Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“You’re kidding, right? Look at the number of times this has been watched!” I demand, extending his phone. So much for consoling myself that a small wedding meant fewer people witnessed my disgrace. What a joke.
“Six million, last count.” His hand retracts when it becomes clear I’m not ready to give it back to him. “But I’m sure most people watch it more than once.”
“How is that helpful? And it’s eight million now! Is there anyone left in London who hasn’t seen this?”
“I’m told viral can mean regional or worldwide.”
“Oh my God.” Home? My heart begins to bang against my rib cage like it’s trying to escape. “Hey, no! I haven’t finished,” I complain as, this time, he successfully tugs the phone away.
“You’re familiar with how it ends.”
“Me and half the world!”
“That’s not really true. There were only two of us in the hotel room last night.” There’s a smoky hint in his voice, yet his words seem vaguely threatening.
“Your hotel, you mean.” I’m annoyed he didn’t say, though I’m not sure why I find the news surprising. The rich are such an untrustworthy bunch.
“Would it have made a difference had I said?” When my eyes meet his, I get that telltale little flutter between my legs. “I thought not.”
What the hell was I thinking? Just because Oliver isn’t all about the flex doesn’t mean he’s different.
“Last night isn’t the issue, not when I’ve made a spectacle of myself in front of an audience of millions.”
“You should read the comments. You have a lot of fans.”
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand like a stop sign, because nothing good can come of this. Or from him being here. “Tell me what you want. I know you didn’t come all this way to show me that.” Nausea rises as I glance down at his phone.
“I have a proposition to put to you.”
“A proposition?” My tone makes a passing couple turn abruptly.
“That’s not what I was proposing.”
So maybe that was wishful thinking. A night with him was a fun distraction, but I’m not making the same mistake twice.
“Look, Oliver, I don’t have time for any of this. I have no money,” I say, beginning to count my problems off against my fingers, “no phone, no clothes, no idea how much longer I can stay in the country, and now the cherry on the shit show that is my life is a viral video that makes me look like bridezilla on crack cocaine!”
“As I’ve been trying to tell you, I can help.”
I laugh. Manically. It’s better than giving in to the alternative.
“Shall we go inside and discuss it?” he says once I’ve calmed. Outwardly, at least.
I glance up at the sky as though seeking divine intervention, but I’m just stalling. “No,” I answer, dropping my head. I don’t need Lori to hear how my life is falling apart. And then there’s the small matter of how, when he crouched in front of me, I caught the scent of his cologne. And we know how that went yesterday.
“This is not a conversation to have in the street,” he prompts.
“In case I run away?”
“Yes, well.” He spikes a brow. “You find me not wearing a tie.”
Was that a low blow or an enjoyable one? It’s hard to tell, given the way my body throbs. “I can’t invite you in.”
“Can’t or won’t?” When I don’t answer, he glances to the end of the street, where the shopping pavilion begins. String lights hang and colorful bunting flutters between the quaint buildings, home to artisanal bakeries, traditional cheesemongers, and upmarket eateries, all overflowing with tourists and bougie locals on this sunny summer’s day. “Why don’t we do this over a drink?”
“Sure. How about the grill place?” Somewhere I’m likely to stay vertical and fully clothed. Not that we’ll get a seat anywhere today, I think with a frisson of malicious glee. It’ll make this meeting short, if nothing else.
“Wonderful.” He rises gracefully, the breadth of him setting me in the shade. “Shall we?”
“You go on ahead. I need to freshen up,” I answer, ignoring his outstretched hand. And by that, I mean “find out if Lori is the same size shoe” because I’m not sure I can claim shoeless is the new boho.
“I’ll see you soon.”
My mouth twists. “Because that didn’t sound like a threat. Nope, not at all. I get it. You know where I live.”
“For now,” he answers cryptically. He turns then, reminding me he has the kind of ass made for jeans. But you can’t truly appreciate what you don’t trust.
Chapter 9
OLIVER
Fifteen minutes later, Eve looks annoyed as she’s shown to the booth at the back of the restaurant. When I arrived, I asked for somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed. Perhaps that’s what’s bothering her.
“This place is busy.” Her tone is tellingly light as she slides into the pale-green banquet seating opposite.