Page 153 of Unwritten Rules

Henry rolls his eyes as Liv and I share a look, internally laughing at my brother and how easy it is to push his buttons.

Leaving him to his call, I follow Grayson from the office, intent on grabbing a coffee and a sandwich before the afternoon’s meetings, only for Henry to call after me.

“You guys can call it a day.”

Grayson, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, punches his fist into the air. “Come on, I’ll drop you.”

“Are you sure, Henry? It’s not even 2 p.m.…”

My brother winks playfully. “A little birdie tells me you’ve got quite an important meeting today, Mouse. So head home and get ready. I’ll send a car to collect you at, what? 6 p.m. sound okay?”

I blink owlishly before nodding in silence and following Grayson from the building, all whilst wondering what the fuck has happened to my anally retentive older brother since I departed London.

Traffic isn’t too bad, and before I know it, Grayson has pulled up alongside my building.

“Best of luck at your meeting, future New York Times best-selling author!”

My companion’s waggling eyebrows make me giggle. “Thank you, Gray. I’ll drop you a text later and let you know how it went.”

He narrows his eyes as I slide from the car, a mischievous look in his hazel eyes. “Hmm, yeah. I’m thinking I’ll be the very last thing on your mind tonight!”

And with that, he winks cheekily and pulls back out into the traffic.

“Right, time to get ready!”

The afternoon flies by, and before I know it, the buzzer sounds.

I hit the speaker. “Yes?”

“Miss DeMarco, your car is here.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right down.”

I take one last look in the mirror at the outfit I’ve agonised over. After a million and one changes, I finally settled on a plain black t-shirt dress that stops mid-thigh. I’ve paired it with a cropped denim jacket with three-quarter sleeves, and, considering we’re meeting at a Yankees game, I’ve gone with my usual Chucks for comfort.

Grabbing my favourite Versace sunglasses from the table by the front door, I drop them atop my head, slip my small red Kate Spade crossbody bag over my shoulder, and make my way downstairs.

Anxiety and excitement churn in my gut as I slide into the luxurious town car that Henry has sent. There’s a bottle of Bollinger on ice, alongside a bowl of strawberries, and my stomach lurches slightly as I remember that unforgettable day in the orchard.

Sipping the champagne slowly, I get lost in my thoughts, so the trip to Yankee Stadium takes much less time than I’d thought it would.

As we pull up outside the stadium, I feel my brow crinkle in confusion.

Pressing the button to speak to my driver beyond the blacked-out partition, I question, “Why is it so quiet?”

I’ve been to a Yankees game before. Several, in fact. I adore the thrill of game day and the atmosphere created by throngs of die-hard fans, but outside, the stadium is empty. No bustling crowds. No chanting fans.

What the actual fuck?

“I believe it’s a meeting I’ve been asked to drive you to, Miss DeMarco. Not a game.”

I quickly take out my phone and check the Yankees’ website, instantly realising that he’s right. There’s no game set for tonight.

Why would Daniel set up a meeting here?

There’s a woman right outside the entrance where the car comes to a stop, and she’s ready to greet me when my driver delivers me to my destination.

“Hi, Mila. My name is Rachel Munoz. I’m a rep here at Yankee Stadium.” She extends her bronzed, impeccably manicured hand, which I accept, as she shoots me a perfect smile. “Right this way.”