Page 3 of Not About That Life
“Cricket?” My eyes narrow. “What’s that, assuming you’re not talking about the cell phone or the insects?”
“It’s a game similar to what you have baseball here.” He suggests. “It might be difficult to figure out at first but once you watch a couple of games, you’ll get the idea of how it’s played.”
It sounds like a sport rich people play. I can only imagine polo tournaments and antiquing is next on my list. “Okay.”
Our relationship has been a complete whirlwind with no signs of slowing down. He’d promised to introduce me to more of his world and his interests and I’m eager to go along for the ride. There are still many things I don’t know about the man I’m about to dedicate the rest of my life to and honestly, I probably won’t ever know everything.
As long as he’s with me, I’m ready to be with him forever.
“I want to expand your world a bit. I also want you to get a passport once we return to L.A.”
We’re about to travel the world. Emma wasn’t kidding when she said Ian wanted ahot, young wifeto travel the world with. “I see.”
“Don’t be afraid,” his voice comes out as a cross between concerned and understanding. I may have grown up with money but I’d never left California other than a few interesting trips to Tijuana with my girlfriends. “I’ll never put you in an uncomfortable situation, angel,” he promises, “if you feel uncomfortable at any time, just let me know.”
I silently nod and smile. It seems the worst is behind us and we can finally start moving on with our lives.
We quickly finish our plates and Ian goes to pay. Looking at my compact, I check my face to see if I don’t have any food between my teeth. From behind me, I see a table of women looking at my direction and pointing as they chatter. It’s clear they recognize me and I’m sure Ian by default.
I continue to check my teeth even though there’s nothing in them as I inwardly growl at the unwanted attention. Oh yeah, they know me, all right. The one with the busted weave but nice teeth is nodding and speaking to her friends as she’s pointing at me, while the one with the busted teeth but nice weave is being rather animated.
I’m famous. I’m infamous. I’m notorious.
I’ve shown up on various internet gossip blogs and Dolce’s video has already been seen close to a hundred million times on YouTube. I don’t pay too much attention to the single and lonely bitches club with infinite online membership because of Angel Dance Studios and the fact I just got freakin’ engaged to the man of my dreams.
When a woman is happy, getting that paper, and most importantly, getting somegooddick, she tends not to care about a lot of other bullshit.
This is what Ian meant that fateful night in the Rolls.You’re ready to be my lover, you’re not ready to be my girlfriend. Ian is one of the most photographed men in the world and it seems everyone knows his status, regardless if they want to. Being seen with any woman would cause whispers and curiosity amongst even nuns.
Can I handle the pressure of being Ian Ferguson’s fiancée, soon-to-be wife?
“You have a fan club,” Ian walks back to the table, and smiles down at me.
“I’m not the president.” I put the compact away. I grab his hand as I stand up. “Where to, baby?”
“We’re going shopping. You deserve it.” We start walking out of the restaurant and casually walk past the group ofLiving Single-rejects. “We’re going to stop by an animal shelter and donate, then a local food bank and write them a big check, and finally I’m going to upgrade your Bentley.” We finally exited the restaurant, walk to the awaiting chauffeured car, and get inside.
I buckled up and turn to him. “Are we really going to do all of those things?”
“We’re definitely doing the first two,” he nods to the driver, who quickly speeds off, “the last one, no.” Ian kisses my hand. “Two of those things are the most important, but only the last one will be talked about.” His blue eyes softly blink towards mine. “And this is how you keep the gossip bloggers busy.”
