Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“No pressure. And if not, then maybe I’ll see you in the queue for coffee on Monday.” He checks his phone again, winces. “Gotta go.” He kisses me on the cheek, hooks his bag on his back and starts a gentle jog out of the park.
My fingers covering the cheek he just kissed, I watch him leave, wondering why it feels like I can trust this guy.
I thought the same about Matt, and look where that ended up.
EIGHT
Vivian
I messaged Beau to ask what hanging out would look like and he gave me a list of options. First up was lunch at his brother’s place—he offered to cook. It felt like too much of a Netflix and chill option, and he’s still pretty much a stranger.
Option two was another walk in the park. It’s a good option. So far I’ve managed to remain anonymous and, much like Central Park, people here seem far more focused on themselves than they are on figuring who’s behind the dark glasses and cap.
But I was intrigued enough by option three to go with that choice, which is what Beau referred to as a “lucky dip”—a surprise. Partly because it sounded the most fun, and partly because…I’m curious to roll the dice and see if my picture ends up in the papers. I suppose I’m testing Beau, which may or may not be right, but it is necessary.
He told me to dress casually, like what I wear to get coffee, even though we’re meeting at six in the evening. He insisted he would pick me up. I agreed after some convincing, but I wasn’t about to tell him my address. I said I’d meet him outside Coffee Confidential.
I take Beau’s advice and sport athleisure wear, although I put on the leggings that make my butt look a little bubblier than the others. As I arrive, the back door of a blacked-out
Range Rover opens and Beau gets out. Does that mean someone else is driving? Someone who knows it’s me he’s collecting? My pulse starts to race and all of a sudden, I wish I hadn’t agreed to this. I have no security, and not even Tommy knows where I am or what I’m doing.
Beau doesn’t say anything, he just smiles at me. For a second, I wonder if this is all some elaborate setup and I’m about to be kidnapped for ransom. These things happen. I’m worth a lot of money to a lot of people.
I glance around, not quite sure what I’m looking for.
“You look gorgeous.” Beau tugs my cap, bringing my focus back to him.
“I look like I’m about to go on a run.”
“That too,” he says, his eyes crinkling. “But doesn’t take away from the gorgeous part.”
My pulse softens and I take a breath. Since Matt, I’m in constant fight-or-flight mode.
I look up at Beau, take a breath, climb into the car and push my glasses onto my head. The partition between the driver and the passengers is blacked out, but the driver could have seen who was getting into the car.
Beau follows me inside and closes the door. “Okay, first off, let me tell you that trying to find something to do in London that doesn’t involve too many people and isn’t out in public and isn’t at my brother’s place—well, it’s not easy. So if this isn’t your jam tonight, I apologize in advance.”
I smile. It’s kind of him to try. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“That’s the answer of someone who expects the night to be terrible.” He laughs. “I guess it’s good the bar is low.”
It’s like his laugh is a sedative. I start to feel much better about being here. I snap on my seat belt and the car pulls out from the curb.
“Does the driver know it’s me?”
“I didn’t tell him but he may have worked it out. He’s under a strict NDA. He’s my brother’s driver and he knows the score. My brother had some run-ins with the tabloids back in the day—nothing compared to what you go through, but he’s always been very careful about who he has around him. There’s no need to worry.”
This was partly a test of Beau, so let’s see where this takes me. It feels good to get out of the house for a bit, and not just for coffee. Maybe tonight will be okay. “Why did your brother get embroiled with the tabloids? Is he famous?”
“Nah. Not really. For a while there he was very successful and single, and his private life ended up in the papers. I think people were interested because he’s… I mean, he’s easy on the eye, so his wife tells me. And he was connected to a lot of wealthy and famous people.”
That sounds intriguing. “What’s his name?”
“You won’t know him. Nathan Cove.”
Of course I knew him. “Nathan Cove is your brother?” He was gorgeous. Suave and sophisticated. He was like the UK version of John Kennedy Junior.