Page 106 of Tabloid Princess

“I don’t. But they are your parents.”

“Leia. I can assure you I’ve done enough this year already to really piss them off.”

I hesitated but then couldn’t control my question. “Because of the wedding?”

He inclined his head slightly.

“Will you tell me about it?”

He glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Not here.”

“Okay.” My stomach clenched at his answer.

“Can I drive now, or are you planning on talking more nonsense?”

I pulled a face that made him laugh loudly as he switched the engine back on and waited to rejoin the traffic.

“Where are we going anyway?”

He shot me an amused look. “You know, I was expecting questions like that from the six-year-old.”

I stuck my tongue out. “I told you she’s the sensible one.”

He smirked but carried on driving and I watched, my head full of cancelled royal weddings and the illicit promise he carried in his words.

The Land Rover cruised up to a pair of huge gates. Oliver pressed a button on a small black device which made the gates start to creep open.

“Where are we?” Daisy sat up as close to us as her seat belt could allow.

“My house.”

I stared at the gates. This was not the warehouse in Bermondsey. I lifted an eyebrow, throwing him a shrewd glance which he dutifully ignored as he guided the car down a long driveway. A driveway which could have housed the entire of my small estate.

As we turned a small curve, a square redbrick came into view. Perfectly symmetrical, green ivy and small red roses climbed along its surface.

“Welcome to Greystone House.”

“It’s red.” Daisy and I chuckled as we spoke at once.

“I know. It’s ironic.” He pulled the car in front of a small set of cream stairs. I noticed the stairs matched cream bricks built into the corner edges of the house itself. It was utterly beautiful and somehow incredibly understated.

Not a mansion.

Okay, not a council house either, but beautifully perfect.

“Wow. Is this your house?” Daisy jumped up the front steps and I cast a quick glance at her wellies, making sure they weren’t caked in mud, although as we’d just been in his 4x4’s leather interior I guess the sentiment came a little late.

“It is. I like to come here when London gets too smoggy.” He flicked a quick glance over her face.

“Does your chest get tight too?” she asked almost absently.

The stare he beamed in my direction made my stomach tighten. “Yes. Sometimes.”

I shivered a little.

“Right. Somewhere I have a key.” He searched in the pockets of his jeans and pulled out a simple brass Yale. “Now I’ve just got to remember the code for the alarm.”

It buzzed as he pushed the door open and with quick strides, he marched to a side room and pressed buttons until the noise stopped.