The driver nods.
“And you can call it a day after that,” I add. “We won’t need you again tonight.”
I feel Stella shift beside me, feel her glance, but she doesn’t say anything. She turns her gaze back to the window, but I catch the way her lips pull upward — just slightly.
It's not a yes.
But it’s not a no… and that’s good enough for me.
We step out into the street, the air cool against the warmth of the restaurant. That kind of late September chill thatslips into your collar, makes you want to walk slower just to savour the weight of the night.
She shivers once — not dramatic, just a small pull of her shoulders — and I link my fingers through hers without asking.
She lets it happen.
"Dinner was lovely, thank you," she smiles. I place a long kiss on her lips, not as an answer to thank you but because I can. And because I wanted to.
We stroll side by side down the narrow street, heading in the vague direction of London Bridge station. Neither of us says much. We don’t need to. The silence feels full, not awkward. Like we’ve both agreed to let the buzz of dinner and wine settle into something softer.
When the glass and steel outline of the Shard comes into view, I glance at her. The curve of her profile in the streetlight. The way her hair’s come loose from its clip.
I don’t want the night to end.
We pass the entrance to the Shangri-La and I automatically slow.
“So,” I say, lightly, “have you ever seen the view from one of the rooms up there?”
She glances at the hotel entrance, then at me, eyebrow raised. “From a room?”
“Mm.” I nod toward the glass door, all gleam and quiet wealth. “It's on the top floor of the Shard. Floor-to-ceiling windows. You can see half of London. It’s… something.”
She narrows her eyes a little. “This feels like a line.”
I don’t deny it.
I just step a little closer. “Maybe. Or maybe I thought we’ve had a long day, and you look like someone whodeserves to end it somewhere quiet. Somewhere that isn’t the last train out of the city.”
She glances back at the hotel doors, then to me again.
“No pyjamas,” she says, half-playful, half-warning.
I lean in, mouth close to her ear. “For what I have in mind, you won’t need pyjamas.”
She gasps.
And just like that, the answer’s written all over her.
I gently tug her hand in mine, and she follows without hesitation.
Chapter 14
Stella
The door clicks softlyshut behind us.
There’s a pause, a heartbeat where neither of us moves, and then I step into the room, taking it in with a slow turn of my head.
It’s stunning. Clean lines, warm lighting, floor-to-ceiling windows The kind of space that makes you want to whisper, even when you’re alone.
