“Okay, love you!”
She and I blew kisses at each other.
“Get inside safely.” Tate glanced at the driver. “Wait until she’s inside.”
With one more wave, Sienna raced to the red brick building and closed the front door.
“Carlton House Terrace.” Tate pointed through the windshield, and the driver nodded his ascent.
“Something was going on with her tonight.” I sighed as the taxi pulled away from the curb.
“You mean how she was eye fucking the singer and flirting shamelessly with the manager? I’ll say.” Eric ran his hand over his clean-shaven jaw.
“She’ll see them again. No one can fight a connection that strong.” Harris curled his fingers over my thigh. “She had it with both of those guys.”
“It’s not the connection I have a problem with. Nor is the fact that she’s drawn to other men. But I hope she comes clean to Ruben about it,” I said.
Royce leaned over from the seat behind. “What if Ruben’s not okay with it, sea sprite? What we have with you is the exception to the rule, not the norm.”
I twisted my mouth up. “I don’t know.” I worried for them because I was stoked that my friends were an item and wanted them to continue to be.
“All you can do is be supportive of them, no matter what happens,” Eric responded.
“You’re right. I only hope I don’t get caught in the middle.”
Leaning back against the seat, I stared blankly through the windshield.
ChapterFive
Louisa
The following day, I was up bright and early, zooming through Central London’s streets with Harris in a sportscar rental. With strong coffees and spiced fruit English muffins in hand, we were off to see the first of a few options for Oblivion’sfirst UK establishment.
“I’m so excited about this, Harris. I can’t believe you’re going to open a restaurant in the UK.” I jiggled my legs in excitement.
“There are a lot of rich, hungry mouths to feed here. We can’t have these Brits missing out on my moan-inducing food. Now, can we?” Harris winked at me and squeezed my thigh.
He didn’t dare go further. In the aftermath of our car accident, we banned all sex-filled shenanigans from the road.
“Thanks for coming with me, baby.”
“You’re welcome.”
It was fascinating watching the city go by, the people rushing through the drizzling rain, the black taxi cabs and red double-decker buses moving through the streets, and spotting world-famous landmarks I recognized from books and television. London was a city of contrasts. On the one hand, its traditions ran deep, but on the other, it was one of the world’s trendiest and most forward-thinking cities. This contrast was especially pushed to the forefront when we approached Canary Wharf with its skyscrapers reminiscent of New York more than the rest of London.
Harris pulled into a parking lot, and we made our way along the South Dock to a nondescript storefront, where a burly, middle-aged man in a suit greeted us.
“Mr. Rawlins, Lamar Tuck for Rosetta Commercial Realty. Welcome to London.”
“Chef Rawlins, actually. Mr. Rawlins is my brother,” Harris responded. “This is my girlfriend, Louisa.”
“A pleasure, miss.” My hand was minuscule in Mr. Tuck’s large, dark-skinned hand as we shook, then he opened the glass door. “Please, come inside.”
Our footsteps were muted on the polished timber floor as we entered.
Harris and I glanced around the room. The row of glass windows that overlooked the water allowed plenty of natural light. A bar ran the length of the opposite wall, and I noticed a thin layer of dust from disuse.
“Knock, knock. Sorry, I’m late.”