Oliver pitched instructions at Amelia. “Your car is waiting. There will be press outside of Mallory’s mansion. Do your best not to answer any questions or say anything about the movie.”

“Got it. And how about you try to smile since we aren’t going to a funeral?” Amelia said, making a face as she stared him down.

Sighing, he gave in and smiled for her. “Happy?”

“My soul is singing,” she joked as we walked towards the elevator.

“Must be nice having a client wishing you to smile and be happy and whatnot,” Austin muttered beside me.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the elevator and held my hand out for them to stop behind us.

“Take the next one. I’m planning on passionately making out with her until we get to the bottom,” I said, pressing the button to close the doors on their baffled faces.

“Do I have a say in this?” Amelia asked.

“No,” I replied, spinning her toward me, my lips covering hers. Immediately her mouth opened for me, my tongue brushing against hers as she pressed her body into mine. My hands traveled down the curve of her back before resting firmly on her ass, gripping it so tightly she smiled against my lips.

“So you’re an ass man?”

I smirked. “I’m an Amelia man.”

“Good answer,” she whispered, doing her best to remove the pink lipstick from my lips before the door opened.

As she took my arm again, we walked across the lobby, certainly gathering attention and photos judging by the number of people who stopped to blatantly stare at us. Just like this morning, there were no paparazzi waiting for us. Daniel, my bodyguard and driver, was already waiting at the black Mercedes parked in front of the hotel.

As Daniel opened the door for us, she slid in first, giving me a sinful view of her cleavage before I entered.

“Daniel, how long will it take us to get to the Mallory mansion?” I questioned, unbuttoning my suit jacket.

“Not long. About ten minutes or so if there is no traffic, sir.”

I glanced over to Amelia before pulling out my phone and dialing Austin.

“Yeah?”

“Hand the phone to Oliver.”

I waited.

“What?”

“Amelia and I are going to head out first. Don’t stress. I’ll take care of her.” In more ways than one. Hanging up, I glanced to Daniel nodding for him to drive.

“You didn’t have to call him,” she said.

“Yeah, I did.” Whether I liked it or not, Oliver was part of her life. I had to at least try and cool the animosity between us if I wanted her to be comfortable.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Grasping her hand, I kissed the back of it. Leaning back, I, for the first time, noticed the large, all-glass roof that allowed us to see the city above us as we drove by.

“I love cities,” I confessed.

“Because they are never dark,” she said. My brows came together as I tried to figure out how she knew that.

“You forgot,” she replied, staring upward.

“Forgot what?”

“That I know you. You told me you loved cities when we were in Rio.”

Jesus. That was well over twelve years ago. I could barely even recall going at all, let alone what we talked about.

“You still remember?”

She nodded. “I’m like an elephant. Besides, I over-analyze everything, so I end up thinking about it for much longer than most people.”

“So you remember every conversation we’ve had?” I asked.

“Only the important ones,” she replied.

“What are the unimportant ones?”

She shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. She had this amazing ability to go from sinfully sexual to innocently sweet in zero seconds flat.

“So what else do you remember about me, Ms. London?” I asked, holding her hand.

She pretended to think before speaking again. “You are allergic to almonds, Brazil nuts, walnuts, hazelnuts, macadamia nuts, pistachios, pecans, and cashews. But not peanuts for some weird reason. You only eat egg whites and not the yolk. Your favorite color is navy blue, and you hate wearing suits. If you could show up at events in jeans and a leather jacket, you’d never complain about anything at that event, even if they served cold food. That’s another thing you don’t eat: anything that has not been on or in a stove for at least five minutes. Sushi, cold shrimp, and crabs are a hard ‘no.’ Your favorite movie and play is The Merchant of Venice. You know the whole play by heart, and your favorite line is ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’ You love Shakespeare so much you actually went to school to get a master’s degree in Shakespeare Studies.”

I had no words.

She was right—about everything. In fact, I had forgotten I wasn’t allergic to peanuts because I avoid all nuts in general and had to think about it for a second.

“Too much?” She made face like she wished she hadn’t said anything.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly. I was happy, actually, that even now, after so much time had passed, she still thought of me enough to remember all of that.

“Mr. Sloan, Ms. London, we are here,” Daniel announced, pulling to a slow crawl at the large French-styled chateau, which featured a red carpet rolling from the edge of the stairs right up to the dark wood floor. Right outside the gates was a large mob of paparazzi, their flashes so bright I could barely see.

Luckily, we pulled up behind the rest of the luxury cars parked in front of the mansion, out of the reach of the paparazzi. It was only when we stopped directly in front that Daniel stepped out to open the door for us.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Amelia replied.

Nodding, I stepped out first, helping her out of the car before buttoning up my suit jacket. We walked up two steps and both waved at the press. They were all yelling at the same time, making it impossible to hear what they were saying. Linking arms, we turned around stepping up to the house, security nodding us in without issue.

There in the center foyer was Ray Mallory, dressed in a handmade Cheshire checkered suit and an ascot and holding a cane with a lions head. His hazel-gray eyes matched the multiplying gray in his hair. He had to be in his early sixties, but all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll apparently kept him looking not a day over forty. Beside him was some young blonde who I hoped to God was his granddaughter and not his date.

“If it isn’t Amelia London and Noah Sloan!” he said cheerfully, extending his arms to Amelia, who gave him an awkward one-side hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Mallory,” I said when they parted.

“My God,” he shook his head, looking at us. “I can’t believe how you two have grown up. I still remember when everyone referred to you both as Amenoah.”

Yeah, whoever thought it was cute to mix couples’ names together like that deserves to be smacked right upside the head.

“It just might make a comeback, Ray,” the Devil herself said as she stepped up, dressed in all gold and holding a glass of red wine.

“Hi, Mom,” Amelia said, breaking away from me to kiss her mother on both cheeks.

“The London women, looking as stunning as always. What is your secret, Esther?” Ray laughed.

Blackmail, murder, extortion, Botox, and her own daughter’s blood, sweat, and tears.

“Please enjoy yourselves.” He nodded to us, turning back to greet the other guests.

“So, Noah,” Esther said, swirling the wine in her glass, “Amelia tells me you two are dating. Congrats. You are one lucky man.”

“I know it,” I replied, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Be sure to save me a dance, alright?”

“Of course.”

With that, she disappeared into the crowd, and I felt that feeling again telling me to run.

“The person I see and the person I know her to be don’t mesh in my head,” Amelia whispered as we walked.