Free That One Moment (Lost in London #2) by Amy Daws Page A

babbling. “I was always crap at speeches. I’d clam up and lose my words. Then I’d look down at my notes and everything would suddenly look backwards. One time I belched right in the middle of the speech. I think the class thought I was going to puke like poor Benji.” I laugh awkwardly and look out the widow, slamming my eyes shut tight. Shut up, Vi. Shut up!
    Thankfully, he chuckles and says, “Thanks. It wasn’t easy.” I can’t help but glance back at him. His hands are gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Just trying to bring awareness and help create funds to support others in need. It’s more common than you’d think.”
    His demeanour transforms from an agitated, cagey alpha to a cool, suave business man. It feels like an act.
    “I know. I mean, I can imagine…I mean…Bugger,” my voice trails off and I look away, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Clearing my throat, I decide to pry further, “Have you done a speech like that before?”
    He shakes his head slowly.
    “So this was kind of a big night then.” He continues to squint against the London city lights, appearing deep in thought. Feeling brazen, I add, “I erm…actually have questions…if you ever want to answer them. I mean…of course you don’t have to. But if you do…I’d be interested to learn more.”
    Questions? Christ, Vi, why didn’t you just tell him you’re a morbid freak who sleeps with porcelain dolls!
    Silence stretches out between us and he looks confused.
    “Do you mean questions about the charity?” he asks, his voice low.
    “That and other things,” I answer. I’m curious about many things in regards to Hayden. I’m not sure I’ve been this intrigued by a male my entire life. His speech did nothing to deter that curiosity.
    “Are you a suicide survivor?” he asks.
    “No,” I reply, frowning.
    “Do you know someone who is?”
    “No.”
    “Then what on earth would you care to know more about?”
    “You,” I blurt out, honestly.
    He doesn’t seem to like that answer. His jaw clenches as we drive around the familiar streets to my neighbourhood. I exhale and look out the window feeling like an absolute prat. I went from loathing him to wanting to pick his brain. Now I just want out of this tense car of emotion.
    “This is me,” I say, pointing to the curb in front of my alley.
    He pulls up in front of the Hookah Lounge that’s illuminating the entire sidewalk with its glowing neon purple and green sign. The doors are drizzling with people wafting in and out with big puffs of smoke billowing out each time it opens.
    Just as I begin to thank him, he hops out of the car and walks around to open my door. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, clambering out.
    “Which is yours?”
    “I’m just down this alley. I’ll be fine. Thanks again.” I say, waving and attempting to scurry away from him with my tail tucked between my legs.
    He ignores my dismissal and begins walking toward the dimly lit alley. I remain still on the sidewalk and say, “Mr. Bossy is back again, I see.”
    He stops and turns on his heel to glare at me. The purple light is glowing through his disheveled spiky hair and gives him a tasty glow. I glance down to see the green light is shooting down over my dress. I try crossing my arms over my chest to look more intimidating now that I’m the colour of the Hulk.
    “I’m not about to let a beautiful woman in a white evening gown walk down an alley at night by herself.” His voice has an edge of annoyance to it. “Some people would call it gentlemanly.”
    Beautiful. He said beautiful. My nerves sizzle beneath my skin as just one word uttered from his perfectly shaped mouth made him instantly hot to me again. Okay, fine, he never stopped being hot. But with the way he was behaving, I was trying my hardest to be put off by him.
    “I’m not some people.”
    With a huff of a laugh, he replies, “I’ve gathered.”
    He unbuttons his suit coat and opens it just