Chapter 393 - 393: Pemberton Productions Unlikely Meet.

Kyle stepped out of The Lanesborough and into the London morning.

The air was crisp, damp in that way only England could manage. He buttoned his jacket and turned toward the street, already running through his mental checklist.

"Find Angelica. But first—business. Pemberton Productions. The BBC collaboration. That's why I'm really here."

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Parked at the curb was a car. Not just any car. Something low, wide, and the color of deep burgundy. The leather interior was cream, the wheels gleamed like mirrors. It wasn't flashy in the way a Lamborghini was flashy—it was classy. Expensive in a way that whispered instead of shouted.

It was a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO.

"The hell? Is he some bigshot?"

Sitting behind the wheel, one elbow resting on the door frame, was Anthony.

Grey hair slicked back with his wrinkled face relaxed. He looked like he belonged there.

Anthony spotted Kyle and broke into a wide grin. He raised a hand.

"Morning, mate!" Trying his best to mimic a british accent.

Kyle waved back as he had no reason not to. The man was as friendly as they came.

"Nice car," Kyle called out.

Anthony laughed—that big, childlike sound. "She's a beauty, isn't she? 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO. One of thirty-six."

Kyle whistled. "I don't know cars, but that number sounds expensive."

"She's worth more than my house. Don't tell my wife." Anthony placed a finger across his lips.

Kyle chuckled. He was about to walk over when his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen. Unknown number but it was from a London area code. He raised a finger to Anthony—one second—and answered.

"Hello?" Kyle said.

[[Mr. Kyle? This is Gerald from Pemberton Productions. We spoke last week about the meeting? The BBC joint venture?]]

Kyle's brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed. Right. They had made contact with his agency and he had come here to finalize the deal—Pemberton had collaborated with the BBC on multiple projects, and this new partnership was big.

"Of course," Kyle said. "I'm in London now. When did you want to—"

[[We were hoping you could come by today. Our American liaison is already on site. He's been looking forward to meeting you.]]

"American liaison?" Kyle questioned.

"Yes. Name's Anthony. He's one of our best. I'll patch you through."

The line clicked.

Then a familiar voice: [[Hello?]]

Kyle turned around slowly.

Anthony was still sitting in the Ferrari, phone pressed to his ear. He hadn't registered anything yet—his eyes were on the hotel entrance, not on Kyle.

[[Hello?]] Anthony said again.

Kyle didn't respond. He just watched.

Then Anthony's gaze drifted. Found Kyle. Saw the phone in Kyle's hand. Saw his own phone pressed to his ear.

His eyes went wide.

"Y-You're the client?" Anthony stuttered, lowering his phone. "The one from America?"

Kyle nodded, a small smile forming. "Looks like it."

Anthony sat there for a long moment, mouth slightly open. Then he climbed out of the Ferrari—slowly, almost comically—and walked toward Kyle.

When he reached him, he extended his hand. This was just formality and he had to show Kyle they meant business.

"Mr. Kyle. I had no idea. Yesterday, I was just being friendly. I wasn't trying to—"

Kyle shook his hand firmly. "Anthony, relax. You didn't know. And even if you did, you were still friendly. That's a good thing."

Anthony exhaled. Then he laughed—that big, booming, childlike laugh. People on the street turned to look.

"This world is certainly a small place," he said, shaking his head.

Kyle smirked. "You can say that again."

They stood there for a beat, both smiling. Then Anthony gestured toward the hotel. "Should we go inside? Talk business? I promise I'm more professional when I know who I'm talking to."

"In a minute." Kyle studied him. "So you really had no idea?"

"None. I just thought you were some rich kid on holiday." Anthony shrugged.

"Turns out you're a rich kid who owns a company that wants to work with us. Same thing, really."

Kyle laughed. "I like you, Anthony."

"Good, because I'm supposed to be your point person for the entire deal."

Anthony ran a hand through his slicked hair. "My boss is going to kill me when he finds out I was chatting you up like a tour guide."

"Then don't tell him." Kyle shrugged, he preferred this method of communication.

Anthony paused. Then grinned. "I like the way you think."

Kyle glanced at the Ferrari. "That's quite the company car."

"It's not company," Anthony said proudly. "Mine. Bought it myself. Pemberton pays well, but not that well. I've had this beauty for twelve years."

Kyle nodded, genuinely impressed. "So you're not the owner of Pemberton?"

Anthony burst out laughing again—head thrown back, teeth showing. "God, no. I'm just a retainer. A very happy retainer. I run their West Ham office, handle American clients. When they said a young American businessman was coming to finalize the BBC collaboration, I volunteered."

"Why?"

"Because I heard you were young. Wanted to see if the rumors were true." Anthony eyed Kyle. "They undersold it."

Kyle chuckled. "Thanks, I think."

"So." Anthony clapped his hands together. "Business? Or do you want to keep complimenting my car?"

Kyle glanced at his phone. No new messages. Cassandra knew he was out. The others were settled.

"Business," Kyle said. "But somewhere with coffee. And maybe breakfast. I'm starving."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "You're staying in the Royal Suite and you didn't eat breakfast?"

"I ate. I'm just always hungry."

"My kind of client." Anthony walked back to the Ferrari and opened the passenger door with a theatrical bow.

"After you, Mr. Kyle. I know a place. Best full English in London. And we can talk Pemberton, BBC, and whatever else you need."

Kyle slid into the cream leather seat. The engine purred to life.

"So," Kyle said as they pulled away, "tell me about these BBC collaborations. My company needs to know we're in good hands."

Anthony grinned. "We've done everything from period dramas to nature documentaries. We even helped with that royal wedding special."

"No kidding." Kyle was genuinely impressed.

"No kidding. By the time we're done, your company will be the one giving *us* referrals."

Kyle settled into the seat, watching London roll by. Business first and then find Angelica. he needed to throw off any potential watchers, he had gotten smarter.

"One thing at a time." Kyle thought to himself.

"So," Anthony said, glancing over, "how does a kid your age end up owning a company that does international deals?"

Kyle smiled. "Long story."

"I've got time."

"Good. Because you're buying breakfast."

Anthony laughed—loud, genuine, infectious.

And for the first time since arriving in London, Kyle felt like maybe things might actually be a little fun.