Page 9 of One Hot Chase

The constable gives me an incredulous look. "He's Declan Wilde."

I throw my hands up. "So what?"

The jerk pats the officer's arm. "It's all right, mate. You know how women can be when they feel ignored. Go ahead, I'll take care of this. No harm done."

And the officer casually walks away down the path.

I slowly step back, keeping a safe distance between us. "Who the hell are you? A mobster? Cops bow down to you, desk clerks and taxi drivers worship you. It's insane. I've never even heard of Declan Wilde."

"Well, maybe you should look me up on your mobile phone." He casually strolls over to another bench and plops down onto it, stretching his arms across the back. "Go ahead, take your time."

I fume for about three seconds, then reluctantly pull out my phone and open the web browser, typing in his name. Oh no, he's actually famous. This is just perfect. No matter how much he stalks me, nobody will care because he's part of the famous Wilde family dynasty that's been around for ten generations. I didn't make that up. It's written in the headline of the very first article that pops up. Declan is described as a "multifaceted playboy-millionaire" and is one of the most well-known people in all of London if not the entire UK.

My shoulders slump as I shove my phone back into my purse. I plop down on the bench a few feet away from Declan. "This is just great. The slimeball who charmed me last night is just another womanizer. Ugh, my luck couldn't be worse."

"Relax, pet, this is your lucky day." His cocky smile returns. "You've caught the biggest fish in the dating world---me, Declan Wilde."

"Then I'm throwing you back into the sea." I lift my chin. "Besides, I'm a vegetarian."

Declan chuckles. "Is that why you devoured an eight-ounce steak last night?"

"You brainwashed me." But yeah, I do love steak. This hunky bag of human slime doesn't need to know that.

"So, you only eat meat when Declan Wilde shags you?"

I growl---seriously, I do. "You're evil."

"Sabrina darling, you're adorable when you get angry. So fiery and irresistible."

"I hope you burn in hell for eternity."

I spin around on my heels and march down the path, adamantly refusing to look behind me and see if that jerk is following. I veer onto the grass, cutting across it in an attempt to shake Declan off my trail. When I reach another, parallel pathway, I pause to plan my next move. Luckily, my phone has a maps feature, so I use it to plot my escape. I follow Carting Lane since it seems like the best option since I didn't rent a car. Since I had planned on staying at the Savoy and using taxis for transportation, I don't have many other options. But now that I've checked out of the hotel, going back there isn't an option either.

My route takes me through a narrow street, or maybe it's just a pedestrian walkway, until it finally leads me to The Strand, which apparently is what this road is called---just "The Strand," not Strand Street. At least, that's what it says on my map. Now that I'm here, I have no idea where to go next.

Scanning the area, I notice the Adelphi Theater across the street. That's interesting, but it doesn't help me navigate this unfamiliar place.

A taxi approaches, so I wave to get the driver's attention.

"Don't leave without me, darling. I'm an excellent tour guide."

Oh no, not him again. Hearing Declan's voice confirms my suspicions. He has been following me. But I decide to play along and act like I can't hear him. As soon as the taxi stops, I jump in and shut the door.

Meanwhile, Declan just stands there on the sidewalk, wearing that cocky grin.

"Where to, miss?" asks the driver before turning to look at me with a smile. "Oh, it's you again. Didn't catch your name last time."

"Sabrina Remington," I reply, tapping my foot nervously. I want to tell Roger to hurry up and drive away from here, but I don't want to be rude.

"I'm Roger Jones. Nice to officially meet you. Where do you want to go this time, lovey?"

"Not sure. Do you have any recommendations? I'm on vacation here in the UK."

"How about Trafalgar Square? It's not too far from here."

"Perfect."

As Roger starts the taxi rolling, I try my hardest to avoid looking at Declan out the window. My eyes seem to have a mind of their own and force me to glance at him, the annoyingly cheerful jerk who's been following me.

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