Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“You should have taken a picture of that woman. I bet she turns out to be famous,” Melanie says.
“I can’t start snapping strangers. I’ll get arrested.”
The doorman mumbles into his radio and then catches my eye. He gives a subtle nod.
Goose bumps sprinkle my skin, and I put my umbrella down. There’s no way I’m missing this. If I have to get soaked, so be it.
“What are you doing?” Melanie says as the phone is tucked under my arm while I figure out the umbrella.
“I don’t want to miss this because I’m under an umbrella. I’ve waited my entire life for this moment.” I’m not sure what I’m preparing myself for. Is Daniel De Luca going to look at me and fall in love instantly? Will he catch my eye and realize I’m the woman he’s been missing all these years? No, but I’m not wrestling with an umbrella while I try to get a picture with him, even if I look like I’ve just been pulled out of the Thames.
A huge guy gets out of the passenger side of the Range Rover and pulls the door open, just as the hotel door opens. I stand on tiptoes. Whoever it is has a baseball cap on and their head bowed as they come out, their coat collar pulled up. I can barely see anything.
“I think it’s him,” Melanie says in a loud whisper.
“Daniel!” I yell. I want him to lift his head. I want him to look at me.
Daniel doesn’t face me, just raises his hand in a half wave before ducking into the car.
I’ve finally laid my own two eyes on Daniel De Luca.
I sigh. Gosh darn it. Was that it?
As the car passes us, I can’t even make out his silhouette in the back seat. The windows are like a concrete wall.
“It’s the same every morning,” the doorman says. “He never stops for the fans.”
“He’s a dick,” Melanie shouts from the phone. “We just wanted a photo.”
“I guess he’s not feeling his best at five a.m.,” I say.
“Or he’s just a dick,” Melanie says. “Maybe you can stalk him in the bar. Or at night when he comes back. What time does he come back?” she asks, and I point the phone at the doorman, but he just shrugs. “If I was there,” she continues, “I would have dived into the car or clung on to the exhaust pipe. You need a picture with him. You deserve more than a hand raise.”
I don’t need to see him again, have a picture with him, or get more than a hand raise. I’ve seen him in person. That’s more than I expected, even when I was fifteen years old. Melanie thinks I should be disappointed, but honestly, I’m not. Maybe seeing him, however briefly, means my teenage obsession is complete. Maybe I’ve just got other men to think about.
One man in particular.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As I press the bell on Ben’s town house, nerves start to tumble in my stomach. Flashes of last night flip through my brain, and my hands start to shake with the anticipation of seeing him again. It almost feels like another version of myself was with Ben last night. A more me version of myself. He stripped me of more than my clothes and found a Tuesday I’d forgotten about, or maybe I never knew existed.
He opens the door and the first thing I see is that dimple. Part of me likes to think it only comes out for me. I know it can’t be true, but I also know not everyone gets to see it. At least I’m part of an exclusive members-only club.
“You look incredible,” he says, not breaking our gaze as I step over the threshold. I’m not sure he’s even seen what I’m wearing.
“You happy with it? It’s suitable for tonight?” I twirl and my skirt lifts. When I meet his gaze again, his expression is difficult to place. It’s soft and kind and filled with gratitude, and it makes my heart inch higher in my chest. The time away from him, however short, increased my longing for him.
“More than.” He reaches for my face, cupping his hand around my jaw. Heat radiates everywhere—the base of my spine, between my legs, across my collarbones. He presses me against him and I gasp as our bodies meet. He feels so . . . safe. He fixes me with a magnetic glare, and I lean into him, wanting to be closer. His lips graze mine and I have to hold back a groan, I want him so badly.
“Thank you for my flowers,” I say. After half seeing Daniel De Luca, I went back to my hotel to find more flowers waiting for me.
“I wanted you to have something that reminded you of me today.”
“They’re beautiful. But I’m not sure how you think I’d forget.”