Alicia Martinez is determined to keep a low profile. After a tough year, she deletes all of her social media and retreats to the small coastal town of St Andrews in the hopes of starting over - and avoiding her tumultuous past.
Oliver Hogarth is a...
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Alicia sat on a kitchen chair, shivering.
She couldn't seem to get warm. A hot shower, blankets, tea — none of it was working. Instead, her fingers were turning white and puffy at the ends, like the Victorian gas lamps that lined the streets in London. She just wished they gave off heat, too.
She cupped her hot tea, half-closing her eyes. Stupid. It had been a stupid decision to jump into the sea and swim to shore. Not only was the North Sea freezing at this time of year, but the paparazzi probably had photos of her splashing about like an apoplectic seal. But at least they hadn't followed her to the flat. Small mercies.
With shaky hands, Alicia raised the tea to her lips, and then winced as the cup bumped her throbbing nose. Oh, god. She should crawl into bed, but she wanted to wait up for Hattie. Just in case. She had tried calling her an hour ago only to find that her phone had gone to an early, waterlogged grave.
Could this day get any worse?
A key turned in the lock.
"I told you," Hattie snarled, "I don't need to be escorted home." She threw her keys on the sideboard. "I just want to find Leese. She's—"
Hattie broke off, her eyes landing on her.
"Alicia!"
She bounded forward, throwing her arms around her. Alicia made a noise of protest, her soaked hair dripping all over Hattie's silk blouse — one of her own designs that took her hours to complete — but Hattie only clung to her tighter. Her blonde curls were trembling.
"What happened?" Hattie drew back. "Are you alright? I saw the whole thing on telly. Greg hitting Oliver, and the business with the flagpole, and then you running off the course..." She rubbed her arms briskly. "Oh, my god. You're freezing."
"I'm fine."
"And your nose!" Hattie covered her mouth. "It looks horrible."
"Thanks."
Her lips felt numb, though, and Hattie frowned.
"I'll be right back," she promised. "Stay here."
She darted out of the room. A blond man was hovering awkwardly in the door, his hands shoved in his pockets. He was sporting jeans and a Toronto Blue Jays cap, and a security officer hovered behind him like a shadow. She smiled tightly.
"Hello, Rory."
He looked surprised. "I thought you didn't know who we were."
"I did my research on The Patriots. After..."
Alicia picked at her nails. She didn't need to spell it out: after I found out who Oliver really was. A terrible silence fell, broken only by the patter of drops spilling from the ends of her hair. Rory cleared his throat.
