As soon as the Mercedes-Benz sedan emerged from the underground parking lot, Matthew saw a large crowd of teenagers, around sixteen or seventeen years old, gathered near the road by the exit. They pointed at the car, clearly saying something, though he couldn't hear them. Judging by their lips, most of their words probably began with "F."
In addition, dozens of paparazzi were also gathered there, furiously taking pictures.
There was no need to guess; Matthew knew for sure that a hotel employee had leaked the news of his departure.
This kind of thing was pretty common, especially in a place like London. Even in Los Angeles, paparazzi informants were everywhere.
Due to the crowd, the car couldn't speed up and had to crawl forward slowly. Suddenly, two boys jumped out from the roadside and pressed against his window, flipping the bird.
Matthew shook his head. No matter how many middle fingers were pointed at him, it wouldn't change the fact that he would be spending the night with Emma Watson tonight.
"It's all just jealousy and envy..."
Oddly enough, his mood was especially good. Being with someone like Emma Watson, an idol adored by millions, was more of a spiritual enjoyment for him.
He figured Emma Watson probably felt the same.
After all, she was still young and, like him, valued the deeper, more intellectual connections.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, an egg suddenly flew from the side of the road, hitting the window next to him. It exploded upon impact, with egg white and yolk dripping down the glass.
Another egg quickly followed, though this one missed his window, likely hitting the back of the car instead.
"These guys..." Matthew looked at the egg smudging the window. It didn't seem to be a rotten egg, thankfully, but still, "They've gone too far."
The Mercedes finally passed through the crowd of Harry Potter fans, and the car suddenly sped up, leaving behind those disgruntled fans who were upset that their idol had been "stolen."
Matthew glanced back. The fans didn't seem to be leaving, continuing to gather outside the Hilton Hotel, perhaps waiting to settle things when he returned.
"That dedicated to Emma Watson?" he muttered, turning his gaze forward. "My fans would never protest over a woman. They're so much better..."
As soon as he thought that, the name of the "Underwear Bandit" flashed in his mind. He rubbed his nose. The Beverly Hills Police still hadn't cracked that case.
With the car speeding up, the eggshells quickly slid off the window, but the egg white and yolk left a nasty streak. Though the car was provided by the Hilton Hotel, Matthew still felt a little annoyed.
He thought for a moment and quickly decided that if Emma Watson didn't mind, they wouldn't stay at her apartment tonight. Instead, he'd take her back to the Hilton, making sure to walk through the front door.
Suddenly, a car sped up beside them, cutting in front of the Mercedes. The sunroof popped open, and a paparazzo emerged with a camera, furiously snapping pictures without a care for the danger.
British paparazzi were far crazier than their American counterparts.
More cars and motorcycles began following from behind, with some aggressively speeding ahead, while others kept pace alongside, allowing the photographers in the back to snap shots through the side windows.
It was like watching a circus act.
The news of him and Emma Watson, first broken by The Sun, must've driven the British paparazzi wild. They were now surrounding him as if he were Princess Diana.
Matthew ignored the photographers swarming the car. The tinted windows ensured they wouldn't get any good shots.
Twenty minutes later, the Mercedes stopped in front of a high-end apartment building. Matthew got out, entered the building, and left the paparazzi outside.
He took the elevator to the eleventh floor. Having been here just the night before, he quickly found Emma Watson's apartment and rang the doorbell.
The door opened, and Emma Watson stood before him.
"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "When I saw all those paparazzi outside, I knew it was you."
Matthew glanced at her. She had clearly dressed up.
"These paparazzi are a real pain," he said, walking to the window facing the street and peeking outside. "They're still waiting down there."
He turned back to Emma. "Did you see? Our news made it to The Sun."
Emma didn't seem too bothered. "I'm nineteen. Is that supposed to be weird?"
Matthew walked back to the living room and asked, "How about we go to my place tonight?"
"The hotel?" Emma seemed a little surprised. "Isn't my place good enough?"
Sitting on the couch, Matthew smiled. "Emma, I was ambushed by your fans today. They even threw eggs at me."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? Did they hit you?"
"No," Matthew shook his head. "They hit the car window while I was on my way over."
"Too bad," Emma chuckled.
Matthew teased her, "Emma, those are your fans. Shouldn't you take responsibility?"
She blinked, then realized he was joking. "How would I do that?"
"We could go for a walk together, then head back to the Hilton," he suggested, voicing the idea he had earlier. "A lot of your fans are still gathered at the hotel, ready to attack me again. Since they want to hit me, I might as well hit back."
Emma pondered for a good half-minute before nodding. "I'm an adult now. I can't avoid relationships forever. This is fine."
She tilted her head and looked at Matthew. "But I won't admit we're together. We're just good friends."
Matthew responded earnestly, "We've always been good friends. What else could we be?"
Emma smiled again. When it came to relationships, she wasn't overly concerned. Her past comments about having a crush on Draco Malfoy had been brief and fleeting. She knew she wanted a diverse romantic life.
Tying herself down to one man? That would be a real loss.
She understood clearly that while Matthew Horner was a great friend, he was a bit of a playboy, so she wasn't planning on getting too emotionally involved.
This arrangement was perfect. She could enjoy both emotional and physical satisfaction without the burden of a committed relationship.
Emma had no emotional baggage, and Matthew certainly didn't either. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere online that Emma Watson's love life was quite colorful, with her changing boyfriends as frequently as Leonardo DiCaprio changed girlfriends...
But that had been just gossip. He wasn't sure about the details.
In any case, it made sense. Feminism was advancing rapidly, and in many areas, women were aligning themselves more with men, especially in terms of personal freedom. This was exactly the kind of power that feminism fought for.
It might not be obvious now, but once the Harry Potter series ended and Emma Watson matured a bit more, she'd definitely become one of Hollywood's white-and-wealthy elite, with both wealth and beauty to her name.
It wouldn't be surprising at all for someone like her to find a man she fancied.
Hollywood was full of women like that.
Take Sandra Bullock, for instance. She dated Ryan Gosling when he was at his peak, and despite getting married recently, rumors of her "cradle-robbing" never seemed to die.
In Hollywood, people generally knew how to handle relationships. Even divorces rarely devolved into the bitter feuds seen between Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.
Of course, in the past couple of years, Nicole Kidman had become a true box office poison, with every film she touched flopping. As her career nosedived, she couldn't seem to stop talking about Tom Cruise.
After Emma Watson changed her clothes, Matthew took her out. As soon as they left the building, dozens of paparazzi swarmed them, eager to get a shot, with some even daring to shove their cameras right in their faces.
But Matthew had called Brown Williams before heading down. Six bodyguards kept the paparazzi at bay, allowing him and Emma to get into the car.
This wasn't Los Angeles, his home turf, so he chose to ignore the paparazzi as long as they didn't go too far.
In LA, there was always an unspoken understanding between him and the paparazzi.
But this was London, and to many here, he was just an American country bumpkin.
As the Mercedes pulled away, Matthew glanced at the window. The egg stains had been cleaned off.
When they arrived at the Hilton Hotel, the car stopped at the main entrance. Matthew stepped out first, and amid the boos and middle fingers from the Harry Potter fans, he helped Emma Watson out of the car.
The noisy, chaotic scene outside the Hilton fell silent the moment Emma Watson stepped out.
Not a sound was heard.
Matthew ignored the crowd. Once Emma linked her arm with his, he led her straight into the hotel.
The fans stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, before hanging their heads in despair, as if their beloved idol had been stolen.
Seeing it with their own eyes was far more shocking than reading about it in the papers.
Before long, the crowd began to disperse.
"Useless bunch!" one paparazzo wearing glasses muttered from a parked car outside the hotel. "I was hoping they'd stir up some real drama, but they're all worthless."
A heavyset Black man sitting next to him grumbled, "Boss, what's the plan now?"
As a reporter for The Sun, the bespectacled paparazzo wasn't about to give up easily. Watching the entrance of the hotel, he said, "I bet Matthew Horner and Emma Watson will
spend the night here."
His companion nodded in agreement. "Since Inception is staying here, that makes sense."
The bespectacled paparazzo slammed his fist on the steering wheel. "We need something explosive." He pulled out his phone and made a call. "This is Davis. Can you help me get in? What? Don't give me that crap. If I land this scoop, you'll get a third of the bonus. What future do you have cleaning rooms? So what if you lose your job? You can always join me on the news beat... Fine! I'll meet you at the back door!"
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