Chapter Seven - Making Up and Making Out

Sunlight itches at your eyelids, and you gradually become awake.

It takes a moment for the room to become familiar; but when it does, the memory of Emma in her Belle dress swims vividly back to life. You feel a lazy grin stretching over your lips, and turn to see if she’s still naked.

But the pillow beside you is empty.

It’s mildly disappointing, but you’re not worried; it’s probably eleven in the morning or something stupid, and she’s a busy girl. Sliding your legs over the edge of the bed, you pad softly over to the window, shielding your eyes with one hand against the glare.

The view from the penthouse suite is phenomenal, you have to admit. Even L.A. looks beautiful from up here; the skyscrapers recede into the distance, and a thousand cars glitter on the freeways in and out of the city. The sun is high in the sky – it must be almost noon – and you take your time getting dressed, glancing out of the window every so often to take in the view.

You hesitate for a moment before opening the door to the adjacent suite; maybe Emma’s handlers are still around, and you’re not sure whether she wants everyone to know you slept together or not. But it’s late and your stomach’s growling, so in the end, you slide the door open quietly and poke your head around –