Page 60 of Wildflower
MARK
The driver pulls my electric Bentley up to the curb by the canal opposite the street Alice wants to meet on. I’m on unfamiliar territory in more ways than one. Uncertainty grips my insides, something I’m about as used to as going to a cafe that has wooden stools instead of proper chairs.
In fact, I’ve not dined anywhere but private lounges and Michelin star restaurants since I made my first few millions. This is a different world.
“I’ll park up here and follow you,” my driver says, nodding to a spot that we’ll make ours for the day. He’s a big man and serves as my security detail as well. Despite his size, he’s adept at staying in the shadows, so I never feel crowded.
“Thank you, Neil.”
Aiden’s waiting on the corner, earning more than a few stares as he rakes a hand through his black hair, flexing a tanned arm. I remember when he used to get paid to sit outside bars simply to attract women to them.
“Hey,” he says when he sees me approaching. “Quite the location she picked for you. Right up your alley.” He laughs and gestures down the busy market road.
We’re in Hackney.
I’ve not set foot here in … ever, actually. I’ve never been to East London. I look around. It’s a classic English street of sandstone and red brick. Low buildings neatly lined up on both sides of the cobbled high street, currently packed with rows upon rows of stalls.
There’s graffiti on the end walls of the bridge that crosses the canal. They’re large murals of faces, birds, and flowers. It’s … colourful. I can see what Alice might like about this place.
We round the corner and I spot the cafe she’d named. I wipe my hands on my thighs. Why is my heart beating so fast?
“Bloody hell, mate, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re really not kidding about this girl, are you?”
I groan. “No, and I hate it.”
Aiden laughs heartily. He’s yet to rub it in my face, but I know it’s coming.
“What’s the deal? Is she carrying a book with a rose in it like inYou’ve Got Mail?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”
“Of course you don’t. How will you know it’s her?” He waves a lazy hand towards the crowded streets.
“Just look for someone with long dark brown hair looking around? She said she’d be in a yellow?—”
The crowd shifts.
“—dress.”
“Her?”
My stomach does a weird lurch, and I feel sick with nerves.
There’s a woman standing in front of the cafe, currently facing the other way. Long brown hair falls down her back, in contrast to her light-yellow summer dress. Its skirt billows in the breeze, showing off tanned, sculpted legs.
But those tattooed arms … Why do they look so familiar?
“So that’s her?” Aiden asks, and his head moves back andforth between us in my peripheral vision. I’m not taking my eyes off her.
Turn around. Turn around.
She turns, and the breeze catches the heavy waves of hair. She pushes a lock out of her eyes, squinting into the sun.
It’s her for sure.
It’s Alice.
And it’s Rey.
