My Darling Superstar
“Okay, okay. You can call me Richie Rich. But only you.”
Emily lifted her bottle. “Cheers.”
He clinked his bottle against hers. “Cheers. It’s nice to meet you, Emily.”
And he meant it.
Because in that moment, under the flickering neon lights and the scent of broth and beer, Justin Chase wasn’t the CEO, the playboy, or the rebel son.
He was just a man who didn’t want the night to end with her.
**
The car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the Adam estate, its headlights briefly illuminating the grand facade before dimming into silence. The night was still, the estate asleep, its windows dark and its gardens hushed under the moonlight.