Page 36 of Pervade London
“As in H.G. Wells?”
“Yes. It’s a secret account.”
My flesh chilled. “Are you involved in something illegal?”
“I told you, no.” He glanced toward the restaurant. “The Biltmore. Go.” Xander pinched my chin. “Am. I. Understood?”
“Yes.” It came out sounding like a question, and I had so many more as I watched him walk back to join James and the others.
I needed to know who that man really was and why he was intent on wielding his authority over my boyfriend.
A fun evening had gone downhill fast.
Turning, I headed down the hallway in the opposite direction, resisting the urge to look back. The grand foyer buzzed with hundreds of well-dressed guests as I double-checked that none of my friends could see me making an exit. Kitty was going to be furious that I’d walked out on her. Not to mention worried as hell.
I hated doing this. Walking out on my friends would be as rude as it got.
I paused in the foyer.
Do the right thing.
Heading back to the bar, I was intercepted by the same maître d’ whose advice I’d rejected. I wished I’d never walked through that damn restaurant door.
She greeted me more brightly than I deserved. “Excuse me, Ma’am.”
“I’m sorry for my boyfriend’s behavior,” I said. “He’s overtired.”
She handed over a business card. James Ballad was stamped in gold lettering above a phone number.
My eyes rose to meet hers.
“You’re to call him,” she said flatly.
A chill rushed up my spine. “When did he give you this?”
“An hour ago.”
I offered it back like it was something toxic, but the maître d’ spun around and quickly crossed the foyer.
I flipped over the business card and read the handwritten note.
Good luck with your audition on Friday, Emily.
—James
Clutching the card to my chest, I hurried toward the hotel’s door, a fearful rush of adrenaline making me unsteady in my high heels.
The stark chill of the evening met me when I stepped outside onto the pavement, the grittiness of the city wafting like invisible smog.
A taxi pulled up and I headed fast toward it.
There was something terrifyingly provocative about James. The way he’d interacted with us had revealed his charisma. Xander had looked at him with a mixture of awe and trepidation and there’d been something else in his expression, too. Something I couldn’t define. I’d never seen him like this before, full of anguish and uncertainty.
All I wanted to do was go home, climb into bed, and forget this day had ever happened.
While standing inside the front door to our spacious four-bedroom flat, I listened for a noise, wanting to make sure I was alone.
There was nothing like a threatening interaction with a stranger to sober you the hell up. Leaving Xander behind at The Savoy had been a mistake. One I’d regretted the moment I’d climbed into that taxi.
