Amelia 'Mia' Corzeica was never very good at hiding.
When her and a group of cackling girls would sneak away from
their boarding school in Connecticut every few months to join the
boys at a bonfire, she was always the first one to get caught.
When everyone went through their rebellious stage and all the
girls stole cherry flavoured bliss bomb lip-gloss she was the
first one to start running and be tackled by a security guard.
So it really didn't make much sense that she was running now.
When it wouldn't be a security guard tracking her but about 50
SWAT guys; okay maybe that was an exaggeration but not much of
The point was, Mia was on the run - and at any second she was
expecting the tackle.
* * *
'Checking in Miss?' Came the polite question from the impossibly
pretty girl on reception.
'Yes please. Amelia - uh, Black.' No point making it easier for
her father to find her.
The girl started typing and then stopped, her eyes widening. 'Um,
we were told to expect an Amelia, daughter of the owner?'
'That's me.' Mia said without even pausing, thank god for Amanda,
her friend from her last summer abroad whose father (obviously)
owned the hotel.
'Welcome to The Ritz!' She cooed. 'We have you in the Penthouse
Suite and if you need anything please let us know Miss Black.'
'Thankyou.' Mia smiled.
Mia didn't have any bags, she'd been in way too much of a hurry
getting out of the country to think about that!
She'd come to London for three reasons;
- They spoke English.
- Her father would never expect her to come here because Mia
was notorious for despising cold weather.
- And it was 4000 miles away from where she had been. Trapped
in New York about to be literally dragged down the aisle at 18.
You'd think that the 21st century meant that arranged marriages
had gone the way of corsets and slavery and died in the 1800s,
but no. Not in the Corzeica family, not when it meant losing an
alliance with someone as powerful as Luke.
The room was beautiful, really truly amazing. As big as probably
two decent sized apartments put together it still held that old
world charm the rest of the hotel had but with plenty of new high
tech gadgets to keep the millionaires happy and the kids glued to
the Disney channel.
The bathroom almost made her cry with joy, sitting in the middle
was a beautiful clawed foot bath which Mia knew would be able to
convince her that she never had to run from everything she knew
and loved, or the fact that 12 hours on a plane had left her hair
looking like a giant brown birds nest. Just as the water started
to run, Mia realized that her haste to leave the country meant
that she didn't have anything with her, not even a change of
underwear! And the idea of having to get back into her old
clothes when she just wanted to curl up in fluffy pyjamas almost
made her want to hurl.
Mia decided that a quick trip to a Bloomingdales equivalent was
in order; but just as she'd grabbed her keys and shoved her boots
back on her phone started to buzz.
She looked at the screen, the name said 'The Devil calling…'
Mia groaned; 'What do you want Luke?' She said frostily.
'You seemed to have missed something dear.' If her voice was
frosty, his voice was like a blizzard.
'Really, what did I miss?' She said innocently.
'OUR WEDDING! Did you honestly think you can get away with
running?! I've sent men to your house, we WILL be getting married
'Well you're not going to find me at the house, or anywhere else
for that matter! I will NEVER marry you!'
She'd rather marry, make out and have sex with the sidewalk than
marry that shithead!
His stream of profanities was so loud and so aggressive that she
pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. Shithead.
That's it; she really needed to get out of the hotel room now.
Her hands were shaking as she shoved her phone in her jeans and
headed for the door, slamming it shut behind her she turned to
lock the door and dropped the keys.
'Shit!' She said. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. 'Shit!' She
repeated, clicking end.
'Ahem.' A voice cleared next to her.
'What?!' She whipped around, expecting to be met with the glare
of some prude old lady but instead saw a guy about to enter the
room next to hers. He was young, maybe only 20 or so, with dark
hair flicking perfectly around his masculine face, one tanned
sinfully muscled arm extended to push his door open.
Mia knew this face; she was pretty sure everyone on the planet
knew this face. He was a rock star; and a damn good one actually.
But that wasn't the reason that he was worshipped all over the
world by 13 year old tweenies and house mothers, it was because
he was damn sexy as hell!
And he was staring at her like she'd just threatened to set him
'What?' Mia repeated, not exactly politely.
He smiled at her and took one very determined step in her
direction when suddenly there was a high pitched tidal wave of
screaming followed by at least 15 girls in t-shirts with his face
plastered on them running around the corner.
Mia only had time to say a terrified 'oh my god!' before she was
engulfed by the mob of fans and crushed to the ground.
Mia only had one thought; I hate rock-stars!