Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“A little louder, love,” Fin says, leaning in. “Then maybe the porter can sell the highlights of this conversation to the City Chronicle.”
“Fine.” I almost bite my lip as I spit the word out. “We’ll discuss this outside.” Is this what my life is about to become?
“Or maybe not.”
I angle my gaze his way as he lets go of my hand in favor of pulling me into his side. I follow his gaze to the glass doors and the small crowd of people outside. My first thought is it might be a family waiting for the arrival of their loved one. But then a flash goes off. Then another. And another.
“Fuck,” he grates out, swinging us both around to face the other way.
“Are those . . .” I glance over my shoulder. Then my stomach hits the tiled floor. “Please don’t tell me you have photographers following you all the time.”
“Not as a matter of course.” He nods at the porter, handing him a folded bill almost by sleight of hand. “What are you doing?” he asks, as I move to take the baggage cart.
“What does it look like?”
“You can’t use that as a battering ram. Not in today’s litigious society.”
“Says who?”
I pivot in the direction of the loud Irish voice before its owner backslaps Fin.
“Mila, right? I hear congratulations are in order.” The man turns suddenly, enveloping me in a short but expensive-smelling hug. His cologne is expensive smelling, at least. And his shirt feels pretty nice against my cheek. As he pulls back, amused green eyes stare down at me.
“Yes, th-thank you,” I answer, my gaze darting between the pair.
“I’m Matt,” he offers. “The better third of the Maven unholy trio.”
“My ass.” Fin scoffs.
“Did you lose your mind when you lost your hair?”
“Real funny.” With the reminder, Fin slides his hand up the back of his head.
“What happened to it, anyway? Lose a bet?” He glances my way.
“It’s a long story,” I offer, and the man grins.
“Knock that off,” Fin complains.
“Maybe it’s commiserations I should be offering, if she’s married you.” Matt winks, and I decide I like him. “Car’s waiting.”
“Bob?” Fin asks, taking my hand.
“Oliver, in his infinite wisdom, gave your driver the day off. He’s arranged transport himself.”
“A welcoming party?”
“A welcoming party,” Matt confirms. “Are you ready for the circus?” he says, turning to me again.
“That depends. Do I get to be the lion or the clown?”
Flanked by both men, I make for the glass doors.
“Was it planned, Fin?”
“No comment,” Fin says to the journalists who accost us as we exit the small terminal.
I blink as a camera flash goes off in my face, and I hold up my hand, dots dancing in my line of vision. I’m sure my feet would slow if it weren’t for Fin’s hold on me as he tows me along.
Now I know why celebs keep their sunglasses on.
“Did you tell Charlotte?”
“Has she given her blessing?”
“Is she gonna sue you for breach of promise?”
“Did you take back the ring?”
“The ring?” I repeat, glancing up at him.
“Not here,” he sort of singsongs. “Not now.”
He pulls me tighter into the shelter of his arm, Matt flanking my right. I mean, it’s not like the paparazzi are out to get us—there are only four of them. I’ve felt more threatened walking home from the Tube station on occasion. But then an honest-to-goodness limo screeches to a halt in front of me, and Fin yanks at the passenger door handle.
“A limo? Really?” he says as Evie’s happy expression suddenly emerges from the darkened interior.
“Of course a limo!” she trills, unrepentant. “Quick!” She makes a circling motion with her hand. “Get in.”
Fin presses his hand to my back, and for once, I feel not that subtle thrill of his touch but a solid shove. I burst into the interior and almost tumble into the lap of Oliver, who eyes me like a rotten kipper someone just hurled at him.
“Allow me,” he murmurs, pulling me deeper into the bowels of the vehicle before settling me on the leather seat next to him.
The limo door clunks closed behind me, the interior lights brightening to illuminate Evie’s expectant expression and Oliver’s mildly bored one. I glance at the door I was just shoved through, my stomach flipping at the opaque shape of Fin as he’s bombarded with questions.
“Is she pregnant, Fin?”
What? I pull my purse onto my knee, not quite sure if I should be offended or if Charlotte from Made in Richmond should. Maybe she is pregnant, but that doesn’t mean it’s anything to do with Fin.
“Don’t listen to them,” Evie says softly, as though intuiting my thoughts.
“I wasn’t,” I say far too quickly, then I swallow over the lump in my throat. I think that might be my heart trying to escape, which isn’t helped as Oliver moves to the side-facing seats, placing himself next to his wife.