Dirty Letters(28)

“Can’t say I have any. Just going wherever the wind takes us.”

Or the hot air . . .

I needed to move this nonsense forward.

“Might you have some time to join me for dinner tonight?”

While Luca didn’t say anything, the old man answered for her. “She’d love to.”

She turned to him. “I would?”

“Yes, you would.”

She looked at me again. “I guess I would.”

“Brilliant, then. Say about six? I’ll give my guard your name . . . Mirada. He’ll let you in.”

She feigned happiness. “That’s great. Thanks. Looking forward to it.”

I knew she was probably dying inside. I hated that, but this had to be done.

As I walked back to my house, all I could think was how ridiculous this situation was; I didn’t have very long to figure out how the hell I was going to handle it.





CHAPTER 13

LUCA


“Mirada? Mirada! I couldn’t come up with anything better than the brand name of the RV we’re driving?”

“That was an interesting choice.” Doc chuckled.

“I freaked out and glanced over at the dash, and that was all that came out.”

“I have to say I was very curious as to how you were going to handle that whole situation.”

“I didn’t handle it. I completely made a mess of things for myself. Thanks for accepting his date offer, by the way. It would have been nice if I’d had a choice.”

“You don’t have a choice, Luca. You must face the music.”

“I never thought the music would end up being literal.” I sighed. “Seriously, how am I going to handle this, Doc? He’s going to think I’m a nutjob for following him here and lying about my identity.”

“You’re not the only one who lied. His was a lie of omission.”

“Am I really doing this? Having dinner with him?”

“Yes.”

“What do I say?”

“He’s giving you the chance to say anything you need to. The fact that he came back here and invited you into his home saves you the trouble of having to figure out how to get him alone. He’s handed the opportunity to you on a silver platter. Now it’s up to you to decide what to do with it.”



An hour later, I was dressed in the only nice outfit I’d packed—a simple red sheath dress. I hadn’t exactly planned on going to dinner with a celebrity in his fancy mansion while out here stalking Griffin. I most definitely hadn’t expected Griffin to be that celebrity.

With wobbly legs, I made my way over to his massive house.

I spoke to the guard. “Hi . . .” Jesus, I nearly forgot my supposed name. “Mirada here to see Cole Archer.”

“Yes. He’s expecting you.” He directed me to head to the front entrance.

As I continued toward the door, I wondered what “Cole” wanted with me anyway. Griffin didn’t know my identity. He thought he was inviting a random woman for dinner. Did he do this all the time? Was he attracted to me? Or was he just being hospitable? I couldn’t figure out why he’d invited me here. Before I was able to ponder it much, the gigantic wooden door to the Spanish-style house opened. A short woman dressed in housekeeper’s garb nodded at me as she let me in.

Griffin was nowhere to be found. My heels echoed against the marble floors as I looked around the impressive foyer. Some framed vinyl records adorned the walls. This was definitely what I’d imagined a rock star’s house to look like.

All I could think right now was I’m so proud of you, Griffin.

His voice startled me. “The record label sends those to me. Might as well hang them up. I’m really not an egomaniac. I swear.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all. You should be proud. You’ve really done well.”

When I turned to look at him, I noticed he’d changed into sleek black pants and a fitted gray T-shirt. His hair was wet. He was seriously hot as fuck. I couldn’t believe this was my Griffin.

“Depends on how you define done well. I’ve definitely accumulated wealth and managed to impress a certain percentage of people with my music. But it can be hard sometimes. It can be a very lonely life.”

That tugged at my heartstrings. “Yeah. I can imagine.”

“Can I get you something to drink, Mirada?”

“Sure. Anything is fine.”

“I have a bar bigger than Cheers. What suits your fancy?”

“A glass of wine would be nice.”

Griffin led me into the massive living room. All the furniture was white. I just knew I was going to dirty it somehow before I left. He ventured over to the large bar in the corner of the room and prepared my drink himself.

He returned and handed me a large glass of red wine. “Sorry . . . dinner is a little late. My chef is off tonight, and, well, I didn’t want to poison you with my cooking, so I’ve ordered out. Hope that’s okay.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“That’s true. But I’m sure it will be good.”

“You sure have a lot of blind faith in me.”

What did he just say?