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Janine sees me looking at the sheets and raises an eyebrow. It’s almost like she wants me to comment that I have to put them on myself. Maybe she thinks I’m going to be the difficult American.
“Thank you,” I say, beaming at her. “Everything is perfect.”
“The heating comes on between five and eleven at night and six and eight in the morning. Feel free to adjust yours by the dial on the heater.”
I grin, and she cuts off. “Is something funny?”
“No, sorry. Yes. You said heater instead of radiator.”
“What else would I call it?”
I was about to joke about the heating being on in early summeronly in England, but I don’t think she’d find it very funny.
She lists off some other stuff, like when I can use the bathroom, which cupboard is mine in the kitchen, and things like that. Honestly, I can’t wait for her to leave.
She’s buzz-killing my“new country, new me”vibes a little.
Once she’s left me, I go to the window, throw open the curtains, and look down at the rainy street, the dark puddles, no sunlight to make them glisten. Across the street… What the heck? It’s as if somebody reached into my mind and plucked out my dream man.
He stands in the rain, not caring when it sluices through his silver-streaked hair. His hair is short, and, unlike the puddles, itdoesglisten in the wet. He’s wearing a dark suit, clinging tightly to his muscular body, at least six feet, his arms bulging in the material. I’m too far away. I shouldn’t be able to see the intensity in his eyes from here, the fierce anger, obsession,somethingas he gazes up.
A knock at my door has me turning.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Janine asks, maybe feeling bad about how we started things.
“Sure, thank you.”
When I turn back to the window, my dream man is gone.
>One click The English Billionaire’s Obsession<
KIDNAPPED BY MY BEST FRIEND’S DAD
CHAPTER ONE
Emma
I watch the East Coast buildings flit by the window, much grayer and bleaker than the West Coast. Maybe that’s just my mood, and I can’t brand theentireEast Coast this way.
I’m sitting in the back of a chauffeured car sent by my bestie, Rosa. She was the one who held me tight as I cried so hard I thought my chest was going to bust open eighteen months ago when Mom died. Then it was life on the West Coast with my stepdad.
Now? He’s found another woman, and I don’t enjoy hanging around the house when I can tell they don’t want me there. It’s nothing they’ve said explicitly, more a general mood. It’s a look my stepdad gets in his eyes sometimes as if he’s silently saying,When can I start my new life?Honestly, I get it. I’m a reminder of everything he’s lost, and it’s not like we were ever super close.
We stop at a red light, the midday sun shining down on a construction site. I wonder if Rosa’s dad, Leo Esposito, is involved in the project. He’s been a top construction manager in the city ever since I was a kid, hence the car and the big townhouse it’s taking me to.
I was seventeen when I left, but as the car carries me closer to the house, I feel like I’ve aged more than eighteen months. It’s like I left seeing the city through childish eyes, everything big and imposing, but now it’s shrunken down and nowhere near as impressive. Maybe that’s grief, still clinging, dulling everything. Whatever, at least the sun’s shining. I can’t let myself fall into self-pitying crap.
Soon, we arrive at the townhouse. “Thank you, Francesco,” I say.
He turns and smiles. His bushy gray mustache and the shocks of hair forming a crescent around his head bring me back to childhood. He’s been the Esposito driver for as long as I can remember.
“Of course, miss. I can’t call youlittle ladyanymore, can I?”
This might seem suggestive coming from somebody else, but Francesco is a good man and happily married. Anyway, nobody eversuggestsmuch to me, not that I’m looking.
I walk up the long stairs to the townhouse, immaculately swept, the door twice my height. After pressing the doorbell, I remind myself I’mnothere to ogle Rosa’s dad, Leo. I never had a crush on him, but I did look from time to time. It was impossible not to.
Luckily, I didn’t see him much growing up. Sometimes, he’d say a quick hello, but that was it. It gave me the space I needed not to let this feeling grow, whatever it was, the small ball of potential light inside me. It’s a good thing, and I plan on keeping it that way. Just because Leo makes me ache in a way I don’t fully understand, it doesn’t mean I have to feed those feelings. Just like the feelings of grief, too. There’s no need to throw wood onthosefires.
