Page 25 of Getting Lucky in London

There were millions of key rings like the one I’d found. It didn’t have to be Dom’s, the one I’d given him to celebrate the closing of his new home, the one that said Dom wasBritain’s Bitchnow that he’d signed his life away on a mortgage.

Unable to shake my suspicions, I stood there another long moment, rain soaking me to the bone, before I turned slowly toward the house, dragging the umbrella behind me.

Absently, I slogged into the house and closed the door. I didn’t want to believe it. That Danielle could be Dominic’s sister Daisy.

My gaze fell on her purse, and I swallowed. If I called the number Dom had texted to me…and her cell rang…I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t unknow the truth. That she’d been lying to me.

My heart pounded harder, faster. Was it all just a game to her? Was she playing me? I didn’t want to think so. She seemed to genuinely like me and want to be with me.

Fuck. Bile rose in my throat. If I called Daisy’s number and it turned out to be a coincidence…

“Bloody hell.” I dug my phone from my jeans and found Dom’s text.

The number glared back at me in black and white, possible evidence that the whole time she’d been with me she’d been lying. I tapped the line of numbers, held my breath, and stared at her purse, willing it to be silent. Through the line, I heard Daisy’s phone ring.

A millisecond later, Danielle’s purse vibrated, and my heart sank. After four rings, voicemail picked up. “This is Danielle Russo. Leave a message at the tone.”

My fingers tightened around my phone, and I wanted to throw the damn thing across the room, but that wouldn’t do anything to appease the hurt firing my anger. Why’d she do it? What did she have to gain by lying? The attraction still would have been undeniable. Dom’s sister or not, I’d still have wanted her. Wouldn’t I?

I’d always gone with my instincts, and they’d never let me down. While Danielle had her secrets, my gut told me there wasn’t a mean bone in her body. Her emotions were real, her heart sincere. And I hadn’t missed the way her eyes softened when she looked at me. She’d cried during sex, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t that say something?

The fucking silence in the room wasn’t reassuring, but the way I figured it. I had three options.

I could give her the fucking keys, call her a fucking cab, hustle her ass out of my life and never fucking see her again. That idea scared the shit out of me. I’d waited a long time to find her. I didn’t want to let her go.

Some of my anger dissipated as I dismissed option number one.

Option number two was to give her the keys and ask her to stay so that I had time to convince her we had something special. If she realized that, hopefully, she would confess her deceit and tell me why she’d lied. That was a good option.

The last option was a bit riskier. I could lay the keys by her purse, wait for her to find them, and see what happened. She’d either say“It’s been fun.”Or she’d want to stay without me having to ask. I wanted the decision to be hers.

Risky for certain, but I’d already made that plain in telling her I wanted to get to know her. It was time for her to decide what she wanted. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t do everything in my power to fucking lead her toward my way of thinking.

Blowing out a long breath, I laid the keys beside her purse and went back to the laundry. The ball was in her court.

****

Danielle

Once again, I found myself wearing Michael’s white dress shirt and on my way down the stairs to find him. I smiled at how we couldn’t seem to make it inside the front door before devouring each other.

Something smelled delicious, but I was hungrier for him than whatever he was cooking. But before I got too busy getting busy in the kitchen, I needed to check for any news from the museum or Dominic. Funny, I hadn’t given either much thought once the interview was over. Michael had stolen my every thought. And my heart.

Who was I kidding? It had always been his.

As I drew closer to the table in the entryway, my tummy took a tumble. A set of keys lay beside my purse. Dominic’s keys. My gaze snapped toward the kitchen, but a short wall blocked my view of the stove. I could hear him humming.

I glanced back at the keys and swallowed hard. He’d found them and obviously put them here for me to see. So that I’d leave? My excuse to stay no longer existed.

But I wasn’t ready to go.

Nerves jittering, I dropped the keys in my purse, grabbed my phone, and scrolled through the missed calls. Making time to call Dominic was a priority. The most recent call was a number I didn’t recognize. A London number. The museum?

I flipped to my messages. One of them, another London number, had to be from the museum.

Unknown:The job is yours. Call Monday at your convenience.

This was the reason I’d come to England in the first place. I should be overjoyed, dancing in my underwear…if I had any to dance in. But taking the job meant living in the same city as Michael, possibly running into him and seeing him with someone else on his arm.

---