Leila's POV
"There has been a change of plans, my driver will pick you up and bring you to Teterboro Airport, we are going golfing, dress the part."
No name, no pleasantries. But I didn't need one. Only Luca Anderson could sound that imperious in a text message.
So there I was, standing in front of a private jet that looked more like a flying palace than an airplane, my fingers curling tighter around the handle of my modest tote bag as photographers swarmed like bees around honey.
They were everywhere, snapping pictures, shouting questions, jostling for the best angles. The blinding flashes made my stomach lurch. I wasn't used to this. I wasn't supposed to be used to this.
But Luca? He walked through it like a king, perfectly tailored suit molding to his broad shoulders, sunglasses
