Leah sighed. “It’s too early in the morning for just about anything. Might as well get it off my mind before the filters in my brain start working.”
Emma didn’t have an answer to that, so she just gave a brief hum before they went on toward the sun-drenched street outside.
The glass doors opened for them. Darren lifted one of the coffee mugs in greeting. “Morning, Emma, Leah. Are you joining us to the Con?”
Leah smiled sweetly, with a trace of something sharp just underneath. “As much as I do feel that chaperoning you might be advisable from a PR perspective—no. I’m going to find myself a decent oat milk latte and use this bright and early morning to call a client of mine who’s currently on a social media bender in Japan.”
Darren shrugged. “Alright. Then at least I know your coffee preferences for next time.”
He opened the car door for Emma and handed her a coffee, their fingers grazing. It was just the briefest touch, but it sent a small current up her arm, enough to make her grip the cup tighter. She could tell he noticed.
Leah put on her giant Prada sunglasses and tilted her head, making it a full-body movement.
“Try not to get stuck in anything mechanical today, yeah?”
“No promises,” Darren called back before following Emma into the backseat.
Chapter 24
Tinted windows and shrinking distances.
The door closed with a soft thunk, and the car took off. For a beat, they were surrounded by quiet. Just the low hum of the engine and the rustle of the city stirring outside.
The interior of the SUV smelled faintly of leather and something citrusy, discreet, and exclusive. Emma felt foolish for expecting a cab or an Uber. Of course he would have a private chauffeur. She reached for the seatbelt, careful not to spill her coffee.
Darren gave an amused snort. “Oh, so now you’re all safety first.” He removed his sunglasses and hooked them on his shirt, but followed her example.
Emma clicked her belt into place, the sound unnaturally loud. Sitting beside him like this felt different. More intimate somehow than the cramped, chaotic car ride yesterday, and even harder to process than their private lunch.
The hidden, faintly lit restaurant had been its own bubble. A setting that invited closeness and confessions, like the soft hush of nighttime.
Sitting side by side like this, chauffeur up front, sunlight streaming past, felt too real. Too normal, and yet anything but.
It wasn’t his movie star status that unsettled her anymore, or even her long-standing celebrity crush. It was how easily something else seemed to be taking its place. Whether she wanted to or not.
He took a sip of his coffee, glancing over at her.
“I have to say, I understand why you chose potential death in a malfunctioning elevator over disappointing Leah. She’s vaguely terrifying. I’ll admit to hesitating for a moment before I had Sienna reach out to her for your number.”
Emma chuckled, tasting her coffee. It was perfect—a foamy mocaccino with just the slightest hint of hazelnut syrup. The ripple of warmth that moved through her wasn’t from the coffee alone. He’d remembered.
“Well, at least she gave you the right number, not the one to the nearest Domino’s,” she said.
The quip didn’t quite land—too light, too casual. Their eyes met, and a charged flicker passed between them—quiet, but heavy with implications.
Emma glanced away. “I hope you didn’t get it with a side of death threats,” she added. “Leah can be a bit...protective.”
“I’ve noticed,” Darren said dryly. Then, softer: “And no, actually. She just told me to take care of you. The ‘or else’ was heavily implied.”
Despite the joke, the note of sincerity in his voice pulled at something in her throat. “Yeah. That sounds like her.”
His car, his world—and Leah practically handing her over to him like something precious. She wasn’t used to feeling so looked after.
“So,” she said briskly, attempting again to break the tension. “This is what movie star life is like, huh? A-lister party yesterday, private chauffeur...”
“Actually,” Darren said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I hate being driven around. Most people are terrible drivers.”
“Oh, of course they are,” Emma said, lips twitching. “Except you, I assume?”
