But through all of the excitement and the anticipation of my Hong Kong visit, there’s this quiet current of worry. This meeting with Lane Crawford is a big deal, and I need it to go perfectly. I spend the whole three and a half hour flight writing out flashcards to prep for my presentation.

When I touch down at Hong Kong International Airport, Alex is waiting for me in his car for a quick escape. Since he’s not really a target of media attention, we figure he won’t be followed or recognized. But he told me he’s “prepared for anything,” whatever that means. Meanwhile, I’m wearing big sunglasses with an inconspicuous baseball cap pulled low over my face. So far so good. But just to be safe, he parks in the long-term lot and texts me where to go to find his car. I slip into the front seat and lower my sunglasses, glancing into the rearview mirror.

“Are we in the clear?”

“I think we are.” He turns to look at me with a grin. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I grin back. He leans across the console and then we are kissing, and I can feel the energy between us.

“Got something for you,” he says as we pull apart, reaching across my body to open the glove box.

He pulls out a snack bag of Hot Cheetos, adorned with a stick-on bow.

I burst out laughing and lean in for another kiss.

“Wow, what service. This is definitely boosting up your Uber rating, sir.”

I can’t wipe the smile off my face, even as I realize my baseball cap has fallen off the back of my head. Who cares? Part of me wishes we could just spend the rest of the weekend right here, in the darkness of the parking lot.

We drive out of the lot and into traffic.

Suddenly, a flash of movement in the rearview mirror catches both of our attention. To get out of long-term parking, we still had to pass by one of the pickup areas outside the arrival terminals. Several people who were hanging out by the airport doors, waiting for their rides, have started running toward the van parked behind us. I see one of them reach into his duffel bag and pull out a camera.

Oh my god. How is that even possible? Are they freakin’ magic? “Alex, it’s undercover paparazzi!” I say, panicked. “It must be for someone else, right?”

“Oh shit,” Alex says. “Not worth any chances. Buckle up, Rachel. It might get a little bumpy.”

I fumble for my seat belt as he peels through the traffic.

And much to my shock… the van immediately follows us, swerving around cars to stay right on our tail.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I say. “They’re following us!”