"Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell."
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Bouquet of flowers in one hand. Nerves in the other.
You'd think I was going on a bloody date or something. I wasn't. This was just dinner. Just... dinner. With Renna. And her family. In their 17th-century Gothic castle that probably had its own weather system. No big deal.
The moment I turned into Blythswood Square, I knew I was officially out of my league. There wasn't a house in sight. Nope.
This place looked like it had been built to intimidate emperors.
Wrought-iron gates taller than most Glasgow buildings, carved with vines and crests and some kind of old English family emblem like they owned a castle in medieval times. For all I knew, they probably did.
I'm not kidding.
There are sleek black bollards rising from the ground, more men in black-clad suits with earpieces than Heathrow Airport security, and a security drone literally humming above me as I parked.
I tried not to look too impressed. Or intimidated. Or aroused by the sheer power of this place.
And the second I took off my helmet? Boom. Movement.
All of them step forward, ear-pieces in, eyes scanning me like I was about to break into the Pentagon.
"Sir, we'll need to verify your identity," one of them said, monotone, eyes hidden behind the darkest pair of shades I've ever seen worn after 6PM.
I clear my throat, hoist the flowers up in one hand like a white flag of peace. "Uh... I was invited? Renna Rose Lancaster?"
The guy doesn't even blink. "Understood. Identification, please."
Mate. What?
"She's literally my friend. Childhood friend. Grew up next door. Used to eat chalk off my driveway..."
Just a friend, yeah right. If only you saw the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't watching.
"ID, sir."
I fish it out of my wallet, muttering, "Alright, alright, don't tase me."
Another guy started patting down my jacket like I had a pistol hidden in my jeans.
