Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(90)
“My grandmother’s song,” I choked. The song was “Smile” by Nat King Cole. A song my nan would sing to me until I fell asleep. “You did this for me?” It was useless to try and save my makeup. Tears had already escaped.
Parks glanced down at the music box. “I know how much it means to you to have memories of your grandmother. I thought it was perfect.”
An incredible ache thrashed against my heart. Feelings I had no idea that could possibly exist were rushing through my veins like wildfire, especially because his eyes were doting on me, showing me how much I meant to him. And oh, he meant so much to me. Every day he meant so much to me. This man made a nobody like me feel cherished, and there was no way in a lifetime I could ever repay him for making me feel alive after so many years of feeling dead and empty inside.
Knocking back daft tears, I shook myself into the moment and started to live in it. “You’re definitely the right prince for me. Thank you so much. This means so much.”
“No need to thank me, beautiful.” He pulled me into his solid body and suddenly thrust into me evidence of his erection.
“You’re hard.” I gasped as he brushed his cock along my sex.
“And we’re late, so there’s f*ck all I can do about it.”
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Cleaver drove us towards a beautiful Mediterranean-style mansion. We went through three sets of iron gates and past a security house, and that was before we’d driven up the half a mile tree-lined drive with views of breathtaking vineyards. The grounds looked stunning as the sun turned to dusk, dusting burnt orange and dark yellows across the land.
“Wow. How many bloody rooms does this house have?” The gawping and the wows coming from every angle of my mouth amused Parks thoroughly.
“Twelve bedrooms. Twenty-three bathrooms.”
My jaw dropped. “What the hell do you do with twenty-three bathrooms?”
Parks ignored me and explained our plan. “We’ll be going straight to the ball, but you can see the house later.”
“We’re staying here tonight?”
“Hmm. My mother’s wishes.” His answer was grumpy.
As we pulled up at the large circled driveway, there was already a long line leading to the huge marquee. Car after car of people were arriving, and I could see the vast amount of celebrities, high-end business moguls, and wealthy bodies all getting out of their cars and making their way onto a long, stretched-out carpet.
“How many people are here?” I couldn’t have possibly counted them all.
“A few hundred.” Parks was calmly stroking my knuckles with his thumb, watching my reactions. Cleaver was just behind two other cars before it was our turn to climb out.
“We have to walk along a red carpet?”
“Well—” he shrugged, quickly glancing out the window, “—technically, it’s a plum carpet. The colour of my mother’s charity.”
My panic was building. The closer we got, the more I could see.
“There are photographers? You said you didn’t want us photographed together.”
“America is different than London, Evelyn. London tabloids love drama, breakups, depressing news.” He frowned when he saw my mouth forming an O to breathe. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s all just a bit big. New. That’s all. One day I’m living a life of darkness and broken pieces, and the next I’m dating one of the most well-known businessman internationally and being chauffeured around.” I pointed towards the photographers. “Having my photo taken in a mansion that has twenty-three bathrooms.” Drawing in deep breath, I told myself I needed to take time out, but it only enhanced Parks’s concern.
“We can go home if you want. Tell me what you want,” he pushed.
I took another breath and told myself to stop being stupid. Yes, there were lots of people. Yes, I didn’t deserve to be there. Yes, my anxiety was pushing through the roof, but I could cope.
“I want to go in. I’m fine.”
Parks kissed my cheek, his body failing to hide his relief. “Okay, baby.”
Cleaver opened the door for us, and Parks stepped out first. Bending down, he held out his hand for me to take. Taking another deep breath, I placed my palm in his hand. He clasped my hand firmly when I climbed out and gave me a quick, reassuring nod. Then it was our turn to walk towards the entrance of the marquee. As soon as we stepped onto the long plum carpet, the photographers went wild.
“Wade Parks…who’s your beautiful lady?”
We posed on the carpet in front of a white board that had the logo of the charity. Written across a picture of two purple hands coming together, one small and one large, was:
COA
Flash after flash went off, almost blinding me, and the yelling from the men that was hitting us from all angles was so loud and obnoxious. Telling us to look left, look right. Telling us to kiss. Surprisingly, Parks did dip down to kiss me, taking my lips gentle and quick. I stared up at him adoringly because his kiss enabled me to forget the madness for a second, until they started going crazy from the kiss.
“Enough.” Parks pulled me away from hundreds of flashing lights, which I was extremely grateful for. “Are you okay?”