“Mel. Melissa, wake up.” Warm hands shake me, and I sit up groggily.

“What’s going on? What do you want?” I’m still half awake, stifling a yawn.

“We just touched down in London. You need to wake up.” Elias gently tries to rouse me, but my eyes remain closed.

“Great. Nice place. Now I can go back to sleep.” I attempt to pull the blanket up again, only to feel it wrenched from my grasp. This time, my eyes fly open.

“GET UP NOW! I don’t have time for this.” I look up to see Jeremiah. He’s dressed crisply in a navy blue tuxedo, and a gold watch studded with diamonds glitters on his left wrist. His hair is neatly styled to the side, and the barely concealed fury on his face is impossible to miss.

Without meaning to, I burst into laughter. “A lovely day in a lovely country, and the first thing you do on arrival is bark like a dog. Why am I not surprised, Jeremiah Blackthorne?”

“What did you just say to me?” He moves to grab me, but Elias throws himself between us. A look of surprise crosses Jeremiah’s face as he regards Elias with mild confusion.

“What she means is that she’s still hungover and has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.” Elias shoots me a warning glance, and I bite my lip, struggling to hold back a nasty comeback.

“I don’t care if you’re hungover or half dead. I want you prepped and ready in five. Paparazzi are hanging around.”

“But how did they find us?” Elias turns, confused.

“What do you think?” Jeremiah raises his voice, his anger barely controlled.

“Either they took a wild guess about where I wanted the honeymoon, or you’re doing a very terrible job of keeping my location private and secure.”

Elias takes a surprised step back. “You’re right. This shouldn’t have happened.” He composes himself. “I’ll have the ladies clean her up and get her ready in five minutes.” He turns to walk away, his fists clenched.

“Elias, wait.” Jeremiah tries to grab his shoulder, but he stalks away stiffly.

“This is all your fault.” He sneers at me, his eyes blazing with anger.

I glare back at him. “No, it isn’t. You just called your bodyguard incompetent. I had no hand in it.”

“If it wasn’t for your disgusting, annoying presence, I wouldn’t have snapped at him.”

“Then maybe you should try staying the f*ck away from me.” I stand up and turn in the opposite direction, trying to get as far away from Jeremiah as possible.

Even when he’s angry, the idiot still manages to look smoking hot. The mere sight of him in a blue tuxedo makes my fingers tingle. I’m tempted to rip the clothes off him and touch him. I want to feel that overwhelming body heat from last night.

I bite my lip in frustration; all that champagne must have altered my brain chemistry.

**** **** **** ****

Ten minutes later, Elias comes to fetch me. He looks relatively calm now. “Are you alright?” I ask softly.

“Fine.” His response is clipped. Maybe he isn’t as calm as I thought. I allow him to lead the way in silence until we come to a halt.

When Jeremiah turns around and sees me, his eyes widen as he takes in my navy blue strapless gown. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, and I arch a brow. That’s surprising.

“Take my hand.” His voice is cold as usual, void of any emotion. “And don’t forget, we have to put on a show. Smile and act like a newlywed.”

I snort. “You should take your own advice. You’re the one who’s as stiff as a bodyguard.”

He glares at me, but after a moment he considerably relaxes.

“Aha! That’s better.” I let my fingers trail down his chest. “Now follow my lead.”

Jeremiah opens his mouth to say something, but I pull him forward, and we take our first steps down the plane.

Immediately, a dozen camera flashes go off at once.

I try not to look as I hold on to Jeremiah's hand and descend the steps carefully. Finally, I look up and give my most dazzling smile, leaning my head on his shoulder.

The paparazzi go crazy. “Look here Jeremiah” “Over here....this angle.”

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Blackthorne!” fills the air, and I realize there are others here to welcome us. How did all these people know our location?

Someone throws a flower, and I catch it in surprise. When I glance in the direction it was thrown from, I see a figure in black. My blood runs cold. He’s not supposed to be here, didn’t he get my message? It’s not supposed to happen now.

I look around at the small crowd that’s offering up congratulations and suddenly, I understand why the paparazzi had knowledge of the private airstrip we’ll be landing. I know what is about to happen before it does.

And that’s when the screaming begins.