Chapter 4
Lara
Join the festivities of Novel Haven to improve your status in the village community.
The first thing I notice with some surprise is how clean Cambridge is compared to London.
Aside from that, the streets are so much quieter, the traffic’s manageable, and there’s not a single high-rise building in sight.
If it’s this quiet here, how pastoral must Crow Manor be?
A few late rays of sunshine have cast the station square in a golden glow, but I zip up my leather jacket; it’s much nippier here than it was in London.
I let my gaze wander, but I see nothing other than a few bicycles and two taxis in terms of transport.
The organizer’s shuttle service probably hasn’t arrived yet.
I feel a little bad that I ordered one just for myself, but the lady on the phone reassured me several times over that it was no problem at all.
Her friendly manner actually did calm my nerves a bit.
“You do that all the time, don’t you?”
The deep voice sounds familiar, and I realize why as I turn around. “Mr. Hot” is walking toward me with an amused smile on his face and his rucksack slung haphazardly over one shoulder.
“Do what?”
“Go AFK.” He hesitates and clears his throat. “Like, checking out. Mentally, I mean.”
“I know what AFK means.” I smirk, but not so much because of his attempt to explain, and more because he uses away from keyboard in real life. “Are you here for the GameChanger prelims too?”
His eyes widen in surprise, and he nods. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to arrive this late. Were you rehearsing until the last minute?”
“No, I just . . .” I wonder for a moment whether I should try to come up with an excuse. Then again, I’m not here to make friends, so never mind. “I just didn’t feel like coming early.”
To my surprise, he laughs. “How refreshingly honest. I’m Luca, by the way.”
“Lara,” I reply. At least now I don’t have to mentally call him by Nataly’s nickname. “Why are you arriving late? Don’t feel like making small talk either?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t really like big crowds. I thought the train would be emptier around this time of day, especially in first class.”
“You’re from London? Looks like you chose the perfect city to avoid crowds, then,” I retort and raise my eyebrows.
“Believe me, I curse that fact often enough.” He laughs again, and the corners of my mouth twitch involuntarily.
Luca’s laugh is infectious, a laugh that softens his angular features and makes his dark eyes glitter.
His eyes look much more alert; the hour of sleep on the train seems to have done him a world of good.
What would Nataly call him now? If he was hot before, now he’d be off the charts.
The way he looks at me sends a flash of heat flooding through my body.
Next to my insecure posture, Luca’s stance oozes confidence.
His broad shoulders are straight, and he’s at least a head taller than I am.
I automatically stand up a little straighter.
I’m going to need the confidence. Since there are so many women working at PixelPulse, I sometimes forget that my industry is still male dominated.
The thought of it brings my nervousness back full force.
I won’t just have to hold my own in front of other people, but in front of men.
Probably white, straight men who are obviously older than me.
Who have been in the industry for years.
I look down at myself. I hope Nat thought to toss a pair of jeans in my suitcase, or else my reputation will have solidified before I even step on stage.
“You nervous too?” Luca’s question bursts the growing bubble of silence between us.
My gaze darts upward to meet those brown eyes. They keep shaking something loose in my stomach that feels remarkably like butterflies. “Yeah, you too?”
“Am I ever.”
I squint at him in disbelief. He doesn’t look nervous at all, but he doesn’t sound like he’s joking either. “Then you’re better at hiding it than I am.”
“Thanks, I think.”
A white car rumbles to a halt in front of us, the driver’s side door opens, and a man with meticulously gelled-back hair and a black suit climbs out. Yep, I definitely missed the memo on the dress code.
“Looks like this is our shuttle. Do you need any help with your suitcase?”
I shake my head, but I needn’t have bothered, because the driver takes my luggage anyway. Luca’s carrying nothing but a rucksack, which he puts in the boot of the car as well.
“Welcome, Mr. Brown, Ms. Anderson!” The man’s mustache ripples slightly as he smiles. “My name is Andrew Hastings, but you may call me Andrew. Our drive will be about half an hour. Would you like to pick up some coffee or anything else to drink first?”
Luca declines, and I simply shake my head for fear that my voice will betray me, now that I’m feeling more anxious again.
Andrew holds the door open for me and then for Luca.
The fact that we’re sitting so close together now sets my nerves on edge.
We’re close enough that I can smell his aftershave, or whatever it is that makes him smell so fresh.
Now Nataly’s got what she wanted; we’re sitting together.
My hands are jittery, and it takes me two attempts to buckle my seat belt.
I’m acting like a teenager, not like the twenty-five-year-old woman on a business trip I’m supposed to be.
The black leather back seat is roomy, and the car is probably bigger and comfier than most London flats.
Despite all of this, I tense up all over again as Andrew starts up the engine.
I’m rubbish at small talk. I’m rubbish at everything that involves talking—which is why I’m arriving so late.
The next half hour is probably going to feel like a century, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive the next two days if I can’t even get through this ride.
“I had a bump on my forehead about this size.” Luca stretches his hands apart in exaggeration, which makes me laugh even louder.
My vocal cords ache, but I can’t stop. “Enjoy my suffering, why don’t you,” Luca says dryly, but then he starts laughing again too.
“After that, Maleek would always introduce me as Sneezer at uni.”
“You do realize that that’s what I’ve mentally saved you as now?”
Luca grumbles something unintelligible and I wipe my eyes to catch any stray tears of laughter as I try to leave my mascara intact.
Luca has decided that we should tell each other our most embarrassing moments to calm our nerves, in the spirit of if we survived that, then we can survive anything that might happen over the next few days.
“Your turn again,” Luca tells me, but I’m still recovering from his story of when he sneezed so hard that his head slammed down on the lecture hall desk in front of him—hard enough that his entire row and the lecturer noticed.
I’m just starting to sieve through my memories for a story when the car slows down and rolls to a stop by a pair of curved, wrought-iron gates. The upper crossbars form the curly letters C and M.
“Are we there already?” Luca asks, and I stare out the windshield in surprise as well. Andrew glances back over his shoulder and nods.
“Yes, thank heavens. I think you’ve given me a cramp from all the laughing.”
“Sorry, mate,” Luca says with a crooked smile.
My stomach flips, and I try to convince myself it’s not because of Luca, but because the double gates are swinging open now, revealing a cobbled driveway.
A very long, winding driveway leading past a narrow artificial stream and trimmed shrubbery lit by countless lanterns to the side of the path.
Luca lets out a low whistle, and my mouth is bone-dry as Crow Manor appears before us.
The building looks like something out of an episode of Bridgerton.
Stone statues top the round, tinkling fountain out front, a little eerie with the harsh spotlights trained on them.
The cobbled path winds its way around the fountain and over to a flight of steps leading up to the main entrance.
Ivy grows in stark contrast on the pale facade, climbing all the way up to the roof, where a small turret sprouts up like a mushroom in the middle.
In spite of myself, I’m starting to wish I’d thought to come earlier, because most of the house’s details have faded in the evening twilight.
The sun has set almost completely, which serves to shroud the estate in a sort of mystical haze.
Through the dense fog in my head, I can sense Andrew opening the door for me.
I clamber out of the car, never taking my eyes off Crow Manor.
Had the royal family stepped out onto the pompous, pillar-lined balcony at that moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I need to call Nat and Aria immediately. With all the bodice-ripper novels she’s read, I bet Aria would know exactly how to behave in this sort of place.
“Great, now I’m nervous again,” Luca comments dryly, taking his rucksack back from Andrew with a grateful nod.
A man in a suit and a pretty blond woman with a chic updo and a knee-length dress exit the building.
My guess is that Andrew let them know we were coming ahead of time, or maybe they heard the car approaching.
With my blue-streaked hair and short skirt, I feel completely out of place.
I look like the odd one out in a spot-the-difference picture.
All the composure I gained from talking to Luca during our drive has evaporated.
I take a deep breath, my eyes still on the estate.
I don’t fit in here, but I don’t have to.
I mean, the entire event doesn’t really fit here either; it’s about video games, not tea with Kate Middleton.
I don’t have to impress anyone—not with my looks, at any rate. The game is all that counts.
“Well, then,” Luca murmurs, glancing at me sideways. “Into the lion’s den?”