Posh boy Mitchell, now a London-based property developer, was voted out of the house in the fourth episode after he was caught kissing one of the film crew.
A Little Bird thinks she can spot a pattern!
We’d love confirmation as thegroom that wasn’thas gone to ground and our runaway bride, Evelyn Fairfax, a veterinarian working at a swanky Knightsbridge clinic, has disappeared.
Come on, London, help us find them!
“What the hell?” Less demand and more plea. I glance up to find Oliver’s expression impassive. “They used my name.” I swallow over another wave of nausea. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“Freedom of the press means they don’t need you to. I wonder how long it will be before a new column is out. One that mentions a mystery man in a Bentley.”
“What?” A thorn wedges itself in my sternum.
“They not only know your name; they also know where you work. Perhaps she saw me follow you.”
“Stop. Just stop.”
Help us find them.That sounds almost threatening. Why do they want to speak to me? To humiliate me all over again?
“I can protect you. No one will find you at the hotel.”
“This plays so well into your plans, doesn’t it?”
“If only I were that imaginative,” he adds witheringly. “I didn’t contact the press, Eve. But I am offering you your visa and fifty thousand pounds for the sanctuary to soothe your scruples. In exchange for three months of your time.” His attention flicks down to his watch. “You have two minutes to decide. London or Connecticut. A legitimate visa or a nasty visit from immigration.”
Frustration bubbles inside me. One minute, he’s shielding me from the rain, forcing me to wear his coat—helping Nora! And now this ... this is blackmail!
He would do this to me?
My gaze slices his way, and understanding washes over me like frigid water, waking me up.
And I realize, yes. Yes, he would.
Chapter 16
EVIE
A Little Bird Told Us.
A little bird, my ass. That thing is more like an albatross, something bigmouthed and with the propensity to shit on your head.
“Are you listening to me?”
“What?” Rain lashes against the car window as I turn to Oliver. “Yeah, I’m all ears.” All ears, annoyance, and anxiety.
“So you’ll move in. Today, preferably.”
“What’s the hurry?” Not that I have any real problem moving into his hotel. I guess it means I won’t have to hear Lori whine about the press when they turn up.
After reading the stupid A Little Bird column, I went back and read the previous ones. Then I googled the dating show Mitch had taken part in. I still don’t know what to think about that, except that it’s just another level of bullshit, and it adds another level of disbelief that I almost made it to the altar with that man.
I didn’t touch the other articles, blogs, and mentions because I already felt like the media and the internet had chosen to evacuate their bowels on my head. I never wanted to be famous, but I think it might beat infamy, hands down.
“You’re not listening. Again.”
“I am!”
“What did I say?”
