No Control | Holding Me Ransom (Book 2)

It's A Sign Of The Times

May 2018 

"Harry," I called impatiently from the bottom of the stairs. "Harry! The car's here, hurry up!"

"Coming," he called back, and I checked one final time that the back door was locked before picking up my phone, keys, passport and flight documents from the table in the hall. I opened the front door and walked outside, where Paul was just stepping out of the black Mercedes that was parked in front of the house.

"Morning Jess," he greeted me as he stepped inside the doorway to pick up my suitcase and hand luggage. "Looking forward to getting back to dreary old London?"

I pulled a face. "It may be home, but it certainly can't compete with LA weather," I replied, shrugging my shoulders and turning my palms up towards the brilliant blue, cloudless sky. Harry finally appeared behind me with his carry on bag slung over his shoulder and his case in his left hand.

"Finally," I said. "What have you been doing up there? I thought you were going to make us miss the flight."

"Stop being dramatic," he teased, slipping his sunglasses on and planting a peck on my lips as he walked past me to put his own bags in the car. Once the intruder alarm was set, I closed and locked the front door behind us and slid into the backseat next to Harry. He was fiddling impatiently with the zip on his bag, and ran one hand through his hair.

"All set?" I asked when he eventually sat back in his seat and smiled at me.

"Yep. Looking forward to going home." He reached over and linked his fingers with mine across the leather seat as the car pulled out of the gates and onto the road in the direction of LAX.

The mid morning traffic wasn't too bad, and we arrived at the airport in plenty of time (this earned me a triumphant smirk from Harry, thanks to my earlier impatience with him for dawdling). We pulled up at the entrance and Paul unloaded our bags while we hurried inside to check in. 

The second we were through the door a group of paparazzi came running over to us excitedly, their shutters clicking furiously.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered. "This is all we need."

Their shouts mixed into one constant thrum of chaotic noise, and Harry ushered me in front of him as we picked up our pace to get past them as quickly as possible. A few ran in front of us thrusting their lenses in our faces, and I lifted my hand to cover my eyes to prevent myself being temporarily blinded by the flashes.  

"Let him through, let him through!" one of the airport security shouted, attempting to keep the paps at bay, but they took not one bit of notice as they jostled each other to get close to us.

"Keep back!" the guard yelled, and held his arms outstretched at his sides to create a barrier between us and the photographers. "This way Sir, Miss..."

"You OK?" Harry asked under his breath as we finally walked through the doors away from the media.

"Yeah, fine," I replied. "Looks like your attempt to keep your location quiet until we got home has failed, though."

"Tell me about it," he sighed.

"I did see a lot of people speculating on Twitter that you were due to leave the US soon, after you were pictured with some fans out of the blue yesterday," I remarked, and he looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

"Really?"

I rolled my eyes as we entered the private lounge. "Harry, I've been telling you this for months. I know you think it's a clever, diversionary tactic to be pictured in public right before you leave one location to go to another, but the fans are wise to it. They see right through it."