Page 20 of Getting Lucky in London

There were thirteen texts from Dominic. The first told me that he and Sarah had landed and were on the way to the hospital. The second was several hours later with news that Sarah’s father was stable but still in ICU.

Worry showed up in the third.

Dominic:Hey, text me back to let me know you’re okay.

Dominic:Daize?

Dominic:Are you okay?

Dominic:Answer your phone.

Dominic:You’re really scaring me.

Dominic:Dammit, Daisy. Where are you?

His messages went on like that until the last one, which had come in five minutes ago.

Dominic:If I don’t hear from you in the next thirty minutes, I’m calling the police and catching a flight home.

I looked up at the director’s door to make sure I had time to answer. I couldn’t let Dominic come home because I’d silenced my phone at the art exhibit last night and forgot to turn it back on because I was too busy having sex with his friend.

I thumbed as fast as I could.

Me:Sorry. I’m fine. I was just tired last night, so I turned off my phone. I’m about to go into my interview. Love you!

Lies, lies, lies.But there was no way I’d tell him the truth, that I’d seduced and slept with Michael. I could barely believe it myself.

Chapter Five

Michael

I rang the doorbell at Dom’s house for the third time, then resorted to knocking—or rather banging—on the door. Still no answer.

Fishing out my phone, I texted Dom.

Me:I’m at your place. No answer. Do you want me to call for a welfare check?

I wasn’t sure how long it would take for Dom to answer since he was likely taking care of Sarah, but the sky looked like it was about to open up, so I returned to my car for the wait. So much for taking Danielle to sightseeing.

Glaring at the door as if I could summon Dom’s sister, I tried to remember her but couldn’t pull up an image. I’d only met her once…I think. Still, I couldn’t not be a touch worried about her. She was alone in a strange country.

Of course, I had no idea if the girl had friends here or not. She could be out with one of them now.

“Typical teenager.” If she wasn’t in danger or hurt, the least she could do was respond to Dom’s texts and calls. Not doing so was rather thoughtless. Not to mention the time I was taking from my limited time with Danielle. Granted, Danielle was in a meeting.

It dawned on me that I had no idea how long she’d be in London. She’d said a few days. I’d have to make it a point to find out when I picked her up.

My phone pinged.

Dom:I just heard from her. She’s fine. She turned off her phone and went to bed early. She’s at the museum.

Me:OK, I’ll check on her later. Text me her number so I can make sure she’s expecting me.

The number came through, and I tucked my phone onto the mount. I’d call her after I picked up Danielle.

Half an hour later, I parked twenty feet down the street so I could see her as she exited the building. Rain pelted the windshield, but I’d found my umbrella—or brolly as my mother called it—and I planned to catch Danielle before she was soaked. I should have asked for her number or given her mine, so she could text me when she was finished.

Keeping an eye on the door, I was startled when the passenger door opened. Danielle slid onto the seat and quickly closed the door.

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