The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 711

As the Mercedes-Benz emerged from the underground parking garage, Matthew saw a large crowd of sixteen and seventeen-year-olds gathered on the road near the exit, all of them pointing at his car. Though he couldn't hear them, their mouthing of words that likely began with the letter 'F' left little to the imagination.

Dozens of paparazzi had also gathered, furiously snapping photos of the scene.

He didn't have to guess; Matthew knew that someone on the hotel staff must have tipped them off.

This sort of thing was a normal occurrence. Paparazzi informants were everywhere, not just in a place like London, but even back in Los Angeles.

With so many people on either side, the Mercedes couldn't pick up speed. Suddenly, two young men pressed up against the car, shoving their middle fingers against the window on his side.

Matthew just shook his head. Even if every single one of them flipped him off, it wouldn't change the fact that he was going to spend the night with Emma.

"It's all just envy and jealousy..."

On the contrary, he was in a particularly good mood. Being with an icon like Emma Watson gave him a unique kind of thrill.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, an egg suddenly flew from the roadside, striking the window right beside him. It instantly shattered, the yolk and white dribbling down the glass.

Then another egg came flying, but this one missed his window, likely splattering against the rear of the car."These kids..." Matthew glanced at the eggy mess blurring the window.

"This is going too far."

At that moment, the Mercedes finally broke free from the throng of Harry Potter fans, accelerating sharply and leaving the outraged crowd behind.

Matthew glanced back. The kids didn't seem to be leaving. Instead, they were continuing to gather by the entrance to the Hilton.

"That obsessed with Emma?" Matthew turned back around, muttering to himself.

'It's a good thing I have normal fans. At least they never protest over the women I'm with...'

However, as soon as he had that thought, the memory of the underwear thief flashed through his mind, and Matthew scowled. Those pigs at the Beverly Hills Police Department still hadn't cracked the case.

As the car picked up speed, the eggshells flew off, but a large stain remained. Even though it was a car provided by the Hilton, Matthew was still displeased.

An idea quickly formed in his mind. If Emma didn't object, he wouldn't stay at her place tonight. Instead, he would bring her right back to the Hilton, using the main entrance.

Suddenly, a car sped up alongside them. Its sunroof slid open, and a paparazzo emerged, camera in hand. He brazenly snapped a series of photos through the windshield.

These British paparazzi were even crazier than their American counterparts.

More cars and motorcycles followed, many of them driving recklessly close. Other paparazzi on motorcycles matched their speed, allowing partners riding on the back to take pictures.

Had the British paparazzi gone into a frenzy after The Sun exposed his relationship with Emma?

Matthew didn't even glance at the paparazzi swarming around them. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to see anything from the outside.

Over twenty minutes later, the Mercedes-Benz pulled up in front of an upscale apartment building. Matthew got out and walked through the gate, leaving the paparazzi waiting outside.

Matthew took the elevator to the eleventh floor. Having been here before, he quickly found Emma's apartment and rang the doorbell.

The door swung open to reveal Emma.

"Come in," Emma said, letting him into the apartment. "I just saw all the paparazzi outside. I knew it had to be you."

Matthew's eyes swept over Emma.

"The paparazzi here are so annoying," Matthew commented, walking over to a window that faced the street. "They're all camped out down there."

He turned his head to look at her. "Did you see? The Sun ran a story about us."

Emma was unconcerned. "I'm nineteen. What's the big deal?"

Matthew turned back toward the living room and asked, "Do you want to come to my place tonight?"

"To the hotel?" Emma sounded a little surprised. "Is something wrong with my apartment?"

Matthew sat down on one of the sofas and smiled. "Emma, I was mobbed by your fans today, and they threw eggs at my car."

The corner of Emma's mouth lifted. "Really? They threw eggs at you?"

"No," Matthew shook his head. "At the car window, just as I was leaving."

"A pity," Emma said, shaking her head as well.

But Matthew adopted a deliberately calm tone. "Emma, they're your fans. You're responsible for them."

Emma froze for a moment, then realized he was playing a game and asked rhetorically, "What kind of responsibility?"

"We're going to the Hilton," Matthew said, voicing the idea he'd had in the car.

"A lot of your fans are still camped out at the hotel entrance, waiting to launch another attack on me. Since they've attacked me, I'm going to attack them right back."

Emma didn't answer right away. After thinking for a full half-minute, she nodded and said, "If it comes to it, I'll just say it was a youthful infatuation. It's not a problem."

She tilted her head toward Matthew. "But I'm not going to say we're in a relationship. We're just good friends."

Matthew replied very seriously, "We have always been good friends." He spread his hands. "Do you have any objections?"

The corners of Emma's mouth lifted again in a smile, unconcerned about the labels on their relationship.

She understood perfectly well that Matthew Horner was a good friend but an emotional scumbag, so she had no intention of getting too invested in the relationship.

Wasn't it perfect? She could get emotional and physical satisfaction without any of the baggage.

***

Once Emma had changed, Matthew led her out of the building. The moment they stepped outside, they were furiously surrounded by dozens of paparazzi, who shoved their camera lenses right in their faces.

However, before coming downstairs, Matthew had already alerted Brown Williams. Six bodyguards immediately formed a protective cordon, separating him and Emma from the paparazzi.

This wasn't his home turf of Los Angeles. There, he could turn a blind eye to the paparazzi's behavior and ignore them, as long as they didn't go too far.

In Los Angeles, the paparazzi maintained a tacit understanding with him.

But this was London, and to many here, Matthew was just some American hick.

The Mercedes-Benz started up, and Matthew glanced at the car window; the egg stains had been wiped clean.

Back at the hotel, the car parked right at the main entrance. Matthew got out first, greeted by a barrage of insults and middle fingers from the Harry Potter fans.

The scene in front of the Hilton had been loud and chaotic, but the moment Emma Watson stepped out of the car, an abrupt silence fell over the crowd.

The scene was utterly silent.

Matthew didn't even look at them. Emma took his arm, and he walked with her straight into the hotel.

All the fans' eyes went wide, first in disbelief, then in despair, as if their most precious treasure had just been stolen.

What were words in a newspaper compared to the scene they had just witnessed with their own eyes?

Soon after, the crowd unexpectedly dispersed.

"A bunch of losers!"

In a car parked in front of the hotel, a man in glasses watched the fans leave. "I was expecting them to make a huge scene, but it turns out they're all just a bunch of spineless losers."

A black man sitting next to him spoke in a low voice.

"Boss, what do we do now?"

As a reporter for The Sun, the man in glasses wasn't about to give up so easily. He stared at the hotel entrance and said, "I'm guessing Matthew and Emma will be spending the night here."

The black man nodded in agreement.

The man in glasses slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "We have to get a real story out of this." He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "Hello, it's Davis. Can you help me get inside? What? Don't give me that. If I get the story, you'll get a third of the bonus. What kind of future do you have as a cleaner? You won't lose much even if you get fired. Make some real news with me... Yes, yes, good. I'll wait for you at the back entrance!"