Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
I blink, surprised by the sudden lump in my throat. “Thanks,” I murmur, giving her a small smile.
“And let’s not forget,” Ana adds, grinning. “You’ve got us in your corner, too. So if you ever need someone to remind the media to back off, just say the word.”
I smile easily at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“To Olivia,” Marta says, lifting her glass. “For navigating all of this with grace—and for finding someone who clearly adores her.”
“To Olivia!” the others echo, their glasses clinking together.
My cheeks flush, but I can’t help smiling as I raise my own glass.
As the conversation shifts back to lighter topics - funny classroom stories and travel plans for the summer - I glance down at my phone, my heart fluttering when I see another message from Santi.
Miss you more. Should I come pick you up later?
My smile widens as I quickly type out a response.
Maybe... I’ll let you know.
When I look up, Sarah is watching me with a knowing smirk.
“Marta’s right. That man is definitely smitten,” she says.
“Yeah,” I admit, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Although I think I might be, too.”
∞∞∞
It’s later on when I excuse myself to quickly go to the bathroom, the warmth of the drinks and the buzz of conversation still very much in full swing despite the late hour. The faint hum of music seeps in the bathroom from the bar, and as I’m washing my hands under one of the taps, a cheerful voice cuts through the quiet.
“I love your dress!”
Startled, I glance up and see a petite woman with dark curls standing a few sinks down, drying her hands on some paper towels. Her smile is warm - kind, even - and something about her tone and friendly expression immediately puts me at ease.
“Oh! Thank you,” I reply, smiling back as I turn my attention back to the sink.
“It’s beautiful,” she continues, leaning casually against the counter. “Where’d you get it?”
“It’s just from Zara,” I smile politely as I fumble with the soap dispenser. “I’m not exactly high fashion over here.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “Well, it doesn’t look like it, honestly. Although Zara is a lifesaver, isn’t it? They always have something cute.”
“Exactly,” I agree, drying my hands on a paper towel.
She tilts her head, studying me for a moment.
“I hope this isn’t weird,” she says hesitantly, “but... you’re Olivia, right? Olivia Bennet?”
The question catches me off guard, but I nod, brushing it off. “Ah - yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry, have we met?”
“No, no,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ve just... seen your pictures online. You’re dating Santiago Ortiz, aren’t you?”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s me.”
Her eyes light up, and she steps a little closer. “Wow, I thought it was you! That’s incredible. He’s such a dreamboat. What’s he like in real life?”
“He’s... great,” I say as I lean against the counter. “Very down-to-earth.”
“I can imagine,” she says, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “So, how did you meet? Was it super romantic? Are you guys moving in together soon?”
Her questions come fast, one after the other. She’s caught me well and truly off-guard, and I chuckle, trying to deflect.
“Oh, nothing too dramatic. And no, we’re not moving in together. We’re just... taking things slow, moving at our own pace.”
“That’s so refreshing to hear,” she says, her smile widening. “You must get asked about him all the time, huh?”
I shrug, laughing lightly. “Sometimes. It’s still a little strange for me, to be honest.”
Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, I reach for my bag, preparing to leave as quickly as I can, but it’s then that I notice something odd.
My eyes narrow at the sight of a small device clipped to the waistband of her jeans.
It’s sleek and black, and a tiny red light blinks steadily on the top of it.
My smile falters.
“What’s that?”
Her face freezes for a split second, but she quickly recovers, brushing it off.
“Oh, this? It’s just a... work thing.”
My stomach tightens, the alcohol-induced haze lifting slightly as suspicion creeps in. “A work thing?” I repeat, my voice sharper now. “Are you recording me?”
Her smile wavers. “No! No, of course not. I wouldn’t -”
I cut her off, my pulse quickening. “Don’t lie to me. You’re recording this, aren’t you?”
She stammers, her cheeks flushing as she takes a small step back. “It’s just for... background! I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s nothing personal, really.”
“Nothing personal?” I snap, my voice trembling with anger. “You’ve been standing here pretending to be friendly, asking me all these questions, and you think it’s not personal? Do you have any idea how invasive this is?”
Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
“Turn it off,” I demand, my voice firm.
She fumbles with the device, her hands shaking as she presses a button to stop the recording.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her tone suddenly meek.