The A-Lister (Hollywood Heartthrobs Book 4) by Tabitha Bree

Author:Tabitha Bree [Bree, Tabitha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-26T04:00:00+00:00

18

Grant

Hotel security arrives, and not long after, so do the police. Scheming his way into Peyton’s room and the broken five-thousand-euro vase alone is enough for them to take her ex away in cuffs, but I still give every detail of what I witnessed.

I can hardly believe it. Stumbling upon that tosser threatening Peyton was the last thing I expected to hear through the door when I got out of the shower. It all happened so fast that the only thing I could throw on was my pajama shorts. And now that Peyton is safe and we can relax a bit, I feel like a right twit standing here in my fucking jim-jams.

When everyone is gone, I figure I too should leave Peyton in peace, but the look on her face makes me stop at the adjoining door. Every bit of her sass; her biting wit, has vanished. She looks small… rattled. And I don’t like it.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I could use a stiff drink,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.

Peyton looks up like she’s just remembered I’m still here and her eyes float down to my shorts.

“Once I’ve had a chance to get dressed, that is,” I add.

A small smile appears on her lips and I want to capitalize on it, make it stay there. “What do you say we both get cleaned up and go down to that terrace?” I suggest. “I hear the gnocchi at the restaurant is to die for, or some sort of rubbish like that.”

She laughs out of her nose. “Honestly… you had me at stiff drink.”

“Brilliant.” I beam. “I’ll meet you in the hallway in twenty.”

I take my time back in my own room to get dressed and tidy up, so that Peyton has a moment to catch her breath. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling, having some nutter show up in her room unannounced. Suddenly dealing with Serena and our fake relationship feels like a walk in the fucking park.

When I hear her door open, I leave as well, meeting her in the hallway with a smile. We walk down to the terrace in silence, but I can tell about a thousand things are running through her mind.

We reach the restaurant and are promptly whisked to a prime table on the terrace, looking out over the canal as the sun dips low in the sky. Making quick work of the menu, we order a bottle of Prosecco and watch as the server fills our flutes with the bubbly liquid, leaving the bottle behind in a bucket of ice.

I lift my glass for a toast, but quickly realize I’m not sure what to toast to. So I go with the most obvious option. “To Venice.”

Peyton gives me a wry smile and tilts her head. “To adjoining doors.”

“Ahh, that too.”

We share a smile and clink glasses before taking them to our lips. Peyton’s gulp is rather bigger than mine, and she looks out at the water, the setting sun reflected in her eyes.

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