The Cinderella Arrangement by Vanessa Waltz Page A

the window. As soon as he had left the car, I felt his absence like a hole in my stomach. I was still looking out when the driver cleared his throat. He was staring at me through the rear-view mirror.
    “Uh—can you take me to the Tower of London?”

    * * *
    B reathless , I stepped out of the cab and searched the throng of people for Luke. Hundreds wore the West Ham colors of deep red-purple and blue stood in several security lines outside the stadium. The driver had assured me that Luke would be nearby. At last, I looked through a group of red and blue-clad men with rosettes attached to their shirts and recognized his profile. Luke’s dark hard tilted back with laughter. A good-looking man in his twenties stood beside him, his shoulders bent forward and shaking with mirth.
    This must be the friend who he was talking about. As if he had heard my thoughts, the man’s eyes rested on me and he gave me a slight nod. Luke turned on the spot and gave me a brilliant smile. I hitched a grin and walked toward him.
    “There you are, darling.”
    Darling? I laughed despite myself as Luke swept me in his arms and his mouth sealed my lips in a brief but heated kiss. For a moment, it made me feel like he missed me. He pulled away and slid his arm over my shoulders.
    Oh right, he’s acting again.
    I gathered up my resolve and prepared myself to talk in a high-pitched voice that most girls seemed to have when reunited with their boyfriends.
    “Did you enjoy the tower?” he asked as he brought me closer to his friend.
    “Yes, it was good."
    "Just good?"
    I was disappointed. It was stripped bare of its original furnishings and the replacements didn’t look very authentic. It was like visiting Disneyland, but I had a nice walk along London Bridge.
    “Jessica, this is my friend Brandon I was talking to you about. Brandon this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”
    Brandon made a muddled first impression. Like Luke, the trappings of great wealth weren’t lost on him: the Prada glasses, the gleaming watch on his wrist, his Italian leather shoes. He wasn’t as handsome or poised, but he had an air of polished dignity that intimidated me. His eyes met mine in a cool, unflinching gaze. From the way he looked at me, it was almost as if he didn’t care for me. No, it wasn’t that. Maybe it was a lack of trust.
    “It’s a pleasure.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    “Are you a big football fan?”
    I gave him a small shrug. “A little. I used to play when I was younger.” I retreated into Luke’s comforting embrace and smiled at Brandon. “You can’t go to England without seeing a football match, right?”
    He nodded, his eyes still refusing to let go of me. “Too right,” he said in a thick accent. Glancing at his watch, he made a comical sound. “Ah! Kick off is in ten minutes. Let’s get to our seats.”
    I could feel Luke’s excitement through my body as he stood behind me in the line, his hands ever so slightly moving up the curve of my hips. It was so much more electrifying than a kiss. He rubbed into my flesh in small, hard circles. The paparazzi stood nearby, clicking away at us as I turned around in his arms to lay my head over his chest. I didn’t do it because I wanted to give them a show; I wanted to quiet the desire stirring in my core.
    As we walked through security and made our way through the stadium buzzing from thousands of horns, it was apparent that Luke arranged for front row seats. A sprinkling of navy-blue Tottenham supporters were scattered among the hundreds of West Ham rosettes, flags, and checkered banners. I reeled back from the fevered energy flowing from the West Ham fans, taken aback by their intense, almost violent screaming. After a few minutes, the yelling stopped, and I felt their cheers soaring through me when we took out seats and looked across the green field.
    “Would you like a drink, Jessica?” Brandon asked.
    “Yeah, sure.”
    “I’ll get us a few pints.”
    “Thanks mate.”
    I