Chapter 314
**Sara**
"No way." I snatched the phone back up, typing furiously.
Me: Haha, very funny. Good one, Professor.
The response came instantly.
Tom: Not joking, sunshine. Look them up - Sarah Jenkins and Emma Blake. They're quite famous here.
I googled the names so fast that I misspelled both of them twice. But there they were - stunning blonde bombshells with legs for days and perfect everything. The kind of women who belonged on magazine covers. The kind who definitely didn't get hit in the face with their own phones while lying in bed.
Tom: They're insisting I join them for drinks. Who am I to refuse such beautiful company?
My fingers trembled as I typed.
Me: Tom. This isn't funny.
Tom: Sarah just ordered champagne. Emma keeps touching my arm. It's quite flattering, actually.
"Oh, hell no." I sat up straight, the silk sheets pooling around my waist. The image of some leggy blonde touching Tom's arm made my blood boil.
Me: You're seriously going to their hotel?
Tom: Already in the elevator. Emma's perfume is intoxicating.
"What?!" I practically screamed at my phone. Here I was, half-naked in his bed while he was getting cozy with Australian supermodels?
Me: Thomas Blackwood, if you're messing with me...
Tom: Gotta go sunshine. Room service just arrived.
I stared at the screen, my mouth hanging open. Room service? ROOM SERVICE?
Me: If you're joking, I'm going to kill you. If you're not joking, I'm DEFINITELY going to kill you.
The minutes ticked by with no response. My imagination ran wild with images of Tom and two gorgeous models sharing champagne and strawberries.
"This can't be happening." I buried my face in his pillow, fighting the urge to scream. "He wouldn't... would he?"
The silence stretched on, each passing second making my stomach twist tighter. I was going to throw up. Or cry. Or book a flight to Australia and murder him. Maybe all three.
My phone buzzed.
Tom: Someone's getting jealous.
"I am NOT jealous!" I shouted at my phone, then quickly typed the same message with slightly more dignity.
Me: No.
Tom: Video call?
I glared at the screen. The nerve of this man. First, he tortures me with tales of Australian supermodels, and now he wants to what - show me their hotel room?
My finger hovered over the decline button. But curiosity (and, okay, maybe a tiny bit of jealousy) won out. I'd accept the call just long enough to tell him exactly where he could stick his champagne and strawberries.
I tugged my pajama top straight and grimaced at my reflection on the dark phone screen. Not that I cared what he thought. Not at all. With a deep breath that did nothing to calm my nerves, I jabbed the accept button.
The call connected, revealing Tom sprawled on a leather couch, his tie loose and jacket discarded. The hotel room behind him looked ridiculously luxurious - all cream and gold with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Sydney's glittering skyline.
My heart did a stupid little flip at the sight of him, but I squashed it down. "Having fun?"
"Much more now." His smile was pure sin. "Nice pajamas."
I glanced down at the silk top, suddenly aware of how much skin it showed. "Where are your new friends?"
"What friends?"
"You know exactly who I mean." I tried to peek around his shoulders, searching for any sign of long legs or blonde hair. "The dynamic duo? Your supermodel dates?"
He stretched, his shirt pulling tight across his chest. "Ah, those friends."
"Yes, those friends. The ones you're having private discussions with."
"Someone sounds jealous."
"I am not jealous!" The words came out louder than intended, making me wince. "I just want to know where they are."
"So you can what? Compare measurements?"
I flopped back against his pillows, then immediately regretted it when his expression turned predatory. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're..." I waved my free hand. "You know what? Never mind. Go back to your models."
His grin widened. "What models?"
"Don't play dumb with me." I shifted against his pillows, trying to maintain some dignity while wearing only a silk top. "You literally just told me about Sarah. What was the other one's name? Emma! The famous Australian models you're having private discussions with."
"Oh, them." He scratched his chin, eyes twinkling. "I'm actually looking for them right now. They came to dinner but disappeared somewhere between the restaurant and the hotel. Very mysterious."
"You're joking." I narrowed my eyes at the screen. "Tell me you're joking."
"Why would I joke about losing two of Australia's top models?" He loosened his tie further that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "Maybe they got abducted by kangaroos. That happens here, you know."
"Thomas Blackwood!"
"Yes, Sara Parker?"
"You..." I grabbed his pillow, screamed into it, and faced the camera again. "You are the most infuriating man I've ever met."
"And you're definitely jealous."
"I am not-" I stopped mid-sentence, catching his expression. "Wait. There were never any models, were there?"
His smirk widened. "Who said there aren't any models? They're just running a bit late. Probably got lost between the restaurant and hotel."
"You're lying." I sat up straighter, clutching his pillow to my chest.
"Not at all. In fact..." He glanced at his watch. "They should be here any minute now. Sarah was quite insistent about showing me her portfolio."
"Her portfolio? At midnight?"
"It's only eight here. Perfect time for a private viewing."
"That's it." I tossed his pillow aside. "I'm booking a flight to Australia right now. I'm going to murder you in person."
"Are you?" His eyes dropped to where the silk top had slipped off my shoulder. "You look pretty comfortable in my bed."
"I can be uncomfortable on a plane just as easily."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "So you're going to what - throw on some clothes, drive to the airport, and hop on the next flight to Sydney?"
"Yes!" I grabbed my phone and opened the airline app. "Just watch me."
"Wearing pajamas?"
"I'll change first."
"Into what?" His voice dripped with amusement.
"I don't know. Something casual. A dress, maybe." My fingers drummed against the phone screen. "The point is, I can change and be at the airport in an hour."
"Really?" He shifted on the leather couch, his tie now completely undone. "Show me these flight tickets you're booking."
I scrolled through the options in the airline app. My confidence wavered as zeros kept appearing after dollar signs. "Well... maybe not tonight specifically."
"No available flights?"
"There are flights," I muttered, my thumb hovering over a business-class ticket. "Just not any I can afford before my first paycheck from Westbridge."
His laugh echoed through the phone. "I could arrange something."
"What, like your private jet?" I rolled my eyes, then caught his expression. "No. Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because normal people don't just hop on private jets to fly across the world!"
"Do you have a visa?"
My righteous indignation deflated. "A what?"
"A visa. For Australia." His smirk grew wider. "You know you need one to enter the country, right?"
"I..." The silk sheets suddenly seemed very interesting as I traced the subtle pattern with my fingertip, avoiding his gaze. "I could get one."
"In an hour?"
"Maybe there's an express service or something." Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how ridiculous they sounded.
"Sara."
"What?"
"How exactly were you planning to enter Australia without a visa?"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
