Across the Sea (Volume Three): Across the Sea, #3

By Ana Vela

Rachel Verano came to London, England to become a painter but instead is working long hours every night in a back-street bar and her dreams seem increasingly unreachable.

A fiercely independent woman, Rachel immediately resists the approaches of enigmatic Billionaire Edwin Waterman. But try as she might, and despite her belief that she could never give herself to any wealthy man... she cannot ignore the fact that in his presence the world seems to open up before her.

The more Rachel spends time with Edwin, the more she feels herself falling for the rich, handsome, dangerous, mysterious man...

Is she falling under his powerful spell?

Rachel continues to meet new men around London. But something is missing. Something she can't quite understand. And that is the simple fact that none of them make her feel the way Edwin does...

Fans of Bella Andre, Rachel Gibson, and Kristan Higgins will love this quirky romance series with strong, independent woman and sexy alpha heroes.

Note: Parts of Across the Sea were previously published as Rachel and the Billionaire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roja Publishing
• Release date: Oct 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536529012

Book preview

Rachel Verano came to London, England to become a painter but instead is working long hours every night in a back-street bar and her dreams seem increasingly unreachable.

A fiercely independent woman, Rachel immediately resists the approaches of enigmatic Billionaire Edwin Waterman. But try as she might, and despite her belief that she could never give herself to any wealthy man... she cannot ignore the fact that in his presence the world seems to open up before her.

The more Rachel spends time with Edwin, the more she feels herself falling for the rich, handsome, dangerous, mysterious man...

Is she falling under his powerful spell?

Rachel continues to meet new men around London. But something is missing. Something she can't quite understand. And that is the simple fact that none of them make her feel the way Edwin does...

Fans of Bella Andre, Rachel Gibson, and Kristan Higgins will love this quirky romance series with strong, independent woman and sexy alpha heroes.

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Note: Parts of Across the Sea were previously published as Rachel and the Billionaire.

Vol. 3

The winter wind was whistling wildly as grey, pendulous clouds chased each other excitedly across the sky; yet somehow even this somewhat unwelcoming behaviour did not dampen Rachel's spirits as she pottered around her tiny flat, wondering what to do with her day off.

Normally such weather would ensure Rachel's staying firmly put on the sofa, curled up with a good book or something funny she found to watch on the internet. Today, though, this itinerary failed to stimulate her. She was still buzzing faintly with intrigue and titillation about the date which she had arranged for the following evening with a certain Edwin Waterman. Of course, the man remained very much an enigma to Rachel but every time she thought about it she tingled with anticipation; making her movements around the kitchen, as she tried to find something vaguely healthy to put into her body, light and restless. Regardless of how uncertain she felt about who or what Edwin was, she was looking forward to investigating more...

On the phone the day before, he had said that he would be very pleased to see her again. You can tell me all about your adventures, he had almost purred down the phone; so deep and resonant was his voice.

Remembering, she tingled again. But what adventures could she tell him about? She hardly thought he would be interested in her constant struggle to make anything that resembled a good meal from whatever she could find; as somehow whenever it came down to actually buying healthy food, she either forgot to go when the shops were open or simply didn't have the time. As a result of this she was becoming more and more expert in creating culinary inventions; right now she was settling down on the sofa with a bowl of noodles fried with banana and tomato, with peanut butter mixed in. 'Odd but tasty,' she thought as she tucked in, pulling her laptop up from the floor onto the arm of the sofa and perusing her social media networks. 'Now, who can help me find some interesting adventures...?'

The wind rattled her windows and she shivered, half-tempted to reconsider her normal plan of staying inside. But somehow this was impossible with such excited energy welling up inside her. Edwin's words from the last time she had seen him came back to her - it's always healthy to embrace the unknown. And her flat most certainly did not fall into this category. However... She spotted a post someone had made about a free exhibition from a mix of cultures in East London that day.  It was at some kind of community centre which she had never heard of before. 'That's enough to know to go on adventures', she considered, as she sucked up the last of her noodles with growing vigour.

Rachel almost got lost trying to find the venue. She hadn't expected it to look like it did; a simple, unassuming concrete affair on a typical East London high street.  She peered at the plain door; trying to be sure she was at the right address. It certainly didn't look like a gallery...

As she peered, the door opened outwards, making her leap backwards, startled. A tall, pale man wearing a leather, peaked cap and a large curly moustache stepped out, and seeing her, stopped in surprise.

––––––––

You looking for someone? he asked with a friendly grin.

Er...I heard something about a free exhibition...close to here? faltered Rachel, still a little bewildered from his sudden appearance.

The grin widened. Oh yes, you got the right place, he nodded encouragingly, holding the door open for her. It's really good. I'll join you in a sec, just got to get my nicotine fix!

He fished out a pouch of tobacco, some filters and papers from the bulging pocket of his tight-fitting black jeans, frowning as the eager wind attempted to pull them from his grasp.

Good luck! laughed Rachel, companionably, as she made her way out of the weather into the building.

Inside, the building was completely unrecognisable as the dreary concrete block it seemed from the street. In fact, it was impossible even to tell what country one was in, Rachel thought, as she wandered through a myriad of interconnecting little chambers; some brightly lit, with brash orange or magenta walls; others subdued black-walled affairs with carefully placed spotlights to highlight the exhibits in beautiful relief. She was very impressed. And that was just with the walls! As she began examining the exhibits themselves she was considering the effectiveness of providing an interesting space for art to be displayed in. Though she painted herself, she had not really exhibited any of her works before except at school, where the setting was always strictly white walls and fluorescent lighting. She had never thought before that it is not just the art she was making which she could use to influence what people saw; but how she chose to present it as well.

She stopped in a small, round, black-painted room with a projection playing almost all the way around the middle in a near-complete ring. The projection showed some Indian-looking people in multi-coloured outfits, dancing and playing instruments as they threw flowers and coloured powder into the air. Then the scene changed to a mountain vista with more people singing and dancing; different clothes and instruments, but a similar spirit. The scenes flicked rapidly from group to group of people; jumping from naked black bodies whirling in desert heat to pale shapes dressed entirely in green, prancing around a bonfire in glee. Every scene was drastically different in many ways; but Rachel was deeply touched by the profound sameness present in the intensity and joy with which each of the filmed people participated in their dances.

She stood, entranced, for some time, then smiling peacefully, moved on.

I gave up trying to roll my cigarette, she heard behind her, as she stood gazing at an oil painting of some people sharing some kind of luscious and extravagant fruit salad. She turned and saw the peak-hatted man, grinning ruefully from under his formidable moustache.

––––––––

I guess this weather is good for something, pointed out Rachel, your lungs are thanking you, aren't they?!

He tilted his head to one side, considering. Maybe, but the rest of my body wants to know what's going on!

They laughed, Rachel remembering the feeling of needing to smoke and empathising, though happy that she no longer felt this pull from her own body.

So, what do you reckon? continued the man chattily, stroking his chin and examining the oil painting in a critical pose which Rachel could not be certain if it was put-on or not. She decided to play his game anyway, and standing back she struck her own critic's pose, hand on hip, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

If the artist was going for realism they are not fooling anybody, she commented in a mock-critic's tone; so easy to imitate from the many years she had spent listening to it at school. This fruit is clearly far too huge and juicy to actually have existed in real life!

Hmmmm... You are correct, I think, agreed her new friend, gazing at the painting equally seriously. Uh-oh, she thought. Maybe this man really was a critic.

Just look there, at that banana, he continued. Who gets bananas that big in real life? Looks like this guy is clearly trying to...compensate... for something... She turned to catch his deep brown eyes twinkling at her, and they both collapsed in giggles, unable to sustain their roles.

My name's Eugene, by the way, said the man, offering his hand, as their tittering subsided.

Rachel, she replied, taking it. To her surprise he pulled her towards her with an unexpected grace and kissed her cheek.

Enchanted, he said, and then, noticing her consternation, laughed.

Sorry, said Rachel, a bit confused. I'm not really used to people saying 'hello' with their bodies...

Eugene roared with laughter. I suppose it's not really the typical English way!

I guess it's important to absorb the best of the other cultures we find around us here though, offered Rachel, and twinkling again he nodded with great enthusiasm.

Shall we look at some more?

She readily agreed and they began to peruse the rest of the exhibition together. His manner was so light-hearted that she found herself giggling and tittering at almost every comment he made and as they neared the end of the show she was in high spirits.

Where are you going now? he asked her as they paused in the last chamber; a bright red and turquoise affair whose every available wall surface was covered in a profusion of masks, seemingly from every corner of the world.

Rachel considered. She did not have work until the next morning, and it was only a four-hour shift. I... had no plans, she admitted.

I think there is a nice bar close to here, said Eugene, If we are going to continue to be art critics we need to make sure we are drinking enough.

You're right, of course, agreed Rachel, and they stepped out of the multicoloured mask world, and into the grey, shopper-crowded street.

To Rachel's slight surprise, Eugene stopped before they set off to unlock a bike from round the side of the building. She did not know anyone who cycled around London; had always felt it would be a distinctly unpleasant experience, with all the traffic and fumes.

Don't you get scared about getting hit? she asked as they found seats in the bar (which was, indeed, nice) and Eugene finally began rolling himself a successful cigarette.

Nah, he said, the trick is to be confident! The cycle lanes around this city are an absolute joke - no point in following them. Sometimes you're going along one at the side of a busy road and suddenly a sign looms up: 'end of route!' I don't know what the person who designed it expects cyclists to do at that point. Levitate, maybe?

Rachel laughed, but her eyes were round in apprehension. "But what do you do??" she pressed, hardly daring to think about the sudden rush of oncoming cars.

That's the thing - you just have to keep going, but with the absolute certainty that you have the right to be there, explained Eugene. If you are projecting confidence, the other drivers all notice you and so they have to respect you.

Sounds scary!

He shrugged. Perhaps at first. But it really works! he licked his cigarette with a flourish, and gestured with his head to the street.

I don't suppose you'd care to join me while I smoke this?

Rachel looked. It was getting dark and the wind was stronger than ever.