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M: A little. Which is saying a lot, considering I’m giving the moon a run for her money in… roundness
Paying for dinner felt like trying to dodge a snarling dragon. She wouldn’t hear of it and I insisted, swatting her hand away. The waitress watched us with an amused curl to her lips—until I finally handed her my card, with the distinct impression Pri had allowed it.
The sparkling brand-new Mercedes arrived to pick us up, which was good, because I suspected we’d have needed to roll ourselves down the street otherwise. The warmed-up backseat groaned under our weight, kicking up that signature scent of leather.
My head lolled to the side as the lights blurred past the window and a pleasant haze settled over my bones, dragging me into a sluggishness that had taken her victim, by the soft little snores curling in the partitioned cabin.
My lips pulled into an entirely too warm smile, before my lids grew heavy, and the gentle rocking of the car lulled me to sleep, too.
Chapter twenty-four
Mia
I felt like a spy, navigating bustling streets to the location he’d sent me, along with a demanding message that also managed to sound sweet.
J: Come have breakfast with me x
I expected a little bistro tucked in a corner or a posh café, not the breakfast lounge of one of the most luxurious hotel chains in the country.
Light spilled from a large roof lantern in the middle, aided by a bulbed chandelier hanging high, almost the size of a car. Boxes of palm trees peppered the cavernous space, giving me whiplash from the snow and pine outside.
Though the room buzzed with activity and low, smooth jazz, silence clung to the columned walls, making my heeled boots echo louder than they should have as I waded through rows of small rounded tables, and intimate conversation.
It was the sort of place that wasn’t meant to remember you—bright and entirely too polished.
With a pang that deflated my chest, I wondered if Josh did this often, if coming here made me just another one of his conquests.
The scent of omelettes and waffles in equal measure danced in my nose, mingling with the comforting aroma of tea that settled my nerves with every step.
I’d worn the same dress as yesterday and my butter-white coat, but my fingers wouldn’t stop fiddling with the scarf strangling me.
A hand rose, snatching my attention, before a tall striking figure straightened up and ambled towards me. I allowed myself two seconds of taking him in, from the grey crew-neck sweater to the charcoal pinstripe slacks, to the decisive path he cut towards me.
His palm landed on my waist before we’d even said hello.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice too low, too husky. I couldn’t help loathing the appreciative once-overs he drew from seated patrons, but a part of me enjoyed it, too—the same wicked part that had gone up to the library, that had embarked on this quest today.
“Morning.”
His gaze brushed over my mouth and lingered, but propriety must have held him in check. Instead of leaning in, he coaxed me to our table and helped me shrug off my coat, fingers whispering over my shoulders, kicking up little firecrackers over the skin underneath.
I ordered crispy bacon rashers and a cheese omelette without checking the menu, and he did the same, asking for extra cheese in both.
Ah, a man after my own heart.
Shit, did I just—
“—the place okay?”
I’d been watching his mouth move and taking nothing in, like a goddamn idiot, but I nodded anyway.
“How was your—”
“What movie did you—”
Our questions clashed in the air, drawing out little chuckles.
The corner of his mouth tugged up in a lopsided smile that shouldn’t have looked that charming.
