One Hot Chase (Hot Brits #12)

Chapter Four

Declan

Sabrina Remington once again ran away from me. I tried to keep up, but by the time I reached the street, she had already jumped into a taxi and disappeared. If only I had driven my own car to the Savoy, I might have been able to follow her. My desperate need to keep track of Sabrina has led me to behave like a complete fool. But the most embarrassing thing I did this morning was sprinting down The Strand until Sabrina's taxi was out of sight. At least she didn't see me sprinting after her, so my pride is somewhat intact.

After flagging down my own taxi, I return to the Savoy and my suite. I order breakfast and lounge on one of the oversized couches while I wait, stretching out and propping my hands under my head as I gaze up at the ceiling. No one who knows me would believe I could act this way. Yet here I am, behaving just the way Sabrina accuses me of doing---acting like a bloody moron.

My mobile rings with a familiar tone.

I dig it out of my pocket with a groan. Though I'd rather not speak to the caller, I know I must answer. "Hello, Julian, how are you this morning?"

"Don't give me that nonchalant greeting, Declan. You were caught doing something...unbecoming of the Wilde family's golden boy."

"Me? The golden boy?" I chuckle. "Did Mum put you up to this? Or was it Dad? No, it's probably Darcy. Our sister loves to meddle in my life."

"If you didn't give everyone the impression that you're a notorious playboy, then maybe Darcy wouldn't harass you."

Oh, bollocks . "Where precisely did she see us in the hotel?"

"In the corridor outside your suite."

I didn't even notice Darcy there. I was too focused on seducing Sabrina Remington. My cock was in control, not my brain. "How upset is Darcy?"

Julian chuckles. "Upset? She's over the moon about it. You haven't dated anyone in so long that our parents will probably throw a huge bash to mark this rare event."

"If only I could strangle you through the phone, I would."

"You have a mobile phone. Airwaves are hard to control."

"Aren't you so clever, Julian. I'm laughing so hard that I might pass out from exhaustion." I drop my head into my hand and let out another sigh. "I highly doubt Darcy was shocked by what she saw. She's thirty- one years old, after all, not a quivering virgin. Did she also happen to see me leaving the Savoy?"

"No, Darcy didn't mention anything about that. Why do you ask?"

"I don't disclose the details of my liaisons."

Julian stifles a laugh, proof that he finds this situation amusing. "When was the last time you were with a woman, Declan? Before last night, that is."

"Leave it alone. I have other matters to attend to." Such as tracking down an American woman who despises me. "Cheers, Julian."

And I end the call before he can say anything else.

I need to know why Sabrina scurried away in the middle of the night. That's all. I don't give a flying toss whether she wants to date me or shag me or anything else. Honestly, I couldn't care less about that. All I want is to understand why she bolted, so I won't feel like a failure who can't even keep a woman for one night.

Yes, absolutely, that's the only reason I need to find her.

A knock at my door signals the arrival of my long-awaited meal. My stomach growls because I'm half-starved from the wait. It's only been ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity. I quickly make my way to the door and swing it open. A young-looking man, probably in his twenties, brings in a tray of food for me. I give him a generous tip as he leaves with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step.

I devour the food as if I haven't eaten in years, my hunger fueled by memories of a passionate night with a strawberry blonde. But now that my stomach is satisfied, I need to satisfy another craving.

Finding Sabrina will be a challenge. I had good luck bribing the hotel staff and a taxi driver last time, but she has since checked out. I'll need to come up with a new plan. How many American women named Sabrina Remington could there possibly be in London? If I can track down the driver, Roger, maybe he can provide some clues.

To accomplish this task, I must invoke all my most devious powers of trickery.

I make my way down to the lobby to speak with Daniel, the desk clerk.

He greets me with a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wilde. How may I assist you?"

"I was wondering if you've met Sabrina Remington."

"Of course. She's lovely."

Time to put my devious plan into action. I lean against the front desk and lower my voice to a softer tone. "Well, here's my dilemma, Daniel. As I mentioned before, Sabrina is my girlfriend, but we had an argument last night. That's why she left in such a hurry. I need to track her down, but she took a taxi and I have no idea where she might have gone"---Yes, I'm pulling out my entire arsenal of lies and trickery---"However, Roger often drops off passengers here at the hotel. Do you happen to have his contact information? I'm desperate to find my beloved. She's unfamiliar with this city."

Daniel hesitates for a moment before responding cautiously. "Um, I know I helped you out once, but I'm not really allowed to give out personal information concerning taxi drivers..."

"Please, Daniel, this once could you break the rules? I'm hardly a serial killer. Couldn't you just slip me Roger's number this once?" I hold my palms together in a pleading gesture. "I'm terribly worried about Sabrina."

Daniel hesitates briefly, tapping his finger on the desk, then nods. "I'll get that number for you, Mr. Wilde. Just give me a moment."

Blimey . Even I'm impressed with how effortlessly I executed this little con. I must be more skilled at deception than I realized.

Daniel hands me a slip of paper. "Here's the number."

"You are a lifesaver."

After spewing so many untruths, I wander into the entryway to wait for both Roger and Daniel. The cabbie arrives first. Daniel points him toward me, and Roger grins as he approaches.

"It's you again, mate," he says. "Heard you lost your girl. I dropped her off at Trafalgar Square, by the statue of the king, about eighteen minutes ago. She might still be there."

"Thank you, Roger. You are a treasure."

"No need to butter me up, sir."

"Perhaps not, but I do owe you a tip for passing the information on to me." I hand him several pound notes. "For a job well done."

"Thanks. You're all right, sir."

"Please, call me Declan."

Just as Roger exits the hotel, I notice my car pulling up outside. I don't recognize the driver, but I suspect Julian is responsible for this gift. I barely give the valet time to open the door before I jump into the vehicle, tires screeching as I speed off onto The Strand. I might be driving a little too fast. If I get pulled over, it doesn't matter. The fine will be insignificant to me. Wealth does have its perks.

When I arrive at Trafalgar Square, I decide to park my car in a garage, which is not something I typically do. But desperate times call for unconventional measures, right? Not sure that's how the saying goes. I make my way to the statue of King Charles the First, hoping to find Sabrina there. But I don't see her. So, I jog across the street to Nelson's Column but still have no luck and continue past the fountains with no sign of her there either. In just twenty minutes, she couldn't have gone very far from where Roger had left me. Frustrated, I turn in a circle trying to think of where an American woman might go to see the sights.

That's when I notice the National Gallery. Would Sabrina enjoy something like that? I have no clue, but I might as well check just in case. After searching every corner of the museum, I come up empty handed. She's gone, and it feels like I've lost her all over again. Exhausted and sweaty, I exit the National Gallery and slump against the building, bowing my head in defeat.

A whistle pierces the air, then a man's voice shouts, "Oy! Come over here. A pretty little bird like you should be legally required to put on a striptease."

"You should be so lucky, moron."

I recognize that voice. It's Sabrina.

My heart races as I jump up and scan the crowd for her. I have to find Sabrina before she disappears. And then I spot her---or rather, the top of her strawberry blonde head. She's standing near Nelson's Column, looking up at it in awe. I start running toward her. As I get closer, I see who was harassing her. It's a group of young men who barely look old enough to buy a pint in a pub.

As I approach Sabrina, she seems to be focused on something, or someone, else. I stand behind her and throw a fierce glare toward the group of young tossers. The moment they realize who I am, their faces turn pale and they scurry away.

Sabrina turns to face me with a displeased expression. "Declan? I told you to leave me alone."

"Yes, you did. But I have a better idea."

"I don't care. Stalking is not an attractive trait." She waves a dismissive hand at me. "Go away, shoo. For good this time."

"I'm not a mosquito, darling." I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close. "Let's have some fun. We can go to my car. It's parked in a nearby garage."

She blows out an exasperated breath. "Do I need to hit you over the head with a baseball bat? For the last time, leave me alone."

"No need for violence, pet. But it's telling that you've done everything but ring for the police."

"I already did that. Your good buddy Constable Mansfield vetoed the idea. You probably brainwashed him."

Perhaps I feel a smidgen of guilt over that incident, which probably explains what I say next. "I apologize for my previous behavior. But I did not brainwash anyone. I might have, ah, fed Constable Mansfield a porky or two, that's all."

"You gave him a pig?"

I strenuously resist the urge to laugh. "No, pet, I told him a lie. He believes you are my girlfriend and that you ran away because we had an argument. I rushed after you to make amends."

She shakes her head. "And you think that confession will make me forgive you for hounding me. You're a jackass and a loon."

I stare at her for a moment, then drop to one knee, clasping my hands in a pleading gesture. "Please forgive me, Sabrina. It was a retched thing to do, and I apologize wholeheartedly. Don't blame the constable. This was all my fault."

She studies me as if I'm a strange specimen she found in a laboratory. Whether she believes my apology or not, it's true. I do regret my behavior.

I give up and rise to my feet, brushing off my coat. "Let's not lie to each other, pet. You want me, and we both know it." I slant closer to breathe in her alluring scent. How is it possible for her to smell this delectable all the time? It's almost criminal. "Tell me why you ran away last night and again this morning."

"Because you're an insufferable cretin."

I tilt her chin up with my finger, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Let's be honest. Have you ever experienced a more intense orgasm than the ones I gave you?"

She flattens her lips.

"If you refuse to answer, darling, then I'll have no choice but to ravish you with a passionate kiss right here in this public place."

"Why are you so evil?" she hisses through gritted teeth. "Fine, you're the hottest guy I've ever slept with. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Why did you skulk out of my suite?"

She stares at me as if she wants to uncover all my secrets. "I'll answer your question if you tell me why you've been following me like a hawk."

That sounds like a dangerous proposition. But danger turns me on. "I accept your offer."

"Why have you been stalking me so relentlessly?"

"Because we had mind-blowing sex last night, multiple times, and I fell under your spell." I gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Now it's your turn to explain."

"Okay. I sneaked out of your room in the morning because"---She shuts her eyes tightly---"I'd never experienced anything so intense and erotic before. It unsettled me."

"I accept your explanation. Now, will you cease and desist telling everyone that I'm stalking you?"

She squints at me briefly before releasing a gusty sigh. "All right, I'll stop doing that. But I don't want to see you again. I'm leaving London."

"Where are you going?"

"None of your damn business."

Why does her insolent behavior make me so fucking randy? It's baffling. But our verbal sparring always has that effect on me. Never in my life have I behaved so recklessly and, if I'm being honest, foolishly. Surely it has nothing to do with...No, impossible.

Sabrina walks away, and I can't resist watching her hips as they sway in the most stimulating manner. My trousers have grown tight. Even as she disappears behind the Nelson Column, I stay rooted in place. My feet seem to have become glued to the ground, refusing to move even a fraction of an inch. Why am I so fixated on Sabrina? She's just a random woman I shagged last night. Yet there's something about her that keeps me coming back for more.

"Are you really that infatuated with a column, mate? Or are you having a stroke?"

I swerve my head to stare at the bloke who uttered those words. "Excuse me? I don't appreciate strangers discussing the state of my health."

"Relax, Declan. I'm not interested in your health. I have a job to do."

"I'm not concerned with your job."

The bloke chuckles again and playfully punches my arm. "Your mother sent me. She wants to know why you were at the Savoy. Since I'm an old friend of Julian's, and a former constable, I offered to find out where you'd gone."

"How could my family know I was at the Savoy?"

The bloke shrugs. "Your sister grassed on you."

Oh, bollocks.