I look around the airplane. “Yes, I think so.”
“Nice to see you, Mr. Miles,” the pilot says. He turns to me and nods kindly. “Have a nice night, Kathryn.”
“Thank you.”
Elliot shakes his hand and leads me down the stairs where the black Bentley is parked. Andrew gets out, and he smiles broadly when he sees us. “Hello Kate.”
I skip over to him and go up onto my toes and kiss his cheek. “Hello Andrew.”
“I hear that congratulations are in order.” He beams.
I giggle and hunch my shoulders up in excitement. “Can you believe it?” I gush.
“I can actually.” He smiles as his eyes flick to Elliot, who smirks in return.
Elliot can’t even act grumpy. In fact, that sexy-as-fuck smile hasn’t left his face, and after the dreamiest five days in Oahu, we’ve landed back in London.
Elliot publicly announced today that we are engaged to be married, and in some kind of strategic plan he told me that I would be photographed tonight, which I’m guessing was code for . . . don’t wear your sweatpants on the plane.
I did wonder why he changed into a full three-piece suit before we landed.
Andrew and Elliot load all of our things in the trunk and I get into the backseat. Elliot slides in behind me and picks up my hand and rests it on his thick quad; he always has to be touching.
“Are we still sticking to the schedule, sir?” Andrew asks as he makes eye contact in the rearview mirror.
“Yes,” Elliot replies.
Schedule . . . there’s a schedule?
We zoom off into the night and twenty minutes later we come around the corner into the street where Elliot’s swanky apartment is; there are photographers everywhere. I feel my anxiety rise and instead of pulling into the private undercover parking lot, Andrew pulls the car up right next to them.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
Elliot leans over and kisses me. “Giving them what they want.”
“What?”
“Once they have the first photograph of us together, and it’s published tomorrow, they’ll leave us alone and we can go home.”
I stare at my beautiful man. This goes against everything he is, but he wants me to be left alone, he’s doing this for me.
The door opens in a rush. Andrew stands outside as the cameras flash.
Elliot gets out, takes my hand, and helps me from the car. I climb out to the blinding lights of flashes and the sound of photographers screaming over the top of each other. “When is the wedding?”
“Congratulations, Mr. Miles.”
“Kathryn, who’s designing your wedding dress?”
Elliot takes my hand and in slow motion lifts it to his lips and kisses it.
They go wild.
“Kathryn,” someone calls. “How does it feel to know you finally tamed the elusive Casanova Miles?”
Elliot chuckles, our eyes are locked as electricity bounces between us, and he raises an eyebrow as he waits for my answer.
If only they knew that the supposed Casanova is a romantic fool.
I turn back to them and smile. “Wonderful.”
We pose for a few shots and then he leads me into the building by the hand as they yell to us in the background. I get into the elevator with the love of my life.
He smiles down at me and I smile right back up at him.
Turns out I do believe in fairy tales.
And fate.
Never give up, he will find you.
Love always,
Kate.
Xox
The Epilogue
I sit at the desk with the glass screen in front of me, waiting to see my sister Elanor.
She’s being held in custody until her court case, and although Elliot and I have had an almighty row over this, he refuses to drop the charges.
And I get it, I really do. Brad is working with Elliot and they’re doing this together. Weirdly enough they get on very well and Brad spends a lot of time at Enchanted with us.
I won’t testify against Elanor, not ever; she’s my sister. They have agreed that I can stay out of this.
But I need to know why.
Elanor comes into view. She’s in a minimal-security prison and wearing a grey pant suit. I smile and stand and she smiles in return as she takes a seat.
“Hi.” I sit down.
“Hi.” She clasps her hands in front of her.
I stare at her and my natural inclination is to apologize. After all, it is my fiancé who has put her here.
But then I remember what she’s done and if anyone should be angry, it should be me.
What I am is disappointed.
“Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to sit there?” she says, void of emotion.
My eyes hold hers and I wonder what the hell went so wrong with her.
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs as if she doesn’t care. “It was always about you . . . wasn’t it?”
I frown.
“The smartest, the prettiest, the sweetest, the most talented . . . Mum’s favorite.”