Chapter 41

41

S he woke up only five minutes before her scheduled 7:10 alarm went off and thought she should try making love to a sexy younger Italian Londoner again as an infallible method to beat jet lag. But even if it was barely day outside, Luke was already gone. She could hazily recall him leaving her place earlier, trying not to wake her up but still kissing her good morning.

There had been no occasion for her to think over some of the big questions that preoccupied her before taking yet another step to further her connection with Luke.

But who had time to reflect on life? Wasn't it better to take things as they came sometimes? The consummate planner in her had always revolted against that idea but wasn't so opposed to it now. Spontaneous sex had a sudden allure.

She wanted to recall every single detail from the previous night, every stare, kiss, and hurried touch. But she'd have to forgo her need to relive all those details since there were more pressing—if undesirable—matters that required her attention.

She needed to finish writing that blasted interview with Richard Fynn.

She went downstairs to put the kettle on and start brewing tea, eating breakfast, and trying to finally rouse herself to a semi-awakened state.

In her kitchen, she found a handwritten note waiting for her on top of the dining room table.

Bella, sorry I left so early. I hope I didn't wake you up. I promise to stay for breakfast next time and get some cornetti. I'll call you at a more appropriate hour later today.

Luca

PS1 Still want to whisper a lot more dirty things into your ear

PS2 Who buys dark instead of milk chocolate digestives?? I hope you don't mind I stole them all though, I was starving!

PS3 I approve of your tea taste. Wordplay intended

Reading it put a smile on Sol's face. She studied the irregularity of his hand. It looked like he'd written the note in a rush and then thought about adding something to warm her that chilly morning with that first postscript. The second, more prosaic one had clearly been added after he rummaged through her kitchen cabinets in search of something sweet. She preferred not to dwell too much on the third one but saw that he'd found her cache of Harney & Sons Royal English Breakfast tea.

Luke had gone home for a quick shower and change of clothes and was now on surveillance mode for the umpteenth time that week. The fact that it was Saturday and he hadn't had a free day in almost two weeks hadn't escaped him.

On this occasion, he was watching the fiancé of a hotel and luxury spa heiress. T&T had been hired by the heiress's parents, who were set on finding some dirt on their daughter's partner. So far, the only dubious behavior Luke had witnessed was his mark's tendency to go to the gym and then get a lemon curd doughnut at Bread Ahead when there were far superior fillings there like velvet chocolate or praline.

Luke was now outside the South Kensington location of the small-chain bakery, still judging Sol for her dark chocolate pick while nibbling on some digestives and waiting for the heiress's fiancé to finish his citrusy breakfast.

Luke made the most of the wait by opening Instagram on his mobile phone and searching for Philippa Majors's account. He checked again the picture Sol had mentioned on a previous occasion taken by the internet entrepreneur before the beginning of the Pilates class on February 23.

Josie wasn't in it but her acolytes for that evening were all there. Sol looked hot—he was partial to her in workout clothes—but she also appeared distracted, as if she didn't want to pose for a picture. Mark Green was in the center, completely at ease surrounded by so many younger and objectively beautiful women. Sara Daniels was on one extreme of the picture, her expression unreadable. Her ex, Martha Broch, was on the other extreme close to her friend and publicist, Lashana Fletcher. And Philippa herself was taking the selfie-type picture, looking as flawless as she always did.

He had hoped the post would yield some more information this second time around, but there was no one else there. There was no mystery person who had appeared on two occasions in the background of the class's video recording and whom Sol didn't remember.

He kept browsing through Philippa's Instagram feed to see if she'd posted anything else that evening and found a short video of the lifestyle influencer on a Tube platform. Her face was closely framed, and she was talking about the benefits of walking over anything else but also taking public transportation when getting somewhere by foot wasn't an option.

The video was bizarrely devoid of substance for Philippa's standards. He'd seen some of her more recent posts, and he liked the content she produced. She was good at giving informed, specific, and easy-to-follow ideas when it came to nutritious meals or strength training activities. Yet that suggestion about taking public transportation was so… obvious.

The Instagram video was time stamped on the night of the theft, and Luke wondered if there had been any additional motivation for its publication. Had Philippa wanted to prove all her movements for that night? The video put her on Charing Cross platform with Sara—and Sol—but by then the script had already been stolen, right?