at the desk and murmur a question in her ear. She knew that it was about her and her cheeks flushed.

Rubbing her arms, Rose hurried out of the hotel and in the direction of the shopping district that Shireen had told her to go check out. She didn't have to walk far before she found it; a long street lined with shops for almost as far as the eye could see. Posh brand names graced glittering window fronts and Rose felt both entirely out of her element and excited to finally be able to shop at one of these fancy places. She spotted a small boutique with classily dressed shop window dummies on display and knew this would be an excellent place to find something elegant and conservative (boring, she added to herself).

She pulled the door open, a bell above tinkling merrily as she slipped into the shop. Soft, classy music played through unseen speakers and a couple of well-dressed shop girls were milling around towards the rear of the shop. Rose browsed the racks, decidedly unenthusiastic about the clothes she saw but thinking that these were the sorts of things that John would undoubtedly want her to find. As she searched, one of the ladies approached her.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice cool.

"I'm just looking around, seeing what you have," Rose replied.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

She tried to ignore the less than welcoming demeanour of the shop girl as she answered, "Yes, I am. Something… conservative."

Finally, she spotted a cream drop waisted dress with cap sleeves and a pleated skirt. There was some fancy beadwork on the loose chest and Rose could tell without looking that it was an expensive item. Try as she might, she couldn't find a price tag hanging anywhere on the dress.

"You have beautiful things here," she said, trying to push forward a friendly tone. However, the woman didn't seem interested in being at all friendly. "How much is this dress?"

"I don't think this would fit you," she answered primly. Rose stared at her. What kind of answer was that? She was starting to get annoyed with this stuck up behaviour.

"I didn't ask if you thought it would fit. I asked you how much it cost."

"How much is this dress, Marie?" the shop girl called over her shoulder to the other woman who was organising stock. The other lady looked up with narrowed eyes.

"It's very expensive," she replied.

Rose glared at the woman standing before her now, arms crossed over her chest. "What is with you?"

"Excuse me?" The word frosty would be an understatement to describe this bitch, she decided.

"Look," she tried again, struggling to remain reasonable. She kept thinking about how John would want and expect her to act and that was the only thing that was keeping her tongue civil. "I've got money to spend in here."

"I don't think we have anything for you," she bit out. "You're obviously in the wrong place."

"Please leave," the other woman said in a clipped tone.

Rose was stunned. Words escaped her as rage began to fill her. She stomped towards the entrance to the shop and just before she pushed out the door, she turned and gave the two women the two fingered salute. One of them raised a carefully styled eyebrow at her before returning to her work, affecting a bored air.

She stalked down the street, humiliation washing over her in crashing waves. Tears pricked at her eyes but she wouldn't give in. Not until she was safely back in the suite. How on Earth was she going to be able to buy a dress now? Would John change his mind about having her for the week? Her head down, she hurried back to the Lanesborough, feeling truly ashamed of herself and the life she led for the first time.

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary

There's a lot going on in this chapter... Jack plays fairy godmother, we get an insight into John's business and Rose finally gets her dress.

Big thanks and hugs and kisses to Kelkat9 and Kahki820 for the beta!

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Jack was standing at the reception desk, going over some figures on the computer there, when he saw the young lady that had left the hotel not a half hour before walk back in the front doors. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms wrapped around herself and her entire demeanour spoke of someone who had just had the mickey taken out of them. She looked utterly miserable. She also looked very much like a prostitute.

It wasn't that having a prostitute in The Lanesborough was that earth shattering an event. Hotels and whores were synonymous the world over and every establishment he'd worked at during his long career had been host to numerous professional escorts. However, at a place such as this, the prostitutes tended to be as high class as the hotel's other patrons. Or at the very least, they looked the part. This particular young lady most certainly did not look the part. As she hurried through the lobby towards the staircase, he saw no fewer than ten people, both guests and employees, regard her with expressions of horror. Jack left the desk and hurried to intercept her.

"Excuse me," he greeted, trying not to sound terribly confrontational. "May I help you, Miss?"

She stopped and looked at him and her eyes looked panicked. "I'm just going to my room."

"I see," he said, noticing the way she was reluctant to meet his eyes. "Do you have your key?"

Her expression of panic deepened. "Oh, bugger. I forgot the key," she grumbled. "I'm in the suite. The… big one."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "I see. And you're a guest here?"

"I'm with a friend," she said, now biting her lip. Jack could see that she was a very pretty woman, even dressed in this inappropriate dress. He couldn't help but feel a little bad for her, but he had to do what he had to do. He was, after all, the hotel manager.

"And who would that be?"

"John."

Of course, he knew who she was with, thanks to Ms. Jones' report to him that morning. But a point had to be made here. "John who?"

"Uhm… uh," she fumbled, now nibbling on her thumbnail and looking wildly around her. She caught site of Dennis, one of the hotel waiters, coming down the stairs and pointed at him. "Him! He knows. He saw me last night with John. He can tell you."

Jack gestured for the young man to join them and he stepped nervously over to them. "Dennis, did you just come off of the night shift?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Harkness," he answered.

"And do you know this young lady?"

Dennis looked to the girl and he could see the recognition in his eyes. "She's staying with Mr. Smith, sir, in the Lanesborough Suite."

"Ah, I see. Thank you, Dennis. You may go," Jack said, dismissing him. The waiter gratefully hurried away.

The young lady was already starting up the stairs and he hurried to catch up to her again. He reached out and took ahold of her elbow, halting her forward momentum. She crumbled then, as if she'd just barely been holding herself together before. "What now? What?" she cried, tears already moistening her eyes. "What is with everyone today?"

Jack kept his voice low and soothing. "No, no. It's all right. Just come with me, I'd like to speak with you in my office."

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "I'm coming," she grumbled.

He led her to his office and gestured for her to have a set in the chair in front of his desk. She slumped down into the leather, looking utterly defeated. Jack stood behind his desk, his hands clasped behind his back as he regarded her. "What is your name, miss?"

"Rose," she responded sullenly.

"Well, Miss Rose, things that go on in other hotels don't happen at The Lanesborough," he told her. He knew it was a lie and she knew it was a lie. Appearances were a tricky thing to deal with and they were his least favourite aspect of this job. Sighing, he continued. "Now, Mr. Smith, however, is a very special guest of ours and we like to think of our special guests as friends. As a guest, we would expect Mr. Smith to sign in any additional guests, but as a friend we are willing to overlook it."

Rose looked increasingly sullen as he spoke, her chin falling further and further down to her chest. When she didn't speak, he decided to get to the point. "Now, I'm assuming that you are a…" He trailed off and looked at her meaningfully.

She peeked up at him. "Relative?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Yes, okay. That's what I thought. That must make you his…"

"Niece?" she supplied. She caught on quick.

"Of course. Naturally, when Mr. Smith leaves, I won't be seeing you in this hotel again, will I?" he asked. Jack met her gaze until she dropped her eyes.

"No," she whispered.

"I assume you have no other uncles here?" he said and she shook her head. "Good! Then we understand each other. I would also encourage you to perhaps consider dressing a little more appropriately while you're staying here. That'll be all." He walked from around the desk to open his office door.

"No! That's not all!" Rose cried, halting him in his tracks. "That's what I was just trying to do! I tried to go to Sloane Street and buy a dress to wear to dinner with John tonight but the women wouldn't help me." She was crying openly now and she was digging notes out of her small purse. They were crumpled and wrinkled and she held them out in her palms like an offering. "I have all this money that John gave me and no dress and I don't know what to do. I don't expect you to help me, but I have all this money… and I need a dress for dinner tonight. Nobody will help me." She broke off, bringing her hands up to her face as she cried. Her shoulders shook and Jack felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor girl.

Well, never let it be known that he couldn't be a nice, decent guy on occasion. He returned to his desk and picked up the phone. He dialled a number he knew by heart and held the phone to his ear.

Rose looked at him and now he saw fear as well as stress in her expression. "Are you calling the cops? Oh, god. Okay, fine. Call them. That's just great. Tell them I said hi."

"Gwen?" Jack said into the phone when his friend picked up.

"Jack! Long time no talk! What can I do for you?"

"You're still at Harrods, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," Gwen answered.

"Great. I have a favour to ask of you," he said and he heard her groan. Gwen had been his friend since he'd moved to England and this wouldn't be the first favour he'd asked of her but considering she tended to call in just as many favours to him, he figured it was a wash. "I'm sending a guest over to you, her name is Rose. She's a special guest, the niece of a very special guest."

"Sounds interesting! Send her over, I'll be waiting," Gwen replied. Jack thanked her and they hung up. He smiled at Rose and she smiled weakly back at him.

"Thank you," she said quietly while she wiped at her tears.

"It's my job," he assured her. "I'll call you a cab to take you right there. And if you have any other problems, you come see me personally. I'm Jack Harkness, the hotel manager."

"Jack," she said, nodding. She smiled at him and he couldn't help but notice that when Rose smiled, the whole room lit up.

John sat at the end of a very long, very shiny board room table, watching the images being projected onto the screen at the far end of the room. It was a sea port, a bustling shipyard located along the inlet at Southampton. It was prime industrial property, some of the most valuable in all of the United Kingdom. It didn't look like much on the slides Harry was showing him and the other men in the room, but John could see the hidden potential. Valuable machinery, precious real estate… his mouth watered at the sight of it.

"This is the jewel in Mott's crown," Harry was telling them all. "The real estate possibilities are endless, we can sell a lot of the machinery. For instance, the large cranes you see there are very valuable in east Asia. But most of the yard we would level; start from scratch."

An eager young man named Stuart spoke up. "I was talking to some real estate developers, under the table of course, and they said-"

"What?" John cut in harshly.

"I talked to some developers, about the land."

"Oh, Stuart. You idiot!" Harry yelled. "You don't talk about this deal to anyone."

"These are friends of mine," Stuart said defensively. "They wouldn't breathe a word, I promise."

"Where did you find this asshole?" Harry asked Vance, gesturing to the young man who was flushing now.

"He's right, Stuart," Vance said. "That was a very stupid thing to do. It won't happen again, John. I'll pull him off the project right away."

John waved his hand. "Don't bother."

"What?!" Harry yelped. "John, are you crazy?"

"We don't have the time to bring a new person up to speed on all this," he explained. He looked to Stuart. "Besides, you've already impressed everyone that you needed to, haven't you?"

He flushed even more, staring at the table. "It won't happen again, Mr. Smith."

Just then, a man named Gregory dashed into the room and handed Harry a file folder. "We just got the information, Mr. Saxon." Harry's eyes lit up and he gestured for someone to turn the lights in the board room back on.

"John, we just got the Mott update. Don, can you hold the projection?" Harry said, excited.

John sat up in his seat, leaning forward on his elbows. "Tell me."

"Mott just got the inside track on a $700 million pound contract to build ships for the Ministry of Defence," Harry read from the paper and he slumped down into his chair, wiping a hand over his face, groaning. "MOD contract. I can't believe this."

John raked a hand through his hair as he sat back. "You said they had nothing in the hopper on this one?"

"I thought they didn't," Harry grumbled.

"If it's true, this could end up costing us quite a bit more," John pointed out.

"Those stocks could go through the roof," Vance agreed, sighing.

"Yeah, no shit," Harry bit out angrily.

"Maybe we're lucky to get this information now, sir," Stuart said, still looking nervous from his earlier flub.

"We can still walk away from it," Gregory agreed.

Harry stood up and glowered at everyone. "Walk away? We can't walk way. We've got a thousand man-hours in on this already. No one is walking away from anything!"

"Harry, I think he's right," Vance interjected.

The voices around the table continued to rise as the men argued. John got to his feet and rapped his knuckles on the table top to get everyone's attention. "Gentlemen! Relax! Who do we know in Parliament?"

"Lord Adams," Stuart said, checking his papers.

"Alright. Lord Adams. Let's find out where he is. The MOD isn't going to spend $700 million pounds on anything without full cooperation with the Parliament. Let's just relax and take this as it comes, okay?" John instructed. The men immediately went into action and the room emptied. Harry stayed behind and looked at John, shaking his head.

"I don't know what happened here today," he admitted, looking stressed out.

"That's why I hired you, Harry, to do my worrying for me," John said, smiling.

"Listen, is everything all set for the dinner meeting tonight?"

"Yes, it is. I spoke to Mott on the phone myself this morning."

"Who- Who is this girl that you're taking?" Harry asked.

John smiled enigmatically. "No one you know."

The elevator doors opened and Rose stepped out, looking around, unsure. She'd never actually been in Harrods, despite growing up in London. Her mum had always turned up her nose at what she considered "snooty sales people who've got airs" and after she'd moved out of the estate, Rose had never had enough money to even think about coming here. The store was overwhelming, with floor upon floor of luxurious goods. Still, she felt no desire to have a look around right now. She wanted to find this Gwen that Jack had sent her to meet and get her dress purchased.

The entire first floor was women's clothing but Rose noticed the evening wear department from where she stood and she hurried over there, hoping that this Gwen would be looking out for her. Sure enough, Rose had taken barely five steps when a young woman that was only perhaps a year or two older than her approached her. She had a friendly face, wide green eyes and straight black hair.

"Hello," she greeted smoothly. "You must be Rose."

"And you must be Gwen."

"Indeed I am," she purred in a distinct Welsh accent.

"Jack said you would help me," Rose said, feeling a little lame all of the sudden in the presence of this woman's friendly manner and sophisticated ease.

"Jack's a sweetie, isn't he?" the other woman remarked, her eyes twinkling. "So tell me. What are your plans while you're in town?" She led Rose further into the evening wear department. The dresses on display were truly amazing, some of the most beautiful garments she'd ever seen.

"We're going to dinner tonight."

"Dinner… hmm," Gwen said, considering. "Well, then you'll need a cocktail dress. Follow me, I'll get you all set."

Rose followed her over to a selection of cocktail dresses. Most of them were flirty, fashionable and, indeed, elegant. None of them looked boring as far as she could tell and Rose felt relieved.

"Let's have a look at you then," the shop girl said, considering Rose's figure. "You have a beautiful figure, you don't need to wear a dress quite that blatant in order to show it off. Less is more, they always say. And they're right. You're a, what, size 8? Do you need shoes as well?"

"I need everything," Rose admitted. "And yes, a size 8. That's amazing, how did you guess that?"

"It's my job, sweetie," she said, winking. "We'll get you set up with everything then. And I'm sure we'll find something that your uncle will just love."

"Gwen, he's not really my uncle."

The shop ogirl smiled and winked at her. "They never are, dear."

Rose decided right then that she quite liked Gwen.

Rose returned to The Lanesborough in considerably better spirits than she'd been in when she'd left. She clutched the garment bag holding her new dress and the shopping bag containing her new shoes, lingerie, and makeup as she hurried through the lobby. She spotted Jack speaking to some guests by the check in desk and ran over to him.

"Jack!" she called and then she addressed the guests who had been speaking. "I'm sorry, excuse me just a mo'. Jack, I got a dress!"

Jack looked down her figure before focusing back on her face. He looked a little chagrined. "I had hoped you might be wearing it."

Rose gave him a shocked look. "Oh, no! I wouldn't want to ruin it! Listen, I got shoes too. Do you want to see them?" She began to reach into the shopping bag but Jack stilled her with a hand on her arm.

"No, that's okay. I believe you," he assured her.

She grinned. "Okay. I'm sorry for interrupting but I just wanted to tell you… Gwen was great and we got along so well and she was so nice to me. Thank you you for helping."

Jack smiled at her and looked touched. "You're welcome, Rose."

She waved and then hurried off for the staircase, excited to return to her room and start getting ready for her big night out. No sooner had she let herself in the room with the key Jack had given her earlier than the phone began ringing in the sitting room. She hurried in, tossing her bags on one of the sofas and grabbed the receiver.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Never, ever pick up the phone," John scolded her.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Then why are you calling me?"

"Just checking in," he said and she smiled at the sound of his voice. He'd only been gone half the day, did she actually miss him? "Did you buy clothes today?"

"I got a dress," she told him, proudly. "A cocktail one."

"That sounds promising," he replied. "I'll be in the hotel lobby at 7:45 sharp. I expect you to be down there, ready for me."

"You're not going to come to the door and get me?" Rose made sure her pout made it into her voice.

"This isn't a date," he reminded her. "It's business."

Good point. She seemed to keep forgetting that part. "Where are you taking me?"

"I'm taking you to a restaurant called the Voltaire. We'll be meeting some business associates there. It's very elegant," he informed her.

She hadn't heard of the place but that didn't mean anything. She rolled her shoulders. "Alright. I'll meet you in the lobby, but only 'cos you're payin' me to."

"Well, thank you very much." She could hear the grin in John's voice and it made her grin too.

They hung up and Rose smiled at the phone for a minute before returning to her discarded bags on the sofa. She'd just picked them up when the phone rang again. She made a frustrated noise and hurried back over to the desk to answer it.

"Hello?"

"I told you not to pick up the phone."

Was he flirting with her? Her grin grew. "Then stop callin' me."

They hung up again and she chuckled. John was definitely a puzzle. He always acted to straight laced and serious but he had this very playful side as well. She realised she was going to enjoy getting to know him this week quite a bit. It would be like unraveling a mystery.

Jack was talking to head of housekeeping when he saw Rose coming down the staircase. He bit back a groan. She was still wearing the same outfit from before and looked no less out of place. Sighing, he excused himself and crossed the lobby to meet her.

"It didn't fit," he guesses, fixing her with a look.

Rose giggled and it was a light, cheerful sound. "Oh! No, no, no. It's just… I had to ask you something."

"What was it?"

"John is taking me to the Voltaire tonight. Have you heard of it?"

The Voltaire was only one of the most expensive, most luxurious and most exclusive restaurants in all of London. "Yes, it rings a bell," he said, smiling crookedly. "It's a bit beyond my range, however."

"Yeah, mine too," Rose said. She bit her lip nervously. "Is it, you know… normal?"

"You'll find it normal enough," Jack assured her. "It's supposed to have wonderful food and flawless service."

"Will I like it?"

"I'm sure that you will love it."

She smiled, looking relieved. "Okay, that makes me feel better."

"Just mind which fork you use," he teased, winking. Rose looked at him, stunned.

"Fork?"

After a quick explanation, Jack ushered her into the restaurant located on the ground floor of the hotel where the staff was currently setting the tables for the dinner service. He had her sit at a table and began to explain the different silverware pieces and what meal courses were to be eaten with which utensil. Jack found the way she chewed her lip as she concentrated on what he was saying quite adorable. He sat across from her and picked up a fork in one hand and a knife in the other.

"As you pick up the knife, you shift your fork to your left hand," he was telling her. She mimicked his actions uncertainly.

"But I always eat like this," she said, and she mimed pushing her food onto her fork with the knife. Jack tried to hide a laugh behind a cough.

"That's not exactly considered the best table manners in these circles," he informed her.

Rose sighed. "I'm never going to get these manners down before dinner."

Jack smiled at her gently, reaching across to place his hand comfortingly over her trembling one. "Some of the wealthiest people I know have the worst manners."

She smiled, taking heart in his words. "Okay, now which one is the salad fork?"

He pointed to the fork on the outside of the table setting. "You see? It is slightly smaller than the dinner fork and it has less tines. Three tines, instead of four."

She counted them. "Okay, and what if they serve soup?"

"They won't," he promised. "They'll serve salad."

"But what if, Jack?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "Then you would use your soup spoon." He pointed to the spoon on the outside of the place setting.

"And what is this thing?" she asked, holding up a small knife.

"That is your butter knife and it goes here," he said, taking it from her and showing her where it rested.

"Oh boy," she breathed, looking a little overwhelmed. Jack chuckled and patted her hand.

"You'll do fine. Listen, why don't you let me call up a stylist and have her come to your room, have her help you get your hair ready. I have a good number of very qualified stylists on call and it'll help you relax before tonight," he suggested.

He didn't miss the way her eyes lit up. "Really? That would be amazing!" They stood up from the table and Rose embraced him in a spontaneous hug. "Thank you so much, Jack. You've been wonderful today."

She waved enthusiastically at him as she bounced out of the room and Jack chuckled. He was beginning to understand better just why John had brought her here with him.

John Smith strode through the doors to The Lanesborough with purpose. His mind was very much on the impending dinner and how important it was to make the right sort of connection with Mott. The whole encounter would likely set the tone for the rest of the week and his chances for success in acquiring Mott's shipyards. He looked around and did not see Rose anywhere. A prickle of annoyance had him ruffling the hair at the back of his head. Was she actually going to make him go up to the room and fetch her?

Not likely, he thought. He crossed the lobby to a bank of in-house telephones. He'd call the room (and he knew she'd answer, saucy minx) and instruct her to get her pert bum down the stairs right away if she wanted to be continuing this business arrangement of theirs.

John had just picked up the receiver on one of the phones when he was approached by a tall, well-built, good looking man. "Pardon me, Mr. Smith. I'm Mr. Harkness. I'm the manager of the hotel," the man greeted. He was wearing a sharp looking suit and a name badge that proclaimed his name was "Jack Harkness". Under normal circumstances, John would have engaged him some friendly chatter but he was in a hurry and feeling annoyed and apparently in no mood for niceties.

"Yes. If you'll excuse me, I just need to make one call," he told him, a bit rudely.

"Yes, sir, that's the thing," Mr. Harkness interjected. John looked at him expectantly and the man hurried to continue. "I have a message for you."

John set the receiver back in the cradle and turned to face Mr. Harkness more fully. "From who?"

"From your niece, sir."

He blinked. What was this man on about? "My what?"

"The young lady who is staying with you in your suite, sir," Mr. Harkness elaborated.

"Oh. Hmm," he said, pulling on his ear. "I think we both know that she's not my niece."

"Of course," this man, Jack, was quick to say.

"The reason I know that is that I'm an only child," John said, feeling a stirring of amusement.

"Yes, sir." Mr. Harkness' eyes twinkled, indicating his own amusement. Not quite so much a stuffed shirt then, he mused.

"What's the message?"

"She's waiting for you in the Library Bar," Mr. Harkness told him, indicating the direction from where they stood that he could find this place. John was about to start walking towards it when the man continued. "Intriguing young lady, Miss Rose."

He paused, thoughtful. So he wasn't the only one who saw through the exterior, at least a little. "Intriguing, yes," he agreed.

"Have a good evening, sir," Mr. Harkness said.

"Thank you, Mr. Harkness," John replied. "I'll be sure to."

He headed towards the Library Bar, an establishment which lived up to its name. It was indeed, a bar within a library. Rich mahogany paneling lined the walls, floor to ceiling shelves were filled with leather bound books, heavy curtains hung over the windows, a fireplace roared in one corner, surrounded by comfortable looking sofas and wingback chairs. John scanned the room, looking for Rose's blonde hair. He saw blonde but he didn't see her. There were several elegant people sitting up at the bar, a few more scattered about the room in various chairs and on sofas and none of them were her. He was about to give in and head back to the in-house phones when he turned back towards the bar and she was facing him, a demure smile on her lips.

He took a long moment just to stare at her. She unfolded herself from the seat at the bar, her legs, long and lean and perfect. She was wearing a black dress that took his breath away. It was black silk, from bust line to mid-thigh, overlaid with fine black lace. The lace continued from the bust line up to her neck, fastening in the back and leaving her arms and shoulders uncovered. A fashionable peplum at the waist emphasised her slender figure and the lace continued past the hem of the silk shift underneath to hang down to the tops of her knees. It was young and flirty, like she was herself, but also elegant and sophisticated in a way that he hadn't been quite expecting. She wore strappy black sandals on her feet with impossibly high heels that emphasised the curves of her legs. Her hair had been professionally styled, curled and pulled back from her face with jewelled combs so that the curls cascaded down her back. A few curls were left loose to frame her face and she tossed her head shyly as she grinned at him.

She walked up to him, gliding smoothly and with a grace he hadn't guessed that she possessed. "You're late," she admonished him.

"You… are stunning," he breathed, continuing to appraise her.

A pretty blush spread across her cheeks and her smile widened. "You're forgiven," she said, and giggled.

Grinning back at her, he held an elbow out for her take. "Shall we go to dinner?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She placed a hand on his arm.

"Let's," she replied. Together they walked out of the bar and out of the hotel to the Rolls Royce that was waiting for them out front. John noticed Jack Harkness standing to the side as they passed, smiling at the both of them and looking rather pleased with himself.

Chapter 6

Chapter Summary

There's an important dinner to attend and we get to meet John's business rivals. We also get to see a more vulnerable side to John.

Big thanks to Kahki820 and Kelkat9! This was a tough chapter and I'm still not 100% happy with it but hopefully I don't let anyone down!

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The Voltaire was a stunning restaurant, nearly as grand and richly appointed as The Lanesborough. Rose did her best not to gawk at the gorgeous artwork and the even more gorgeous clientele as the maitre'd led them through the tables.

"It'll be just this way, Mr. Smith. Your party is waiting," the tuxedoed man said.

Rose fingered at the lace on her dress until she felt John's hand still hers. "Stop fidgeting" he whispered in her ear. The feel of his breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine.

They arrived at a table, tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant. It was secluded and private, or as private as a table in such a popular, exclusive restaurant could be. Seated at the table already were three people; a kindly looking older man that Rose judged to be in his 70's or so, a younger ginger woman wearing a stunning purple dress and a disapproving look and a dark, curly haired man roughly the same age as her with an open expression. All three stood as the maitre'd left them.

"Mr. Mott," John greeted, sticking out his hand.

Mr. Mott accepted his hand and shook it. "Yes, Mr. Smith. I'm Wilfred Mott but my friends call me Wilf." He gestured to the young woman next to him. "This fireball is my granddaughter, Donna Noble. And her husband Lee."

"I don't know about the fireball part," Donna said, shaking John's outstretched hand. "Actually, no. That's a lie. It's true, I'm a fireball. You'd best watch yourself, Mr. Smith." She winked at him to soften her words but Rose had the impression that Donna wasn't someone to be crossed.

"I can v-vouch for the f-fireball comment," Lee said, stuttering slightly as he shook John's hand.

"I'm pleased to meet all three of you," John said graciously. "This is a friend of mine, Rose Tyler." He stepped back to indicate her and Rose darted forward, pumping everyone's hands enthusiastically.

"Hi," she said, smiling wide. "I'm really glad to meet you." Wilf chuckled and Lee beamed. Donna looked at her as if she were a little unhinged and Rose realised that maybe her enthusiastic handshake had been a little on the informal side.

John gestured for the three of them to sit but Rose popped right back up and the men all got to their feet again. She flushed and said softly, "Excuse me."

"Where are you going?" John murmured in her ear.

"I need to go to the ladies," she replied.

He smiled tightly. "Upstairs and to the right. Hurry back."

"Okay," she said and she stepped away from the table.

"Shall I order for you?" John asked in a louder voice.

"Yeah," she said and paused to think of what she should have him order. Then she remembered some of Jack's advice earlier that day and fixed a gracious smile on her face. "Please do so. Thank you."

John smiled at her warmly and she headed towards the stairs to the upper level. She found the ladies room easily enough and was impressed by the facilities. There was even an older lady in there who's only job seemed to be to hand her a towel when she was done washing her hands. Rose chatted her up anyhow and the woman seemed to appreciate someone paying her some attention. She checked her appearance in the mirror quickly before she headed back to the table.

As she sat down, the first course was being served and it was something that Rose couldn't even begin to identify. According to Jack, they would be leading off with the appetiser but this didn't look like any appetiser she'd ever seen. She wanted to ask John what it was but he was talking to Wilf and Donna and she was hesitant to interrupt. It sounded like an important conversation.

"Mr. Smith, my grandfather believes that the men who create a company should get to control its destiny," Donna was saying, her tone clipped.

While Donna and John were verbally sparring and Wilf seemed content to sit back and watch his granddaughter put John through the wringer, Rose leaned towards Lee, who didn't seem particularly invested in the conversation and whispered, "This isn't the salad, is it?"

"Uhm, the s-salad comes at the e-end of the meal," he told her in a low voice and then winked to let her know that her question was okay. She smiled back gratefully.

"Too bad," she replied. "That's the fork I knew."

Donna was shooting John fiery looks and striking an air clearly meant to intimidate. "Let me rephrase this. I've been watching you and between your public statements and the rumours flying around on this whole thing, we're finding it very hard to figure out what your intentions towards our company really are."

Wilf appeared happy to let Donna lead this particular charge against John and had been watching Rose and her struggle to acclimatise to this elegant dinner. He leaned forward in his seat towards Rose and said in a conspiratorial tone, "I don't know about you, but I've never been able to figure out which utensil goes with what!" He then picked up the appetiser in his hands and took a big bite.

Rose grinned at him and copied his actions. Wilf grinned back.

"There was a time when this company built ships the size of cities. Men like my grandfather made this country," Donna was saying. "He was no saint and he definitely screwed people over. But for every little guy he stepped on, he gave a hundred people a good job. Can you say the same?" She didn't seem to be interested in giving John any slack tonight, but to his credit, John was taking her verbal abuse graciously.

A waiter arrived, setting down a plate full of… well it looked like snails to her. Rose tried not to look too horrified as she asked quietly, "Who ordered this?"

"The gentleman did, ma'am. Bon appetit," the waiter replied before bowing and hurrying off.

"These are escargot," John explained, leaning towards her and speaking in a low voice. "They're French. Try it, they're a delicacy."

Rose swallowed thickly and contemplated the snails on the plate before her. Well, never let it be known that she wasn't open to new experiences. She picked up the tongs that had come with the plate and tried to figure how to operate them. Glancing up through her lashes, she looked to see what the rest of the group was doing.

"So, young man, I understand you are trying to take over my company," Wilf suddenly said and everyone at the table stopped what they were doing to stare. John looked almost shocked before he quickly schooled his expression.

"Please don't patronise me, Mr. Mott. Our ages mean nothing here," he replied calmly. Donna glared and Wilf looked considering. Lee and Rose exchanged nervous smiles.

"We know you've purchased at least twenty percent of our stock," Wilf explained. "We also know that you plan to file a formal bid for a majority share."

John coughed discreetly into his napkin before muttering, "Well, more like twenty five percent."

"Mr. Smith, if you were to gain control of my company, and I'm having a hard time believing that you can, what would you do with it?" Wilf wanted to know.

"I would break it up and then sell off the pieces," John replied honestly.

"I'm sure you'll understand if I'm not thrilled with that idea," the older man said, his voice turning brittle. "You want to turn 50 years of my hard work into your eBay auction!"

"At the price I plan to buy the majority share, Mr. Mott, you are going to be a very rich man."

"I'm rich enough." Wilf fixed John with a glare. "I just want to keep my shipyard."

"And I want to sell it off."

An angry look crossed Wilf's face then, marring his kind features. "Mr. Smith, I built Mott Industries by myself from the ground up. I know every man who ever worked there by his first name. I know their families. If you intend to take over my company and turn it into some sort of real estate deal, think again."

A few waiters arrived then, clearing their plates. Rose had barely managed to get a bite of the escargot from the shell by that time and she quickly grabbed the bite off the fork before her plate was removed. It was… rubbery. But not awful. She was surprised.

The next course was delivered and conversation turned away from business for a short time. Rose was able to talk to Donna and Lee both and find out that they'd been married for five years and that Lee had taken Donna's name when they'd wed. They both seemed like very nice people and Rose was utterly charmed with Wilf, whom she thought of as a sweet old man. She felt bad by the way that John kept baiting him about his business.

"I met your father once," Wilf mentioned as he swallowed a bite of poached salmon. "What was his name again?"

"Rassilon," John answered.

"Ah yes. Rassilon. Strange name."

"It was a family name."

"He's not quite the bastard everyone said he is," Wilf said with a chuckle.

"No, I have the franchise on that," John admitted easily. Rose raised an eyebrow at that.

"Does that make him proud?" the older man asked.

"Doubtful. Besides, it doesn't really matter now. He passed away."

Wilf's features softened. "Oh, I hadn't heard. I'm sorry."

Rose put her hand on John's arm. "I'm sorry too." He smiled gratefully at her before turning back to Wilf.

"Mr. Mott, you asked for this meeting. What can I do for you?"

"What would it take to buy our stock back?" Wilf questioned. "Name your price."

"I would need double what I paid to get me in the mood to sell," John answered. "But I believe your company doesn't have the capital right now to be buying anything."

Donna cleared her throat. "We're on the verge of closing on a very large contract with the Ministry of Defence. Double what you paid is nothing short of ridiculous but we can assure you a healthy profit on your shares if you sell them to us. We would give you a promissory note-"

"I don't think you'll be getting any MOD contract," John said, sipping at his goblet of water.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table and the mood darkened even more. Finally, Donna spoke. "There is no way you could know that."

"I think you'll find that I do know that and that I have made sure that your contract is tied up in Parliament for the foreseeable future."

"And how the hell did you pull off something like that?" Donna demanded, her eyebrows drawing together. "Do you have corrupt politicians in your pocket?"

"Easy now, Donna. Calm down," Wilf soothed his granddaughter. Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she glared at John. "It would appear that Mr. Smith plays a hard game."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"I've heard just about enough of this," Donna announced, pushed back from the table suddenly and throwing her napkin on her plate. "Rose, it was lovely to meet you. Grandfather, I'm sorry. I need to go get some air." She inclined her head towards John. "Mr. Smith." Then she stalked off through the restaurant.

Lee got to his feet, looking apologetic at the three of them. "I'm sorry, I should join her. I enjoyed meeting you, Rose." He nodded at Wilf and John before he followed Donna.

Wilf leaned forward on his elbows, fixing John with a hard look. "I know all about you, Mr. Smith. When you buy companies, they have a way of disappearing. Even the retirement funds are stripped clean. The last three companies you took over were cut up in so many pieces that widows were left without their checks."

John cleared his throat. "What I did with those companies was perfectly legal."

"Oh, I don't question that. But is it right? Is it good, what you do?" he asked. "I will not allow my company to be raped by a man like you."

Rose flinched at the insinuation and it appeared to have an affect on John as well. He leaned forward now too, colour rising in his pale cheeks and making his freckles stand out. "It is not your company. It is a public company with publicly traded stock. And I am going to acquire it. Either I will buy it from other stockholders or I will buy it from you. I would rather purchase from you and let that profit go into your pocket but if you insist on being difficult, I'll have no choice."

Wilf glared at him for a minute before throwing his own napkin on his plate. "I'd better go join my granddaughter and her husband. You two enjoy your dinner. I'm sure it'll be delicious." He stood and now he smiled at Rose, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'm glad I met you, miss. It means the evening wasn't a total wash. Good luck with him."

John was standing as well, looking mildly uncomfortable as Wilf turned to him and practically snarled. "Watch out, Smith. I'm going to tear you apart."

Rose was surprised to see the younger man smile at these words. "I look forward to it, sir."

John sat back down and she gave him a tentative smile. He looked at her and she felt he was really seeing her for the first time since they'd left The Lanesborough together. He'd been so calm, so cool and so level-headed during the dinner that she'd barely recognised him. Then, she had to remind herself that she didn't really know him, has only known him for a day now. But she'd seen a side of him that she hadn't seen before and it was… a little unnerving. He seemed to be realising this now too as he looked at her a little uncertainly.

"And that's the way the game is played," he murmured, almost looking sheepish.

"Some game," she remarked. She felt bad for Wilfred Mott and she felt bad for anyone that might be left in the lurch while John Smith sought his latest fortune. "Screwin' some poor bloke out of his retirement."

He said nothing, just looked down at his hands with a frown on his face. Rose could that she hit a nerve and regreted taking such a harsh tone against him. She tried to lighten things up a bit. "Snails for dinner, though. No wonder everyone is in such a bad mood."

"I'm thinking it wasn't the snails," he said, sighing.

"He seems like a nice man."

He looked up and met her eyes and his were so sad that she found her heart going out to him. "I guess three thousand pounds doesn't buy loyalty, does it?"

"Now, don't say that," she admonished. "I just mean that it was sweet the way he and his granddaughter work so close together. You can tell they really care for one another."

He didn't crack a smile and waiter appeared at the table then, breaking the tension. "Shall I serve the next course, sir?" he asked.

"No," John said, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. "Bring the check, please."

John was standing at one of the long windows in the sitting room, his jacket discarded and scotch glass in his hand. He was staring out at the lights of Knightsbridge but Rose had the impression that he wasn't really seeing them. He'd been quiet the whole ride back to the hotel and now he seemed to have withdrawn into a dark mood. He shifted, draining the rest of the amber liquid in his glass. Rose stood from the chair she'd been sitting in and crossed to the beverage service. She picked up the bottle of scotch and approached him, holding it in front of her like a peace offering.

"Can I pour you another?" she asked.

He glanced at her before turning his gaze back to the window. He held his glass out to her. "Please do."

She poured two fingers worth in and then turned and set the bottle on a nearby table. Then she stepped up behind him and began to knead at his shoulders soothingly, feeling his tense muscles bunched beneath the fabric of his oxford. Once again, he made a fine picture wearing just his waistcoat and shirtsleeves and with the brooding expression on his face, he looked like some sort of Byronic Hero. Not that she knew who Byron was and why he had heroes. She'd just heard the phrase mentioned on televisions shows and movies to describe men who looked just like John did now: moody, mysterious and seductive.

"You didn't say much in the car on the way here," Rose said, hoping to start a conversation. She moved next to him, leaning back against the glass so she could see his face. "Were you thinking about dinner?" He didn't speak so she went on, now desperate to fill the silence. "That was quite the scene. The business was interesting, what I could understand of it. His company is in trouble. You want to buy it, but he's not ready to let it go."

He smirked. "Thanks for the recap."

"The only problem is… I think you liked Mr. Mott," she said.

"Whether or not I like this man makes no difference," he replied, sighing. He took another drink of his scotch. "I will not let myself become emotionally involved in business." He said that like he was reciting a script. A creed.

She understood, probably better than he knew. "I know," she murmured. "Shireen is always saying to me, 'Don't get emotional when you're with a client.' That's why I don't kiss. It's too personal." She paused and took a deep breath. "I get what you're saying. If you stay numb and don't get involved, then you don't hurt when its time to walk away. Because you always have to walk away. When I'm with a client, I'm like a robot. I just do it." John looked at her then, eyebrow raised, considering. She realised what she'd just said and blushed. "Sorry! I mean, not with you, of course."

"Of course," he said wryly, taking another swig. Then he sucked in a lungful of air through his teeth. "You and I are such similar creatures, Rose. We both screw people for money."

Rose's face fell. It was true enough, she knew that. But to hear it like that, coming from him… it hurt in a way she hadn't expected. She decided to change the subject. "I was sorry to hear about your dad. When did he die?"

"Last month," John answered, looking back at the lights of the city.

"Do you miss him?"

"I hadn't spoken to him in ten and a half years. We weren't close," he said and she saw a muscle in his jaw leap.

"Do you want to talk about this?"

"No," he replied quickly.

"I'll tell you what. I have an idea. A great idea," Rose said, grinning. She reached over to play with his tie, tugging on it and smoothing it and he watched her fingers as she stroked the silk. "Let's you and I watch old movies all night. We'll just hang out in front of the telly and eat junk food and make up stories about the characters."

"It's a great idea," he agreed. "But let's do it tomorrow, okay?" John turned away from her then, starting towards the foyer.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"I'll be back, just going downstairs for a while."

She watched sadly as he walked out of the suite.

Rose sat curled up on the sofa in the sitting room, one of the blankets from one of the bedrooms wrapped around her. A bowl of popcorn sat neglected at her feet, a glass of wine on the table at her elbow. An old Audrey Hepburn movie was just finishing up on the flat screen TV over the fireplace and instead of feeling the familiar rush of happiness she normally felt at the end of one of the movies, she felt unsettled.

This was the second movie she'd watched after John had left the suite earlier. She'd recognised that he wanted to be alone to brood but she'd thought he would certainly be back by now. The uneasiness continued to gnaw in her stomach until she leaned forward and grabbed the phone sitting next to her wine glass. She called down to the reception desk and a moment later, a chipper female voice answered.

"Uhm, hi. I'm staying in the Lanesborough Suite and I was wondering if you've seen the guy I'm here with, uh, John Smith… is he down there anywhere?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, he's in the restaurant at the moment," the woman answered. Rose thanked her and hung up. Chewing her lip, she considered her options. She could stay up here by herself, waiting for him to come back. She could go to sleep, even. Or she could throw a dressing gown on over the black chemise she was wearing and walk down there and find him herself.

The more she considered it, the more the last option seemed to be the way to go. He'd brooded long enough and now it was time for her to intervene. She found the dressing gown she'd worn that morning and slipped it on, pushing her feet into a pair of John's slippers she found poking out from the edge of the bed. Making sure to take one of the key cards off the dresser, she slipped it into the pocket on her dressing gown and slipped out of the suite.

It was late at night, later than it had been the night before when she and John had arrived at the hotel, and the lobby was nearly empty save for some staff and a few guests coming in for the night. No one paid her much mind as she hurried down the staircase and towards the restaurant. As she entered, she heard the sounds of a piano being played. It was a haunting melody, vaguely familiar, and being performed with obvious passion. Rose headed in the direction of the music, expecting to find John sitting at a table near the piano, drinking some scotch and appreciating the song.

What she didn't expect, however, was to see John at the piano himself, his long, elegant fingers dancing over the keys with practiced precision. He was wearing his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, his suit jacket discarded on a chair near him. Some of the staff were sitting in the tables near the piano, listening. Rose stopped in her tracks, stunned. He was brilliant, playing with such effortless grace. The song now pulled at her heart and she felt tears spring inexplicably to her eyes. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, this enigma of a man, who could conduct such ruthless business dealings, could also be capable of such tenderness and beauty.

He finished the song with a flourish and the few people in the room clapped. Rose joined them enthusiastically. "Thank you," he said, barely turning from the piano. "Thank you, very much." She could see a bottle of scotch and a mostly empty glass sitting on the edge of the piano and she wondered how much he'd had. She crossed the room to him, picking up the glass and bottle and setting them on a nearby table.

"I didn't know you played," she said.

"Well, I only really play for strangers," he murmured.

"That's too bad," she replied. "You're really very good. You shouldn't keep that talent hidden."

He shrugged a shoulder and she could see the droop in his eyes and in his entire demeanour. It made her heart ache some more.

"I was gettin' lonely upstairs all by myself," she said, changing the subject. She tried to sound as light and teasing as she could.

John lifted his eyes to look at her and his expression changed. He went from looking withdrawn and distant to looking hungry. Hungry for her. He watched her lips for a moment before turning to the staff who had gathered to listen to him play. "Gentlemen, ladies, would you mind leaving us, please?" he asked. Everyone stood and quietly left the room and he called out a thank you as the door to the restaurant was closed behind them.

Rose looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Do people always do what you tell them to do?" she wondered, impressed in spite of herself.

John didn't speak but took her hand and dragged her over so she stood in front of him, between him and the piano keys. He looked up at her for a long moment, his brown eyes looking so… wounded. He let go of her hand and reach around to grab at the backs of her legs. Sighing, he leaned his head forward, resting it against the swell of her breast. Surprised by the open, tender gesture, she reached up and threaded her fingers into his hair, holding him to her in an offer of comfort. He stayed there for a long moment and she could feel his fingers drawing circles on the backs of her thighs through the fabric of the dressing gown. When he drew his head back to look up into her face again, the naked want in his eyes sending a signal directly to her core. Rose lifted a hand and fingered the edge of his waistcoat, which she was already so very fond of. She wondered if she could get away with stripping him here, in an empty but still public restaurant.

John seemed to having similar thoughts. He looked down at her dressing gown and with sure, precise movements, began to untie the knot at her waist. He parted the fabric and plunged his hands inside, his palms warm against the cool silk of the chemise she wore. Still, she shivered at his touch and he noticed. He ran his hands from just under her breasts, down the very edge of the chemise at the top of her thighs. His long fingers danced along the hem, just barely dipping underneath to touch the skin there and she was being drawn into the dreamy quality of the moment when suddenly he stood up before her.

His expression was no longer just wanting or wounded but fierce. This was a man who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to take it. "I guess so," she murmured, answering her long since forgotten question from before. Because, yes, she could see where people would always do what he told them to do. Especially when he had that storm brewing in his eyes like he did right now.

John still did not speak, but he bent quickly and scooped her up in his arms effortlessly, as if she weighed no more than a leaf. He held her against his chest for a long moment and she could feel his heart pounding through the layers of his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. Lifting her up, he set her on top of the piano so that her heels rested on the keys, making a dissonant noise echo through the room. He pushed her dressing gown the rest of the way off her shoulders and she let it slide from her arms. Then he brushed a hand across her cheek and into her hair which now fell free from its earlier, more elegant style. His fingers tangled in the curls as he looked at her and she could see such emotion swimming in his eyes that she didn't understand it. No man, and she'd known quite a few men, had ever looked at her like that.

He angled his head and pulled her towards him, intending to kiss her. She pulled back and he tried again, leaning into her more insistently. Had he forgotten her policy? Had he drank enough scotch that he wasn't thinking clearly? It made her wonder if he was even seeing her at all or if he was seeing someone else. Someone else that he had loved. That would explain the emotion she was reading off of him. The thought made her heart hurt a little, in spite of knowing it was better that way.

When he moved forward to kiss her again, she dodged him and then leaned forward to kiss along his neck. This seemed to suitably distract him and she heard a breathy moan escape his lips as she fixated on the spot just below his ear. He definitely enjoyed her ministrations and she could feel him push his hips forward into the piano. Withdrawing briefly, he pushed apart her legs and stepped in between them. He grabbed her arse and pulled her up against him. The angle wasn't right, she was far too high. But she still felt the delicious friction against her core and and let her head fall back as she revelled in it. Deftly, he brought his left hand around to brace against her back and his right hand to press down on her stomach, pressing her back against the piano. Rose lay back, and he grabbed at her waist, pulling her up to arch against the cool, smooth surface of the piano. She felt the warm press of his hand between her breasts, then sliding down over her ribcage and her belly. He reached the tops of her thighs and with both hands now, he pushed the chemise up her body to gather beneath her breasts. John raised an eyebrow at her.

"Were you knicker-less all through dinner?" he asked, a smile quirking at the edge of his lips. She had taken them off when she'd taken off her dress and settled in to watch movies.

Rose was torn for a moment on whether to tell him the truth or not. She decided maybe this time she'd go for the truth. "No," she admitted, and noted his disappointed expression. "Would you like me to be?"

Now he grinned, wide and lecherous. "Oh yes. Next time, please?"

"Your wish is my command," she purred.

With a growl, he lunged forward and began to kiss and nibble and taste all along her belly. Her eyes slammed shut as arousal shot through her and she writhed under his relentless assault. His hands gripped her hips, his thumbs swirling in slow circles at the tops of her thighs, so close to where she was suddenly aching to be touched. He brushed ever lower, finally coming into contact with her folds and she made a strangled noise. Using his thumbs, he parted her folds and moved back, bringing his mouth to her slit, licking her in one long movement from her entrance clear up to her clit. He focused his talented tongue right there on her bundle of nerves while a long finger pushed inside of her. Rose saw stars and they were starting to grow brighter and bigger, coming together until all she saw behind her closed eyelids was a blinding white. She groaned, loudly.

The sound echoed through the room again and was deafening in her ears. It was enough to snap her out of the moment, and reality came rushing back in. It wasn't that this was a public place. Oh, no, she'd done far worse in far more public places before. It was the intimacy of what John was doing to her. It was almost like… kissing. She couldn't bear it and she pushed up her elbow, taking his hair gently in one hand and pulling him away from her. He looked up, his eyes dazed and his mouth shining and dear lord, he was the most amazing looking man. Rose was nearly overcome with the desire to kiss those lips, to taste herself there and the way her taste mingled with his. He looked confused as she shook her head, just barely.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He helped her to sit up and she stroked a hand along his jaw.

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him. "Let's go up to the room where we can… concentrate."

He smiled at the promise in her eyes and she felt a shudder of relief course through her. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel bad. Up in the suite, she would be better able to concentrate and distract him by focusing her attentions on him. And hopefully he would forget what he had been doing here and not try again. Because she didn't know if she would have the strength to stop him again. He was really good with that tongue.

John helped her off of the piano and she straightened her chemise. He held her dressing gown for her and she slipped it back on while he shrugged back into his suit jacket.

"What music were you playing? When I got here?" she asked.

"That was "Time To Say Goodbye", otherwise known as "Con te Partiro" in Italian," he told her. "It was sung, rather famously, by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli."

Rose took his arm as he lead her from the restaurant. "It was beautiful. Kind of sad. What's it about?"

He sighed. "It's sung as a duet, about two people who are deeply in love but must say goodbye to one another. They mourn the sights that they will never see together. But by the end of the song, they vow to be together again."

"So it has a happy ending," she said, smiling.

"Eh… mostly," he said. "Some people say that one half of the pair has actually died and the vowing to be together again is the other half wanting to die to join them in the afterlife."

She shuddered. "I'll go with the first one, thanks."

He chuckled and she held onto his arm tighter as they walked up the staircase together towards their suite.

Chapter 7

Chapter Summary

Rose goes shopping again, this time with much happier results.

Thanks again to kelkat9 and kahki820 for helping me with beta services! Yes, I keep adding chapters. Some of these bits ended up a lot longer than I expected!

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John Smith walked out of the wardrobe, dressed except for his tie which he was attempting to tie. He looked to the enormous bed and smiled, seeing Rose sprawled there, her golden hair spilling across the pillow. He hadn't been in a good place after the dinner last night. He supposed the business dealings went as well as he could have hoped, but the personal baggage that the exchange had unexpectedly stirred up had taken him off guard. Back at the hotel, he'd begun drinking and hadn't wanted to stop until he could dull all the emotions that wanted to crash through him all at once.

It was a stupid move, he knew that. But he'd never been very good at dealing with his emotions. The string of ex-girlfriends and his ex-wife would attest to that. He'd run away from Rose to drown his pities in expensive scotch and she'd found him. She'd come downstairs wearing his slippers and a fluffy dressing gown and she'd found him. He wondered how thirty minutes spent with her could heal him more than half a bottle of scotch ever could.

He crossed the room to her, his tie momentarily forgotten. He sat on the edge of the bed and his hand hovered over her back, unsure for a moment of whether he should touch her or not. Then, gently, he touched her shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, softly. She jerked and blinked her eyes open. "Time to shop."

Rose turned and sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. She smiled at him, a beautiful sight. He handed her his platinum credit card. "Now, if you have trouble using this card, have them call the hotel. I've spoken with Mr. Harkness already this morning, he knows the story. Alright?"

She nodded and bit her lip but looked unsure. Plucking the card from his fingers, she sighed. "More shopping."

That wasn't a typical reaction, from his experience. His wife and girlfriends had always loved to go shopping, especially when it was on his dime. "I'm surprised you didn't buy more than one dress yesterday," he admitted, beginning to work on his tie again.

"It wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be," she told him, her brow creased. She watched him struggle with his tie and then batted his hands away, doing it for him.

"Why not?" John asked as she expertly knotted the tie, her fingers brushing the skin of his neck as she worked.

"They were mean to me," she said simply, dropping her hands when she finished and looking decidedly ashamed.

"Mean to you?" he repeated, feeling his ire grow.

"Yes," she mumbled now and there was no mistaking the embarrassment colouring her cheeks. "I went into a store and was looking at a dress and the shop girls were very… they were mean. They told me to get out. Because of the way I was dress, I figure. They didn't think I belonged there," she said, her eyes downcast as if she believed them.

Yes, he was definitely angry now. Yes, Rose's dress was hardly appropriate shopping attire but that was no cause to turn away someone who has money to spend. And to be rude on top of that!

"Rose, you belong anywhere you want to be and that's the truth. They were the ones who were wrong, not you," he told her, bringing up a hand to stroke at her shoulder. "People aren't going to respect you unless you respect yourself. You just stand up straight, look them dead in the eye and you tell them you belong there."

She nodded again, but looked more sure of herself this time. "I'll try it," she promised.

"Good," he replied. Rose was amazing and confident and he didn't want to think of anyone undermining that.

"Will you come with me?" she asked tentatively. John lifted his wrist to look at his watch. She reached over to cover it with her hand. "Please?"

He stared at her for a long moment and found himself drawn in by her big, whiskey coloured eyes. She seemed to know she had him and stuck out her lower lip to seal the deal. He never stood a chance.

John pulled Rose by the hand down the street as they walked towards the shops at Sloane Street. He was wearing yet another in a long line of suits, of course, as he expected to go into the office as soon as he got Rose straightened out. Rose, on the other hand, hadn't wanted to wear her cocktail dress from the night before. She was wearing the dress he had met her in, but had put on one of his oxfords over it, With rolled up sleeves and the shirttails tied around her waist, it didn't look half bad. And so far, he was most successful at ignoring the feeling that seeing her wear an item of his clothing was creating in him.

The sun was out and the streets were crowded with shoppers who were anxious to take advantage of what could be one of the last beautiful days of the year. He was taking long strides down the sidewalk and Rose trotted to keep up. He glanced down at her feet briefly and remembered she was wearing her high heeled sandals from the night before and not her outrageous boots. He slowed down a bit, squeezing her hand. She smiled nervously at him around the gum she was chewing and again he felt his heart twist.

"People are looking at me," she whispered to him, looking around her self-consciously.

"They're not looking at you," he assured her. "They're looking at me."

"These stores aren't nice to people. Especially people like me," she said. "I don't like it."

"Stores are never nice to people," he told her. "They're nice to credit cards." And they sure did like his credit card. Still, as much as he'd always complained about Reinette and Joan and any of the others spending his money on frivolous things, he found he was happy and willing to spend a little on Rose. He wondered if it was because he didn't think she could remember the last time someone had bought her something. She was definitely exuding uncertainty, fluffing her hair absently and toying with the collar of the oxford shirt.

"Okay, here we are," he said, stopping in front of a well-known boutique. He'd worked with this shop in the past and was confident they would pay the both of them the proper amount of respect. "Stop fidgeting and get rid of your gum."

Turning her head, Rose spit the gum out, narrowly missing a woman who was walking by. She turned to glare at the both of them and John looked at Rose with a raised eyebrow. "I can't believe you just did that."

She grinned cheekily at him and followed him into the shop. Glancing around at the women's clothes on display, John knew this was the right place to start. Plenty of elegant but flattering dresses and suits for her to chose from. He noticed the way her eyes lit up and guessed that she was pleased with the selection to.

Moments later, a man wearing a sharp suit and a somewhat greasy smile approached them. He cleared his throat pointedly and John turned to regard him. "Yes?"

"Good morning," the man greeted them, sticking out a hand to shake. "I'm Ianto Jones, the manager. May I help you with something?"

John accepted the man's hand and shook it. "John Smith."

"Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you."

"Do you see this young lady right here?" John asked, gesturing to Rose standing next to him, tugging on the ends of her blonde hair.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Is there anything in this store that is as beautiful as she is?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and curling a possessive arm around Rose's waist. She snuggled into his side, smiling at Mr. Jones.

"Oh, yes," the man said. Then, seeing his pointed look he blanched and fumbled a bit. "Er, I mean, no! No, no, definitely not! I'm saying that we have many things here that are as beautiful… as she would like them to be!"

Nice recovery, John thought. This would appear to be exactly the store they wanted to be at, this Mr. Jones was obviously someone that they could work with.

Mr. Jones was still babbling away, very nervous now. "That's what I was trying to say, I think we can agree. Nothing in this store, in this city in fact, that is as beautiful as she is. Why, just look at her!" He paused and John glared at him, causing him to blanch further. "I, erm, I mean, that's why when you both walked into the store, I came over right away-"

John cut him off, putting them all out of their misery. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. But we're going to need a few more people here to help us." Mr. Jones began to turn away to summon more shop girls to help when he laid a restraining hand on his arm. "I'll tell you why. We are going to be spending an obscene amount of money in here today. Therefore, it's going to require quite a few more people to suck up to us so that we are able to better spend that money. That is what you can help us with and I think you understand me now."

Mr. Jones gaped at him for a moment longer. Then he seemed to realise what he was doing and snapped his jaw shut. "Sir, ma'am, you are in the right store and the right city for that matter."

Rose was ushered to a plush chair and Mr. Jones hovered next to her with a tablet device displaying the latest fashions. "Anything you see here, we can do. In fact, if there's anything you don't see here that you want, we can get it. Get ready to have some fun." He turned and called out, "Mary Pat! Mary Kate! Mary Francis! Tovah! Let's see it!"

A group of eager shop help descended on a grinning Rose, displaying dresses and suits and hats and purses and she looked completely delighted. John stood away at a nearby counter, going over some figures on his smart phone but he snuck little looks at her as she talked excitedly with the fawning personnel. It was almost like taking her to an exotic location and watching her discover it for the first time. He found he quite liked showing her new things and experiencing her delight second-hand.

Mr. Jones approached him again. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Exactly how obscene an amount of money were you talking about?" he asked. "Just profane or really offensive?"

John chuckled. Sure, Mr. Jones was a tad obvious but at least he wasn't phoney. "Really offensive," he replied, winking.

"I like him so much," Mr. Jones murmured with a hint of admiration, turning back to Rose.

John watched, leaning back against the counter, as the many shop girls brought out dress after dress for Rose to look at select from. She looked like a princess, presiding over a royal court. One dress, a red one, was presented and she looked at it unsure before lifting her head and searching him out. She raised her eyebrows in question at him and he glanced at the dress in question. Not quite her style, he thought. He shook his head and she smiled up at the shopgirl, shaking her head at her. Another woman, Mary Francis he thought it was, dropped a wide brimmed black hat made out of sheer material on her head and she reached up to hold it in place, looking delighted. She looked to him again and he grinned, nodding. Hats looked good on her. Another dress was presented and she looked unsure, nibbling on her lip in that way that she did that he was rapidly finding adorable. She glanced at him again and he made a gesture with his hand to express that he was undecided. She shrugged and turned back to the shopgirl and asked her to add it to the pile of dresses to try on.

The shop girls swarmed around her in earnest now and John turned back to the counter, sipping at a cup of coffee that someone (Tovah, perhaps?) had brought to him and leafing through that morning's newspaper. He was just going over the stock forecast when Ianto tapped on his shoulder. "Mr. Smith? Sir? How is it going so far? I think it's going pretty well, but what do you think?" he asked.

John didn't even turn around. "I think we need some major sucking up." He flipped the page and took a sip of the coffee.

"Very well, sir," Mr. Jones said with a sniff. "You're not only handsome but a very powerful man. I could see that the second you walked in here, that you were someone to respect and honour and-"

"Ianto," John said, turning to look at him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Not me," he clarified. "Her." He pointed at Rose and Mr. Jones smiled.

"Oh! Yes, of course! I'm sorry, sir." He hurried off to the clutch of women, demanding to know how things were going. John chuckled again. His mobile began to ring, vibrating on the counter where he'd placed it earlier. He picked it up, answered it and held it to his ear.

"Smith here," he said.

"Oh, John, John! Where the hell are you!" Harry demanded. "The word's all over the street. Mott is going to raise your offer."

"He's countering?" John asked. A grin spread across his face in spite of himself. "He is a tough old bird."

"Mott has been buying up all available stock since the market opened, the price is up to ten and a quarter" Harry told him.

"Offer nine and a half. Bring them back down to Earth," John instructed. "He knows the MOD contracts are stalled, where is he going to get the money? Someone has to be loaning it to him. Get on it right away."

"Our contract guys are working on the Mott pension funds," Harry said, sounding frazzled and stressed out. "There's another forty million there. We can bleed them dry."

John hesitated. Something in his gut twisted at Harry's words. He glanced up and saw Rose wearing another had and she caught his eye, preening for him. He smiled at her.

"Put the pension funds on hold until I say otherwise," he said, making up his mind.

"You're going to let them slide?" Harry sounded shocked.

"Let's focus on the treatment plant licenses right now."

"But, John…"

"Just do it." He hung up the mobile and slid it back into his pocket.

He turned around to see the crowd of shop girls around Rose part and she stood there, wearing a very stylish, very elegant and very attractive looking suit with a feminine, flirty skirt. He smiled and crossed the room to her, taking her hands in hers. "You look beautiful," he told her earnestly.

She blushed prettily, looking down. "Think I should get this one?" she asked.

"Definitely," he said firmly. "You're on your own now though, I need to get back to work."

To her credit, she schooled her disappointment well. "Okay. I'll see you tonight," she said, rocking up onto her tip toes to kiss his cheek. He tried not to notice how that one small gesture caused his heart to speed up.

He strode out of the store, fixing Ianto with a look on his way out. "She has my card," he told him.

"And we'll help her use it, sir!" he chirped back. John chuckled. He had no doubt of that.

Rose was disappointed to see John go, but knew she couldn't expect to monopolise his whole day. And, truth be told, she was rather enjoying herself now. This was what she had hoped shopping would be like. She worried briefly that they would stop attending to her so diligently after he left, but that definitely wasn't the case at all. If anything, she found they focused harder on her and tried even harder to please her. She wasn't used to this sort of attention but found she was enjoying it, even if it did embarrass her a little.

She tried on so many different dresses and outfits and suits that it all became a blur. Some of the outfits were amazing, some fit her just right and some were questionable at best. Rose found she was discovering a new sort of personal style. She didn't like large, geometrical prints, preferring instead solid colours or smaller more understated floral patterns. She liked feminine details and simple lines. Elegant, dangling earrings and small, stylish pocketbooks were her favourite accessories and well crafted footwear was starting to become very important to her.

Ianto Jones and another man were helping her try on shoes when she noticed the man slipping the sandal onto her foot was wearing a tie that thought would look striking on John.

"John would love that tie," Rose said, intending to ask the man where he'd purchased it. Ianto, however, was one step ahead of her.

"Would you give her the tie?" he said to the man placing the shoe on her foot.

"The tie?" the salesman looked confused.

"Take off the tie," Ianto told him in measured tones. "Give her the tie." He turned to Rose and smiled charmingly. "He wants to do this for you, by the way."

Rose didn't buy it for a second but she was charmed and giggling already. The salesman hurriedly took off his tie and handed it to her and she stroked it between her fingers. "He would go crazy about this tie."

Just then, Mary Kate came running over to them, brandishing a large pizza. Rose zeroed in on it, giving a little cheer as the shop girl set it on the table next to where she was seated. She was starving, breakfast felt like it was hours ago. Ianto, however, looked mildly peeved.

"Who ordered pizza?" he demanded to know, sounding exasperated.

Rose looked at him in alarm, a slice of pizza halfway to her mouth, when he caught her eye and grinned. Winking, he reached across and grabbed his own piece and took a big bite.

She threw back her head and laughed. Ianto joined and soon the salesman and Mary Kate did too. This was such a vastly different experience than she'd had the day before, it was almost unbelievable. While she was sure that John's money had made things easier when they'd arrived at the shop this morning, she was also equally sure that these people in this shop were considerably more friendly than the ones from the shop the day before. Those women would not have laughed with a customer over take-out pizza. Those women might not even know what pizza was.

Rose realised that she felt very at ease in this moment. She was growing accustomed to John's way of life, mostly because he made it so easy. He wasn't one of those wealthy sorts who flaunted their wealth and looked down on all those around them who had less. He liked fine things, expensive things, but he had simple tastes. She supposed it wasn't all that different than her personal style which had been developing here in this shop today. She definitely preferred the simple to the gaudy. It did extend beyond the clothing as well. When she'd first arrived at The Lanesborough and John had shown her the suite, she had been so impressed she hadn't been able to regard the rooms with anything less than sheer awe. Now that it had been a couple of days, she was starting to find some of the decor a little excessive and prissy. She could tell John thought so as well and she'd called him on it when he'd made a crack about the patterned wallpaper in the dining room over breakfast that morning. He'd explained that he stayed in this suite because it was supposed to be one of the best in the whole city, not because of the decor. It had the amenities he wanted, even if the colour of the sofas in the living room wasn't quite his taste.

It made her wonder what his home looked like. Which, of course, made her start to wonder if she would ever get to see his home. She tried not to wonder about that too much because she knew what the answer was. There was no use in dwelling on daydreams; it would only make the inevitable outcome of this week that much more difficult to handle.

Before too long, she'd exhausted the means that this shop could provide. She needed to shop for items that would have be found in other stores, such as lingerie and a fancy gown that John had requested specifically for her to find, without telling her what it was for. She was reluctant to leave the friendly atmosphere of this shop but she had more confidence now and she had a nice outfit to wear so that she would feel like she fit in better.

She'd selected a heather grey stretch wool dress to wear. It was sleeveless and came to her knees and the beauty was in the snug fit and the collared neck. With it, she wore a pair of midnight blue suede platform pumps. She wore midnight blue cameo style earrings and a matching blue watch. Mary Pat brought her a blue handbag to complete the look and offered to do her hair for her. The other lady pulled her hair back into a sleek and sophisticated ponytail, leaving the ends to curl naturally. She fastened the ponytail with a midnight blue flower brooch. When Rose saw her reflection in the mirror, she hardly recognised herself. Certainly, the other stores would take her seriously now.

She thanked all the Marys profusely, and Tovah too. They urged her to come back and see them soon. She vowed that she would. Then she gave Ianto an impulsive hug.

"Thank you so much for helping me," she said into his shoulder. He tightened his hold before releasing her.

"It was my pleasure, Ms. Rose. Thank Mr. Smith for me, for bringing you by to see us," he said. Then he arranged to have the bulk of her bags sent to the hotel. "Which hotel are you staying at?" he asked as he wrote down the necessary information on the forms.

"The Lanesborough. Do you know where that is?" she asked.

Ianto gave a sharp laugh. "Everyone knows The Lanesborough," he told her. "Have you met Mr. Harkness?" His question was posed casually enough but she noticed the sharp interest in his eyes and she grinned at him.

"Yes, I have. He's a complete doll. He helped me get my dress yesterday, in fact, when no one would help me."

"Really? That sounds like Jack. He's a great guy." Ianto got a dreamy look on his face for a moment and Rose eventually raised an eyebrow at him. He startled and cleared his throat, remembering himself. "Anyhow, I'll make sure these bags get over to your hotel for you."

Rose thanked him again and waved at everyone as she left the shop. She kept a couple bags with her, one with another pair of shoes in it, just in case the ones she was wearing became uncomfortable and another with a selection of jewellery in it. It wasn't heavy and she felt better carrying it with her than having someone else do it. Besides, she rather liked the novelty of having shopping bags in her hands as she strolled down the sidewalk. Ianto had given her the name of a good lingerie boutique as well as a good formal wear shop to find a gown at. He'd even called ahead to let them both know to expect her. Rose was on cloud nine.

She was nearly to the lingerie shop when she spotted the shop she'd gone into the day before. She bit her lip, considering, before making up her mind to just do it. Just get it off her mind and off her shoulders. She didn't want those ladies to think that they had any power over her or anyone else who they might try to judge unfairly.

Rose pushed into the store and one of the shop girls greeted her immediately. "May I help you?" she chirped brightly.

"No, thank you," she murmured, walking further into the store until she spotted the lady she'd dealt with the day before. "Hi."

The other lady looked at her, mild surprise and casual indifference on her face. "Hello. May I help you?"

"Do you remember me?" Rose asked.

The woman looked confused and apologetic. "No, I'm sorry, I don't."

"I was in here yesterday. You were very rude to me and wouldn't wait on me," she told her. The other woman's face fell as her gaze traveled down Rose's figure.

"Oh," she replied in a small voice.

"You work on commission, don't you?" Rose asked sharply.

"Uhm, yes," the woman answered, blushing furiously.

Rose lifted the bags in her hands so she could see them. "Big mistake. Big. Huge!"

Feeling the weight lift from her shoulders, an entire marching band playing fanfare in her head, she turned and walked from the store, calling over her shoulder, "I have to go shopping now."

She marched out into the sunshine and lifted her face to the warm rays, a smile covering her face. That had felt better than it had any right to.

Jack Harkness was discussing some issues regarding a guest with one of his employees when Rose Tyler returned to The Lanesborough that afternoon. She came through the lobby, a bellhop carrying armloads of bags marching ahead of her. Another bellhop trailed behind her with a luggage cart full of shopping bags and garment bags. She was dressed to the nines in a beautiful and elegant grey dress. She was wearing all the right clothes and she looked for all the world as though she belonged there. Well, Jack had to admit to himself, she'd always belonged there as much as anyone else even when she didn't have any fancy clothes to wear. It's just that now, now she shone like a star.

She caught his eye from across the room as she neared the elevators. He'd always seen her take the staircase but he supposed that with all her bags and her entourage following her, the elevators made more sense. Rose smiled at him, that brilliant, wide smile of hers. She winked at him and it wasn't that it was suggestive, it was that it was friendly. He wondered if Rose ever met someone who she didn't make her friend sooner or later. She sparkled. It was saying something, considering how many elegant ladies he saw come through The Lanesborough on a weekly basis. Dressed as she was now, striding through the lobby with her head held high, she could easily put all those other ladies to shame.

Jack smiled back at her and bobbed his head in acknowledgement. He'd only just met her the day before, had some limited interactions with her, and he could already tell that she was something special. He hoped to all that was holy that John Smith could tell for himself how special Rose was and that he was treating her as such. Because if not, the man wasn't nearly as clever as Jack thought he was.

Chapter 8

Chapter Summary

John has some hard business decisions to make and meanwhile, things are heating up between him and Rose.

Big monster thanks to kelkat9 and kahki820 for helping me out with beta services!

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When the meeting was over, everyone filed out of the conference room and John leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. Harry was ushering everyone out of the room impatiently. "Let's get this finished up this afternoon, please?" he was saying. Then he grabbed a young man by the arm. "Jake, set something with Blair. Anytime around 2 o'clock or so would be fine." When everyone was gone from the room he turned to John and rubbed his hands together, a wicked grin lacing his lips. "You were right about Mott! He's mortgaged everything he owns, right down to his pants, to secure that loan from the bank. And not just any old bank, but Plymouth Trust. This couldn't possibly be working out any better for us!"

"Hmm," John murmured, thoughtful. It was working out better than they could have hoped. And yet… there was something about this man, this strong man who had built something from the ground up, doing all he could to save it. It twisted in his heart a little and he didn't like the feeling.

"So, it goes without saying," Harry continued, sitting next to him and leaning forward excitedly, "that your business with Plymouth Trust means a lot more to them than whatever they have going on with Mr. Mott. All you have to do is call the bank." He gestured at the speaker phone on the conference table and grinned, sitting back.

"Yeah," he said, the word sounding thick in his own mouth. He sat forward but didn't grab for the phone. Instead, he took an empty water glass and brought it front of him, setting it upside down. Then he took a few more glasses and began stacking them around and on top of one another, creating a tower of glasses. John smiled ruefully at it.

Harry looked at him like he was insane. He stared at him for a long moment before he launched to his feet and paced restlessly behind him. "John, what the hell is wrong with you this week? First, you went soft on the pension funds and now this? This is not like you! Are you giving Mott a chance to get away? As of two minutes ago, you are committed to this to the tune of over a hundred million pounds!"

"Come on, Harry," John chastised. "Don't talk to me about how much money is involved. It's my money."

"Yeah, and some of it is mine," he reminded him.

John continued piling the glasses, smiling at them fondly. "Do you know what I used to love doing when I was a kid, Harry?"

"What's that, John?" he said, sighing.

"Blocks. I loved to play with building blocks," John told him, gesturing at his glass tower. "Meccano sets."

"So? I liked Monopoly," Harry scoffed. "Boardwalk, Park Place, global takeovers… What's your point?"

"We don't build anything, Harry," he said sadly. "We don't make anything."

"We make money, John. Lots of it." Harry sat back down, tapping his fingers nervously on the conference table. "We've been working on this deal for a year now. It's what you said you wanted. I'm handing it to you right now. Mott's jugular is exposed, it is time for the kill. Let's finish this! Call the bank!"

John started shaking his head slowly while Harry spoke, feeling more and more sure that what they were doing right here, right now… that this was not what he should be doing. It didn't feel right. Last week, he would have been pushing Harry out of the way to make the call. But there was something going on this week. Maybe it was Joan leaving him, maybe it was Rose and everything she was in his life right now… and maybe it was Mott himself who John genuinely liked in spite of himself. He just knew that he was no longer as sure of his deal as he had been a few days ago.

John let himself into the suite with his room key. He thought he heard Rose bustling around just off the foyer so he called out to her. "Rose? You around?" He didn't hear her respond but went on anyhow, moving into the hall outside the sitting room. He poked his head in, half expecting to see her on the sofa, watching Eastenders. "I've had a really long day. I was hoping that maybe we could just stay in tonight."

Still no response. He stopped and listened for a second. He could hear some soft, slow music playing from down the hall. Curious, he followed the sound. He found that it was coming from the dining room and he entered, a greeting for Rose on his lips before he lost the ability to speak altogether. The scene that greeted him was like something out of one of his wildest fantasies.

The table was set with the finest china and stemware, serving bowls and platters filled and piled with steaming food. Candles flickered and guttered in the dim room, a few tapers on the table and some fatter, squatter candles lining the servers and buffets around the circumference of the room. Music was playing on a stereo set up in the corner of the room, something moody and sensual. And then there was Rose. She was sitting in the chair at the head of the table, facing the doorway he was now occupying. Her golden hair was loose and curling around her shoulders in elegant waves. Her eyelashes were heavy and dark, her lips were glossy and pink. She was wearing a tie, a gorgeous tie actually. It was dark brown with intricate blue swirls and was so much more whimsical than any tie he'd ever worn before so he knew that it hadn't come from his wardrobe. She also wore a pair of shiny black shoes with impossibly tall heels on them. And she wore nothing else. Not a stitch.

John's mouth fell open and he dropped the sheaf of papers he'd been holding in his hand. They fluttered like feathers to the floor around his feet but he no longer noticed them. His attention was completely and utterly focused on Rose and the vision she made, laid out before him like she was. Her legs were crossed in a suggestive manner that tempted more with what was hidden than by what was shown.

"How was your day, dear?" she asked, drawing out each syllable in a posh accent. She grinned sultrily at him, twirling the end of the tie between her fingers in a manner he was finding most distracting.

He opened his mouth and found it was utterly dry. He snapped his jaw shut again and swallowed. Then he tried again. "Nice tie," he remarked.

"I got it for you," she told him.

"Thank you," he replied, quite at a loss for any other words. The need he felt for her was coiling rapidly in his belly. It had been such a long day and she made him feel so good and here she was, offering herself for him and it was almost all he could do not to ravage her on the spot.

She raised an eyebrow at him and gestured at the table. "I thought you might like some dinner. Something to eat, after a long day?"

"You read my mind," he growled. Normally, he prided himself on his restraint. Tonight, however, restraint had left him. He crossed the room in three great strides and reached her just as she got to her feet. They crashed together and he remembered just in time to keep his lips away from hers. It was getting more and more difficult not to kiss her but he wanted to respect her wishes. Instead, he focused on nibbling and caressing and tasting her neck. Rose was wonderfully responsive, arching against him and running her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the ends.

His desire was pumping hard through his veins now and he knew that this encounter wasn't going to be sweet, gentle, slow or soft. John grabbed at her bum, squeezing her soft, round flesh, before he lifted her up and heard her shoes clatter to the floor. He manoeuvred her towards the table and she reached blindly behind her to swat the plates aside. He heard some of the silverware clatter to the floor and a water goblet toppled over. He sunk his teeth into the tender skin at the join of her neck and shoulder and she shuddered against him before pushing his suit jacket from his shoulders impatiently.

She began to work on his tie and buttons but he knew that there wouldn't be enough time to fully shed his clothes. Batting her hands away, he went to work on his belt and the button on his trousers instead. Rose clued in quickly and helped him, pushing his trousers and pants down first with her hands and then using her feet to push them down to his knees. Grabbing around her, he gripped her hips and pulled her against him so she could feel his erection straining against her thigh. She moaned thickly in his ear and it was such an erotic noise that he gasped. His fingers were at work already, skating over her curves and biting into her soft flesh. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he felt down between them to the apex of her thighs, testing her. He found she was wet, hot and ready for him. John simply couldn't resist pumping two of his fingers in and out of her, feeling her walls clench deliciously against his digits as she writhed against him.

"Now," she said hoarsely, digging her nails into his shoulders. She was right, as usual. He was quickly learning that Rose was often right about most things when it came to this particular activity and he was more than happy to listen to her input. Tonight, however, he was consumed by lust and any restraint or self discipline was long since gone. He was out of control and he wanted to be in control. He wanted to take her and make her gasp and scream his name.

He was painfully hard and he wanted nothing more to than to bury himself deep inside of her. Reluctantly, he withdrew his fingers and held them up, noticing how they glistened in the candlelight. He sucked the fingers into his mouth, tasting her and delighting in the rich tang of her flavour. John groaned, twisting his tongue around the digits and cleaning them of every last trace of her essence. Rose watched him through heavily lidded eyes, her lips parted and very clearly turned on by the sight of him enjoying her taste. He winked at her and she grinned filthily.

John let go of her for a moment, reaching down for his trouser pocket. There was a condom tucked in there for just such an emergency. Since he'd brought her here two days ago, he'd learned to be prepared at a moment's notice and carrying the protection with him saved him a great deal of frustration later on. Of course, later usually meant the next time he laid eyes on Rose, such as right now. He presented the packet to her and she snapped it out of his fingers. She ripped open the foil, removed the condom and tossed the empty packet carelessly over her shoulder. Keeping her eyes trained on his, she unrolled the prophylactic onto his length, giving it a tight squeeze when she was finished. He groaned and she grinned again, her tongue tucked as always between her teeth. Before he could make another move, however, Rose lifted up a hand, stilling him, and pointed at the still lit tapers on the table. She grinned as she leaned over and blew them out. "Wouldn't want to burn the place down," she murmured, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Can't have that," he agreed through clenched teeth.

Right then he didn't care about candles or fires or contracts or business deals or suites or anything else on the bloody planet besides this woman and how she knew every one of his buttons to push. John leaned forward, nipping at her collarbone before he again grabbed her bum. Shifting his hips, he pulled her towards him at the same time that he thrust forward. He rocked and she arched until they were fully joined. "Oh, fuck," he moaned, feeling the instant release of endorphins rush through his system. Their groans echoed one another and he knew that he couldn't hold still for long.

"Go," she instructed him and he needed no further encouragement. She lay back on the table, grabbing at the edge. He stared at the lines of her body for just a moment before he grabbed her hips. Pulling her up to better meet his thrusts, he pushed and pulled and entered and withdrew. He started as slow as he could manage but it wasn't long before the rushing in his veins commanded he move faster. His hips began to piston as he pounded into her. She dug her heels into his back as she tightened her legs around his waist.

John had never done this, never quite this, before. He'd always been very controlled and measured with his lovers in the past. His girlfriends and his wife had always been the sorts that, while they enjoyed sex, had never wanted to indulge in the unexpected. He'd just never known how much he missed it before until he had it now. Rose thrilled him with her adventurous spirit in the bedroom and he began to wonder what that spirit was like outside of the bedroom as well. But before he could get caught up in daydreams of afternoon day trips, Rose was calling out and his attention was once again riveted entirely upon her.

"Please, John, I need you to… guh… touch me." He had just a moment to marvel at her seeking her own pleasure before she writhed, her hips circling as she met his thrusts and he released one hand from her hip to reach down to where they were joined together. For a moment, he could feel with his fingers his length sliding in and out of her folds and his knees nearly buckled at the sensation. Then he found her clit and he began to flick at it mercilessly until she was gasping and crying out. His name tumbled from her lips and he found he loved the possessive nature of it. In that moment, he very much wanted her to claim him every bit as much as he wanted to claim her. He held her hips, slowing his thrusts, while she rode out her orgasm. It was a glorious sight, like watching the sun dawn over the desert.

When she calmed, he resumed the speed of his thrusts, feeling his own orgasm tingling at the base of his spine. She clenched around him and his thoughts swirled away. He babbled something at her, he wasn't sure what. Probably something about how he was close, how good she felt, how fucking amazing this all was… She murmured her encouragements at him, coaxing him to let go for her, filthy promises and tender sentiments. It was all he wanted and needed to hear and soon his climax roared through him and he felt all the tension from the day leave him in one, mind-blowing, release.

They laughed shakily at each other as he helped her off the table. She retrieved a damp flannel from the bathroom and cleaned both him and herself up. He tucked himself away into his pants and trousers again, but left his tie unknotted and his shirt and waistcoat half buttoned. Rose pulled on a silky dressing gown and they sat to eat the now cooled food. John didn't care, though. He wouldn't have cared if the food was stone cold. They talked and laughed and joked throughout the meal and he felt better than he had since he'd left her at the shop earlier that morning. He enjoyed listening to her tell him of her adventures with shopping, especially how she returned to the shop that had snubbed her the day before. Pride flowed through him as he watched how excited she was to have gotten the upper hand on those women.

John wondered, for one heart stopping moment, just how he was going to let her go at the end of the week.

The steamy, scented water lapped around their bodies as Rose ran the sponge lightly over John's chest and abdomen. They were nestled together in the giant tub in the master bedroom's en suite, her behind him and his head leaning back against her shoulder. Candles lit the room around them and the sound of John's voice as he spoke, as he finally shared some of himself with her, was the only sound besides the gentle lapping of the bathwater.

"My mother was a music teacher," he was telling her and she could tell from the fondness in his voice that he had been close with her. "She was brilliant really. She's the one who taught me how to play the piano, in fact. She was beautiful as well. My father met her and fell in love with her instantly. He was from an extremely wealthy family and they never approved. Even as a child, I could tell how my grandparents and aunts and uncles felt about my mother."

Rose's brow furrowed as she considered his words. "That must have hurt you."

"It did. I didn't understand how they couldn't see her light and her beauty. Anyhow, eventually they wore down my father and he started to believe that she wasn't good enough for him," John continued, his voiced tight and pained. She rubbed the sponge along his chest slower, more soothingly. "He divorced my mother to be with another woman. A more appropriate woman. And he took his money with him. Suddenly, all the cars and houses and nannies that I'd grown up with were gone."

He paused and she kissed the shell of his ear. "Keep going," she urged.

"It was a different life after that. I had to go to different schools, had to get smart. And then my mother died." John took a shuddering breath and she released the sponge to tighten her arms around his chest and she linked her legs around his waist, holding him close. "I was very angry with him. It cost me forty thousand pounds in therapy to be able to say that sentence. I was very angry with him." He sounded raw as he said it and she could feel him tremble against her. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled. "I do it very well though, don't I? I'll say it again. I was very angry with him. Hello, my name is Mr. Smith. I'm very angry with my father."

"I would have been angry at spending the forty thousand pounds," Rose remarked, stroking a hand up over his chest and skating it across his collarbone.

"After university, I went to work for an investment firm. In seven years, I owned it," he told her. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "My father was the chairman of the board of the third company I ever took over. I took it and sold it off piece by piece. Without mercy."

Rose reached for his hand and wound her soapy fingers in between his. "What did the therapist say?"

"He said I was cured." John snorted.

"Okay, so you got even with him. That must have made you happy," she said. He didn't reply but she could tell by the rising and falling of his chest that he was getting emotional. She leaned forward and kissed his neck soothingly. She decided to go for a different tack, pulling her legs even tighter around his waist. "Did I mention that my leg has a 32 inch inseam? Not too shabby for someone of my height. So basically, what you have here, is 64 inches of therapy wrapped around you right now for the bargain price of three thousand pounds."

He giggled and it was a lovely, light sound. "Yeah," he replied, smiling. She stroked a hand through his hair before nudging at his shoulder.

"Lean forward," she instructed. "I think its time to get out of the tub before we turn into a couple of prunes."

He obliged and she stepped from the tub. Once she had a towel wrapped around her, she reached out to help him out of the tub. His gaze was growing heated as he watched her and she knew exactly where she wanted to take this. She wrapped a towel around his waist and then pulled him to her, kissing the side of his jaw. "Let me take care of you tonight," she whispered.

"Okay," he murmured. She took his hand in hers and led him from the en suite.

John let Rose take care of him, but he was growing more frustrated with taking a backseat to her in the bedroom. He could understand why she wanted it that way; after all she was the professional. He also understood that a lot of her taking control was so that she didn't let herself get too emotional. A few days ago, that had seemed wise and prudent to him. Right now, with him laying back on the bed and her running her hands and tongue all over his body, it seemed like a fool's errand. He wanted so badly to take control, to strive for her pleasure as she was striving for his. He wanted to be the one running his hands and tongue all over her body. Perhaps, soon, she would let him.

For now though, this was good. He could hardly complain. Rose was quickly undoing him and it seemed she could do it to him like no one else could. She worshipped him with stroking fingers, with murmured phrases. The tone of their… whatever this was. Shagging? No. It was more than just that, this was lovemaking and it was so much more than it had been even just two days ago. There was something deeper going on here than was being said. John knew he should care, he knew that there should be warning bells going off in his head. But as she dipped her tongue just so into the valley next to his hip bone, he found that he didn't care to argue. He didn't want to name it, he didn't want to think about it, and right now he didn't care.

"You," she told him, her voice a growl, "are quickly becoming my favourite client."

He grinned, cocking an eyebrow. "I should hope so, considering the money I'm spending on you."

"Oh, it's not the money that makes you my favourite," she said, kissing around his left nipple and leaving him shivering. "Though I admit that it doesn't hurt either."

"What is it then?" he asked, arching his neck back as she moved up from his chest and began to work on the sensitive skin below his right ear. "My uncanny business sense?"

She chuckled. "Well, for starters, you're gorgeous," she said and flicked her tongue out to tease along his earlobe. "But I suspect you already knew that."

"Someone may have mentioned it to me before, once or twice," he admitted. He clutched at the bedsheets as she tugged on the ends of his hair just hard enough to cause slivers of delight to arrow through him.

"But I also love this bit right here," she purred, reaching behind her to stroke along his hardening length.

"Oh?" he choked out. "What's so great about it?" John knew it was terribly predictable of him to wonder how he measured up to the other men she'd… done business with. It was a ridiculous thing to worry about and logically he knew it didn't make any difference one way or another. How did the saying go? It's not the size that matters but what you do with it? That probably wasn't it. Still, he was a man and he couldn't help but be curious.

Rose, bless her, seemed to understand this and she grinned at him as she squeezed his length. He groaned. "You are, how should I put this, rather gifted," she told him.

"Good to know," he gasped. "Are you planning on doing anything about it anytime soon?" He punctuated his thought with a sharp thrust of his hips that had her bouncing on top of him. She giggled.

"Easy tiger!" Rose cautioned him, sliding down his body again. She peppered his shoulders and chest with kisses. "I'll get there."

He was about to quip something about her hurrying it up a little when her tongue began to lave at his right nipple and words escaped him altogether. Fire was burning through his veins, need gathering low in his belly. John was breathing hard now, wanting so badly to just grab her and pull her down onto him and end this delicious torment. Still, she continued and showed no sign of letting up. Finally, his control snapped.

"Rose, I need you. Now," he ground out. "Please." God, he hoped she didn't make him beg more than that. He would, but it would be humiliating.

Luckily, Rose seemed to sense he was holding on by a thread. She lifted her head and grinned at him again. She moved off of him and reached for the drawer in the bedside table. A moment later, she returned with a condom which she quickly and efficiently placed onto him. "Hold onto your hat, mister," she warned him with a wink.

He didn't tell her that the only thing he wanted to hold onto was her. She swung a leg over his hip and taking him in hand, she guided him to her entrance as she slowly lowered herself down. She'd taken about half of his length when he got impatient and thrust his hips up, burying himself fully inside of her. Rose cried out and looked down at him, a mock stern expression on her face. "You are a naughty boy," she murmured, trailing a finger down over his nose, his lips, over his chin.

"That's me," he agreed, thrusting his hips up again.

They fought for dominance, laughing and joking and having the best time together. She would circle her hips teasingly; he would grab her hips and pull her almost off him before slamming her back down again. She would lean forward, brushing her breasts over his chest; he would reach up and tweak her nipple, making her gasp. They continued until neither of them could stand it any longer. Then there was no more talking, just the sounds of their bodies coming together over and over again.

She was getting close, he could tell by the way her breath came in shorter pants, the way she began to keen a little. He could feel his own release begging to be let free. A few more thrusts and then… she gasped out his name as she fell forward and tightened around him, her walls contracting almost violently. He faltered, pushing up into one more time before he tumbled over with her, biting out her name as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. They held each other tightly for a few moments, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

Eventually, Rose slid off of him and he pulled her up against his side. John felt like he should say something, maybe. The tone had been so light and playful before, but there at the end the mood between them had shifted. He wasn't sure about her, but it had felt more… reverent to him. It was a silly thought and he chastised himself mentally for being a silly man. He'd had a hard day, obviously the stress was taking a toll on him.

Soon, Rose's breathing evened out and deepened and he knew she'd fallen asleep. He slowly shifted away from her, careful not to disturb her. He leaned over her, brushing a kiss along her forehead before he straightened and wandered into the en suite to dispose of the condom and find a robe to pull on. Undoubtedly there was a voicemail or email from Saxon waiting for him on his mobile and he wanted to check the closing figures on the New York Stock Exchange. Work was waiting for him. With one last glance at the woman laying in his bed, he slipped out of the room and padded down the hall to the sitting room.

Chapter 9

Chapter Summary

John takes Rose to a polo match where everything isn't just fun and games.

Thank you to kelkat9 for beta'ing this monster chapter for me!

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It was another warm, sunny day and Rose was beginning to wonder if autumn would ever arrive. Still, she was grateful for the good weather given that they were spending the afternoon outdoors. John had come back to the hotel just after lunch to retrieve her and take her to a charity polo match at the Ham Polo Club on the southwest side of London. It was for business, he'd told her, but she would be meeting a lot of the people he interacted with socially. She was nervous, no doubt about it. She fingered the hem of her floral chiffon dress as the Rolls Royce pulled up beside limos and Bentley's outside of the clubhouse. Sitting next to her, John placed a calming hand on top of hers.

Alonso, their driver, hurried around the car, opening her door for her. He took her hand as she stepped out and she waited for John to climb out after her. He thanked Alonso with a nod and then took her hand. "You look fantastic," he assured her for what must have been the tenth time since he'd arrived at the hotel to pick her up.

"I don't belong here. What if someone recognises me?" she asked, biting her lip and looking around her at the posh people milling about the clubhouse and the adjoining polo field.

"Not likely," he said calmly. It was easy for him to be relaxed, she thought. He knew these people. "These sort don't spend a lot of time in Whitechapel."

"You did," she pointed out, reaching behind her to grab at the door handle of the Rolls.

"I was lost," he reminded her. "Come on, it's okay. It's okay, Rose." He pulled on her hands until she released the door handle. He held her hands lightly in his and stood in front of her, smiling encouragingly. "All right. You look great, as I've said countless times now. You look like a lady and you're going to have a brilliant time. Now, don't fidget and remember to smile."

She fixed a smile on her face and he smiled back. Still holding her hand, he led her towards the field and towards a couple women who were spending more time talking to one another than watching the match. Rose glanced at the field but was unable to make much sense of the rushing horses and swinging clubs. John placed a hand at the small of her back as they approached the women. "Rose, this is Gwen and Gretchen, the infamous Olsen sisters. They have made marrying well into an art form," he introduced. The women smiled at John but regarded her coldly.

"So nice to see you, John," Gwen purred.

"I'll be back in just a second, I have to go say hello to someone," John said, squeezing her hand before letting go and walking away, leaving her with these unfriendly women who reminded her quite a bit of the snobby shop girls.

"So. You're the flavour of the month, hmm?" Gretchen said, arching her eyebrow. Then, she turned away and pretended to watch the match.

Rose stared at her for a moment before Gwen touched her arm. "Oh, she's just being tetchy. John is our most eligible bachelor. Everybody is trying to land him."

She was astounded at this predatory and mercenary behaviour. And these sorts of people thought they were so much better than her and her kind? Annoyed, she replied, "Well, I'm not trying to land him. I'm just using him for sex." Then she excused herself from the Olsen sisters and found John standing near the fence surrounding the field. Someone in the match must have scored a point or something because an air horn blew and everyone cheered. Rose cheered along with them, but apparently her loud whoop was out of place as a few of the spectators turned to fix her with a look. She blushed.

"Tell me again why we're here?" she said into John's ear.

"Business."

"Business mingling?" she asked.

"Yeah, something like that."

"John! Over here!" a loud voice called out. They both glanced over and Rose saw a man about John's age with sandy blonde hair standing next to a tall, leggy blonde woman who looked like she was afraid of her own shadow. He was waving at them, gesturing for them to join him and John took her hand, leading her over.

"Hello, Harry. Good to see you," John greeted, his arm now loosely around Rose's waist. Harry was appraising her carefully and she wanted to squirm under his gaze. The blonde at his side was also looking at her curiously.

"You too," Harry murmured, still staring. John cleared his throat.

"I'd like you to meet a new friend of mine. Her name is Rose Tyler," John introduced.

Harry stepped forward and shook her hand. There was something in his expression that made her nervous. "Well, hi, Rose. My name is Harold Saxon. This is my wife, Lucy."

Lucy stuck out a dainty, manicured hand and Rose shook it. "It's always a pleasure to meet one of John's girls," Lucy drawled. Rose had no idea how to answer that so she just mumbled a quiet "Nice to meet you." Lucy excused herself then, indicating she had found someone else in the crowd who she could undoubtedly prefer to be talking to.

These were strange people. Harry was a good looking man, but there was something about him that was sharp and frightening to her. His wife was cool and distant. She couldn't believe that a man like John had people like this as his friends.

"I think we're ready for some refills," Harry said. He handed Rose a mostly full flute of champagne. "Here, Rose, why don't you start with that and I'll go fetch us a few more." He started to move away before turning back and saying to John, "Did you notice that Lord Adams is here?"

"Mmhmm," John murmured. "I asked him to come."

Harry grinned and Rose found the expression to be even more chilling than when he didn't smile. "And that is why I have pledged my eternal love to you, John." He winked and stepped away to find them some more champagne.

Rose shuddered and glanced at John. "Real genuine guy. Kinda gives me the creeps."

"He's my barrister. He's all right, probably just nervous about meeting such a lovely lady," John said, smiling at her. Harry might be many things, but Rose highly doubted that he was nervous about her.

"You could freeze ice on his wife's ass," she remarked, gesturing at Lucy who was currently rubbing elbows with an equally frosty looking lady.

"Maybe we'll try that later," John said drily.

"Are these people your friends?" she asked incredulously.

"I spend time with them, yeah," he said, starting to sound a little uncomfortable.

She watched him for a moment, considering. "Well," she finally said. "No wonder."

He looked up at her, his forehead crinkling adorably. "No wonder what?"

She nudged his shoulder with hers. "No wonder you came looking for me."

John stared at her for a long moment and she found herself getting lost in his warm brown eyes. She was finding herself more and more attached to this man and it made her a little nervous. There was so much more to him than was first apparent. He wasn't just a heartless businessman and she was just starting to get a look at the layers he kept hidden away. Considering the people at this event, she wasn't surprised that he hid his true self from them. One needed to be hard around people like this. She smiled at him, hoping to reassure him that unlike all of these phoney people around them, she was real and she was genuine and at least for the moment, she was all his.

"And now I need some help from you ladies and gentlemen in the audience!" the announcer called out over the loudspeaker, interrupting their reverie. Rose looked away but before she did and he could swear he caught a tenderness in her expression.

"We need you to help replace some of the divots that have been displaced by the players out here on the field. So come on out now," the announcer urged and John urged Rose to go head onto the field. A light twinkled in her eye as she saw other spectators walk into the field, turning over chunks of sod with their feet and pressing them back into the ground. "The stomping of the divots! This is a time-honoured tradition, ladies and gentlemen. As old as the game of polo itself. Kings and queens have been known to do this."

Rose was really getting into the spirit of it, bouncing and laughing. John stood off to the side, tapping a chunk of sod back into place and watching her. He was so intent on watching her, in fact, that he didn't notice Lucy join him at his side.

"She's sweet, John," Lucy said in a condescending voice, making clear that she didn't exactly think that was such a great thing to be. "Very warm and witty and down to Earth."

John didn't believe for a moment that Lucy was being sincere but he was pleased to hear the words to describe Rose. "She is, isn't she?"

"And so unlike your usual girlfriends," she drawled. "Wherever did you find her?"

"Mail order," he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. He was getting tired with these people and their ridiculous airs and their snobbish attitudes. Rose was right. What was he doing with these people? He walked away from a gasping Lucy to join Rose.

She flashed him a wide grin and they danced around together, stomping the divots back into the ground. He grabbed her in an impromptu hug and she laughed, loud and carefree. She was right; she didn't belong here. She was better than these people.

After the divots were all replaced, he walked Rose over to the Rolls Royce. As she perched on the hood, a valet from the clubhouse came over to retrieve her shoes for a complimentary cleaning and shining. Part and parcel with the experience of watching a polo match. John excused himself to find a restroom. A few minutes later, he returned to find Rose had left the car. He saw Harry standing under a tree, watching him, and walked over to join him.

"Did you see where Rose went?" he asked him.

Harry pointed towards the players stables where Rose was chatting with Lee Noble, Donna's husband. Lee had played in today's match and he was apparently introducing Rose to one of his teammates, a young man whose name John knew was Adam Mitchell. She was beaming, talking to both of them animatedly and they were both smiling at her. In fact, if anything, Adam was watching her with no small amount of interest in his eyes. It made his skin prickle.

"Where did you meet her?" Harry asked quietly.

"I got lost. She offered me directions," John replied, unsure how much to reveal.

"So you just ran into her? Just like that?" Harry said disbelievingly. "That's great luck, John. Jesus. What does she do? Does she work?"

John cleared his throat. "She's in sales."

"Sales?" Harry's eyebrows shot up and he whistled low. "That's terrific. No, that's good. What does she sell?"

John huffed. "Why do you want to know?"

Harry turned to him, his eyes glittering. "Just hear me out on this. I've known you for a very long time. I've seen some changes in you this week, like this tie you're wearing," he said, gesturing at John's tie. John looked down at it, stroking it and admiring the brown swirling design. "And I can't help but wonder if maybe this girl isn't the one changing you. And I wonder quite a bit when I start seeing her being all chummy with Lee Noble over there. And doesn't Adam Mitchell work for Mott too?"

He glanced back over towards the players stable and Lee was rubbing down his horse but Adam was hanging on every word Rose was saying. He was sending her signals and John was receiving them loud and clear. His skin prickled some more. "For the record, I rather like this tie. And I introduced her to Lee Noble at dinner the other night. So what?" he replied, trying to brush it off.

"So now they're the best of friends? John, this girl appeared out of nowhere and now she's thick as thieves with a couple of guys whose company we're trying to buy. Isn't that a bit convenient?" Harry said.

"Don't be ridiculous," John scoffed.

"How do you know that this girl hasn't attached herself to you because she's bringing information back to Mott?" Harry asked. John looked at him sharply. "What? This happens! Industrial espionage!"

"Harry… listen to me," he said, lowering his voice and stepping closer to his friend. "Listen."

"What?"

"Rose is not a spy. She is an escort," John told him. He met his eyes and held them seriously. "A professional escort."

"Oh." Harry was speechless for a moment as he looked back at Rose. Then a smile bloomed over his face but it wasn't a friendly smile.

"I found her in Whitechapel and picked her up," he explained. "In your car."

Now, Harry laughed. "Oh, you are a piece of work, John," he snorted. "You are the only billionaire I have ever heard of that goes looking for a bargain priced whore, you know that?"

John recoiled at his friend's words. He started to walk away and Harry called after him. "I'm sorry I told you," he tossed over his shoulder.

Annoyed and still feeling that uncomfortable prickling under his skin, he found Lord Adam's standing near a few other politicians and went over to greet him.

"Lord Adams! I'm so pleased you could make it," he said, shaking the older man's hand.

"Thank you," Adams replied. "I hope the information I gave you was helpful."

John smiled charmingly at him. "Oh, absolutely, yes. And thank you for it. There's been no change in Parliament, has there?"

"No," he assured him. "Still bogged down."

Excellent, thought John. At least business was going smoothly.

Rose glanced over to where she'd last seen John and saw him speaking to a politician. She excused herself from Adam, who was a nice enough man but a little overeager in her opinion. She also said goodbye to Lee who promised to pass on her greetings to Donna. She walked towards John but before she could reach his side, she was cornered by Harry. He was smiling at her knowingly and it made her skin crawl.

"Hello, Mr. Saxon," she greeted, hoping she sounded polite enough.

"Having a nice time, Rose?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm having a great time," she replied, fixing a smile on her face.

"Must be quite a change for you from Whitechapel, hmm?" He grinned at her and she felt her her heart sink.

"What?"

"Yeah, John told me where he met you," Harry told her. "But don't worry, your little secret is safe with me. I won't tell a soul that you're an escort." He lifted a hand and ran his fingers down her bare arm and she shivered despite the warm afternoon air. "Listen, maybe you and I could get together sometime after John returns to Edinburgh."

Rose fought down a wave of nausea that was threatening to crash through her. How could John do that? And now here this creep was trying to pull her? She forced a smile onto her face. "Yeah, sure. Why not."

"We'll just have to do that," Harry murmured, stepping closer to her. She could feel his breath on her neck and she fought not cringe against it. He was creepy, yes, but no more creepy than half the clients she saw in a week. A few weeks ago, she would have been encouraging this man's advances, hoping for a nice bundle of cash to put towards her savings. But now, it was different somehow. She felt cheap and low and she suddenly very much wanted to get away from this place.

"Harry!" Lucy's voice called out and Rose felt relief at the interruption. Harry winked at her before joining his wife where she was speaking to another polished looking couple.

She looked over her shoulder and found John. He looked back and met her eye. He smiled and she found she had a hard time meeting it this time. She felt cold and more out of place than ever. She found a chair and sunk down in it, the charm of the afternoon long gone.

Her mood didn't improve for the duration of the game and by the time she and John returned to the suite an hour later, she was feeling downright thunderous.

As she tossed her hat down on the table next to the door, John raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she grumbled, pushing past him. He followed after her.

"Fine. That's good. That's seven 'fines' since we left the match," he pointed out drily. "Could I have another word, please?"

He followed her into the master bedroom and she felt her anger swell. "Git. Wanker. Arsehole. Those are some words," she bit out before walking into the en suite and slamming the door behind her. Shaking, she clutched at the counter and took a few deep breaths. Rose looked at her reflection in the mirror and found she was pale and pinched. She wasn't used to feeling this way.

"I think I liked 'fine' better," she heard him say from the other side of the door.

She pulled open the door and faced him. "You know what?" Just tell me one thing: Why did you make me get all dressed up?" She kicked off her high heels and then planted her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

He looked her up and down and seemed confused at her outburst. "Well, for one thing, the clothing was appropriate." He unbuttoned his suit jacket, shrugged out of it and tossed it onto the bed.

"No, what I mean is… if you were just going to tell everyone that I am an escort, why couldn't I wear my own clothes?"

His mouth fell open as he sat back on the bed. "I did not, Rose… I wouldn't-"

"At least in my own clothes, when someone like that guy Saxon comes up and tries to pull me, I can handle it and I'm prepared," she explained, hating the way her voice was shaking. He began yanking off his shoes as a dark look crossed his features

"I'm very sorry. I'm not happy at all with Harry right now for saying that or doing that to you," he told her but then he looked conflicted. She threw up her hands and marched back out of the room but he called after her. "He is my barrister and I've known him for fifteen years. He thought you were some kind of industrial spy. He was paranoid. I had to tell him."

He followed her into the hall, loosening his tie. She glared at him. "Are you my pimp now? Do you think you can just pass me around to your friends when you're through with me?" she demanded. "I am not some little toy!" Rose marched back into the bedroom, suddenly just aching to get away from him for five minutes so she could break down in private.

"Look, I know you're not my toy. Rose!" John yelled, following after her. She kept walking, heading back towards the en suite. "Rose, I am speaking to you. Come back here!" His voice was sharp and commanding and she stopped, turning towards him but keeping her eyes trained on the carpet. "I hate to point out the obvious here, but you are, in fact, an escort. And you are my employee right now!"

She seethed. "Look, you don't own me," she growled. "I decide, okay? I say who, I say when… I say who!" A few tears escaped down her cheek and she wiped impatiently at them. "Your goddamned friend, he thinks the only reason I'm with you is for the money…" she trailed off and took a deep breath, trying to control herself. "Well, then it's true. Just pay me and I'll be gone."

John stiffened. "I refuse to spend the next three days fighting with you," he said quietly. "I said I was sorry. I meant it. That's the end of it!"

She stared at him, hurt coursing through her. He stared back, his expression unfathomable. Rose realised then that she'd let herself get too sucked into this fairy tale she'd been living the last few days. She felt shame. "I'm sorry I ever met you," she fumed. John's expression shifted and she saw hurt there but she wasn't about to let it stop her now that she was rolling. She turned away from him and marched into the wardrobe to fetch her clothes. "I'm sorry I ever got into your stupid car!"

John charged after her. "As if you had so many more appealing options," he snapped and she could hear the hurt in his voice. He yanked at his tie angrily, as she scooped up an armful of clothes.

"I've never had anyone make me feel as cheap as you did today," she accused.

"Somehow, I find that very hard to believe," he replied, loosening the top button of his oxford.

He turned from her, intent on finishing changing his clothes and she marched from the wardrobe. She found her purse under the edge of the bed and pulled it out, tossing it over her shoulder. She was shaking from head to foot. John walked up to her saw her arms piled with clothes and her purse and looked at her questioningly. "Where are you going?" he asked softly.

"I want my money," she said, her voice quivering. "I want to get out of here." She couldn't look at him, couldn't see the look that she knew had to be on his face as he stared at her. Rose hugged the clothes closer to her, willing herself to be strong.

It was a long moment before he moved. He crossed the room to where he'd discarded his suit jacket when they'd come in. He pulled his wallet from the inside pocket and pulled out a thick sheaf of notes. Sighing, he tossed them down on the edge of the bed and then walked out of the room without giving her another look. She closed her eyes, feeling miserable. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing emotions. She couldn't take that money. She didn't want that money. She just wanted to escape and find somewhere where she could try to rebuild herself.

Ignoring the stack of notes, she hurried out of the room and past where John was standing in the hall, going through a pile of notices. He had his back to her and she hurried out of suite before he could say another word. It wasn't until she was in the hallway that she realised that she'd left her shoes in the suite and she hadn't thought to grab anymore when she'd been gathering up clothes. Maybe Jack could find her a pair to wear back to her flat. She could repay him. Somehow.

Rose hurried towards the stairs, now worrying that John would notice she'd left the money any minute now. Sure enough, she hadn't quite reached the top of the stairs when she heard him call her name her.

"Rose." She stopped but didn't turn around. "Rose, please."

She turned to face him then and saw that regret was written across his features. His brown eyes were wide, his mouth drawn up in remorse. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I wasn't prepared to answer questions about us. What I did was stupid and cruel and I'm so, so sorry."

He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand and she had to struggle not to lean into his touch. "I didn't mean the things I said," he admitted. "I don't want you to go. Please, will you stay the week?"

"Why?" she finally asked. "Why did you say those things?"

"I saw you talking to Adam Mitchell," he revealed, looking a little sheepish. "I didn't like it."

"We were just talking," Rose reasoned.

He chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't like it," he repeated. She smiled a little, feeling a small thrill. He was jealous. That knowledge shouldn't have made her feel better, but it did.

He lowered his hands to her shoulders and his thumbs began rubbing circles on her upper arms. She drew in a shaky breath. "You hurt me," she told him.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Don't do it again," she warned him.

He shook his head. "I'll make it up to you," he promised. Then he lifted her purse from her shoulder and took her hand in his and led her back to the suite. A part of her knew it would be wiser for her to run now, because things got even more complicated, but she found that she couldn't resist him already.

Neither of them was very interested in going out to eat. Rose jokingly suggested that they order in Chinese take-out and John had leapt at the suggestion, insisting it was a brilliant idea. He'd called down to the concierge and requested that they find a local Chinese restaurant that would be willing to deliver cartons of chow mien and kung pao chicken to their suite. Together, they had sat on the floor in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, sipping wine and eating straight out of the cartons with chopsticks and laughing together. John seemed eager to make up for the events at the polo match and their argument here when they got home and she was relieved to have things settled between them.

Rose was just cracking into her fortune cookie when she noticed John watching her with dark, hooded eyes. His look was so predatory that she found her breath caught in her throat. All she could do was stare back at him as he crawled over to her, skirting around the picnic they had laid out on the rug. He reached her and lifted a hand to brush his fingers over her lips. He gazed at her lips and licked his own.

"When you almost left today," he began in a hoarse voice, "I was so scared. I don't know why but I… I couldn't bear the thought of you walking out of here."

"I didn't want to go," she admitted, reaching up to touch his lips too, pressing down with her thumb.

"You didn't take the money," he reminded her.

"I couldn't," she said. "I didn't want the money because I didn't want to leave. I didn't want it… like that."

"I know," he said and he pulled her down to the rug, hovering over her. "That's why I went after you."

John began to pull at the hem of her dress, drawing it up her body. Rose wriggled, trying to facilitate its removal. Soon, the chiffon garment was over her head and tossed aside. He drew his hands along her body, feeling all of her curves and angles and she let him do his steady exploration. There was no mistaking the intent in his eyes and she wasn't sure she'd want to steer him away now even if she'd wanted to.

Her blood pounded in her ears, her breaths coming in gasps as he reached under her arching back to unsnap her bra. He drew it off her, tonguing her nipples in turn as they were revealed to him. Rose was dimly aware that the breathy moans she heard belonged to her but she couldn't even begin to care. He nipped at her flesh, causing her to gasp as he moved smoothly down her body. He tasted and stroked and nibbled clear down to the waistband of her knickers. She writhed, impatient now for his touch. He grinned up at her, catching her eye, before he drew the knickers down her leg and tossed them aside.

Rose knew what he intended to do; what he wanted to do. The other night she had stopped him, feeling it was too intimate, too focused on her. But now… Still, she hesitated a bit, biting her lip as she watched him. John placed his hands on the insides of her thighs, ready to part them. He meet her eyes and saw her uncertainty.

"Can I do this for you, Rose?" he asked, his Scottish accent sounding even more thick now. Thick like melted chocolate. "Please? I want to make things up to you."

"Oh?" she breathed, her voice catching as he dragged his lips along her thigh.

"Yes," he rumbled. "I was a right prat to you today. I need to… make amends."

"Oh…" she repeated, trailing off as he stroked his thumbs over the tender skin on her thighs and she parted her legs for him in silent acquiescence.

"Yes Rose," he said again, his voice a growl now. She was about to reply with something suitably flirtatious but the words died in her throat as his tongue delved between her folds, licking from her entrance clear up to her clit and circling there for a moment before tracing back down again. He kept up this agonising pace until she was writhing and arching and clutching uselessly at the rug.

Her breathing was ragged before she finally gasped out, "Please, John." She pushed her hips towards his mouth to emphasise her point and she heard him chuckle before he redoubled his efforts. He focused on her clit now, circling and pressing and sucking and then his fingers found her entranced and he pressed two inside of her. Her hips jumped and she groaned loudly, reaching down to tangle her fingers into his hair.

She never let anyone do this anymore. She'd decided it wasn't professional. The real reason was that it felt too intimate. Like kissing. But the way that John did this, it seemed a crime to deny him.

He twisted his fingers in such a way at the same time he applied just the right sort of pressure to that tight bundle of nerves and then she exploding. She came so hard and so suddenly that she swore she could see the turn of the earth and the path of the stars in the night sky. She was sure that she yelled something, probably his name. She was sure that she arched off the floor and he had to hold her down and keep her held as she contracted. The first thing she was aware of as she drifted back to earth was John's low, reassuring murmurs as he kissed her belly and hips.

Rose giggled breathlessly. He chuckled as well. "Alright?" he asked. She giggled again.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "More than."

"That was gorgeous," he told her. "Thank you."

"I really do think I should be the one thanking you," she pointed out. She lifted up a hand and he sat back and took it. "Here, help me up and we'll go to the room and I will thank you properly."

He wagged his brows at her and did her one better, scooping her up in his arms and hurrying back to the master bedroom, her giggles echoing in the suite along the way.

They lay in bed, facing one another, a sheet draped over their hips. For all practical intents and purposes, they were equals in this moment. Both of them were satisfied, slowly coming down off the high that a good shag had afforded them. Rose was determined to think of it as a good shag and not what her brain was trying to insist it really was; lovemaking.

"Have you ever had a pregnancy scare?" he asked her. His expression was open and curious and she saw no judgement there for her lifestyle.

She shook her head. "Nope. I've been smart about that, at least. My mum had me go on the pill when I first took up with Jimmy. She'd lecture me up one side and down the other about being responsible and not getting stuck with a baby. Not many of her lessons stuck with me, but that did." She shrugged. "I still use condoms with clients, for obvious reasons. Safety and all that. I told you before that I get checked at the clinic once a month. I'm kind of paranoid about it. How about you? Any kids?"

He smiled gently. "No," he answered and she thought maybe he sounded a little wistful. "I've always been very vigilant about… such things… with my girlfriends. And Reinette never wanted children. She was always too busy with her organisations and her shopping and her friends."

"But you do," she said quietly. "You want children."

John was quiet for a minute and she could see him just barely in the dim room. His eyes glittering as he watched her. Then, he nodded. "Yeah, I do. With the right woman, I suppose."

"Yeah, me too," she replied. "No chance of it right now of course. I double up, take the pill as well use the condoms with clients."

"That sounds wise," he agreed.

"Mmhmm," she said. "But someday. With the right guy, of course. There haven't been a lot of those in my life."

"Oh yeah? Have you ever been in love?" he asked.

Rose sighed and shifted a little. "I thought I was. I've always been a sucker for a pretty boy; bonus points if they're a loser too. First there was Jimmy. He came along when I was just 16 and he was bad news from the start. But I was so bored and felt so trapped, living on the estate with my mum. He promised me all sorts of things. He was in a band and he told me he was going places and that I could come with him. So I ran away with him. It sounded pretty good to me at the time. Like a fairytale." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Of course, fairytales aren't real and Jimmy was bad news. He got in with a bad crowd and got into drugs. He started stealing money from me and buying drugs with it. Eventually, he took off, leaving me with a pile of debt and humiliated. I went home to my mum and got a job working at Henriks, trying to pay her back for getting me out of trouble."

"So how did the escort thing happen then?" he wanted to know.

"I'm getting there," she promised. "Things were going okay for a while. I even took up with my old friend Mickey. He wasn't a great boyfriend, but he was safe. I'd probably even be married to him by now if it hadn't been for Shireen. She'd been my friend nearly as long as Mickey had and I could never say no to her. She and I would go out a lot and I found myself getting drunk and sometimes even stoned when I was out with her. But she started getting into more drugs. Her job at the chip shop wasn't covering the drugs and her rent, so she started prostituting. It was around that time that Jimmy started showing up again, except this time he took up with Shireen. She started doing more and more drugs and ended up losing her flat 'cos she couldn't keep up with the rent." She paused and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't just leave her out on the street. I invited her to stay at the flat with mum and I while she got back on her feet. Of course, she only got in more trouble. She got busted for street prostitution and dealing drugs and the cops ended up at our door in the middle of the night. Mum was furious. She was so scared that I was involved with it and I was, but not like she thought. She started making demands, insisting I not see Shireen anymore, that Shireen had to leave and that I had to be home at a certain time of night… I wasn't going to stand for it. Not at twenty years old. So I threatened to leave. She got mad and told me that if I left, that I couldn't come home unless I was ready to live by her rules. I left and haven't been back."

"Have you spoken to her since?"

She rolled back over to face him. "I tried calling a couple times. She won't speak to me. We're both stubborn, I got it from her actually. I miss her."

"I'm sure you you do," he murmured. "So the escort thing?"

"I ended up getting a flat with Shireen but the money I was making working at shops wasn't paying the rent. Shireen was spending almost all her money on drugs and I just needed more cash. She talked me into trying out the escort business so I put my name up on this website," she explained. "I got my first client and… I cried the whole time. Poor guy, he felt awful. But then I got some regulars and, well you know. It's not like anyone plans a life like this. It's not anyone's childhood dream."

John reached out and stroked a finger down her arm. "You could be so much more."

"People put you down enough, you start to believe it," she mused.

"Listen to me," he said. "I think you are a very bright, very special young woman."

Rose smiled sadly at him. "The bad stuff is easier to believe. You ever notice that?"

In the darkness, she could make out the slight nod of his head. Somehow, she knew he wasn't agreeing with her because he thought it was something she wanted to hear. It made her heart hurt to think that he thought of himself that way but consider she did the same about herself, she knew what it was like. She wondered, as she slowly drifted off to sleep, if he'd ever had anyone to talk to like this before.

Chapter 10

Chapter Summary

John takes Rose out on a whirlwind date to the opera.

Thank you to my fantastic betas, Kelkat9 and Kahki820. You guys are awesome at keeping up with me!

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The next day, John sauntered down the hallway in his London office, swinging his briefcase jauntily. He felt as happy as he had in a long time and he knew that he owed that to Rose and the time they'd been spending together. She'd done so much for him that he wanted to do something nice for her, show her something amazing that she hadn't seen before. He wanted to impress her and he thought he knew just the thing.

"John!" Harold Saxon called after him. John stopped and turned to see his friend and barrister hurrying down the hallway towards him. "Where are you going? This is no time to disappear. We're in up to our necks in this deal!"

"Harry, settle down," John soothed. "There's no reason to panic. Mott isn't going anywhere today and I don't need to sit around here this afternoon watching his stock go down. Not when I have you here to do that for me. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Have you signed the contracts yet?" Harry asked.

John patted his briefcase. "Not yet, but I've got them right here."

"Promise me that you'll go over them before tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Harry," John said, smiling and he turned to walk back down the hall towards the lifts. He paused at the receptionist's desk and winked at her. "Good night, Lynda. Did you send the tickets to hotel?" he asked her.

"Yes, sir. They should be waiting for you at the desk," she told him.

He smiled at her. "Thanks." He turned again towards the lifts and Harry caught up with him.

"Where are you going?" he asked again.

"I have a date," John replied simply, enunciating the last consonant.

"With the whore?" The derision in Harry's voice was unmistakeable.

John turned slowly to face this man who had been his friend so many years, since they'd been at university together. He fixed him with a hard look. "Be careful, Harry," he said, his voice laced with warning.

The elevator dinged then and John turned quickly and entered it, tapping a button and watching the doors close in front of Harry's displeased expression.

John shifted from foot to foot in the hallway outside the bedroom door. He'd asked Rose to be ready when he got here but he didn't know why he bothered. He hadn't known a woman yet that could be ready on time, at least not when getting ready for something like the opera. He'd arrived at the suite a short while before and had tried to gain entry to the bedroom but she had locked the door and instructed him to stay out. She'd passed out his tuxedo when he'd asked for it and he'd had to get himself ready in one of the other rooms.

"Sometime this year, please, Rose," he called. He fingered the velvet box in his hands, hoping that Rose would enjoy the contents. He'd picked the necklace up from the jeweller earlier that day. His good standing with the owner over the years, and lots of apology gifts purchased for girlfriends, had meant that he'd been allowed to borrow this necklace with little fuss.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" she called back peevishly and he grinned again. The door opened and she stepped out.

John's mouth fell open as she swept out of the room wearing the most stunning dress. It was a deep, gorgeous blue colour and hugged the upper portion of her body in such a way that he wondered just how she'd managed to get herself into it. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline that drew his eye to her cleavage, as if his eye wouldn't be drawn there anyhow. The shimmering blue silk was fitted to her figure clear to the thigh where it flared out into voluminous folds of fabric embellished with features and bead-embellished tulle that swept the floor as she walked out to meet him. Rose turned in a little circle in front of him so he could appreciate the entire look. Her blonde hair had been curled and pulled back into a soft, romantic bun at the nape of her neck, leaving a few curled tendrils to fall freely around her face. She wore silver satin opera gloves that covered her to her elbows and she pulled up her skirt to reveal sparkling silver stiletto heels. He swallowed thickly.

"Well? Will this do?" she asked, patting at her hips self consciously.

John licked his lips and tried to find his voice. "Mmm," he murmured, hoping that would suffice.

"Mmm?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

He smiled then. "Something's missing."

Her mouth fell open as she looked at him. "You're kidding, right? Nothin' else is going to fit into this dress, I can promise you that."

"What about something in this box?" he asked, presenting the velvet box. He opened the lid and she peered in at the contents. He watched as Rose's eyes went wide. "I don't want you to get too excited. This is only on loan."

"It's amazing," she breathed. "Are these-?"

"Sapphires and diamonds, yes," he replied. He set the box down on a nearby table and removed the necklace, gesturing for her to turn towards the hallway mirror as he fastened the necklace around her neck. Large, shimmering sapphire baguettes were surrounded by glittering diamonds and one large, round sapphire hung from the front of the necklace, drawing attention even further towards her décolletage. The jewellery complimented her outfit perfectly and looked completely breathtaking on her. She raised a hand to touch the gems as they settled against her skin.

"They really let you just borrow this?" she wondered, catching his eye in the mirror as he let his hands rest on her shoulders.

"I'm a very good customer," he answered, winking.

She tilted her head, considering the necklace in her reflection. "If you were to buy this, how much would it cost?"

"About a quarter of a million pounds."

"Really?" she gasped. He nodded and she laughed nervously.

"So you didn't say anything about how I look," he said, stepping back and twirling in front of her.

Rose grinned at him. "You look good in a tux," she said, stepping forward to run a finger along his bow tie. "A little too good. How am I going to keep my hands off you tonight with you wearing that?"

"The same way I'm going to keep my hands off you in that dress," he murmured, leaning forward to drop a kiss on the top of her shoulder. "Carefully controlled restraint." He stepped back again, lest his hands get the idea to start wandering, and held out his elbow for her to take in hand.

"We make a pretty sharp looking pair," she mused, accepting his elbow. Together, they walked to the door of the suite. John opened the door and she stepped through it. Then they continued towards the staircase together. "So where are we goin'?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he told her.

She squeezed his elbow affectionately and said, "If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight."

John smiled at her, already enjoying her enthusiasm and fresh outlook. "Thank you," he said, and together they descended the staircase.

Jack Harkness was getting ready to leave The Lanesborough for the night. He was giving Harriet Jones her instructions as well as a list of expected check-ins for that evening when he noticed John Smith and Rose Tyler coming down the staircase in the lobby.

Everyone around him, guests and employees alike, seemed to stop and take notice of the handsome pair. They were attractive people in their own rights, but tonight they were dressed to the nines and exuding quiet elegance and sophistication. And together, they looked blindingly attractive.

Jack nearly didn't recognise Rose in her gown and jewels. He never would have guessed that she was a professional escort. She looked as if she were born to wear such fine fashion and she looked as if she was born to be at John's side. Mr. Smith, to his credit, looked very proud to have her at his side and he looked around at everyone, noticing the looks they were receiving. It seemed to make his chest puff up even more. Jack held in a chuckle. John should be proud to have a woman like Rose on his arm.

He found himself wondering, as he watched them cross the lobby towards the entrance doors, what would happen at the end of the week. Would Rose go back to her life and John back to his home in Edinburgh? He couldn't imagine either of them letting the other one go, but at the same time, he logically knew that there was no simple outcome here.

As the couple stepped out into the afternoon sun together, Jack forced the thoughts from his head. That was all their business and none of his.

Rose found she was getting very used to riding around town in the Rolls Royce. Alonso was a brilliant driver and she often chatted amiably with him while en route to wherever they were going. John was sitting next to her, his hand on her knee and fingers idly playing with the feathers and beads there. She was busy looking out the window, trying to figure out where they were going.

John distracted her, asking her a question about who had done her hair for her, (she'd called Jack to send up the same hairdresser that had done her hair for her the night of the fancy dinner) and when she looked back out the window, they were driving across what looked like the tarmac at the airport. Before she could even voice a question, they came to a gentle stop next to a sleek looking private jet, complete with red carpet unrolled next to the stairs. She gasped.

Alonso was around the car in a flash, opening the door and holding out his hand to help her from the car. She tried to smile at him but her attention was fixated on the plane. John appeared next to her and took her hand, squeezing it encouragingly.

"It's a plane," she whispered.

"Yes, it is. It would take us forever to drive to Paris," he pointed out.

She looked at him then, her eyes wide. "Paris?" she squeaked. "What are we doing in Paris?"

"You'll see," he replied enigmatically. He walked her over to the stairs and then let go of her hand so she could climb up and into the plane.

Rose stood in the plane, staring around her at the leather seats and polished tables and other elegant appointments. She felt paralysed by overwhelming emotions and wasn't even aware of John until she felt his touch on her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, it's just… I've never been on a plane before."

He chuckled and guided her over to the sofa. She sat down, feeling it sink beneath her and he took the seat next to her. "What an experience for your first trip then," he replied, grinning.

"Is this… your plane?" she asked.

He nodded. "Well, it belongs to the company. But its my company and I bought it so… yes, it's mine."

"Wow," she breathed. "It's… impressive."

The jet took off smoothly, lifting above the clouds which had begun to gather. Rose gaped out the window at the ground disappearing beneath them. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced and she wanted to make sure to remember it all. John was sitting with a laptop on his lap, brainy specs perched on his nose, squinting at some figures on the screen. He looked absolutely delicious in the tux and the addition of the specs was making her flush all over. If she hadn't thought she'd be disturbing him, she would have jumped him right then. Instead, she looked around at the jet's interior There were several cushy looking chairs separated by a polished table, a long bar, and a television set into the wall that was currently displaying stock market information.

A voice came over the intercom. "It should be a pretty smooth flight, Mr. Smith. The weather is clear all the way into Paris. We should be there in about 45 minutes."

John glanced at her from his laptop and she winked at him, unable to resist the tempting image he presented. He raised an eyebrow and closed the lid slowly. "Something on your mind, Rose?" he asked.

"Just thinkin' how much I'd like to… make you come." She grinned as his eyes widened and he set the computer down on the floor. He kept his eyes on her as she leaned forward, pressing him to lie back onto the sofa with his head on the armrest.

"R-rose!" he gasped, as she began to unfasten his buckle and unzip his trousers. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm positive," she murmured. She pulled his trousers and pants down while he put a throw pillow beneath his shoulders so that he could watch what she was doing in comfort. She ran her fingertips along his length a few times before she encircled the base, squeezing. He hardened almost instantly, a sigh escaping his lips. She winked as she reached for the clutch she'd packed with lipstick and a few other essentials. She drew out one of her flavoured condoms. He raised an eyebrow at the wild yellow colour. "Banana," she explained and he smiled at that.

"I love bananas," he told her.

She unrolled the condom onto his erection, giving him a few extra squeezes and pumps until he hardened further. Glancing up at his face, she saw his eyes dark behind his glasses. He looked amazing and so turned on that she found she was excited to do this for him. She adjusted her position, bracing her arms on his thighs as she took him in hand and then ran her tongue along his length, from base to tip. She pressed hard with the flat of her tongue, hoping he could feel it through the latex barrier and wishing she could do this without a condom getting in the way. Judging from the low groan he made, he was fine with things how they were for the moment and she pressed her other hand to his hip, holding him down as she slid her lips over the head of his penis.

John jerked his hips up but she held him steady as she moved forward, taking more and more of his cock into her mouth. Rose hummed as she engulfed him, pressing her tongue against his shaft and letting him feel the vibrations as she lowered down until he touched the back of her throat. At that, a louder groan escaped him and she felt his fingers touch her temples, most likely trying to resist plunging into her hair and messing up her hairstyle. She moved her throat muscles, swallowing him and this time he cried out her name. Rose really enjoyed doing this for him, she realised. Normally, it wasn't something she enjoyed but a blow job is an escort's bread and butter and she had grown accustomed to providing the service for her clients. But with John, she found she truly enjoyed his responsive reactions and the opportunity to do this for him made her feel a satisfaction that she'd never felt with a client before. She continued to work him with her mouth and hand, alternating flicks with her tongue and swallowing him in her throat and he was babbling; encouragement and endearments and her name, over and over. Then, she moved her hand from the base of his cock and brought it down to stroke her fingers along his scrotum. That was enough to set him off and he pushed his hips up one more time before she could feel the pulsing of his length in her mouth. He called out her name and clutched her shoulders. She grabbed at the base of his erection again as she made swallowing movements, slowly bring him back down.

Finally, he softened and stilled and she lifted her head and grinned at him. He rewarded her with a weak smile. She removed the condom and disposed of it in the rubbish bin next to the sofa. Then she pulled up his pants and trousers, tucking him away and refastening his belt while he watched her and got his breathing under control. "You are," he gasped, sitting back up slowly, "amazingly good at that."

Rose leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead and as she withdrew, he was blushing. After all of that, and a kiss on the forehead made him blush. She excused herself to the loo in the rear of the jet to freshen her lipstick and make sure she was in order once more. Then she returned to the sofa and leaned back against him, his arms around her and his chin resting on the top of her head. She could just see out one of the windows where the sun was setting and the lights of France began to loom.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked, remembering their conversation in bed the night before. John was quiet but she could feel a tensing in the arms that held her against him. "I'm sorry. You're not paying me to ask you questions like that. I just got to thinking that I never got to ask you when we were talking about it last night."

"Rose, I'm paying you to be you," he admonished her gently. "I want you to be you." He was quiet for a few more minutes and she was sure that he wasn't going to answer before he spoke again. "I don't think I have. Not the way they talk about it in books, music or movies. I've never been consumed."

Together, they watched the lights of Paris draw nearer far below them. Rose let herself daydream, just for a short while, what it would be like to have a man like John fall in love with her. To have a man like him, to have him, be consumed with her. It sounded so desperately romantic that she surprised herself with the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes at the notion.

A town car picked them up at the airport and it was fully dark before they pulled up in front of their destination. Rose gasped as she laid eyes on the old, elegant looking building which appeared to be glowing from every window.

"Where are we?" she asked as they climbed out of the car. John took her hand and squeezed it.

'This is the Palais Garnier," he told her. "It's an opera house, built back in the late 1800's for the Paris Opera. It's one of the most famous opera houses in all of Europe. We are here, as I'm sure you've figured out by now, to see the opera. La Traviata."

The opera! It sounded so… refined. Never in a million years did she think she'd ever be going to the opera, and not at such a sophisticated location as this. Rose recalled the things people around the estate had always said about opera, mostly making fun of it and the people who went to see it, and worried that maybe she wouldn't be able to appreciate it. Apparently, the worry she felt was showing on her face because John patted her hand reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll have a lovely time," he said.

She smiled at him and took his elbow. "I'm sure you're right."

John led her into the building and Rose tried desperately to school her expression so that she wouldn't look like some slack-jawed tourist. It was difficult because the interior of this place was simply stunning. Everywhere she looked there was some sort of statue or fresco or painting or gilded accent that caught her eye. And if the architecture wasn't enough to drop her jaw, the patrons definitely were. Elegantly dressed women and wealthy and sophisticated looking men milled about, indulging in some last minute mingling as the lights flashed and a chime dinged to indicate the opera was about to begin. She felt very nervous and out of place. Unconsciously, she raised a protective hand to the necklace at her throat.

John glanced at her and drew her hand away. "Rose, I sincerely doubt that anyone here is going to try to steal that off of you," he murmured in her ear.

She lowered her hand and blushed. Everyone around them was now moving towards the interior of the building, seeking their seats. John directed her up a grand staircase and she was aware of the looks she was drawing from the people they passed. Even she could tell the curiosity and perhaps even envy in the looks from the women and the more familiar appreciative glances from the men. Again, she touched the necklace, just to reassure herself that it was still there.

"They all think you look gorgeous, Rose," John told her. "And they're right."

Rose looked at him gratefully and smiled. She relaxed a little and firmed her grip on his elbow as he led her towards the upper tier. An usher met them, handing John a printed program and offering to lead them towards their seats. The young man showed them to a curtain and when he pulled it back, she gasped audibly. The red flocked wallpaper and golden accents caught her eye as she took in the features of what was a very exclusive and very richly appointed balcony seat. They were high above the stage and the orchestra pit and had the perfect view. Rose sat in one of the seats at the edge of the balcony and grinned excitedly at John. He grinned back. He pointed out the opera glasses to her and she picked them up, marvelling at their ornate appearance and unsure how to work them. They didn't seem to want to snap into place no matter how hard she tried. Smiling gently, he leaned over and showed her how to flip the glasses over on the stem so that they could be held up to her eyes.

She peered through them, exclaiming over the musicians setting up in the orchestra pit. Then she sat back and looked at him questioningly. "You said this is in Italian, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"How and I going to understand what they're singin'?" she asked.

"You'll know," he assured her. "Believe me, you'll understand. The music is… very powerful. People's reactions to opera the first time they see it can be very dramatic. They either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become a part of their soul."

The lights went down and the music in the orchestra swelled. Rose's eyes lit up as the curtains raised and the action on the stage began. As they settled into the first act, she was riveted to the drama unfolding below them. At one point, John tried to lean forward and whisper into her ear what was being said but she turned and placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. She winked and turned her attention back to the actors. She heard him chuckle next to her.

All too soon, the actors exited the stage and the lights came up. "Intermission," John explained to her. He stood and offered his hand to help her to her feet. "Are you enjoying it so far?"

"Enjoying it?" she repeated in disbelief. "I'm in love!"

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. He lead her out to an open area where other attendees were mingling and making small talk. Almost instantly, she felt on edge and out of place again. John touched the small of her back lightly and leaned toward her ear. "Relax, you're fine," he promised.

A waiter wandering through the milling crowd delivered flutes of champagne to them both. Rose sipped gratefully at the bubbling beverage, finding she was getting very accustomed to drinking it this past week. She was sure she would miss it after this was all said and done. Well. That wouldn't be the only thing she'd miss.

Before her gut had much of a chance to twist at the thought, a high, tinkling voice broke through her reverie. "John! I didn't expect to see you here, what a surprise!"

Rose turned to see a tall, stunning blonde woman gliding toward them. An attractive but forgettable looking man trailed behind her, looking disinterested. John stiffened next to her before reaching out and taking the other woman's hand. He lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across the knuckles before dropping it. "Hello, Reinette. I'd wondered if I'd see you tonight."

Reinette. The name sounded familiar. Rose's mind raced as she tried to remember when she'd heard John mention it before. "I'd like to introduce you to Rose Tyler," John went on, the hand on the small of her back pushing her forward slightly and then snaking possessively around her waist. "Rose, this is my ex-wife, Reinette Poisson."

Ex-wife. That explained it. Rose smiled at the other woman, extending her hand to shake it. "Pleased to meet you," she said. Reinette made no secret of looking Rose over as she shook her hand and Rose felt, yet again, inadequate.

John's ex-wife looked incredible. She was everything that Rose was not. She carried herself with innate grace, her features looked like they had been carved by sculptors and she was dressed in the most exquisite gown Rose had ever seen. It was long and sweeping, golden with cream embroidery, accentuating the best features of Reinette's body. This was exactly the sort of woman she would have expected John to be with and more than ever before, Rose found herself wondering what she herself was doing here with him.

Reinette introduced the man at her side as her beau, a Mr. St. George and both Rose and John shook his hand in turn. He continued, however, to look disinterested. John asked after a mutual friend of theirs who was apparently closer to Reinette than him and Reinette asked him about Joan, whom she apparently knew all about. Rose was amazed that she would ask this when she herself was standing right there, listening. When John explained that Joan had left him, she saw Reinette smile a little as if she was happy to hear it.

"It's no wonder, John," she chided. "As married to your work as you are. I bet you have your mobile on you right now so you can keep a line going with Harold Saxon. Honestly, the two of you are joined at the hip.." John was cringing visibly at her words but she went on, encouraged. "Are you still up all night, working? You always did blame work but I do think you have insomnia. You really should see someone about that."

Rose glanced at John and saw he was withdrawn, his mouth tight and his eyes downcast. A surge of anger shot through her. How dare this woman, who had no further claim on him, emotionally batter him like this. It was clear that what Reinette was saying was upsetting him and that only seemed to egg the woman on. Rose had had just about enough of it.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Ms. Poisson," Rose cut in. Reinette looked at her as if just noticing that she was still there. "Why, John took off early from work just this afternoon so we could come to see this lovely opera together. And I know for a fact he left his mobile on the jet." Reinette looked stunned at Rose's outburst but she couldn't seem to stop herself now that she'd gotten started. "And I'll let you know, since it sounds like you never got to experience it yourself; waking up next to John in the morning is one of the highlights of my day. He looks like an angel when he's sleeping so soundly."

John was staring at her, a smile ghosting around the corners of his mouth as she let Reinette have it. He seemed to be encouraged by her defence of him and added, "It's always a delight to come home from work and spend time with Rose. It's pretty hard to focus on work with her around." His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her and she smiled back, leaning up to drop a soft kiss on his cheek.

Reinette looked outraged. "Well," she said, sounding distinctly annoyed. "It would appear that John has changed since I left him. I never would have thought I'd see the day when he set his sights so low." She didn't wait for a reply, but turned and hurried off, Mr. St. George close on her heels.

John blew out a breath and squeezed his arm around her waist. "I'm sorry about that. I should have warned you we might run into her here," he said.

"Was she always that much of a bitch?" Rose asked in a low voice.

He chuckled. "Pretty much," he replied. "Thank you, though, for sticking up for me. I don't think anyone has ever done that for me before."

She gaped at him. "Seriously? What sort of people have you been spending time with?"

"The wrong sort, apparently," he answered. "I'm definitely getting my money's worth with you."

She smiled and faced him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You didn't pay for that," she told him. "I did that for you." She hugged him then, burying her face into his shoulder and he held her just as tightly back.

After a few more minutes and after they had drained their champagne flutes, the lights flashed and a chime sounded, signalling the end of the intermission. They returned to their seats and Rose found herself excited to see more of the performance. She was surprised at how easily she was following the action and the story. She felt sorry for the female lead and commiserated with her plight, not just because she was a courtesan but because she was motivated by love and compassion. That spoke to something in her soul.

Her lips trembled as she watched the final, tragic scene play out on the stage. The music swelled and crashed and tears slipped down her cheeks as she joined the other patrons in leaping to her feet, clapping madly. She turned to John, who was standing as well and watching her with the strangest look on his face. He opened his arms and she nestled into his embrace.

"I take it you liked the opera?" he asked softly.

"Oh, John. I loved it," she admitted. "Thank you so much for bringing me."

"It was my pleasure," he told her. He was smiling and looking so pleased with her reaction but she didn't think he even knew how much the experience meant to her.

Hours later, back at the hotel suite, Rose sat, still in her gown at the dining room table across from John, who still wore most of his tuxedo. He'd discarded his jacket, waistcoat and bow tie and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. A chess board sat on the table between them, the white pieces belonging to Rose and the black to John. He was teaching her the game and she was picking it up pretty quickly. Still, there was a lot to learn.

"No, no. Don't touch-" John said reaching out to still her hand.

She raised a saucy eyebrow at him. "I moved the queen. I like the queen!"

"You can't move the queen," he admonished her.

She laughed and he joined her.

"So, you're not just humouring me about the opera?" he asked her, making a careful move with his knight.

Rose leaned over the chessboard, considering the pieces. "No, I'm not just humouring you."

"Though, if you'd gone on and on about how much you liked it, I'm not sure I would have believed you," he said.

"I more than liked it," she told him earnestly.

He met her eye and smiled. "I know. I'm glad."

"Did you? Like it?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "I've never enjoyed it more. Thank you."

She flushed at his words. Surely, he'd seen countless operas before and to think that he'd enjoyed it the most with her at his side made her feel better than she would have expected. They continued to play, bantering over stolen pieces and questionable moves.

"Why don't we finish this game tomorrow?" he suggested, glancing at the fancy watch on his wrist. "It's getting really late and I have to work."

Reinette's words about him being married to his work echoed in Rose's mind. She shifted in her seat. "Why don't you not go to work tomorrow," she said. He looked at her, surprised. "Take the day off."

"Me? Not work?" he sputtered, as if it were such a foreign concept that he never would have thought of it on his own. If she were being honest, she'd admit that he probably never would have.

"Yeah. Spend the day with me instead," she offered.

He sat back, ruffling a hand through his already mussed up hair. "I do own the company…" he murmured thoughtfully.

"Now you're getting it," she said, smiling. A whole day together, no work and no distractions! Her mind raced through activities they could do and she found herself feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, waiting to see what Father Christmas left under the tree the next morning. Rose promised herself that she would have him enjoying himself in no time.

Chapter 11

Chapter Summary

John and Rose have one perfect day to spend together. How does it impact their growing relationship?

Thank you to Kahki820 for the fabulous beta services!

SPECIAL_ albums/qq349/slackermama1275/Photobucket%20Desktop%20-%20Marilyns%20MacBook%20Air/My% -REPLACE_ME

Harold Saxon sat at his desk in the Smith Enterprises building in downtown London, leaning back with his hands resting behind his head. He could see Canary Wharf from his window, the Thames, the London Eye and Big Ben. He had a great view and a great job and a great life and it was all because of John Smith.

Harry had met John at university 15 years before. John had been on the fast track, having already acquired his master's degree at age 20 and was already working on a post-graduate degree. Harry had still been working on his master's degree and had been drawn to John's charm and sense of quiet command. He had always been more of an obvious sort, unable to hide what was going on in his mind at any given time and John's utter self-control had been fascinating. They'd been friends right off, inseparable and an unstoppable force. John had brought Harry with him when he'd started Smith Enterprises and had begun the business of making ridiculous amounts of money. It was because of John that Harry had met his wife. She'd been the roommate of one of John's many, many ex-girlfriends. Lucy was the perfect wife for a man such as himself. Beautiful, refined and completely unlikely to raise a fuss over his extramarital dalliances.

For a while, it had seemed John was set to follow in Harry's footsteps into "marital bliss". He'd met and married Reinette and she'd been exactly the sort of wife for John that Lucy had been for him. Beautiful, cultured and having as many dalliances behind John's back as he was having behind hers. It had been a mercenary relationship, which, when a guy is as wealthy as he and John are, is really the only way to go. The less emotion involved, the better for everyone. Just so long as one made sure there's an iron-clad prenuptial agreement in place.

Harry had drawn up John's prenup for him so he knew it was pristine. Still, it'd been a shame to have to bring it into play when Reinette finally got fed up with John and left him. But, as disappointed as Harry had been, he'd been pleased that the primary reason behind the dissolution of the marriage had been John's commitment to his business. In the end, that meant more money in both of their pockets. At the end of the day, the two of them made an excellent team and Harry intended to see it continue to be that way.

Which is why he was a little nervous about the changes he'd noticed in John this week. Harry had been watching the way John's focus was being pulled away from business. Any other week it would have been a minor annoyance. But during a week like this? With the Mott Industries deal at stake? Anything less than John's 100% focus was a catastrophe and Harry was just about at the end of his rope over it. He strongly suspected that this Rose, this whore that John was keeping in his hotel suite… that she was the reason behind John's change this last week.

Harry wasn't sure what to do about it, either.

This morning, for example, Harry had arrived at the office just thirty minutes ago and normally John would already be here, going over contracts or checking the markets. But he wasn't here yet and that in itself was very unusual. And worrisome. Harry sat forward in his chair and began to shuffle through the papers on his desk, looking for a specific contract. Better that he keep busy and resist the urge to pester John on his mobile. Still, if his friend didn't show within the next fifteen minutes, he'd be placing a call.

It was just about five minutes later when Lynda from the reception desk poked her head into his office. "Here are the storage reports you wanted, Mr. Saxon. Oh, and Mr. Smith just called," she told him.

Harry blinked. He called Lynda but not him? What was that about? "What did he say?" he asked her.

"He said that he'd be taking the day off," Lynda replied, looking a little nervous and like she'd very much like to be getting back to her desk.

"He's taking the day off?" Harry thundered. That was most definitely unheard of. What in the hell was John thinking?

"That's what he said," she said, shrugging and backing out of the door. She shut it behind her, scurrying back to her desk. Harry sat back again, his jaw set this time. John was taking the day off. In the middle of this incredibly lucrative and incredibly important deal, he was playing hooky with a whore. Harry was no longer annoyed, he was now infuriated.

After a lazier morning than either of them had spent together yet, they were ready to go out and enjoy their day together. Rose had coaxed John into the shower with her, which had meant that it taken them both easily twice as long to get clean as it normally would have. But they both had smiles on their faces as they dressed for the day. John put on another one of his suits while she picked out a flirty polka dotted sundress. He approved of her choice and told her so as he skimmed his hands along her hips as she leaned against the counter in the en suite, fussing over her makeup. She'd warned him that they'd never make it out of the suite if he didn't keep his hands to himself and he'd asked her if that would be such a bad thing.

Rose didn't think that it would, but she did want to take advantage of this day they had to spend together. She tried not to voice her displeasure as she saw him pack up a briefcase with papers; after all, he was taking the day off and that was a large step for him. She couldn't expect him to cut the cord to work altogether, she didn't think. Arm in arm, they walked out of the suite and down to the lobby. Rose tossed a jaunty wave and a wink to Jack who grinned back at the both of them. Alonso was waiting out front with the Rolls Royce and they tucked into the backseat together. Rose rested her hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder while he scanned through the emails on his mobile phone.

Before long, John motioned to Alonso to pull over. Rose looked out the window and determined that they were in Notting Hill. Street vendors lined the roads, selling their crafts and flowers and trinkets. John pulled her from the car and towards a shop front. A quick glance told her it was a book shop specialising in rare and hard to find books. He beamed at her. "This is my favourite book shop," he explained to her. "I stop in here every time I'm in London. They often have books here that I can't find anywhere else. And if I can't find what I'm looking for, the owner is always more than happy to locate it for me."

Rose followed him into the shop, the little bell above the door tinkled merrily as they entered. She looked around her at the stacks of books, inhaling their musty and comforting scent. She hadn't spent a lot of time in book shops growing up and she could see right away why John liked this one. It was cozy and comfortable and exactly the sort of place in which one could easily lose a couple hours. The owner stood behind a counter near the front of the store and called out a greeting as they stepped inside, clearly recognising John.

"I'm just going to go speak to Gordon for a moment, see if the book I ordered is in yet. Why don't you have a peek around, pick something out to look at?" he suggested. "There's some sofas in the back, I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

She nodded and squeezed his hand before wandering away to see what she could find. Rose found herself drawn to one particular section and after looking at several intriguing looking volumes, she selected on and lifted it from the shelf. True to his word, she found John at the rear of the shop, sitting on a dark red Queen Anne sofa, an open leather-bound book in his hand. He looked up when she approached and patted the spot next to him. Rose smiled and sat down at the other and, removing her sandals and then laying across the sofa with her feet in his lap. He raised an eyebrow at her before smiling and then lowering a hand to rub at the tops of her feet as he continued reading. She opened her own book and found herself getting absorbed by it, enjoying the comfortable silence between them and the feel of his strong fingers rubbing her ankles.

Fifteen minutes must have passed before Rose looked up and regarded John. He was wearing those specs of his and with his hair rumpled perfectly and the tie at his throat loose, she was again struck by how attractive he was. She glanced at the book she was reading and saw that it was in fact a very old volume of poetry. She raised an eyebrow. That surprised her. She'd half expected to see a copy of Hostile Takeovers for Dummies in his hand. "Poetry?" she questioned, gesturing at his book.

He looked absently at the cover before smiling at her. "Of course. I've been looking for this book for a while now, Gordon was nice enough to hunt it down for me."

"You amaze me," she murmured. "First the piano, then the opera and now poetry? What other hidden interests and talents do you have?"

"I'm a complex sort of guy. But what about you?" He gestured at the book in her hands. "What book is it that you have there?"

Rose held it up so that he could see the cover. "Painting. I was always interested in art growing up. I used to like to draw these little… scenes that I pictured in my head," she explained. "Mum would have a fit, of course, because I was drawing them on the walls of our flat." She chuckled.

He cocked his head at her. "And you say that I'm amazing. Have you drawn much lately?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I haven't had much time. I'd like to maybe try it again sometime, see if I still have a knack for it."

There was silence for a moment as they watched each other. She found that the more she learned about John, the more she wanted to know about him. The shrewd businessman was just the exterior. There was a whole world inside of John that she felt few people ever got to really see. As she was thinking this, he began to recite in a low voice.

"She walks in beauty, like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies;/And all that's best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes;/Thus mellowed to that tender light/Which heaven to gaudy day denies." His dark eyes didn't leave hers and she fought the urge to gasp at the beauty of the words he spoke.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice breathy. "It was lovely."

"Lord Byron. He wrote it in 1814. One of his most popular works, actually. And one of my favourites," he revealed.

"And you remember that all just off the top of your head?"

He nodded. "The really beautiful things, the meaningful things, those are easy to remember. They take up residence in your mind and you never truly forget."

"Tell me another," she requested, grinning. Hearing his velvety Scottish brogue reciting poetry was quickly becoming one of her favourite things.

"What delight/To back the flying steed, that challenges/The wind for speed! - Seems native more of air/Than earth! - Whose burden only lends him fire!/Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport;/Who makes your pastime his! I sit him now!/He takes away my breath! He makes me reel!/I touch not earth- I see not - hear not. All/Is ecstasy of motion!" he quoted, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth as he finished. Delight twinkled in his eyes.

Rose considered for a moment. "It's about a horse?" she guessed.

"Right in one, Ms. Tyler," he affirmed. "It's an excerpt from The Love-Chase by James Sheridan Knowles in 1887. Very evocative, yes? You can almost feel the wind in your hair as you hear it."

"I wouldn't really know," she admitted, playing with the hem of her sundress. "I've never ridden a horse."

"Never?" he replied, looking shocked. She had to giggle at his flabbergasted expression.

"Not many horse stables around the estate," she reminded him with a wink.

"Well, we're going to have to fix that," he declared, pulling his mobile out again. He looked something up and then made a quick call. Moments later, he was pulling her up from the sofa, leaving her book behind, and helping her to step back into her sandals.

"Where are we going now?" she asked as he lead her from the store, waving at Gordon as they pushed out the door. John lifted his arm, signalling Alonso who was standing in his chauffeur uniform next to the Rolls Royce just across the street.

"Just you wait and see, Rose Tyler," he said with a waggle of his brows. Alonso held the door open for both of them and Rose climbed in with John right behind her. "Allons-y, Alonso!" he chirped cheerfully as the door snapped shut behind him.

Where they went next was a fancy boutique located near Harrods. The boutique specialised in riding wear and he and Rose each selected an outfit to wear for their next stop. Rose had paused by a display of fawn coloured breeches and raised an eyebrow at him. She was clever enough, she'd have to be dim not to realise then what his plans were, but her raised eyebrow indicated that not only was she on board with his line of thinking, but that perhaps she was looking forward to seeing him wear these velvety breeches she was now stroking her fingers across. He had then inclined his head towards the display of women's breeches and raised his own eyebrow at her, which made her eyes dance merrily as she grinned her tongue-touched smile at him.

After they were appropriately outfitted, they headed to a very well respected stable outside of London. John knew the owner, of course, and they were given four star treatment. They toured the stables first, meeting the horses and John enjoyed watching Rose's unmistakable delight over the large beasts. She confessed to him that the first time she'd been up close to a horse had been at the polo match earlier that week. They took things slow, getting Rose accustomed to the animal and eventually John helped her to get into the saddle. She looked amazing, perched on top of that horse. He swung onto his mount, years of experience dictating his actions. Together, they lead their horses out into the paddock where he talked her through walking and controlling the horse and eventually showed her how to trot. As with everything else so far this week, she was an eager learner.

Soon, she had enough confidence in her ability that John felt it was time to lead her out of the paddock and onto one of the trails that lead around the hills surrounding the stable. The sun was peeking through the clouds that had been hanging overhead all day so far, and the golden rays lit her up and set her off. Her laughter rung around, echoing off the trees around them and he found himself joining her more often than not. Her enthusiasm and vigour was catching and he was more than happy to catch it from her. They even raced a little on their way back to the stable, her giggling the entire way. John let her win, and she knew he let her win, but she still whooped with glee anyhow. He dropped from his horse and helped her from hers, his hands lingering on her hips as her feet touched the ground.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear as she hugged him tightly. John returned the sentiment to her, knowing he was thanking her for so much more than just a ride in the English countryside.

After they changed back into their proper clothes, John had Alonso take them back into the city. Maybe they could stop somewhere quiet and he could look over some papers for work. He wasn't sure to do next but Rose seemed to have an inspiration. She told Alonso to drop them off down by Trafalgar Square, and grabbing John's hand, she led him down to the Thames. He took his briefcase with him, just in case, which had Rose rolling her eyes at him. They found an ice cream vendor along the walk there and she had him buy them both a 99. John admitted to her that he had never had one before and Rose gaped at him with mock outrage.

As he tasted the sugary, soft-serve ice cream with the flakey chocolate bar sticking out of it, he began to see what she was going on about. Rose directed them over to a grassy knoll and plopped herself down un-selfconsciously underneath a tree, patting the grass next to her for him to join her. He set his briefcase down, thinking that maybe now was as good a time as any to look at the papers. He'd checked his mobile a few times since that morning and had received a series of increasingly panicked emails from Harry.

Rose reclined next to him as he shuffled papers, propped up on her elbow and licking languorously at her ice cream. He tried not to notice how her tongue darted out to lick at a drop threatening to travel down her hand and instead focused on the contract in front of him. His mobile rang, jangling his nerves and he answered it quickly, passing his 99 to Rose for her to hold while he dealt with this.

"What is it now, Harry?" he asked into the mobile in lieu of an actual greeting.

"John, I need you here in the office. Everyone is losing their minds over here," Harry complained.

"I think you can hold the fort for me for today," John said. "Now what's the big deal? Tell me so that I can get on with my day. I am taking the day off, do you remember what one of those is?"

"I guess I don't understand what's so great about spending a day with a whore when you could be here, ensuring our financial security," Harry sniped and John felt his blood begin to boil. He was getting very annoyed with his friend's constant disparaging of Rose. He wasn't sure what the whole motivation was, if it was just the business issues or if Harry was jealous or what. At that moment, he didn't really care.

He closed his eyes and marshalled his patience. "If you don't have anything to tell me, Harry, then I'm hanging up."

John listened as Harry caught him up on news about the Mott Industries deal. It was nothing new, nor terribly surprising to him and it was certainly something that could have waited. He was about to cut in and tell Harry to fill him in when he was back in the office tomorrow when Rose suddenly reached over and snapped the mobile out of his hand. Tapping the screen, she disconnected the call and then tucked the phone into her bra.

John gaped at her. "I was talking to someone."

"You were getting annoyed. Today is not about getting annoyed. It's also not about work, if you remember," she pointed out, handing him back his 99.

Sighing, he accepted it and gave the ice cream a good lick before it could melt any further and run down his arm. "Point taken," he admitted. "I think I learned my lesson."

Rose grinned at him. "Good boy."

"When do I get my phone back?"

"When I think you've earned it," she told him, reaching forward and tapping him on the nose.

Just when he was about to lose himself in a highly inappropriate fantasy about shagging her senseless on this grassy knoll in full view of all the tourists walking by, Rose jumped up. She brushed stray grass off the skirt of her sundress before extending a hand to help him to his feet. He gathered his papers and stuffed them back into the briefcase. "Where are we going now?" he asked. It seemed to be the question of the day.

She pointed over his shoulder and he turned and looked. He didn't see anything besides the standard London skyline and he turned back, a questioning look on his face. "What?"

"That!" she said, pointing still. He turned again and that's when he realised she was probably pointing at the London Eye.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Have you ever been on it?"

She shook her head and grinned. "Let's go!"

"Allons-y!" he agreed. When she wrinkled her forehead at him, he explained, "It means 'let's go' in French."

He took her hand in his and together they crossed the Westminster bridge and headed towards what might be the most ridiculous, most touristy location in all of London. Rose didn't care, of course. She was bouncing on her toes as they waited in line to board, her grin as wide as he'd ever seen it.

John couldn't say it was the most thrilling ride he'd ever taken. He'd seen more beautiful vistas in countless cities across the globe. But he'd never had a ride like this or seen a vista like this with Rose by his side. And watching her delight made it feel brand new to him. He felt the strongest urge to kiss her there, as the wheel neared the apex of its journey. He could just reach forward, cup her face in his hands, and bring her lips to his. He wanted so badly to do it and yet he knew she wouldn't welcome that advance from him. The knowledge of that and the reminder that their relationship was strictly business deflated him somewhat as they began their descent back to the ground below.

Rose took him to a chippy for dinner after their ride. Alonso had raised his eyebrows when she'd given him an address in East London to go to but had taken them there without additional comment. She explained to him that this was the chippy she'd always gone to when growing up on the estate. She hadn't had the happiest childhood, but she had many fond memories of this establishment and she assured him that they had the best chips in all of London.

The shop was something John never would have looked twice at before he met her. They looked a little out of place in their expensive clothes, but Rose acted so at ease that he soon relaxed. They laughed and chatted over a shared plate of chips and Rose regaled him with tales of growing up in this neighbourhood. She'd been a bit of a troublemaker growing up and he wasn't surprised to learn it. And John found that she was right. The chips here were darn good, even if he didn't entirely agree with her method of drowning them in malt vinegar and salt.

Alonso drove past the estate she had lived at with her mum as they left and Rose had looked sadly out the window. She clearly missed her mum and he hoped that someday they would be able to reconnect. She still had a chance to do that, to mend that relationship, unlike him. He didn't say anything right then, however. Instead, he just held her hand tightly as they drove out of the neighbourhood and back towards the hotel on the other side of town.

Back at the hotel, Rose was taking her time getting ready for bed in the en suite. She needed to get ahold of herself for one thing. Today had been… brilliant. From start to finish, it was just the perfect day. She'd been surprised when John had kept his word and stayed home from work. Then they'd showed each other some of their favourite things and, she thought, learned about each other in the process. The only problem was that the day had been too perfect. It had been too easy to pretend that this was just another day for the both of them, that they could do things like this together anytime they liked, that they were a proper couple. It'd been far too easy to think of them as together, instead of what they really were; employee and employer. As Rose brushed out her hair and removed her makeup, she reminded herself of that fact over and over again, repeating it in her head like a mantra.

She gave herself one last look in the floor length mirror before she left the en suite. She was wearing the fanciest nightgown she'd ever seen. No trashy lingerie for her this week, and this was the most elegant piece she'd purchased. It was white satin and delicate lace, a sheer lace diagonal panel starting under her breasts and wrapping around her body until it reached her hip, where the satin panel took over, leaving lace in the front to fall down her legs past her knees, also in a triangular shape. Elegant and tasteful and dreadfully sexy. Grinning at her reflection, she knew that John would love it.

But as she stepped back into the bedroom, she saw him sitting up in bed, clad only in his boxer briefs, with some papers in his lap. He was asleep. He was actually asleep. All week long she had never once seen him sleep. She knew he had, sometimes he had even stayed with her in the bed and she knew he had to have slept at some point. But to see him like this now, vulnerable in a way she hadn't seen him before, touched something in her. Carefully, she sat on the edge of the bed so as not to disturb him. She smiled fondly, collecting the papers and setting them on the night table. Then she took advantage of the rare opportunity to just study him, unguarded.

John really was lovely, a portrait of masculine beauty. A strong, firm jaw; a long, elegant nose. Freckles peppering his cheeks where his thick lashes rested in repose. He was thin, but strong, and she could see his strength in his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. His stomach was taut, a small line of hair leading from his naval down under the waistband of his pants. And his lips… they looked so soft and tender. She had a wild urge to feel them. Rose kissed the tip of her finger and then leaned forward slightly to press that finger against those lips. He stirred slightly at her touch, but didn't wake up. His lips felt nearly as luscious under her fingertip as she thought they might but she was frustrated with the lack of sensation. She wanted to really feel those lips.

Her heart was thundering in her chest as she leaned forward further, breathing in the heady, fresh scent of him. She pressed her lips to the freckles just under his left eye. He exhaled and she felt the puff of breath against her neck. Rose shivered as her insides clenched. She moved lower, just barely ghosting her lips over the corner of his mouth. Her nose brushed his and she looked at him for a moment before deciding to go for it. Her eyes drifted shut as she brushed her lips ever so lightly against his.

John jerked underneath her touch. She withdrew a little as her eyes flew open and she saw that his were open too. She stared at him, her heart still pounding, afraid that he would be angry. Instead, he was looking at her with wide and wanting eyes. She saw such naked need in those deep, brown depths that she leaned toward him again. It was another tentative brush of her lips against his; so soft she wasn't sure it was real other than the warm rush in her veins and the slight taste of him on her lips. She moved closer and gently applied more pressure, her tongue darting out for the slightest taste. His lips were so warm and soft and everything she imagined from feeling them against her skin so many times before. But, it was that pouty lower lip that really curled her toes. Not many men possessed something so kissable and she wasn't in the habit of doing this anyhow.

He shuddered beneath her before she felt his hands come up to cup her face, holding her in place as he pressed his lips back against hers. He sat up then, taking more command of the kiss, gently nibbling and darting his tongue out to brush along her lips, begging entry. She opened for him and his tongue slid in, gliding against hers as his fingers wound into the hair at the nape of her neck. This was more than just a kiss. This was her showing him that he was more than just a job. This was her, sharing herself with him as her lips danced across his. John sighed into the kiss and drew his hand up her back encouraging her forward. No words were spoken and they didn't need to be.

Rose moaned as he stroked his tongue into her mouth and the flavour of the kiss changed; deepened. John removed his hands from around her face and instead wrapped them around her, clutching her closer to him as he angled his mouth over hers. She found herself lightheaded and breathless and completely within his thrall. He was an excellent kisser and she found herself rather regretting not kissing him sooner. Oh, she knew she'd had her reasons, good reasons, but John was the sort that made it easy to break the rules. Besides, kissing was about an emotional connection and she thought it was past time that she stop pretending she didn't have one to John. Wise or not.

He pressed her back onto the bed, throwing a leg over hers so that he lay over her. He took her hands from where they rested at his waist and pressed them up onto the mattress on either side of her head. Smiling at her wickedly, he dipped his head down and kissed her breathless yet again. She gasped for air as his lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck. She was expecting an assault on that spot just below her ear that he'd discovered days ago but instead he kept moving down her body. He let go of her hands and she felt his fingers at the hem of her nightgown and he began to draw it up. She gently batted his hands away and took the hem herself, pulling it over her head. John took advantage of her momentary distraction to pull back and remove his own boxers. Once bared, he loomed back over her and she moved her hands to touch him but he growled at her, grabbing her wrists again and pulling them up, even with her shoulders.

"Keep them there," he instructed hoarsely, "or I shall have to tie you up." He cocked an eyebrow at her and she felt a shiver of desire chase through her at the mental image that popped up in her head, of her tied to the headboard and John tormenting her most deliciously as she writhed with want.

"Next time," she promised, her voice throaty.

In answer, John groaned and nipped at her clavicle before kissing down to her breasts. He didn't spend much time there, just long enough to blow a cool breath across each of her nipples. Rose arched her back against his mouth, mewling for more contact. He chuckled darkly, moving his hands to stroke at the soft flesh of her breasts as he continued to move down her body. He nipped at the curve of her ribcage, trailing his lips down over her stomach and pausing to taste the indentation next to her right hip. She arched towards him again and he brought a hand down to hold her hip in place.

"Eager, are you?" he asked darkly. He brushed his tongue over the crease at the top of her thigh, causing her to shudder.

"John… please," she moaned as he moved lower still. He removed his hands from her body and brought them around to her legs. Gently but firmly, he parted her legs, his thumb rubbing circles on the insides of her thighs. She squirmed a little more, suddenly aware of his intense scrutiny.

"Hold still," he murmured and he licked at his lips unconsciously, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. She didn't have long to wait before he dipped his head down and gave her a long lick with the flat of his tongue. That was just the prelude, however, and John soon settled down, getting right to work. Rose tried very hard to remain still but it was difficult, especially when he would flick his tongue just so against her clit or press his fingers just so up inside of her, grazing that one spot that always set her on fire. He played her like he would a piano, knowing exactly which keys to press, which notes to hit and when to slow the tempo and keep her thrumming on the edge. John seemed to truly enjoy doing this, humming with pleasure when he'd hit a particularly sensitive spot and rocking his hips into the mattress, belying his own excitement.

Rose kept her hands where he'd left them but she fisted them into the duvet, twisting and tugging as she was continually brought to the edge and backed off again. Sweat began to bead on her forehead and her breathing was laboured. Her thought process was jumbled up and she had just about enough coherence left to gasp out, "Please, oh god, I need you!"

John looked up at her then, angling his head and catching her eyes. His were dark and filled with promise and he seemed almost surprised to see the state he'd put her in. He shifted his attention then, sitting back and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes bored into hers and she could almost feel an electric storm sparking between them before he moved back up her body and lowered his head towards hers.

He searched her eyes for a moment and she stared back. She realised that this wasn't even just about the kiss or him wanting her or anything as trivial as all of that. This was about them, here in this bed, together. It felt important and large and tears suddenly sprung to her eyes unbidden. He swooped down and captured her lips with his, tasting and sampling and nipping; causing the blood in her veins which had just begun to cool to heat again. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she tasted the essence of herself on him. This wasn't sex, a small voice in her head told her. This was so much more than that. This was worship. This was love.

He reached between their bodies then, taking a hold of his erection and lining up the angles. She lifted her hips towards him eagerly as he began to push forward, into her body. He was gasping, grabbing at her shoulder and hip as he slid into her, inch by inch. Once he was fully seated, he remained still, breathing hard. She clutched at his shoulders, no longer caring if he didn't want her to move her hands, and held him close. She kissed at his shoulder and his neck until he lifted his head and she was able to kiss his lips properly. He responded quickly, nipping at her lips before he pushed his hips against hers. She gasped and rocked her hips back at him. They set up a slow, torturous rhythm, moving together in sync, spiralling towards pleasure together.

This coming together was so much different than all their other encounters. Rose felt her chest tighten as she held him closer to her. She was suddenly very afraid to let him go, to let him leave this moment with her.

"Oh, John," she moaned, overwhelmed with the emotions crashing through her.

He tucked his head into her shoulder as he thrust into her and she heard him groan her name and she knew she wasn't alone in this. That whatever this was that she was feeling, he was feeling it too. She was certain of it. It filled her with a surge of feminine power and purpose and she arched her hips up to meet his with renewed vigour.

"Come, love," she murmured into his ear and he shuddered, the muscles in his back vibrating under her fingers. "I'll be here to catch you."

John lifted up a little and hooked her left leg over his elbow as he continued to crash into her over and over again. He was hitting that spot within her on each thrust and she was crying out now, unable to hold back. With his other hand, he reached down and pressed and rubbed at her clit until the buildup of pressure was too much and she exploded underneath him. She became a wild thing; writhing and calling out and grabbing and scratching and arching. He slowed his hips as she came apart and she forced her eyes back open to see him staring at her with an expression of utter wonder. She floated back down and he began the relentless pace of his hips once more. Rose grabbed at his back, at his arse, pulling him to her and squeezing her muscles against him on each push. Finally, his movements became jerky and he stiffened, shouting out his release as he emptied into her.

Into her. She hadn't had him wear a condom. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She was on the pill, of course, and she wasn't the least bit worried. But this, like the kiss, was a sign of something more between them. It was trust and faith and closeness and she almost couldn't bear the sudden weight of it all. She held him to her as he shuddered through his climax, feeling the pulsing of him deep within her in a way that was so completely satisfying.

When he was spent, he moved off of her but pulled her against him so that she was tucked closely to his side. He wrapped her up in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head and she tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder. They held each other as their breathing steadied and evened out. Soon, he was still beneath her, his chest rising and falling and she was fairly certain he was asleep. She felt her emotions bubbling up in her chest and she could no longer hold them in. Stroking the soft hair on his chest, she murmured, "I love you."

A small weight was lifted from her then and she brushed a kiss against his skin as she drifted off to sleep at last.

Wrapped around Rose, John knew no better place he could be than right here, right now. What they'd just shared had been incredible and his mind was racing even as his body relaxed, trying to digest and comprehend it all. She'd kissed him at last. Waking up to feel her lips brushing against his had felt like a dream and it had taken him a few long moments before he'd been able to reason out that it was real and it was happening and she had initiated it.

After that, he'd stopped thinking. He'd only reacted to what his body was telling him, the hormones and emotions all mixing together and crashing through him like a violent tempest. Together, they'd been powerful and the sex had reflected that.

Sex? Is that all it was? She hadn't stopped to have him put on a condom. That had to mean something too. He'd remembered her saying she was on the pill, but using a condom seemed to be simple business practice for her. What did it mean that she hadn't insisted on it?Did it mean that this was no longer business? If so, how did he feel about that?

He'd asked her to stay at the beginning of the week because he'd wanted a professional. He'd grown tired of romantic entanglements in his life and the expectations that women often had of him and his attention. But he would be the first to admit that he was having difficulty thinking of Rose strictly in business terms. She was definitely more than that to him. He was just reluctant to examine what more she could be.

Complications. His life was full of them.

He was very nearly about to drift off to sleep again, feeling safe and satisfied with Rose's leg hooked between his, her fingers brushing through the hair on his chest, her lips kissing at the skin of his shoulder. And then, he heard it.

"I love you."

She'd whispered it and clearly she expected that he'd already fallen asleep. She loved him. He'd thought so, when she kissed him. He'd hoped so, as he'd stroked in and out of her body just moments before. But now it was fact and he felt… scared. As he felt her relax against him and drift off into her own sleep, he stared out at the room, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now.

Chapter 12

Chapter Summary

What next? Is there a solution that will work to keep John and Rose together? And what will John do about his business with Mott Industries?

THANK YOU to Kahki820 and Kelkat9 for putting up with me and being fantastic betas.

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The next morning, Rose woke to find herself alone in the bed. That wasn't unusual, of course, but after the night before, she'd rather hoped to maybe have him here with her in the morning. She stretched, feeling a delicious tightness in her muscles that only came after a night of great sex. They'd made love once more in the middle of the night; he'd woken her up by stroking at her stomach and legs and she'd instantly turned to him. He'd made love to her desperately, his movements frantic and possessive and she'd thrilled at the dominant nature of it all.

As she stood up from the bed, she remembered what she'd said aloud to the quiet room. She loved him. He hadn't heard her, but she'd still said it and she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach at the thought of it. It was true, every word of it. Rose wasn't sure at what point this last week that John had stopped being a client and had started being something more, but by last night the love had been all but bursting forth from her soul.

She went to the en suite and emerged a few minutes later; her face washed and dried, her hair brushed and a fluffy white robe wrapped cozily around her. She set out to find John and figured he'd be in the sitting room or the dining room. The dining room was where she found him, sitting at a table piled with all manner of breakfast foods, reading a paper, eating a bowl of oatmeal, and looking put together as he always did. Well, except for the suit jacket. He still had that off, leaving him in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. She was starting to wonder if he was doing it to her on purpose. She smiled fondly when she saw him.

"What are you thinkin' about, sittin' in here all by yourself?" she asked, walking over and sitting down in the chair next to him.

He glanced up at her and smiled. "I was just thinking… this will be our last night together. Then you'll finally be rid of me, hogging up all your time." He sounded casual but there was an edge underneath his voice.

She sighed, selecting a muffin and starting to nibble on it. "Well, you've been pretty tough to take," she admitted around a mouthful.

John set the newspaper aside and fixed her with a look. "My business is almost over, so I'll be going back to Edinburgh," he told her and she looked down at her hands. Knowing it was coming and voicing it were two different things. "I'd really like to see you again."

Rose looked back up at him, looking for a sign of… anything in his eyes. "You would?"

"Yes," he replied, earnest. "Yes, I would. I made some calls this morning and I've arranged for you to have a flat of your own, and a car, and a wide variety of shops guaranteed to suck up to you anytime you want to go shopping. It's all taken care of."

Her stomach fell. Why didn't this make her happy? Wasn't this the dream? Isn't this what she wanted? Instead, she felt emptiness in her chest. She sighed. "What else? Are you going to leave some money by the bed when you pass through town?"

John looked confused, maybe a little hurt. He leaned towards her. "Rose, it wouldn't be like that with us. I promise."

She lifted her chin and met his look squarely. "How would it be then?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck and tugged on his ear, two gestures which she knew meant that he was feeling uncomfortable. "Well, for one thing, it would get you off the streets," he said.

Rose shrugged, tossing the muffin back on the plate. She wasn't hungry anymore. "That's just geography," she replied softly. She stood up from the table and walked into the sitting room, suddenly needing space to breath, space to grieve. She stood by one of the floor to ceiling windows and gazed out at Hyde Park.

John joined her a moment later, standing awkwardly behind her. "Rose, what is it that you want?" he asked. "What do you see happening between us?"

"I don't know," she admitted, not turning around. Cars drove past and people hurried down the sidewalk, completely heedless of the way her heart was breaking right here, right now. He didn't say anything but she was aware of him shifting behind her. "When I was a little girl," she began softly, "my mum used to lock me in my room when I was being naughty. Which was pretty often, actually. I would pretend that I was a princess, locked away in a tower by the wicked queen, waiting for her shining knight to come rescue her. He would charge in on his horse, his colours flying in the wind and he would draw his sword… and he would save me. The wicked queen would be vanquished and he would take me away on his horse and we would live happily ever after."

She turned to face him, found him watching her carefully. "But never in all those times that I had that fantasy, did that knight ever say to me, 'Come on, babe, I'll put you up in a great flat.'" They looked at each other for a long moment, and she could feel the divide growing between them. She knew then that this wasn't something they'd be able to overcome. The differences were just too great.

The weight of Rose's words rested on his shoulders and he realised that his fantasy of being able to keep her was just that; a fantasy. In hindsight, it was foolish of him to even try to find a way to bring their lives together. But he'd had to try. After last night, he'd had to try.

The phone on a nearby end table began to ring, cutting the tension. John took a deep breath and answered it. "Yes?"

"I had to call." Harold Saxon's voice came over the line, already sounding wound up and excited. "I just got off the phone with Wilfred Mott. You won't believe this, he wants to meet with you today."

"What about?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. Business. Business was a good thing to focus on right now.

"He wouldn't say," Harry admitted. "But John, I think we've got him. His nuts are on the block. We've got him." He laughed, clearly delighted. "If he's really caving in, I want to get him to commit his stocks to us this afternoon."

John thought of the old man he'd met earlier that week, the shrewd and passionate man who'd built this incredible business. He felt a pit in his gut. He hated the thought of destroying everything Mott had worked his whole life to create and maintain, but he also craved the distraction that dealing with this business would provide. Besides, as soon as they got this whole deal taken care of once and for all, he'd could return to Edinburgh and start trying to get over this girl that had somehow gotten under his skin.

"No, it's no good," he told Harry. "If he's really caving in, I don't want to wait until this afternoon." Better to get out of here now and not have to deal with the reality that was this crumbling relationship with Rose. "Have Mott meet me downtown this morning. I'll be there in twenty minutes." John hung up the phone and turned to see Rose watching him with haunted eyes. He grabbed his suit jacket from where he'd left it earlier on the back of the sofa and slipped it on.

"I have to go now," he told her.

Rose stood stiffly, her arms around her torso. "Are you going to take Mr. Mott's company today?" she asked.

"It's a little more complicated than just taking, but yes."

She looked upset. "He was such a nice man. And you liked him! I just don't understand how you can do this to him."

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Rose, I want you to listen to me. Mott is a smart man and he realised that it would be better for his future and the future of his family if he cooperated with me."

"Right," she snorted.

Frustration rippled through him. "It's not any of your concern," he told her. "It's just… business. That's all."

"Business," she repeated, nodding.

"Yes. Mott made a business decision, as did I."

"So, it's all just business to you," Rose said, her voice laced with hurt. "Him. Me. Your life. Everything is just… business."

Her words were like a slap. "It's what I do for a living," he tried to explain. "It's how I make my money." She remained quiet, chewing her lip and determinedly not looking at him. He stepped up to her and rubbed his hands down her arms which she still had wrapped tightly around her. "I'll be back in a few hours and we'll talk okay? But I want you to understand, I heard everything you said before. This is just all I'm capable of right now. All of this, what I'm offering you, is a very big step for me."

Rose nodded, her eyes still downcast. "I know," she told him. "It really is a good offer for an escort like me. It's more than I ever could have hoped for. I'll think about it."

He felt a small kindling of hope in his chest. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her lips. "I've never treated you like an escort."

She smiled tremulously at him and whispered, "You just did."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time. Business first, he'd deal with this later. "I'll be back," he promised, before turning away and striding towards the door to the suite, grabbing his briefcase from the desk on his way out of the room.

Shireen stood at the reception desk in the lobby of The Lanesborough hotel, snapping her gum and rolling her eyes. The lady behind the desk was fixing her with such an expression that it was a wonder she didn't combust on the spot.

She'd just gotten back from a trip to Cardiff to visit her mom to find a pile of messages from Rose, all directing her to find her here at this posh hotel. Just what had she missed this week? How had Rose ended up here? She'd come by and had tried to go right up to the room but the staff were a little… stuffy. They hadn't let her even get to the staircase. And now, this handsome guy who'd introduced himself as Jack Harkness was calling up Rose on the phone, supposedly to verify the story that Shireen was telling about meeting her here in the first place. That's what didn't add up to her. Shireen knew she probably wasn't as classically pretty as Rose, but she looked alright. And of the two of them, Shireen definitely had the better wardrobe. Not classy enough for this place, obviously, but these were clearly people who had their heads stuck up their bums.

"Hello, Miss Rose, it's Jack Harkness down at the front desk," the handsome man was saying into the phone. "Could you come down here at your earliest convenience? There's someone here who wants to speak with you."

There was a pause and Shireen felt his eyes appraising her. "She says her name is Shireen Costello."

"Let me talk to her," she said, holding her hand out for the phone. "Come on, just let me talk to her."

Sighing, Jack murmured into the phone and handed it to her and she smiled falsely at him, snapping her gum extra loudly. She grabbed the phone and held it up to her ear. "Oi, Rose! Would you come down here? The sphincter police won't let me through," she grumbled.

Rose chuckled on the other end of the line. "Gimme ten minutes, I'll be right down," she said.

"Okay, sounds great." She handed the phone back to Jack who hung it up. "She's on her way," she told him smugly.

"That's lovely," Jack replied. Shireen made no move to leave the desk, instead opting to recline against it and fix everyone who gave her an odd look with a sneer.

"Mr. Harkness?" a man in a stiff looking uniform hurried up to Jack, looking urgent.

"Yes?"

"The window washer is refusing to come down," the man in the uniform told him.

Jack almost chuckled as he eyed her again. "It's a Saturday. You… wait here, please," he instructed, pointing at her. Then he hurried off with the other man to deal with whatever sort of crisis one who works at a posh hotel has to deal with. "Watch her!" he called to the lady behind the desk.

"Yes, sir," she chirped, continuing to fix Shireen with a hard gaze.

Shireen sighed. How could Rose stand it, spending a whole week here? She would go mad. Just then, she saw an elderly couple walk up to the reception desk, presumably to request a room. They were staring so openly at her that Shireen began to feel her skin crawl. But, her rule of thumb when she found herself in awkward situations was to turn it back around on whomever was making her feel that way to begin with. So she levelled the old man with a saucy grin. "Fifty quid, grandpa," she told him. "For seventy-five, the wife can watch."

They both gasped in horror before hurrying away. Shireen giggled as the lady behind the desk gaped at her, outrage painting her pinched features.

Rose and Shireen crossed South Carriage Road into Hyde Park. Shireen couldn't stop gawking at her and Rose flushed under her friend's scrutiny. She was wearing one of the more casual outfits she'd bought earlier that week; a white cotton lace skirt that danced around her knees, a sleeveless blue blouse with a cropped dark blue leather jacket worn over the top of it since there was a chill in the air today. Calf-high leather boots finished off the look and felt better on her feet than they had any right to. She'd left her hair down and had accessorised minimally with just some hoop earrings and bangle bracelets, not wanting to rub in Shireen's face her good fortune. Of course, it would appear she was doing that anyhow.

Sure enough, as they entered the park and headed toward the nearest fountain where Rose knew they'd find a bench to sit on and chat, Shireen angled her head and fixed her with a look.

"You look different," she remarked. Rose almost bristled.

"I feel different," she replied. The park was busy, despite the gloomy weather. Families were strolling around, couples walking hand in hand, young people sitting under trees and reading books. Rose found an unoccupied bench next to a fountain and sat, indicating for Shireen to sit next to her.

"I've been trying to call you all week long," Rose told her.

Shireen shrugged. "Yeah, I know. They told me at the Banana you were lookin' for me. I had all your messages on my mobile, but I didn't have enough money to buy more mobile minutes so I couldn't call you back or even listen to the messages. Then, I was in Cardiff with my mum and you know..."

"I asked you to come by on Monday, do you remember? I left money for you at the desk," Rose admonished.

"I was hidin' from Jimmy," she explained. "He got a little rough after you left the Blue Banana on Sunday night and he wanted more money and I didn't have any…"

"Well, if you'd picked up the money I left for you, you wouldn't have had to hide," Rose pointed out.

Her friend sighed. "I was busy. I had a life." These were excuses, Rose knew. Thin excuses at best. But she knew Shireen and she knew pushing her would do no good. "Anyway, I got the money. Thank you very much for saving my arse. Now Jimmy can get off of it."

"I hate the thought of that money going right to him, but if it helps you, then it's worth it," she said.

Shireen nudged her shoulder. "You know he was talking about you last night? He would laugh his bum off if he saw you in this outfit. I was afraid to hug you back at the hotel, thinkin' I might wrinkle you! You look really good, clean up real nice. Sure don't fit in back in the old neighbourhood lookin' like that, though I'm not sure if you ever really did."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Well, thanks, but it's easy to clean up when you've got the money to do it with."

"Yeah," Shireen agreed and picked at her nails for a moment. Then she asked, "So, when does he leave?"

Her eyes slid shut. She'd been hoping not to have to think about this. "Tomorrow."

"You get to keep the clothes?"

"Yeah," she replied, smoothing her skirt with the palm of her hand. "John asked me if I wanted to see him again. But I've been thinking… yeah, definitely no. It was just another week, right?"

Shireen was watching her closely. "Definitely no?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, no," she groaned, shaking her head and sitting back against the back of the bench. "Oh, you didn't."

"What?" Rose asked, touching her hair self-consciously.

"I know this weepy look on your face," Shireen said, gesturing at her knowingly.

"Oh, you do not!" Rose protested, suddenly seeing where she was going with this.

"You fell in love with him!"

"No, Shireen. Please, stop it."

"You've fallen in love with him? Seriously?"

"Shireen!"

She sat up and inched closer to her, peering at her over the tops of her sunglasses. "Did you kiss him? On the mouth?"

"Yes, I did," Rose replied as primly as she could.

"You kissed him on the mouth?" Shireen repeated incredulously.

"I did. It was nice." She fought the desire to snort at her own words. Nice. 'Nice' didn't even begin to cover it.

"You fall in love with the guy and then you kiss him on the mouth?" Shireen cried. "Did I not teach you anything about this business?"

Rose took a deep breath and faced her roommate and friend. "Look, I'm not stupid, okay? I'm… I'm not in love with him." The words felt like dust in her mouth; she wanted to choke on them. "I just… I like him, is all."

Shireen looked doubtful. "You like him?"

"Yeah."

"You definitely like him." She paused and considered her. "Well, he's not some tosser. He's a rich, classy guy."

Rose fidgeted under Shireen's scrutiny. "Who's gonna break my heart, right?"

"Oh, no. Come on… you don't know that!" Shireen said. "Hey, he asked to see you again, right? Maybe you guys could, I dunno, get a house together. Buy some diamonds. And a horse. I don't know!" Rose gave her friend a bland look and had to chuckle. "It could work! It happens!"

"When does it happen, Shireen?" she asked quietly, seriously. "When does it really happen like that? Who does it work out for? Did it work out for Bambi? Or Keisha? No!"

"Those were very specific cases of bagheads," Shireen pointed out.

"I just wanna know who it works out for," Rose said, feeling the utter hopelessness of her situation pressing in on her. "You give me one example of someone that we know that it has happened for."

"Name someone?" Shireen looked thoughtful.

"Yeah. One person that it has worked out for."

"You want me to give you a name."

"Yeah."

"Oh, god. The pressure of a name!" Shireen groaned, pressing on her temples as she tried to think up an example. Rose sighed, about ready to declare her point when Shireen's head popped up, a triumphant smile on her lips. "I know! Cinder-fuckin'-rella." Then she burst out laughing and Rose had to join her. A fairy tale, of course. The thing was, fairy tales never came true for girls like her. Even Shireen would have to admit that was true.

Alonso dropped John off in front of the building that housed his offices and instead of briskly striding through the doors, John paused to watch a man and his boy playing on the grassy area just adjacent to the building. The man was dressed in a sharp suit, he must work in the same building or one nearby and the boy was obviously his son, perhaps come to visit him at work, or dropping him off at work. Who knew? But the image the two painted together was one that arrested his attention.

The man chased his son around, the little boy giggling and shrieking with delight. The happiness on the man's face was undeniable. Here was a guy who didn't care if he looked foolish to anyone who was watching. He was enjoying time with his son and doing his damnedest to make the boy laugh. The man picked the boy up, making him squeal with glee, before shifting him around ride on his back and together they trotted around a tree, both of them laughing now. John felt a pulling in his chest as he watched them. He was afraid to even put words to that pulling. It was too close to yearning. That could be him. And he knew without even having to think about it who he would want to share in that dream life with him. His throat closed and he tore his eyes away from the vision.

It was also about fathers and sons. He'd never had that relationship with his own father. He didn't even have any grandparents and he found he envied Donna Noble's relationship with her grandfather. Wilfred Mott obviously doted on his granddaughter and John felt wistful for the connection that they had. His life seemed very empty these days and he wanted like he'd never wanted before to fill it. Maybe if he had the guts to do what he really wanted to do in this meeting this morning, he could make some steps towards that goal.

Shaking his head to clear it, John continued into the building where the focus for this whole trip to London awaited his attention.

In the conference room, the players were all assembled. Wilfred Mott sat at the head of the table, his back stiff with pride but he looked older than he had a few days ago. He looked beaten and tired. Donna sat at his right side, shuffling through some papers and looking unsettled and angry. John sat at the other end of the table with Harry at his right hand. A few others from the office filled in the other seats, all of them with heads down, taking notes. John's mind was racing through how this meeting was expected to go and what his gut was currently screaming at him.

"Mr. Mott, you said to me this morning that you wished to speak to Mr. Smith," Harry said, barely containing his glee. John shot him a warning look and he coughed, settling himself. "Mr. Smith is now listening." John felt the restless energy inside of him threaten to burst out and he got up from his chair, pacing around the table. Harry looked at him questioningly, but John gestured that it was okay.

Wilfred Mott looked up at him as he walked past and John saw the eyes of a man who was trying to retain as much of his dignity as he could. "I've reconsidered my position on your acquisition offer," Mr. Mott said. "After the expected filing period is over, I'm going to recommend to the board that we accept your bid."

John nodded but didn't feel the surge of triumph that he'd expected to feel. "You're making the right decision, sir." He didn't miss the way Harry grinned at him.

"I only have one condition," Mr. Mott said, drawing in a breath. "I'm not so concerned about me, but the people who work for me…"

"That won't be a problem," Harry assured Wilf. "They will all be taken care of." Giving John a long look that clearly asked if he knew what he was doing, he reached for the papers on the table and began to pass them around to everyone. "If we can get these letters of intent out of the way now, Mr. Smith and I have some questions to ask you about your company."

"Excuse me, grandfather, but this is all very inappropriate," Donna cut in, glaring at both Harry and John. "We are under no obligation to answer any questions at all."

"Could we wait until after the filing period to discuss all of this?" Mr. Mott asked.

Harry looked to John to see what he thought but he just turned to the window again, looking out on the city. This was wrong. So wrong.

"Mr. Smith is preparing a bid based on our speculation of the company's net worth. The price he ultimately pays for your grandfather's stock will be based on that bid. The more we know now, the higher our bid can be," Harry explained.

"It's in my best interest to cooperate, Donna," Wilf said gently, reaching over to pat her hand reassuringly.

Donna was distinctly displeased, however. "If he throws himself on your sword," she said, addressing John directly, "do you promise to take care of him?"

"Now, that's not fair," Harry cut in.

"You bet it's not," Donna spit back, turning her glare on Saxon. He shrank back a little. "It's not fair that we have to deal with this at all. And you!" She turned back to John. "You are everything he said you were." Then she turned back to her grandfather and patted his back, smiling gently at him. "You do what you have to do, grandfather. I'll support you, even if I'm not happy about it."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Wilf said, his eyes shining as he smiled back at her. John tried to swallow but found his throat dry.

"Well, then, gentlemen and ladies," Harry announced, "if we could address ourselves to the contracts in front of you. If you look at-"

John squeezed his eyes shut and held up his hand. "Excuse me, Harry," he said curtly. He took a deep breath. "Gentlemen and ladies, I would like to speak to Mr. Mott alone. Thank you."

Harry nodded, "All right, people. You heard the man. Please wait outside," he instructed.

Everyone got up and began to file out of the room dutifully. John looked to his friend. "You too, Harry."

He chuckled nervously. He looked from John to Wilf and Donna who were looking at the two of them curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I would like to speak to Mr. Mott alone," John repeated. "I have a few questions for him before he signs." Harry's lips thinned as he grimaced at him, his eyes hardening.

He gestured to Donna angrily. "Why does she get to stay?"

"Please," John said, stopping in front of his friend and putting a hand on his arm. Harry looked up at him, and his expression was unfathomable. "Please." Meanwhile, Wilf was nodding at Donna and she began to collect the papers in front of her and stand from her seat.

Harry glanced to where Donna was moving away from the table and towards the door and nodded reluctantly. "Okay, fine," he finally acquiesced. "I'll be right outside."

"Good," John replied with a firm nod of his head. "Thank you."

He walked towards the open door and stood next to it as Donna squeezed out past him, studiously not looking at him. Harry gave John one last look as he closed the door with a quiet click. John exhaled and turned towards the window overlooking the city. He turned back to Wilf and saw that the glare from the window at John's back was making him squint. He found the controls for the blinds and worked them, dimming the room. "Is that better?" he asked Wilf.

Wilf nodded, still looking at him cautiously. "Yes, that's all right."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he offered, gesturing towards the tea service that was set up on a nearby table. The older man nodded, relaxing a little.

"Please. Black, 1 sugar."

John busied himself preparing tea for them both, trying to gather his thoughts and his courage. Turning back to Mr. Mott, he handed him a cup of tea which he accepted gratefully. John took a long sip of his own cup before setting it down on the conference table, taking a seat next to Wilf and exhaling noisily.

"Mr. Mott, my interests in your company have changed," he announced, meeting the other man's gaze squarely.

Wilf's forehead crinkled and he looked deeply suspicious. "What is it you're after now, Mr. Smith? You've already all but bled me dry."

John tried not to cringe and decided to take another sip of his tea to cover it. "Well, I no longer wish to buy your company and take it apart," he admitted. Wilf's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he stared at him in disbelief. "But I don't want anyone else to do it, either. Your company is still extremely vulnerable. And so I find myself in… unfamiliar territory."

He paused and Wilf was still staring at him as if he didn't know whether or not to believe him. John smiled, wanting so much to please this man whom he barely knew but whom he'd already grown to respect so much. "I want to help you," he told him.

Wilf finally found his voice. "Why?" he asked, his voice cracking a little.

That was the question, wasn't it? Why did he want to help this man? Part of it was the desire to build something instead of just take it apart, like he'd told Harry a few days before. And part of it was wanting to do what was right. He felt that helping Mott Industries was the right thing to do. Rose would want him to, a little voice in his head said. He smiled ruefully. That was true, too.

"Mr. Mott, I think we can do something very special with your company," he told him earnestly.

"What about our MoD contracts?" Wilf asked, looking like he was just starting to let himself believe that John was being earnest with him.

"They weren't really dead," John admitted, looking a little sheepish and rubbing at the back of his neck. "Just delayed. I may have… bluffed a little bit on that."

Wilf chuckled and his whole face lit up as he laughed. "You're very good at it."

John smiled genuinely. "Thank you very much," he said. "It is my job, after all."

The two men smiled fondly at each other for a moment before John got back to his feet. Wilf followed him, looking so grateful that it made John's heart twist. "I think we can leave the details up to the others," John told him.

Wilf nodded and then looked at him, placing a strong hand on his arm. "I find this hard to say without sounding condescending but… I'm proud of you."

John had to blink back the tears that had suddenly sprung to his eyes. He had to look away as he controlled himself. This man's approval somehow meant so much to him. Taking a deep breath, he met Wilf's eyes again. "Thank you," he told him. "I think we can let the other suits in now, don't you?"

Wilf gestured for the door, for John to open it and he smiled. The others waited anxiously on the other side of the door and Harry all but pounced on him as he opened it. "Let's continue the meeting," John instructed, stepping aside for everyone to file back in.

Wilf stood at the head of the table, brimming with renewed confidence. He smiled at everyone and gestured at the chairs. "Come in, gentlemen. Sit down."

Harry cornered John as he tried to edge out of the room. "John, please. What was this all about? What's going on?" he asked, his voice sounding desperate.

"It's all yours, Harry," John told him, patting him on the arm and squeezing past him out the door. "Finish it up!"

Harry turned to the conference table to leaf through the contracts. "Hold it! Hold it… These aren't signed! John! Why aren't these signed?" he shouted. John smirked and kept walking away from the room. "Could someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?"

As John moved down the hallway, feeling a blooming of satisfaction in his chest, he could hear Wilfred Mott's voice. "Mr. Smith and I are going to build ships together. Great big ships!"

John chuckled as he imagined the outraged look on Harry's face. He paused by Lynda's desk before stepping to the lifts. "I think I'm going to go for a walk for a bit, clear my head," he told her. "Stay here for a while, keep me posted if anything major happens. I'll be back in a little while."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Smith," she said, smiling at him.

John strode into the lift, feeling better about his work than he had in longer than he cared to remember. This was right. The pieces were all falling into place for his business. Now, if he could just get the other pieces of his life to fit together so nicely. Maybe a good walk along the Thames would clear his mind and he was sure a 99 cone wouldn't hurt.

Chapter 13

Chapter Summary

The situation between John and Rose reaches a head and much angst ensues.

Thank you so much to Kelkat9 for the beta and to fogsblue for giving it a read through for me!

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John removed his shoes and socks, tucking the socks neatly inside the shoes before setting them aside. He flexed his toes and then stood up, feeling the sensation of the grass between his toes. It was cold, yes. It was a cooler day today; autumn was finally arriving. The grass also felt good, it felt freeing. He walked around a bit on a little knoll in Jubilee Park. Tall buildings made of glass and steel surrounded him, a shopping mall beneath his feet and clouds over his head. He smirked a little… London was a different place than Edinburgh. He had a moments yearning to share Edinburgh and the rest of Scotland with Rose. He wanted to show her the things about his native country that spelled home for him.

But could he take her back there with him? Would she even want to go? John rather thought she would, given her reaction to his offer of a flat here in London this morning. But could he bring her into his life? He thought of all the relationships he'd ruined over the years and he just couldn't bear to do that to Rose. He'd seen the way his girlfriends had grown bitter and hard towards him, cynical and detached. If he ever had to see Rose look at him like that, with disgust or even hate, he wouldn't be able to bear it. Because he would know that he'd done it to her. He couldn't stand the guilt of that on top of everything else.

John flexed his toes again and inhaled a deep breath. Change was in the air. He was already changing his business. He was combining the forces of Smith Enterprises with Mott Industries to actually build something and do some good. He was excited to embark on the new venture and he was also excited to work with Wilfred Mott. He did like the old man. Hearing him say that he was proud of him earlier had filled him with a glowing sense of well being that he hadn't felt in years. Someone was proud of him.

Wonders never ceased.

But now that Mott was taken care of, he needed to focus on the problem that was Rose. He wanted very badly to see her again after this week, but not if the arrangement was going to make her unhappy. He'd heard what she'd said last night and he so desperately wanted to return those affections to her. What was stopping him? He'd grown a conscience this week, mostly because of Rose's influence. He wasn't naive. She made him want to be a better man, to put a slightly trite spin on it. The man he used to be would have likely been more concerned with his own ambitions and less about her happiness.

But he'd begun doing the right thing today and he didn't want to stop now. And he knew, in his heart, that letting Rose go was the right thing. He wanted to take care of her, make sure she had a better life. That was why he'd secured her the flat. He wanted her to not have to work as an escort if she decided she didn't want to. The urge to take care of her, to protect her, was overwhelming. But he knew that kind of possessive emotion would only lead to him trying to keep her and she'd made it clear that morning she didn't wish to be kept.

So, he'd let her go and save her from himself.

Rose was just folding the last of the clothes she'd purchased into a suitcase that John had told her to buy ("You can't go carrying these gorgeous dresses back to Whitechapel in a bin bag!" he'd protested) when there was a chiming noise, indicating someone was at the suite doors. Curious, she moved to the foyer. She wasn't expecting anyone. She reasoned that it could be Jack Harkness or another one of the employees from downstairs with a delivery. A few times in the last several days Jack had brought things to their suite himself, just so they could chat a little. He was a nice guy. She didn't just think that because he'd helped her when she needed it most. There was a warmth and compassion in his eyes and she could tell that he respected her. Rose didn't feel respect from other people very often, especially not men, so receiving it from him meant everything to her.

Rose crossed the suite to the foyer and opened the door. She was surprised to find Harold Saxon standing there. He looked as slick and venomous as ever in his three piece suit. The barrister grinned at her easily, looking as though he had no care in the world. "Well, well! Hello again, Ms. Rose I'm looking for John," he said.

"Hello, Mr. Saxon," she greeted, looking behind him as if she expected to see John standing behind him.

"Oh, please call me Harry," he replied smoothly.

Rose licked her lips nervously and backed up a little as he strode confidently into the suite, shutting the door behind him. "John's not here. I, uh, I thought he was with you."

Harry chuckled and it was a distinctly unhappy noise. "No. No, John is definitely not with me," he said, dryly. "No, if John were with me… Actually, no. When. When John was with me, he did not blow off billion pound deals."

Now, Harry's face was twisted with bitterness and Rose turned and walked swiftly into the sitting room, wanting to put some distance between her and him. But he followed her, his steps deliberately casual. "I think that John is actually with you. That's what I think. Do you know what he did today? Did he tell you he was going to do it? Because it sure shocked the hell out of me. He wants to join forces with Mott. Even now, I can't quite believe it."

Rose grabbed at the back of the sofa for support as Harry paused next to the beverage service and ran a finger along the carafe of scotch. "Mind if I have a drink?" he asked conversationally. Without waiting for an answer, he began to pour himself a glass. He offered it to her first. "Do you want?"

"N-no," she stammered and then cursed herself internally for sounding so scared. "No, thank you." There, that sounded stronger.

"Well," he drawled. "Maybe I'll just wait here until John gets back." Harry knocked back the drink and then looked at her, his eyes glittering as they traveled down her body and back up again. Rose felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

"Uhm, he'll will be back very soon. Any minute, he'll be home," she pointed out. Maybe her intuition was wrong. Maybe he was just looking for John, maybe he'd had a few drinks before he got here, maybe he just needed to sit down and chill out and maybe she was just overreacting.

"You know," he said, chuckling again and raising an eyebrow at her, "this is not home. This is a hotel room. A very posh hotel room, but still. A hotel room. And you are not…" he trailed off, eyeing her breasts rather obviously. He licked his lips. "The little woman."

Rose backed up, moving around the sofa so that it was between them. She was starting to lose hope that she was imagining things and started to scan for weapons out of the corner of her eye. Harry sauntered around the couch, drawing close to her. She was running out of ground to retreat to.

"You are a whore," Harry told her simply, coldly. "Maybe you're a very good whore, you know? John does have excellent taste, after all. I've always admired that about him. Maybe if I shag you, then I wouldn't care so much about losing millions of pounds."

She was cornered now, the backs of her knees against a wingback chair. She tried to keep her back straight as she faced him, but it was difficult as he stroked a finger over her cheek and down her neck, pausing at the neckline of her blouse. "And, I have to be honest with you, Rose," Harry murmured, his voice dark. "Right now, I really do care. I really, really do. And I'm pissed too. You know?" He stepped up even closer, and she could feel his body pressing into hers. "Right now, I am just freaking out. So maybe if I shag you… and take you to the opera, and buy you all these fancy clothes, maybe then I could be a happy bloke just like John."

Rose made a movement to slap him but he caught her wrist easily. He grabbed the other wrist and turned her around, steering her back towards the sofa. She tried to kick at him but he overpowered her easily, pushing her back onto the sofa before pinning her underneath him. She felt an overwhelming need to fight and she tried, kicking her arms and legs for all she was worth.

"Get off me!" she yelled. But Harry kept her pinned and he began to yank at the hem of her blouse, trying to pull it up. She grabbed his wrist and yanked it to her mouth, biting hard on the side of his palm.

"Ow!" he cried, recoiling. He glared at her for one long moment before he swung at her, backhanding her across the cheek and sending her sprawling down to the floor. Before she could recover and regain her feet, he was back over her and now he was drunk and angry and she knew her chances were all gone. "Come on, Rose. Come on! I'll pay for it!"

"Get. Off. Me!" she screamed, flailing in earnest, but it was no use as he groped her firmly through her clothes. His fingers bit into her skin painfully as she struggled against him.

"How much are you?" he growled, snaking a hand up her skirt and tearing at her knickers and the panic went right to her brain. "Twenty quid? Thirty? Maybe even fifty? Are you a fifty quid whore, Rose?"

Then, Harry was flying off of her and it was so incongruous that Rose had a moment's confusion. John's voice was like a miracle. "Get off of her!" he yelled. "What do you think you're doing?!"

She scrambled back up onto the sofa in time to see John struggling with Harry, pulling him away from the sofa by the lapels of his suit jacket. The two men struggled, pushing at each other and grappling for the upper hand.

"Stop!" John grunted as Harry fought against him. "Just get out of here!" He propelled the other man towards the foyer, pushing him so that he sprawled onto the floor just outside the sitting room. John whipped around to look at her, his eyes searching hers. Rose rubbed her cheek but gave him a little nod to indicate that she was okay. He turned back to Harry who was scrambling to his feet.

"What's the matter with you, John? Jesus," Harry spat, brushing at his suit. "She's just a whore! She's just a goddamn-"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence before John's fist connected solidly with his nose, making an audible cracking noise and sending him falling back to the floor again. Rose cringed. John shook his hand, wincing a little, but he fixed Harry with a fierce look. "Don't you ever call her that again!" he told him menacingly, his brown eyes flashing.

Harry struggled to his feet again, his fingers cupping his nose which was now bleeding profusely. "Shit! Goddamn it, John, I think you broke my nose!"

"Get out of here before I do worse than that," John warned, stepping threateningly toward him. Harry backed off, looking incredulous.

"What is wrong with you?" he cried. "Come on, John. I gave you fifteen years! I've devoted my whole life to you!"

"That is bullshit!" John roared. He got up in Harry's face. "That is such bullshit! It's the kill you love, not me! I made you a very rich man doing exactly what you love to do."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, looking a little worried for the first time.

"I'm saying you're fired. Now get out," he growled. The other man didn't move, just gaping at him. "Get out!"

Harry stared at him for a moment longer. He glanced at Rose over John's shoulder, the look made her shiver, before turning and walking out. John followed after him, slamming the door forcefully behind him.

Rose was lying back on the sofa, her head propped on a throw pillow. John sat next to her, taking ice from a bucket and placing it in a thick napkin to make an impromptu ice pack. After he'd slammed the door on Harold Saxon, he'd called down to the front desk and asked for Jack Harkness. He'd instructed Jack to be on the look-out for Saxon and to have him escorted from the property. Without trying to reveal too much, he'd filled Jack in on what had happened and had been pleased to have Jack's full support. John had been assured that Harold Saxon would not be bothering them any longer.

"Why do blokes always know how to hit a woman right across the cheek?" Rose was asking rhetorically. "Wham! And it feels like your eye is gonna explode! What do they do? Do they pull you aside in high school and show you all how to do this?"

John regarded her for a moment before cupping her cheek with one hand and with the other, gently placing the ice pack against her already bruising skin. She flinched and sucked in a breath. His jaw was clenched. The mere fact that Rose was no stranger to men hitting her did awful things to his insides. Again, he felt a surge of protectiveness that compelled him to want to keep her from this kind of life.

"Not all guys hit," he told her, his voice tight. "And no one is going to hit you again." John stroked at the other side of her face with his finger tips and she stared up into his eyes. She put on such a tough front, for him and for everyone else. But he could see the vulnerability beneath that front and he knew that she was just as tender as anyone else. Perhaps even more so.

"Right," she quipped, her voice harsh. She didn't believe him. "I heard about what you did with Wilf," she continued in a softer tone. She reached up to touch his hand as it held the ice to her cheek. His skin tingled.

He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "It was a business decision." Rose met his eye and the knowing look made him sigh. "I got tired of hating my father."

"It was good," she replied firmly.

John relaxed a little, and smiled. "It felt good." Again, they stared at each other and he wanted very badly to lean forward and kiss her. He began to move towards her but stopped when she tapped at the hand holding the ice.

"I think I'll be okay," she told him and then she began to try to sit up. He leaned back to give her space. "I need to get going."

A pit settled in his stomach as he sat back and she sat up stiffly next to him. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I'd noticed you were all packed," he murmured. His throat burned. "Why are you leaving now? I'm not going back to Edinburgh until tomorrow."

He could feel her trembling next to him. "John, there'll always be some bloke, some friend of yours even, thinkin' he can treat me like Saxon did. Thinkin' that it's allowed or okay because of who I am… er… was." She stumbled over the last bit and her forehead creased. Then she refocused on him. "What are you gonna do? Are you gonna beat up everybody for me?"

"I could," he told her. He brushed a finger over the back of her hand where it rested on the sofa between them. "I'd be happy to."

She smiled sadly. "I can't ask you to do that."

"That's not why you're leaving," he pointed out. He didn't want to tell her that he'd heard her admission to him last night but he also knew that she was trying to protect herself. He couldn't blame her, not since he wanted to protect her from himself as well. But it still hurt.

She stood up shakily. "Look, you made me a really nice offer," she admitted. "A few months ago, it would have been no problem. It would have been a dream come true. But now, everything is different. You changed that. And I can't go back. I want more." Her fingers shook as she smoothed her hair. John got to his feet too and he resisted taking her hands in his by shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I know all about wanting more," he told her. "I practically invented the concept. The question is… how much more?" He pretty much knew the answer to his question already but he needed to hear it. Maybe hearing it would make it easier to let her go. Either that or he'd take her in his arms and never let her leave.

Rose bit her lip and met his gaze. Her whiskey coloured eyes were full of tears. "I want the fairy tale," she whispered. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. She wanted everything from him. Except unlike all his former girlfriends, it wasn't the money. She wanted all of him and all of his heart. Oh, he was tempted. He reminded himself that he would ruin her. He opened his eyes again and Rose turned away, moving towards the master bedroom to retrieve her suitcase.

"Impossible relationships," he muttered to himself before he followed after her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting her heels back on. "My special gift is impossible relationships." He reached into his suit jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope. In it was the three thousand pounds they had agreed on. He offered it to her.

She looked at it for a long moment before plucking it from his fingers. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied. He also pulled out a business card. He'd scribbled his home phone and address on it and all manner of methods for her to reach him. He passed it to her as well and she turned it around in her hands. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, you give me a call."

John knew it was unlikely that she would. The lump in his throat grew.

"I had a good time," she admitted, getting back to her feet. Rose took his hand and squeezed it.

He nudged her shoulder with his. "I did too." She reached for her suitcase and he handed her a few garment bags that had been slung across the bed. "Would you like me to get you a bell boy?"

"I got it," she assured him.

"I'll carry this," he said, taking her suitcase from her and walking with her to the foyer.

He opened the door but quickly shut it and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut. "Stay," he gasped. He opened his eyes to find hers on him. "Stay the night with me. Please. Not because I'm paying you to, but because you want to." He was weak. So weak. But he couldn't help it; he wasn't ready to let her go just yet.

"I do. I want to, you don't even know," she whispered, her voice shaking. "But don't you see? I know what I want now and I want you for real. Not because of what you can buy me or where you can take me. The nicest thing you've done for me this week is hold my hand and listen to me. Can you give me that? Forever?"

John swallowed and the pressure in his jaw from keeping it clamped shut was starting to become painful. He stayed quiet and he saw Rose slump next to him.

"I didn't think so," she murmured. Tears spilled out of her eyes and he reached out to brush them away with his thumbs.

"Rose," he began, not knowing what he could say.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You're right," she assured him and she looked him right in the eye. Though hers were filled with tears, they shone with strength. "I can't settle for less. And I can't stay here tonight even though I want to so badly."

Disappointment burned in him like fire but he understood. He understood because he felt the same. If he didn't let go of her soon, he never would. Rose was right. No, this was for the best.

"Goodbye," he whispered and he opened the door for her again.

Rose began to move past him, taking the suitcase from his hand. She paused in the doorway and turned back to him. "I think you have a lot of special gifts," she murmured. She leaned up and kissed his cheek softly before she turned and hurried away towards the staircase, never once looking back.

John shut the door and leaned back against it. He felt horrible. He'd thought this could be a clean break, that he could pay her and let her go and get on with the business of life again but he felt like he was breaking in two. It took every ounce of his willpower to not rip the door open and race after her.

Rose Tyler descended the staircase to the lobby for the last time. She was trying to keep her head held high, trying to keep her tears at bay. She didn't want to go running out of The Lanesborough, sobbing. And she didn't want to run the risk of her willpower breaking and sending her running back up to John's suite.

She saw Jack Harkness across the lobby talking to the doorman about a smudge on the marble floor. Mustering a smile, she crossed to him and he looked up, surprised to see her. She saw him notice the bruise forming on her cheek, garment bags and suitcase in her hand and a look flickered across his features.

"Hi, Jack," she said warmly.

"Miss Rose," he returned. He nodded at the doorman, excusing him.

"I wanted to say goodbye," she explained and bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from bursting into tears at his disappointed and sympathetic smile.

"Well, then," he began, looking sad himself. "I gather you're not accompanying Mr. Smith to Edinburgh?"

Rose took a deep breath and blinked back a new wave of emotion. "Come on, Jack. You and I live here in the real world. Most of the time."

He nodded, seeming to understand her meaning. "Have you arranged for transportation?"

"I was thinking I'd call a cab," she told him, shrugging.

Jack's smile was genuine. "Allow me," he said and he signalled to someone over her shoulder. "Alonso?"

John's chauffeur this past week trotted up to them. "Yes, sir?"

"Please take Miss Rose anywhere she wishes to go," Jack instructed, never taking his eyes off of Rose.

Alonso nodded. "Yes, sir." He stepped forward and took the suitcase and garment bags from Rose before hurrying off to stow them in the Rolls Royce.

Jack took her hands in his and squeezed. "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Rose," he said earnestly. "Please, don't ever forget that you're worth fighting for. You promise me that?"

Rose's heart tripped in her chest. She nodded. "I will, Jack. I won't forget."

"Come and visit us again sometime," he said, lifting one of her hands to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

She grinned at him then, knowing she would miss him. "Stay cool, Jack," she told him. Before she lost her nerve again, she turned and walked out the doors to where the Rolls Royce and Alonso were waiting for her.

He held the door open and she slide into the back seat. Her fingers curled into the leather seat for the last time as Alonso got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. The knot in her chest was rising, threatening to spill forth. In a moment of weakness, she turned and looked out the rear window at The Lanesborough, already fading from view as Alonso drove away.

John was there and she was leaving him. This hurt far worse than she'd expected it to. She tried to push aside the wild thought that this was the stupidest mistake she'd ever made (which was quite an achievement considering all the mistakes she'd made in her life so far). She was doing the right thing, she reminded herself. It was right for her and for John and it just had to be this way. Because fairy tales do not exist.

Jack Harkness was still at work, much to his displeasure. But, as he'd grumbled earlier in the day, it was a Saturday and if anything was going to go wrong at The Lanesborough, it would go wrong on a Saturday. Employees called in sick with hangovers, contractors became pedantic and guests became cranky and contrary. As a result of being short staffed and having all manner of things going wrong all day long, Jack had been forced to stay late to sort things out . This meant that he'd been unable to meet Ianto Jones for drinks which only made him extra aggravated.

It was late now, well after midnight. He finally had things sorted and Harriet Jones had assured him over and over that she had a handle on everything. She was practically pushing him out the door now and Jack could take a hint. He wasn't interested in hanging around here any longer than he had to, anyhow.

He was walking past the restaurant on his way out and peeked in to see the usual staff working to clean up and prepare for the morning crew. Music reached his ears and he realised there was someone at the piano. He paused for a moment and decided that whomever it was, they were very good with the piano. Knowing his night was shot anyhow, Jack ducked into the restaurant to have a look and a listen.

What he saw as he approached the piano was John Smith, hunched over the keyboard. His fingers were flying over the keys, pouring out a mournful melody that made Jack's throat constrict. There was a nearly empty bottle of scotch and a glass on the edge of the piano and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Mr. Smith was drunk. He was also miserable, if the music that was pouring out of his fingers was any indication.

Jack eased into a chair near to where John was playing. The music was haunted, his posture was defeated and when Jack caught sight of his face, he saw the face of a man who looked withdrawn into himself. He didn't have to guess why John looked this way; he could put two and two together. He didn't know what had happened between the two of them and why John wasn't holding onto Rose with everything he had, but obviously the man had let her slip away. He would feel angrier with John Smith if it wasn't so obvious that he was feeling wretched without Rose.

Jack watched him play for a few more minutes before he got up and quietly left the restaurant. Truth be told, he felt sorry for the bloke. He knew what it was like to fall in love like that and it hurt like nothing else. He wouldn't wish that heartache on anyone.

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary

And here we have our conclusion. I went a little different from the source material for the ending as I find this scenario a bit more satisfying. I hope you agree! I am toying with a bit of a follow-up one shot that I hope to have done in the next day or so and will share with you all.

Thank you so much to Kelkat9 and Kahki820 for the beta. You two have been great at putting up with me!

SPECIAL_ albums/qq349/slackermama1275/Photobucket%20Desktop%20-%20Marilyns%20MacBook%20Air/My% -REPLACE_ME

Rain pattered steadily on the window of the flat Rose shared with Shireen. Rose stood at the window, watching the droplets run down the pane as the people on the street below dodged between drops. She was just about ready to go, dressed smartly in an oversized berry pink jumper with a cowl neck and a belt at the waist. Underneath that, she had on a pair of the fanciest jeans she'd ever owned, dark and slim and tailored. She wore a sleek pair of black boots over them, a set of silver bangles at her wrist and some dangling chandelier style earrings at her ears. She looked put together but she felt like a mess. It had started raining in the middle of the night, when Rose had been utterly unable to sleep, and hadn't stopped since. She guessed that it was aesthetically appropriate that autumn finally arrived now, when her mood matched the weather so nicely. Since she hadn't been able to sleep, she'd spent the night planning her future instead. The money John had paid her wasn't a vast fortune, but it was enough to give her a fresh start and a fresh start was just what she needed. She knew what she wanted; she wanted to get her A-levels and to get a decent job. Maybe even attend university and sit for an actual degree some years down the road. This money would help her do that.

Sometime around 2:30 in the morning, she'd decided to move to Birmingham. Leaving London was the best plan. There were too many reminders here of her former life and too many people who knew her and what she'd been. It would be freeing to move to a new city where no one knew who she was or that she'd been an escort. A few quick online searches had yielded addresses to flats for rent within her price range and there were also a few jobs that she could apply for. Nothing terribly exciting, mostly shop positions, but it was a start. And she wasn't afraid to work hard to achieve her goals.

She'd purchased a ticket online for the train to Birmingham that was leaving just before noon from Euston station. Feeling a little more settled, at least with regards to her future, Rose had slept for a few hours. Dreams of John had chased her the rest of the night, of course. She wondered if he was thinking of her, if he missed her at all. She'd known she was in love with him before she'd left but she hadn't expected the pain and longing to be quite so strong. Leaving him still felt like it was the right thing to do. She had to stand up for what she wanted, but she also wanted so badly to just take him in her arms never let him go.

He'd changed a lot this week and so had she. Through him, she'd seen her potential. She'd shown him that there was more to life than just business. Admittedly, she'd hoped that they could find a solution for their relationship that wouldn't make her feel as though she was taking enormous steps backwards. Seeing him deny giving her more of himself had hurt her, but maybe it was too much too soon. He wasn't ready and with as much as she loved him, she couldn't really fault him for that.

Rose finished packing her things. She had the suitcase that she'd packed the day before when she'd been at the hotel as well as an old, beat-up suitcase she'd brought with her from the estate. Tucked into both were her life's possessions. She'd left quite a bit behind, either for Shireen to use or to sell or give away. There was plenty of this old life she she wasn't keen to take with her. She hefted the suitcases out of her bedroom and into the sitting room of the flat where Shireen was slouched unhappily on the sofa.

"Are you sure you have to go?" she asked her, her voice sounding small.

"I have to get out of here, Shireen," Rose said, gently. She set the bags by the door and turned to her friend. Shireen got off the sofa and launched herself at her for a hug.

"Birmingham's not that great, you know," Shireen pointed out. "It snows there! More than here."

"I'll wear a jumper," Rose promised, smiling at her friend.

"What are you going to do there? You don't even know anyone!"

"That's rather the point. I'm going to get my A-levels. Get a job. Make something of myself. Start over fresh," she explained. "I used to be pretty smart in school, you remember."

Shireen chewed her lip, looking at her thoughtfully. "Yeah, you were always the smart one," she recalled.

Her friend looked so sad that she gave her an extra tight squeeze before letting go and stepping back. "You know, you can always come with me if you like."

Shireen barked out a laugh. "Are you kidding? I could never leave London."

Rose believed that. Some people were meant to seek new horizons and she knew she was one of those people. Shireen had always been more comfortable with the familiar. As much trouble as her life had been because of her, Rose knew she would miss her friend fiercely. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a few hundred pound notes. She stepped forward and pressed the money into Shireen's hand.

"What is this? No way! I can't take this!" Shireen cried.

"It's part of the John Smith scholarship fund," Rose explained, tears gathering in her eyes. "We think you've got a lot of potential, Shireen Costello."

"You think? You think I've got potential?" she asked and suddenly Rose could see the two of them when they were eight years old, running through a broken sprinkler back on the estate, giggling and laughing and having the time of their lives with their futures laid out unwritten before them.

"Oh yes," Rose replied. "Don't ever let anybody tell you any different, okay? And please, get away from the drugs. For me."

"Okay," Shireen answered, tears swimming in her eyes now, too. "I can try."

She enfolded her friend in another hug. "Take care of you," Rose murmured.

"You too," she replied. She let go and stepped back, shoving her hands into her pockets. "What time is your train?"

"I gotta leave here in an hour," Rose answered. An hour until she left her life behind. Shireen offered to stay with her until it was time to leave. She didn't want to accompany her to the train station, claiming that good-byes made her crazy. After the last couple of days, Rose was inclined to agree.

John Smith felt like a shell of a man. He felt like he could blame at least a portion of that on the effects of all the scotch he'd drank the night before and the late hour he'd been awake. Playing the piano had always soothed him in the past but now even that reminded him of Rose. He'd ended up back in his suite around two in the morning and he'd crashed on the sofa in the living room. He couldn't bring himself to sleep in the bed he'd shared with Rose. Especially, not when his memories were still so full of the last time they'd been in that bed together and the emotions that had crashed between them. Not when he could still hear the echo of her voice telling him that she loved him.

He was a colossal fool, letting her go the way he had. While he was still sure that it what was best for her, a long night of alcohol and very little sleep had worn him down and now he was mired in self pity. He was miserable without her. Even the glow of knowing he'd done the right thing with Mott and the excitement of embarking on a new venture was diminished in the wake of her walking out.

His things were all packed now, his suitcases all ready to go to the airport. The bell boy arrived right on schedule to collect his bags and John made all the appropriate noises to him. He lingered in the foyer of the suite, looking around at this place where he had known her best. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his suitcase and the jewellery box containing the sapphire and diamond necklace from the side table and walked out of the door, shutting it behind him.

Down in the lobby, he walked to the reception desk where Jack Harkness was waiting. The other man was watching him with a knowing look in his eyes that set John's teeth on edge. "Mr. Smith," he greeted.

John nodded at him and accepted the check out paperwork that was pushed across the counter towards him. He glanced at the itemised charges before signing his name at the bottom. "You don't happen to have any messages for me, do you?" he asked and then he looked up to meet Mr. Harkness' eye.

There was such a sad and sympathetic look in the other man's face that it made his throat ache. "No, I'm afraid not, sir," Jack replied, looking truly regretful.

He nodded again. It had been a foolish hope, that she might have called for him. "I'll need a car to the airport," he said, trying to revert to business to cover his fluctuating emotions.

"Of course," Jack replied smoothly. "Alonso will take you wherever you need to go." He gestured and from somewhere behind him, Alonso appeared. "Alonso, could you bring the Rolls out front for Mr. Smith, please?"

"Yes, sir," the young man said.

"Thank you, Alonso," John replied and then he cleared his throat, looking back at Jack who was watching him still with that strange, knowing look. "One last thing, if its no trouble. Could you possibly return this for me, please? I'd rather not have to make the extra stop on the way to the airport," he said, pushing the velvet box containing the necklace across the counter towards Jack.

"Yes, of course," Jack answered, accepting the box. His fingers rested on the lid for a moment before he lifted his eyes. "May I, sir?"

John nodded. "Of course, please." He steeled himself as Jack opened the box, revealing the gorgeous necklace laying on a bed of satin within. He swallowed thickly, remembering too clearly how those stones looked nestled against Rose's warm, smooth skin. She'd looked utterly stunning that night. Well, she looked stunning every night. But that night, he'd forgotten where he'd found her. He'd forgotten she wasn't his to keep. It had been easy to do.

"It must be difficult to let go of something so beautiful," Jack remarked, fixing John with a long, meaningful look. He understood that Mr. Harkness was no longer speaking about the necklace. And if only he knew the half of how hard it really was. He'd taken over some of the biggest companies in the United Kingdom and it turns out the hardest thing he'd ever done was let go of an escort from Whitechapel.

"You know, Alonso also drove Miss Rose home yesterday," the hotel manager continued and now he was no longer being coy. John was distinctly being nudged in a particular direction and where a week ago he would have bristled at the other man's presumptuousness, now he appreciated the interest of someone who might have an inkling of what he was going through. He met Jack's eye and the other man looked so sympathetic that John had to smile at him. An understanding seemed to pass between them before Jack snapped the lid of the velvet box shut. "I'll take care of this for you," he promised.

"Thank you, Mr. Harkness," John said. "For everything."

"It was my pleasure."

In the car on the way to the airport, John was deep in thought. Everything Jack had said replayed in his head as Alonso drove them away from The Lanesborough and out of the city towards the airport where his jet was waiting. A week ago, he'd arrived in London a different man. His head had been filled with business and he'd been lonely and bitter. Even before he found out that Joan was leaving him, he'd been lonely. Truth be told, he'd been lonely his entire adult life. He'd found Rose entirely by chance. There was no reason he should have been on that street in Whitechapel that night, driving that car, hopelessly lost. And there was no reason he should have asked her for directions or invited her into the car. But he had and his life had changed just like that. At first, he'd been expecting no more than just a night of uncomplicated sex and companionship. Before he'd known it, she'd worked her way into his heart. Was it the singing along to "Call Me Maybe" in the bathtub? Or had it been the fumbling over silverware in the midst of a fancy restaurant and distracting him from a stressful business meeting? Maybe it was her waiting for him, wearing nothing but a tie or her dancing about on a polo field, trying to replace the divots. Somewhere in all of that, John had fallen in love with her. Rose had gone from being more than just an intriguing young lady and had become the centre of his universe.

When he'd heard her say she loved him, he'd felt panicked because he knew he felt the same. He knew it and he was scared about what it might mean. Generally speaking, people who are in love make a commitment to one another. He'd thought of all the women he'd dated before, he'd thought of Reinette and their failed marriage and the last thing he wanted was a bitter phone call from Rose saying that she was leaving him. He didn't think that he could bear it.

But he loved her! And didn't he feel more for her than he had felt for anyone in a very, very long time? He was a different man now than he had been. He had realised that sometimes business took a back seat to the personal and what was right and what was good. When he'd felt that sting of panic, he hadn't taken into consideration that his focus had changed. Perhaps now he could make a commitment to Rose and maybe he could make her happy. A small fire lit in his chest as he realised that he very much wanted to try. Even if it took the rest of their lives, he wanted to spend every day making sure she was happy.

There was no guarantee, of course, that Rose would let him. He knew he'd messed things up with her the day before when he'd let her down. John's mind began to race with what he could do, what he could say that would help make it better. He thought over what he could tell her that might help convince her to listen to him. He was quite sure that the hollow gestures he'd always employed in the past with his girlfriends and with Reinette wouldn't work with his Rose.

But first, he had to get to her. "Alonso?" he called up to the front seat.

"Yes, sir?" the chauffeur answered.

"Do you remember where you took Rose yesterday?" John asked.

"Yes, sir, I do," Alonso replied and he could swear he heard a smile in the other man's voice.

"Could you take us there?" he requested. Then, he thought for a moment. "Wait, could we stop at a florist first?"

"We certainly can, sir," Alonso told him. With a swing of the steering wheel, he turned the Rolls Royce around and they headed back into the city.

One stop at a florists' shop later and Alonso was pulling up in front of a worn-down, modest looking building in Whitechapel. People walking by gaped at the extravagant car that definitely looked out of place on this particular street. John swallowed, looking up at the squat building as Alonso came around the car to open the door for him. He was nervous and excited. As he stepped out of the car, he turned back to Alonso. "Do you know which flat is hers?" he asked.

The chauffeur nodded. "Yes, she's flat 42. I helped her up with her bags."

John looked up at the building. Top floor. He held the simple bouquet of flowers in his hand, feeling rather a bit like a fool but if that was what it took, he was willing to look like a fool every day for the rest of his life. He nodded to Alonso before he moved towards the door to the building.

The inside was even less impressive than the outside. John was having a hard time picturing Rose living here. A few people in the lobby gave him a curious appraisal as he considered his options for getting to the top floor. There was a dim and most certainly rickety lift but there was also a staircase. Not wanting to take his life into his hands, he chose the staircase.

He was breathing hard by the time he reached the top floor and he took a moment to find his air again. He reached up and smoothed at his hair nervously before he stepped down the hall and located flat 42. John knocked on the door and heard some scuffling on the other side before it was opened.

An unfamiliar girl stood on the other side of the threshold. He knew this must be Rose's roommate, Shireen. She was a slight woman, shorter even than Rose, with curly brown hair that bounced around her shoulders. She looked John up and down, her eyes pausing on the flowers he still clutched, and raised an eyebrow.

"Hello, I'm John Smith," he greeted. "I'm looking for Rose, is she here?"

A look flickered across her features. "You're John Smith?" she asked, incredulous. "Well, well, well. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"I imagine you have," he replied, struggling not to be rude. It was difficult as all he really wanted to know was if he could speak to Rose.

"You hurt her," Shireen informed him, fixing him with a bland look. "She was a mess when she got here yesterday."

Guilt prickled at him and he tugged on his ear, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I know, I did. I'd like to speak to her, if I can. Is she here?"

She took a deep breath and then shook her head. "You missed her by about 10 minutes. She just left to go to the Euston station, she's on her way out of town."

John's mouth fell open. "She's gone? Where is she going?"

Shireen nodded and he noticed she looked sad. "She's moving to Birmingham. Crazy girl," she told him before meeting his eye. "If you leave now, you might be able to catch her."

Yes. Catch her. "Thank you, Shireen," he said before turning and dashing down the stairs.

"She's on the 11:53 train!" Shireen called down the stairwell after him.

As he ran through the lobby, the flowers still clutched in his hand, he checked his watch. It was 11:20 now and the Euston railway station was a good 20 minute drive if the traffic cooperated. And John had never known the traffic in London to cooperate, even on a Sunday. It was going to be a close thing. He burst out the doors to see Alonso standing next to the Rolls, awaiting him.

"Euston station. Quickly."

Rose stood on the platform, waiting while passengers disembarked the train and the staff prepared for the trip back north. Her bags had already been checked and all she had in her possession was a shoulder bag she'd purchased on Sloane Street this last week. Her hands were sweaty and nerves were getting the best of her. She was excited to leave London and start over but she was scared too. This was an enormous step she was taking but she was doing it to better herself. She liked to think that maybe John would be proud of her.

Before too long, she heard the announcement over the sound system that her train would begin boarding momentarily. Everyone around her began to coalesce around the train doors and she stepped back, deciding to let the more impatient travellers get themselves sorted first. She was excited to go, really she was, but she couldn't say she was in any particular rush either. Of course, that was a lie. If she wasn't in a rush, she would have put off this move for another week. She wouldn't be running away. That's what it rather felt like, that she was trying to escape. A silly thought, really. John was probably on board his jet now, headed back to Edinburgh. If anyone was running, it was probably him.

Still, she hung back and let everyone else push their way onto the train ahead of her. Rose wandered over to a vending machine, wondering if maybe she shouldn't purchase some snacks for the trip. There was no guarantee there'd be anything to eat on the train and if there was, it was likely to be outrageously expensive. She didn't care to blow her windfall on a soggy sandwich.

Patting her stomach, she realised she wasn't feeling particularly hungry. It was a couple hours, three at the most, until the train reached Birmingham and she was certain she could make it that far without something to eat. Taking a deep breath, she headed back towards the train. The conductor poked his head out of the doors and spotted her.

"Coming aboard, miss?" he asked.

She nodded and quickened her step. The conductor stepped aside to let her on board. She was just taking ahold of the rail next to the door to pull herself up and into the train car when she heard a voice ring out across the platform.

"Rose!"

Her heart leapt into her throat as she whirled around. Running towards her, a bundle of flowers clutched in his hand, was John. Rose had to blink and clear her vision a few times in order to convince herself that it wasn't an apparition. She let go of the handle and stepped away from the train slowly. "John?"

"Rose, don't go!" he implored, stopping in front of her. His hair was even more disheveled than normal, his face was pale causing his freckles to stand out and there were dark shadows underneath his wide, brown eyes. He looked a wreck and for some reason, it did her heart good to realise that.

"John, what are you doing?" she asked. "How did you know to find me here?"

He gasped for breath, clearly having run in order to catch up with her. "Shireen," he got out. "I went to your flat first and you'd already left. Please, we need to talk."

Rose chewed her lower lip and turned to look at the conductor who was giving her a very impatient look. He raised his eyebrows in question, gesturing at the train. She shook her head just slightly and the conductor shrugged and pulled his head inside the train. The doors all closed and the train began to move forward. She turned back to John and raised an eyebrow. "I hope this is worth it, all my things are still on that train," she told him.

John looked to the train as it pulled out of the station. "We'll get them back for you. Or I can buy you all new things. I don't care. Can we just talk?"

He was looking at her so desperately and her heart lurched just having him here again, within touching distance and she nodded. He took her hand in his and she noticed the easy, familiar slide of his palm against hers as he led her to a bench in a more secluded section of the station. It was still a train station, however, and travellers milled around them, but no one was paying them much heed as they went on about their business. They sat next to one another and John set down the flowers he'd been holding.

"I've been thinking a lot since you left yesterday," John told her. He didn't release her hand, but continued to stroke his thumb across the skin on the back of hers. "And I would like to change my answer."

"What?" she asked, surprised by his admission. Change his answer? What was he on about? "What answer?"

"Do you remember what you said to me just before you left? When I asked you to stay with me another night?" He took a deep breath. "Do you remember the question you asked me?"

Rose thought back through that whole moment and her heart still twisted painfully at the memory. "You asked me to stay and I said I wanted to…" She searched her mind for a few moments before she remembered. "I said I knew what I want now, that I want all of you. I want the fairytale. I asked you if you could give that to me."

"Ask me again," he requested quietly. He reached for her other hand and held both of hers. His face was so earnest that she wanted to kiss him and sink into him and tell him that everything would be okay, for now and forever.

Instead, she took a breath, exhaling carefully. "I want you for real," she said softly. "Can you give me that? Forever?"

A smile broke across his face. "Do you still mean it, Rose? Do you still want me?"

"Of course, I do, you daft idiot," she chided gently, tears gathering on her lashes and spilling onto her cheeks.

"Yes, Rose, I can," he told her and now he released her hands. He reached up, cupping her face and brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "That's my answer, for real this time. I can give you that, I want to give you that and I want you by my side."

"Are you sure?" she asked, emotion bubbling up in her chest. "What if I can't fit into your world?"

"Then we'll make a new world, just you and I," he answered. "I don't care, Rose. Everyone else can just bugger off. I know what I want and what I need and it is you."

Rose was about to open her mouth to argue, to tell him that she couldn't ask that of him when he silenced her, pressing his lips to hers. Her thoughts blew away like tissue paper on the wind as his lips massaged hers and her senses were filled with his scent and his taste and the way he was holding her face to his so tenderly. She sighed into his mouth as her hands came up to wrap around his shoulders, the fingers of her right hand curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her pulse was just starting to pound in her ears when he drew back, tapering off with small kisses to her cheeks.

"Why the change of heart?" she asked breathlessly.

He sat back and regarded her seriously. "My heart never changed, Rose. But I did have a realisation," he explained. "I'm a different man today than I was a week ago. When I first got to London, I was a bitter, lonely bloke. Then I met you and you changed all of that. You challenged me and showed me a better way to be. It's because of you that I changed my mind about Mott Industries, after all. You helped me to see that I could be a better man."

"But what does that have to do with you and I, together?"

"I heard you, Rose, the night… when you kissed me for the first time. Before you fell asleep, you told me you loved me," he said and he ducked his head down to place a quick kiss on her lips. "And it scared me a little. Because your heart was at stake and I didn't want to hurt you. I haven't had a very good track record with relationships, as I've told you. All my girlfriends and my wife, they all left on sour terms. I couldn't bear for that to happen with you. I didn't want to ruin your life like I had theirs."

"You could never!" she exclaimed. "Don't you know what you've done for me already?"

John smiled and if she didn't know any better, she'd say he was blushing. "Well, yes. I got to thinking on the way to the airport this morning… I was making assumptions based on who I used to be. The me of last month might have made those mistakes with you, Rose. But now? You've changed me. For the better. And I want to trust that I'm the sort of man who would never let you down," he concluded.

What he was saying to her brought fresh tears to her eyes. "Oh, John," she murmured. "You've done the same thing for me." She pulled him back to her for another kiss and his time his arms went around her, clutching her to him almost desperately. His tongue brushed along hers and heat flooded her instantly at the intimate contact. He groaned quietly and she swallowed the sound and nipped at his lips. She never thought she'd have him in her arms like this again and now that he was here and he was telling her all the things she wanted and needed to hear, it felt like a dream.

Like a fairytale.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"Good," she replied, smiling now. "Because I love you, too."

Rose wasn't sure where their paths were leading them, as John took her hand and lead her out of the railway station and to where Alonso and the Rolls Royce were waiting, but she had hopes for a bright future. She was sure they'd drive each other crazy, possibly multiple times a day. But hopefully, amidst all of that, they would continue to challenge each other and become better people for one another. Together.