For the Fireworks

By Rebecca Fairfax

Wanted—one tall, dark and handsome gentleman for the fireworks.

Xander Whyte, owner of a superior dating service that provides assets, not escorts, gets a last-minute and almost unintelligible demand for a gentleman for an entire Bonfire Night holiday weekend. Meeting the very specific request with zero notice seems impossible, but one look at Ella Stephens' photo has Xander determined to take the assignment himself and help out the gorgeous—and tipsy—redheaded damsel in distress.

Meeting Ella in person, Xander's fascinated by the bundle of contradictions that make up the beautiful London lawyer, not least the way she tries to resist her attraction to him. But can he get her to see him as anything other than a handsome hunk she's hired, and before the clock ticks down on the weekend?

Remember, remember the fifth of November'—Xander and Ella's Guy Fawkes' holiday passion lights up the sky!

Reader advisory: This book contains references to a death from cancer, a scene of mild violence, spanking, references to anal sex and references to an implied abusive relationship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Nov 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781913186760

Book preview

Rent-a-Perfect-Gentleman

FOR THE FIREWORKS

REBECCA FAIRFAX

For the Fireworks

ISBN # 978-1-913186-76-0

©Copyright Rebecca Fairfax 2019

Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright November 2019

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

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Published in 2019 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.

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Book one in the

Rent-a-Perfect-Gentleman series

Wanted—one tall, dark and handsome gentleman for the fireworks.

Xander Whyte, owner of a superior dating service that provides assets, not escorts, gets a last-minute and almost unintelligible demand for a gentleman for an entire Bonfire Night holiday weekend. Meeting the very specific request with zero notice seems impossible, but one look at Ella Stephens’ photo has Xander determined to take the assignment himself and help out the gorgeous—and tipsy—redheaded damsel in distress.

Meeting Ella in person, Xander’s fascinated by the bundle of contradictions that make up the beautiful London lawyer, not least the way she tries to resist her attraction to him. But can he get her to see him as anything other than a handsome hunk she’s hired, and before the clock ticks down on the weekend?

‘Remember, remember the fifth of November’—Xander and Ella’s Guy Fawkes’ holiday passion lights up the sky!

Dedication

To my daughter. If people just listened and did what she said right from the beginning, things would be quicker.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke AG

Cavalli: Roberto Cavalli S.p.A.

Land Rover: Tata Motors Limited

Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co.

Mercedes: Daimler AG

Oyster Card: Cubic Transportation Systems

Post-its: 3M Company

Routemaster: Wrightbus

Chapter One

Xander Whyte glanced out of the gallery’s front window at the sleek silver Mercedes inching its way up the Old Town’s narrow cobbled lane. Showtime. Or, rather, time to take it up a notch. With the gallery’s rooms full of guests in their cocktail finery enjoying the canapes and Prosecco, and the soft music provided by the local string quartet, he almost had to remind himself that he was there to work.

Sociable by nature and interested in people from all walks of life, he enjoyed owning and running the gallery, connecting those creating art to those interested in it, like now, with a potential new platinum patron arriving at the showcase evening. Just as he took a stride forward, a sudden waft of floral perfume, one very heavy on the jasmine and incense, blasted in his direction, and he inwardly groaned. Louisa.

Squaring his shoulders, Xander tilted his head back to eye the woman leaning over the railing of the mezzanine to his right. The former beauty queen, sometimes model, was evidently on the prowl. Again. What happened to…Jeremy, wasn’t it? Xander had neither the time nor the inclination to keep up with the blonde bombshell’s trade-in-and-up modus operandum.

Oh, he’d enjoyed their no-strings-attached, good-casual-sex affair—she’d indulged his veering-towards-Dom tendencies in a way most women weren’t able or inclined to. And she’d not exactly done poorly out of it, either in bed or out, both during and as it ended. But by the messages she’d been leaving for him lately, Louisa would be happy with a re-run. Not him. He’d been there, done…her, and if he wanted someone whose interest in him began at his bank balance and ended at his body, there was no shortage to choose from. But he didn’t. He wanted not just different, but more, somehow. Not the superficial, no matter how alluring the packaging.

She raised her wine glass at him and patted the rail in front of her, a smirk on her fuchsia lips. Oh, fuck. They’d done it right there, hadn’t they, her French-manicured fingers gripping the metal barrier hard as he’d fucked her even harder from behind? Louisa took a sip of her drink and licked her lips. Had she always been so obvious? Probably. He kept his face neutral and shook his head. If he was seeking a true, meaningful connection, she wasn’t it.

Turning, he caught the gazes of Tessa and Benjy, who frowned at his hand signal and chin jerk. He rolled his eyes. Surely his gesture had been the universal sign for a fish swimming? And anyway, his gallery assistants should understand matters by now.

Big fish alert, he murmured. They shrugged, Benjy turning to Tessa for clarification. None was forthcoming. Oh, for God’s sake—our VIP’s here. He kept his voice low so no other guests could overhear—most of them were convinced they were names, their patronage or approval courted. Which was true, to varying degrees.

Nodding now, Tessa tried to use a metallic sculpture, all shiny gleaming strips and planes of steel, as a makeshift mirror, ducking and bobbing to see the street behind her. With a tut of frustration she abandoned that rather Cubist view of the world in favour of snatching up an empty silver salver instead, angling it to see over her shoulder who was arriving. Benjy, a lot less discreet, peered through the glass at the car and the three people exiting it.

"Footballer! Tessa was the first to identify their client. I can tell by the haircut. Told you it would be. They’re the ones with the most money nowadays. Ha! That’s lunch you owe me, next time we’re working together. And I’ve been in sushi mode lately."

"You and your slimy fish. Speaking of, how is Chris? Wait, actually, I don’t care, because, hello, footballer! Benjy slid a large print to one side of the window to get a better look. He clasped his hands in prayer position, imitating the two-foot-tall sandstone buddha to his left. A pretty one, please, gods of art, let it be a pretty one! Oooh!"

"Cila will be thrilled she rated an oooh from you."

Xander tried to scowl at their habitual nonstop banter but had to hide a smile. Thank God his assistants rarely worked together, the gallery usually requiring only one at a time.

"Pur-lease. Benjy turned his back to the door and pouted into Tessa’s salver-mirror, pulling at his fringe. I know it’s great for us she brings her clients here, but her ‘career’? Swanning around the upmarket boutiques and sticking Post-its onto the pages of glossy mags? I could do that in my lunch break."

Actually, you do, Tessa threw in.

Exactly, petal. When all’s said and done, the Ice Dolly’s just a glorified personal shopper.

Xander’s correction of Lifestylist bounced against Hugo Winter’s Interiors curator as, buttoning his suit jacket, Hugo made for the door. As usual, Xander hadn’t seen his admin guru approach, but as always the older man’s business sense must have pinged a finance alert. Or he’d been keeping watch from the office upstairs.

Whatever—Xander could, and did, rely on his friend’s expertise and had done since opening this business in Montford five years ago. Hugo’s acumen and love of organisation and figures had helped make a success of this contemporary art gallery and was helping build the new business Xander now ran as a sideline, despite Hugo’s reservations about that.

"Who’ll be giving us the frost-y shoulder as usual, I suppose," came Benjy’s prediction.

Xander wasn’t so sure. He must have grinned at the thought that Ms. Cecilia Frost might have…melted a little after her recent experience, because Hugo shot him a dagger-sharp glance of, what, warning? No need for that. Xander would never break professional confidentiality, any more than Hugo would.

Xander, Hugo! Cila usually presented an immaculate cheek for a near-miss kiss, both men having to bend to reach her discreetly scented and powdered face, but now she clasped their shoulders, standing on tiptoes between them to kiss each in turn, her smile wide and her china-blue eyes aglow. She turned and urged them forward a pace to the young couple. Meet Andy and Crissy Lees! You know Andy from Montford United, of course—took us to the top of the league. I expect you were at the ceremony last month when the club named the new stand after him?

Xander hadn’t attended—he and Louisa had been…tied up. Well, she had, in a leather fetish corset, in point of fact. But he knew of the young rags-to-riches star Andy Lees, of course. He clasped the forward’s hand in both of his to shake. Xander Whyte. It’s an honour to meet you. That last-minute miracle goal against Chelsea that gave us a two-one win last month? You won me a fifty-pound bet on that, man!

The slim footballer snorted, shaking the long fringe of his otherwise short hair from his eyes. He wore it back in a headband on the pitch, Xander recalled. "You’re welcome, mate. But you? You’re this big-shot Alexander Whyte, owner of