or two.
On the other hand, a girl had to eat. That she got to eat with Charlie without a hundred people surrounding them was extraordinary. Unprecedented. They’d been on the run for what felt like months instead of days, seeing each other in snatches and in the blinding light of flashbulbs. The only truly personal moments had been in his bed on Valentine’s night—which she wasn’t allowed to think about—and last night in the back of the limo. She’d thought about that conversation all day. Not only about how different their worlds were, but how he’d opened up to her. It was as if she’d seen him naked again.
Screw it, she wanted to. Eat with him. Talk to him. Alone.
Her accelerated pulse and the rush of excitement that ran through her body merely thinking about what was next moved her out of the bathroom and into seeing dinner through. It was only her heart at risk, after all. And hadn’t she admitted, to him of all people, that she wanted her heart broken by callous men who wore gorgeous suits?
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