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Since we’d slept on Dylan’s jet on the way over, we’d hit The Tower of London yesterday and walked to the Tower Bridge.
Today, we’d taken a driving tour around the city in a sleek, black Rolls Royce Ghost—that I’d since learned was Dylan’s new personal car and chauffeur—before we exited the vehicle at Kensington Gardens.
I couldn’t say I was completely used to his new home. I was still awed every time I walked through the door of the spectacular mansion. The sheer size of it was overwhelming, but my astonishment was more about the way it was built in subterranean levels, with three levels underground and two above.
Because the house was so automated, I felt like I was in the middle of a sci-fi movie sometimes.
Not that it wasn’t gorgeous, but it would probably be a while before I got used to staying in such an amazing place.
I sat at a picnic table in the shade to slather on more sunscreen while Dylan went inside the building and returned with a tray of food and some sodas.
“This is really good,” I told him as I started to devour the fish and chips.
We’d both removed our sunglasses since we were sitting in the shade, so I could see the amusement in his eyes as he looked at me.
He shot me a grin as he started on his second piece of fish. “It’s really hard for anyone in England to completely ruin fish and chips. I’ve had better, but you need to eat.”
I smirked. “Like I ever miss a meal if I really want to eat?”
Dylan never seemed to stop feeding me, and his nonsense about me missing meals because he dragged me off to fuck me was totally ridiculous.
“What’s this?” I asked as I took a small forkful of something in a small bowl.
“Mushy peas,” he replied.
I lifted a brow and tasted them. “They’re delicious. What’s in them?”
“I can’t tell you every single ingredient,” he said thoughtfully. “But there’s definitely cream and butter. We know how to make nasty vegetables palatable and much less healthy.”
Since I wasn’t especially fond of most green veggies except in salad, I wasn’t about to complain because the mushy peas were tasty.
“Have I thanked you for today?” I asked, wanting to make sure that Dylan knew how much I appreciated everything he’d done to make this week special for me.
“It’s not over yet,” he pointed out. “And yes, you’ve thanked me. At least a half dozen times already today.”
“Okay, I’ll do it again later.”
He shot me a don’t-even-go-there look. “You don’t have to thank me, Kylie. I’m enjoying this as much as you are. It feels good to be home.”
He looked so relaxed that I believed him.
Dylan was obviously in his element here, and while we’d been in the US, it had been difficult to remember that he actually belonged somewhere else.
Other than the sexy British accent, he hadn’t seemed out of place in the States, either.
“I’m surprised no one seems to recognize you,” I mused. “I’d think you’re a famous face here.”
“A lot of these people are tourists, and before the whole scandalous photo debacle, we tried to keep our faces out of the media. Mum wanted us to try to have a normal childhood. We spent some of our vacation time in Spain as children, and once we were adults, none of us sought the limelight. Damian and I had a corporation to run, and Leo spent most of his time in the wilderness. We didn’t wind up in the gossip rags because we didn’t really attend social events unless we had to do it. For the most part, we lived pretty normal lives.”
I snorted. “If you can call riding around in a Rolls Royce and owning homes that only a tiny fraction of the of the world’s population can afford. You, Dylan Lancaster, are far from normal.”
“It’s normal for me,” he said matter-of-factly, his expression a little defensive.
“Hey,” I said in a softer voice. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I know this is all ordinary for you. I’m just saying it’s not for most people. To me, it’s pretty extraordinary.”
The last thing I’d meant to do was hurt him. Dylan had been born into his life, and who wouldn’t want to live his lifestyle if they could?
He and Damian busted their asses for their corporation, rather than just doing the social rounds and events, living off their wealth without working for it.
