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The other girl comes back from the kitchen, both hands full. “I found it. And, er, could you give her this too? It’s a special mug that she always likes to drink out of. I don’t think anyone will care if she has it. Is she coming back?”
I take the cup from her, then take out my phone to send the rest of the money. “No. She’s not.”
They follow me through the hostel and out to the car, where Luna is sitting where I left her, the scowl etched even deeper on her face.
Seeing her friends, she turns to them and opens the window.
“Luna! Are you okay? Is this dude kidnapping you?” they shout from the curb.
She glowers at me as I join her in the car, but then she turns back to her friends. “Kind of, but it’s okay. You guys have my number, right?”
“We do! But we’re going to miss you! Who is going to make us disgusting drinks and show us card tricks?” Nosy Girl leans in and whispers, “He’s hot, though. Is he your new sugar daddy or something? This one’s younger than the last one.”
Luna laughs and then dramatically lays her hand on my thigh and rests her head on my shoulder. “What can I say, they just can’t get enough of me.”
Heat flares up my spine and I shift, pretending to get comfortable into my driving position. “Luna. Say goodbye to your friends,” I growl through gritted teeth, pushing down the hand brake.
“Bye, guys! We’ll catch up in a few days, okay?”
“Can’t wait for all the gossip! Ask him if he has any brothers!”
She nods. “He does! They’re even younger and hotter and richer than he is and—”
I slam on the gas, and the car screeches into traffic before she can finish her sentence.
“Hey! I was talking to them,” she admonishes.
I scowl into my own reflection in the rearview mirror, checking traffic. “Firstly, my brothers are all taken. And secondly, they’re not richer than I am. We own the same amount of Baxter shares.And my private portfolio is actually substantially bigger than theirs.”
“Not to mention the millions you get as a wage,” she throws at me.
“None of us take a salary from Baxter.”
“Fine, then a bonus based on your performance.”
“Not that either,” I snap.
She clamps her mouth shut and then twists in the seat, looking at her belongings in the back seat.
“How did you know which bed was mine?”
I consider lying but don’t. “I’m familiar with a certain piece of clothing.”
She giggles and I try not to note how adorable it sounds.
Unsuccessfully.
I actually welcome the sound; the drive back to London had been accompanied by a lot of sad, watery eyes and deep sighs as she’d sat quietly, lost in thoughts. And while I don’t blame her, it was nice to see a little of her spark back.
“Oh no! We have to go back! I left my special mug—”
“Got it.”
“What about my water bottle?”
“That too.”
“How did you know to get them?”
