Page 110 of Paparazzi Perfect
I didn’t want to tear the wound open and rub salt in it. When I saw him on the screen at the race, I was sure he’d moved on. It definitely seemed that way, living it up in Abu Dhabi.
But all his calls and messages…had I made a mistake? It’s too late now. He was gone. And I was stuck at work, watching the clock. Sighing, I stared absently through the window.
My eyes widened as a sleek, pearly-white car inched past out front. “Miki, check this out.” I crunched on another potato chip, my eyes glued to the driver in the fancy cap. “Is that achauffeur?He must be lost. We don’t get cars likethat around here,” I said as the car rolled to a stop.
With my drink in hand, I sucked on the straw and wandered toward the window. Leaning closer, I admired the elegant curves of the car.
Whoa.A silver ‘B’ framed by a set of wings gleamed on the hood.Nice Bentley!
The driver’s door opened, and a well-groomed middle-aged man dressed in an impeccably tailored black uniform stepped out.
With a straight back and chin lifted, he moved around the gleaming car and opened the rear door. He reached inside, pulling out a glossy white shopping bag and slinging it over his shoulder before lifting out a large, cream-colored box tied with an oversized white bow.
With the bag over his shoulder, he carefully carried the box toward the door, glancing at me through the glass pane.
A giggle escaped my lips, my hand flew over my mouth and I jumped back as the door creaked open.
A second later, he stepped inside.
My attention snapped to the shiny box as the door clicked shut behind him. He gave me a questioning look as he crossed the room.
“Good evening, mademoiselles,” he said ceremoniously. “My name is Maurice. I have a special delivery for Ee-vee.”
Wait… does he mean me?
“If you would be so good as to point me in her direction, I would be most grateful, mercibeaucoup.”
I pressed a finger against my chest. “Umm, that’sme,” I said as Miki’s smile widened.A special delivery… for me? From this guy?
My gaze swept around the diner, but aside from old Charlie sitting at the bar, the place was practically empty. Miki and I exchanged a look before turning back to the chauffeur.
“Mademoiselle, a gift for you,” he said melodically, “from Monsieur Wells.” He held the box toward me.
Karson! Of course.No one else would send a Bentley to Sizzling Hot. My gaze returned to the outstretched box. “What is it?” I raised an eyebrow.
He gave me a blank expression.
“Could you open it for me?”
With a polite nod, Maurice untied the ribbon and gently lifted the elegant lid.
I drew in a sharp breath as my gaze fell on the mesmerizing gown curled inside. The shimmering fabric almost glowed. Like I was in a trance, I moved closer and brushed my fingers across the sparkling material, bewitched by its sheer beauty.
“Please, mademoiselle,” Maurice said, holding out a rolled piece of paper tied with a red ribbon. “I give you this from the gentleman.”
My hands shook as I reached for it, on shaky legs, I walked to the bar, pulled out a stool, and sat down.
As I tugged the ribbon loose, the heavy paper uncoiled.
Firefly,
We have little time.
I’m so sorry for how I acted. Please forgive me. If you’ll allow me, I’ll spend a lifetime trying to make it up to you.
I know now that nothing else matters because I love you, Ivy.
Nothing can ever change that.
