STELLA’s POV
6 YEARS LATER
I dragged my suitcase, heading to the arrival area, and I noticed that some people in the airport were taking out their phones and cameras to take pictures and videos of me.
I could hear that some of them whispered about my new stiletto heels made by my famous designer friend, who only made two of them available in the entire world.
I sighed heavily as I put on my shades to hide my eyebags.
I should have slept during the almost eight-hour flight from Paris to Boston, but I just couldn’t do it.
Not when I kept thinking about what I had done the day before—how I dated with the famous French photographer in Paris.
He was hot and gorgeous. But it was a mistake, especially when the paparazzi spotted him walking out to his car. Damn it!
That will cause another unnecessary uproar. I’ve never thought that the trip to Paris, which was supposed to be a peaceful one, would cause another disaster.