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 one!
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
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 today!’
‘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 on fire.
‘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!
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