Page 21 of All Mine (The All Mine #1)

Etienne

No matter how many times he checked his phone, there were no other messages from Alex.

Isabella had been a good distraction the night before, keeping him from checking his phone for hours as he watched her at work.

She was a natural with people. She had this easy way of talking, smiling, making people relax.

Even old Fred Barrow was swept off his feet and the look on his face when she gave him a hug was a picture.

He’d probably not been hugged since Jeannie died a few years ago and he moved into Heart of Honeybridge.

Etienne did what he could to put a smile on his face, but he’d not been rewarded with a toothy grin like that one ever.

He’d watched the swing of Isabella’s hips in her dress that swished around the knees and gave a rather tempting view of her cleavage as she bent to pick up dishes in the kitchen or placed them in front of the diner.

She looked good enough to eat herself. It was a shame she was opening her own restaurant, otherwise he would have offered her a job on the spot.

He had a feeling she would be good for custom.

But then again, thinking about it, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Because he had every intention of sleeping with her at some point. Maybe not immediately. But sometime for sure. Better not to be working together. No awkwardness afterwards.

He remembered the feel of her foot in his hand.

The softness of her skin. The way her foot pushed back against him, like a cat butting you with its head, nudging for more attention.

One day, Isabella. One day. He checked his watch.

But not today. Today he had an appointment with the bank.

He locked the restaurant door and strode towards the high street.

‘Ah, Mr MarTIN,’ Mr Andrews, the bank manager, welcomed him, using the English pronunciation of his surname ending in Tin, rather than as his French parents had said it, ending in Tan. He shrugged it off, used to it. ‘Nice to see you. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Etienne shook the hand he offered, and sat, keen to get on with business.

‘I’m fine, thanks, Mr Andrews. Thanks for fitting me in at such short notice.’

Mr Andrews indicated the computer screen on his desk. ‘It looks like the restaurant is making a decent return at the moment, Mr Martin, so how can I help you today?’

‘I wondered how much money I’d be able to access immediately?’ Etienne said.

‘Well, this is unexpected.’ The bank manager clasped his hands in front of him. ‘Are you planning a refurbishment?’

‘No,’ Etienne said.

‘A holiday?’ the man persisted.

‘No,’ Etienne repeated.

‘An extension?’

‘No. I just want to know how much money I have managed to save since I opened The Bistro, and when I can get my hands on it.’

Mr Andrews pressed his mouth together, obviously much happier at the thought of taking money into the bank than giving it out.

‘Believe me, Mr Martin, it’s much safer to leave the money where it is, earning a steady rate of interest, unless you have a specific need for it?’

‘I do have a specific need for it,’ Etienne said and clasped his own hands in front of him. The two men stared at each other.

‘Well, let’s see then. . .’ Mr Andrews said reluctantly and swivelled his screen again to run through columns and figures. He cleared his throat.

‘Total savings of almost forty thousand pounds.’

Etienne nodded as his stomach fell. Ten thousand pounds short of what he needed.

‘A very good amount,’ the bank manager said, wistfully.

But not enough, Etienne thought.

‘Can I access it today?’ Etienne asked.

‘Normally there is a ten-thousand-pound limit to how much you can transfer on any one day, Mr Martin. . .’

‘So, can you authorise raising that limit so that I can transfer forty thousand on one day then, please?’ Etienne leaned forward in his chair.

Red tape and bank bureaucracy were not going to stop him being able to get that money out when he needed it.

The two men stared at each other again. Mr Andrews blinked first.

‘Of course,’ the bank manager said. ‘We’ll just have to work through the documentation.’ He took a long sip of his tea and pulled up a new form on his computer. He tapped away, humming to himself before hitting the final key with a flourish.

‘Done, Mr Martin. You can now transfer the whole amount whenever you feel the need.’ He sipped his tea.

Etienne nodded slowly.

‘What about if I wanted it in cash? Could I get that out today?’

The bank manager snorted tea all over the desk in a fine spray as he tried unsuccessfully to swallow his mouthful.

‘Today won’t be possible for that amount, Mr Martin.’ He dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. ‘It will take a few days for us to organise that sum of cash.’

He pursed his lips.

‘How much notice would I need to give you if I wanted it in cash?’

‘Two working days.’

‘No wriggle room on that?’ Etienne asked hopefully.

‘Unfortunately not, Mr Martin.’

‘But, just to be clear, if I ring you on Monday morning, I can have the cash on Wednesday?’

The bank manager nodded and Etienne exhaled. It was the best he was going to get.

‘Thank you, Mr Andrews. That’s good to know.’

As he stood, a thought struck him. ‘What about a loan for another ten thousand pounds?’ he asked, keeping his tone businesslike.

Mr Andrews straightened in his chair and widened his eyes silently, before opening a drawer and extricating a form.

‘Just fill this in and pop it back to me as soon as possible and we can assess the situation.’

Etienne extended his hand across the table, shaking the bank manager firmly, and optimistically, by the hand.

The bank manager’s personal assistant, whose name badge said she was called Melissa, came in to show him out.

She flashed lustful eyes at Etienne from under her eyelashes and led the way, wafting Chanel No.

5 perfume. But Etienne didn’t even notice, he was too busy wracking his brains as to where he could find another ten thousand pounds if this loan didn’t come through.