Heiress on the Run

And on her arm, Jared Hawkes, a little too pale and scowling, but otherwise giving no indication of the hellish night before. Or that he was about to go home and beg his wife for another chance.

No, the photo looked exactly like what everyone had believed it was—a money-grabbing girl stealing a famous, and famously troubled, rock star away from his patient, wonderful wife and adoring kids.

The guilt had faded over the years. She’d made a lot of mistakes when she was younger, sure, but who hadn’t? And this one, that one time, she really hadn’t done anything wrong, as much as the world’s media had tried to convince her—and everyone else—otherwise. It had taken her a while to accept that and forgive herself, after she dropped out of the public eye. But she was done with guilt. All she had left now was the resentment, and the pain of the injustice.

Faith clicked the browser closed. She didn’t need to see any more.

She took a large gulp of coffee and tried to clear her head. Time to get back to the matter at hand—finding somewhere to take the Americans that evening.

She took her time perusing the usual websites, and also reading the best London blogs, to get some more unusual ideas. She’d forgotten how much there was to do and see in London, how much she loved being there. Sure, Rome was romantic as hell and had plenty to offer, but London...it was more of a patchwork. More bits and pieces and scraps from all across history, and across humanity. She liked that in a city.

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