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Prologue
Nevaeh
Three months ago
I’vebeenfeelingveryanxious today. Not for a specific reason either. It’s right at the surface, building in my chest until I feel my hands shaking and my heartbeat quicken. Whenever I manage to slow it down again, stop my hands from moving of their own volition, I spiral into my thoughts again until my anxiety storms back to the surface.
It’s a frustrating cycle.
So, I do what I do best in these moments.
Distract myself with something I love doing.
I take a stroll through Hyde Park, admiring the fluffy snow that sits on the twigs of the bald trees. It’s dark outside, which is perfect for the type of photos I’m looking to take.
Photography is my creative outlet, it’s what I’ve loved to do in my free time since I was fourteen years old. Mama and Papa have probably gotten me over a dozen cameras in the past seven years while Nova, my sister, always gets me new lenses to try out. I don’t remember getting a present for any occasion that didn’t have something to do with photography, and I absolutely love it. There is nothing better than finding new tricks and ways to improve a skill I’ve been honing for seven years.
Quiet hoots pull me out of my thoughts. I turn my camera on when I see an owl sitting in one of the trees, watching its surroundings with big, brown eyes. A smile lifts the corners of my mouth while I snap some pictures of the magnificent creature. Its white feathers almost give it a camouflage look in the snow. Seeing an owl in London is incredibly rare, which is why I can’t stop grinning from happiness. I’ve been going to this park for years and never spotted one before.
Today must be my lucky day.
After taking about a hundred different photos, trying out various settings and playing around with my portrait and wide-angle lens, the owl decides it has had enough and flies away again, spreading its magnificent wings and disappearing into the night. I watch after it for a while, letting the calming feel of nature settle the anxiety inside of me. It’s the only thing that helps on days like these. Going outside. Feeling the cold air on my face. Stepping on the crunchy snow. Connecting with my surroundings instead of falling into my own mind.
If I could, I’d stay longer, but my fingers have started going numb from the December cold. I rush back to my car, feeling a bit lighter now than I did before.
My Volkswagen Tiguan is covered in snow by the time I get back to it, but all of my attention drifts to the car a few parking spots over. It’s a red Velocità Rossa SUV. I catch my jaw a moment before it drops and take out my camera again. If there is anything I love as much as photographing wildlife, it’s cars.
The glow from the lamps around me offers the best lighting as I squat down and stand up again to take pictures of it from better angles. Papa used to take me to car shows when I was a little girl, explaining everything there was to know about them. Whether it was old-timers or modern cars, he knew every little detail. I retained very little of the information, but I like admiring the way they look. The sleekness or rough edges. The muted colors or bright ones. The futuristic or rustic look.
I adore everything about cars.
A few pictures later, I step back a little and then look at them to see if they’re good.
“So handsome,” I mumble to myself while I admire how the car looks on my little camera screen.
“Thank you,” a deep, smooth voice says, startling me. I quickly lower my camera before my heart stutters, and I forget how to breathe. “But if you wanted a picture of me, you didn’t have to hide behind my car to take it,” the man adds, all confident and flirtatious. I cock an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Excuse me?” He gives me a wolfish grin, looking more handsome than anyone has a right to.
“I saw you squatting and standing on your tiptoes to get a better angle of me while hiding at the same time.” I’m about to deny it when he interrupts me. “Listen, I don’t mind, I just wanted to let you know you could have asked for one, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” he says, the amused smirk now spreading all over his face. I lift my tongue to the roof of my mouth and shake my head.
“I’m sure you don’t hear this very often, but I wasn’t taking pictures of you. Your car caught my attention, and, to be honest, I didn’t even notice you were behind it,” I reply, which makes him raise his eyebrows. His eyes scan my face, a little surprise hiding in them as he searches for signs of deceit.
“I think I need to see some proof,” he says softly, flirtatiously, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore them, try to ignore the way his cologne, something warm and fresh and delicious, fills my nose. Instead, I let irritation take control.
“Fine,” I blurt out, more than willing to prove him wrong.
The gorgeous stranger takes my camera to look through the photos I took of his car. He seems strangely familiar, but I can’t place him. He looks rich, from his clothing to the fact that he drives this beautiful car, which probably means he’s either a successful business owner or a celebrity. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’ve seen him before. Could he be an actor? I’m not entirely certain. All I know is, I’m in the presence of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“These are incredible. You are a very skilled photographer,” he says, studying my pictures closely.
“Thank you,” I reply, surprised by his compliment.
My eyes focus on his lips, studying the fullness of them, how plump and pink they look from the cold. Unfortunately, the cocky man notices.
“If you want to take a picture of them, you can,” he teases, and I roll my eyes in response.
“You’re an arrogant man, do you know that?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He stares down at my camera again before refocusing his gaze on my face, letting it travel over my features.
