Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
ANTOINE
T he morning air has a sharp tang to it that delights the senses and clears the head. I look at the jagged cliffs stretching ahead of us. Next to me, Laura’s attention is on the sea down below. She’s smiling with the insouciance of an inexperienced hiker who hasn’t yet figured out that the climb will get much harder.
Should I tell her? Nah, let her enjoy herself a little longer.
“Just so you know, I’m a B person, an owl.” She adjusts the strap of her daypack. “This is too early for me.”
“But it’s summer, and we’re in Sardinia, and it’ll get too hot for hiking later,” I explain. “You’d suffer much more.”
“My point is, why suffer at all, when we could just… not?”
“Because it’s worth it.” I step over a loose rock in the trail. “You’ll see.”
She mutters something under her breath. It could be an insult, for all I know, but that doesn’t bother me. I’m in a good mood, despite a night that wasn’t exactly restful.
The king-size bed in which we slept wasn’t to blame. It was large enough to fit us both comfortably. The annoying cameras and mics were gone—the bedroom is off limits for them. Laura climbed into the bed first and opened a book. I spent thirty minutes in the armchair, answering business emails. My last message wasn’t work related. I texted Pedro on the secure line, asking him to help me find a pretext to question Laura about the music box without raising suspicion.
When I joined Laura in bed, she’d just switched off the bedside lamp. I wished her good night and turned my back to her. It was the smart move. That woman smells too good and looks too appealing even for my steely willpower.
“Good night,” she said quietly.
I heard her scoot away from me. When I looked over my shoulder, she’d moved so far to the edge she was practically hugging the nightstand. I worried she’d fall off the bed. That worry woke me up several times during the night. She was still on the bed—and still perched as precariously as before. Her breathing suggested she was asleep, so I didn’t dare to wake her up.
I hope she doesn’t pull that stunt again tonight!
Laura’s voice pulls me back to the present. “How much farther?”
“The best view is still ahead,” I reply evasively.
She nods and keeps walking. The trail narrows. Her steps become slower, and her breathing grows audible. Alain, the cameraman behind her, isn’t doing much better. I can hear him huffing and puffing like an old steam engine.
Laura catches me looking at her with concern. “I’m fine!”
“Good.” I turn forward again.
The truth is, she’s doing OK. I thought that by this point she’d be demanding we turn back, but she keeps going. It looks like her stubbornness is making up for what she lacks in stamina and skill.
Alain mutters something about needing a break. Laura’s hand brushes a tree trunk as she steadies herself on the climb. She’s tired but doing all she can to hide it. Her flushed cheeks, beaded forehead, and faintly trembling steps give her away.
I check my watch. The actual spot with the best view is another twenty minutes ahead. Judging by Alain’s wheezing behind us, he’s not going to make it. Neither, I fear, is Laura.
I stop abruptly and gesture toward a small landing to the left of the trail. “This is it!”
“That spot over there?” Laura peers, doubtful.
I deadpan, “Best view on the trail.”
Alain groans and collapses onto a rock nearby. His camera dangles around his neck, and he lets it. All he manages to do is hold up five fingers to convey he needs five minutes before he can function again.
Laura steps onto the landing, looking skeptical. But then she brushes her hair damp with sweat from her forehead and looks down. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene.
I plant myself next to her. The sea stretches out before us, a dazzling, almost unreal blue. The sunlight catches the waves, making them glitter like shards of glass. The cliffs rise sharply to the left. Their spiky edges cast long shadows over the beaches below.
“Pretty,” Laura says.
I cross my arms. “Pretty? Is that all you can say?”
“Fine. It’s amazing. Happy?”
“Overjoyed.”
Alain picks up his camera. He points it at us and repositions himself to get a better angle.
Laura leans closer to me and whispers, “I feel like we should say something profound to make our fans as overjoyed as you are.”
“Like what?”
“Um… Something about how this view is like the marriage we’re hoping to have.”
“Wow.” I shoot her an awed look.
“Will you say it?”
“I’m afraid it’s too poetic for my constitution,” I murmur in her ear. “Besides, you came up with it, so you should take the credit.”
She hesitates. “Nah, I can’t say something so cheesy with a straight face.”
“Guys, turn up the volume!” Alain shouts. “You’re finally flirting, and the audience will want to hear it!”
Us, flirting?
Laura guffaws. This is the first time I see and hear her laugh, and it baffles me how much the sound and the sight of it please me.
She draws a breath, points down to the sea and articulates, “Don’t you think this view is the perfect metaphor for an ideal marriage?”
I turn my back to the camera so the viewers can’t see my face contorting with suppressed laughter. “I really do.”
We stand there for a moment longer, then I turn to her. “Ready to head down?”
“Yep.”
I glance back Alain. “You good?”
He waves a hand vaguely, which I take as a yes, and follows us down.
When we reach a rocky incline that feels more dangerous now than it was on the way up, Laura stops and stares at it. “Seriously?”
“Come on.” I offer a hand. “I’ll help.”
She grabs it. Her grip is firm, her palm warm against mine. We keep going like this for a few minutes. Alain seems to be handling the descent better than the climb.
When we reach an even steeper drop, I say to Laura, “I’ll go first. Then I’ll help you down.”
She nods.
I climb down without much difficulty. “OK. Your turn.”
“You sure?” She peers down at me.
“Just trust me.”
I extend my hands. She hesitates only a second before grabbing them. I guide her down with the utmost care, but she wobbles and loses her balance on the last step. I catch her by the waist. Her body brushes against mine briefly before I set her down on solid ground.
“Thanks,” she says, stepping back.
“Anytime.”
My hands still tingle from touching her, just like they did when we danced LeRoc. I shove them into my pockets.
Her cheeks are flushed.
It’s just from the exertion, I tell myself, focusing on the trail ahead.
The rest of the hike is on much easier terrain. Twenty minutes later, we reach the blissfully cool air of the lobby. Alain says he’ll take an hour’s break to wash and rest.
Woohoo! An hour without a camera tailing me!
“First stop, shower,” Laura declares as we enter the room. “Then I’m collapsing until dinner.”
“Agreed.”
The suite has two bathrooms, so we don’t have to take turns. I’m already envisioning the relief of cold water and clean clothes, when someone knocks on the door.
I open.
Pedro Monfort materializes like he’s been lying in wait. “Laura, Antoine! How was the hike?”
“Torturous,” Laura replies. “But the view was nice.”
He steps in. “I’m glad you found something to appreciate. I have another challenge for you. A special one.”
Laura frowns. “Already? We haven’t watched the Friends episode yet.”
“This one’s for later,” Pedro explains. “And it’s off the books.”
Aha! Sounds like he came up with a plan for the music box.
“What’s the challenge?” I ask.
He looks from me to Laura. “You’re going to work together to find an antique object.”
Laura squints at him, confused. “What object?”
“A music box,” he replies. “It must have a personal link to one of you.”
“How are we supposed to find something like that?” Laura asks.
“Talk about it, ask each other questions,” he suggests. “One of you will remember a detail or find a clue with the other’s help, and that detail will lead you to the location.”
Laura tilts her head to one side. “Why is this challenge off the books?”
“Because it’s my personal initiative,” Pedro answers. “This challenge won’t be filmed. You’ll only work on it when there are no cameras around.”
For a moment I wonder if he’s going to read Laura in. It’s very risky. Granted, he’s with the Secret Service and presumably knows what he’s doing. But I do wonder if he’s cleared this plan with Adam Von Dietz.
Laura’s eyebrows inch up. “Isn’t the whole point of this show to capture as much as possible on camera for the fans?”
“The sole purpose of the exercise I’m asking you to do,” Pedro says, “is to help nurture the bond between you. Heaven knows it needs nurturing.”
Laura crosses her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that my credibility as an expert is at stake,” he says. “I went against the consensus when I deemed you nearly one hundred percent compatible. If this match crashes and burns before the end of the show, I’ll lose face. And I don’t like losing face.”
My shoulders sag with relief. Well done, Pedro!
Laura smirks. “So, this is about your ego?”
“Partly,” he admits. “But also, I believe in you, my friends! And I think working together on a secret project will do you both a lot of good.”
Laura rubs her temples. “And when, exactly, are we supposed to do this? Between the official challenges, meals, pool, beach, romantic walks and evening cocktails, we’re booked solid.”
“That’s the fun part,” Pedro retorts. “You’ll have to make time, find opportunities during the crew’s breaks, at night or early in the morning. Be creative!”
“Let me recap,” Laura says. “You want us to spend our precious downtime secretly hunting for a music box somehow connected to one of us.”
“Exactly! Are you in?”
“We’ll do it,” I say, before Laura gets the chance to decline the covert challenge.
She shoots me a quick look but doesn’t argue.
Phew.
Pedro gives us a thumbs-up. “Perfect! I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, lovebirds!”
He saunters out, looking mighty pleased with himself.