Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Lily
Song- Can’t Help Falling In Love, Haley Reinhart.
After being escorted through a private entrance, courtesy of Drago, I slip into the booth in the VIP section, closed off by security on all sides.
The room is thick with cigar smoke and low bass. Drago takes his position in the far corner, arms crossed, posture lethal. His eyes scan constantly, methodically, but every time they land on me, my body responds like it’s been touched.
Marco pops the champagne and pours us a glass each.
“Is Monaco somewhere you see for yourself in the future, Lily?” he asks.
I chew on my lip, my gaze drifting to Drago without even thinking about it. Until recently, I’d been dragging myself through life. Always looking over my shoulder. Never really daring to look too far ahead.
But since Drago barreled into my world, the future doesn’t feel terrifying anymore.
It feels… possible.
“It could be,” I say carefully. “Why do you ask?”
He takes a sip, setting the glass down on the table between us.
“I’d love to show at your gallery in America,” he says.
“But I also think that opening a gallery here would be incredibly beneficial. We could do regular showings—my work, and others. I have friends in the business. Monaco. Paris. Madrid. Milan.”
My chest tightens. That would be the dream. The cities. The art. The life. “I really like the sound of that,” I admit.
A year ago, I would have said no without hesitation. The thought of moving countries, of being away from Hallie, would have crushed me.
I take a steadying breath and sip my champagne. “So… that means you want to sign with my gallery?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Yes. I have enough unseen work to fill your space. It just needs one final piece to be complete. I’m working on it now.”
“Thank you, Marco,” I say, smiling.
“And you’ll consider a Monaco branch?”
“I’ll consider it,” I reply, leaning back into the leather booth. “I can see myself loving it here.”
“Not sure I’ll be able to afford the rent,” I add jokingly.
“You’ll find a way,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to Drago.
I giggle. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll bring him with me. It’s very early days.”
Marco runs a hand through his curls. “You two are the real deal. I can feel it.”
“The air?” I laugh.
“Yes. Love. It’s there.”
My heart starts racing, and I down the rest of my drink, immediately pouring another.
“Don’t be scared of it,” he adds gently. “Embrace it.”
Somehow, we finish the bottle. Then another. My eyelids start to feel heavy.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, checking the time. “It’s been two hours.”
Poor Drago. Standing there. Watching me get a little drunk.
I stand abruptly, grabbing my coat. “I need to get home before this turns into a week-long hangover.”
Marco laughs. “Too old for that now.”
“Right?”
We shake hands. “Roxy will send over a contract first thing,” I tell him. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I really appreciate it.”
He smiles, then nods toward Drago. “The pleasure is mine. Your gallery is special. And I think a Monaco one will be even more so.”
Drago is beside me before I even turn, and we say our goodbyes. I loop my arm through Drago’s and let him guide me into the cool night air.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“What?” he asks.
“The bubbles are hitting me.”
He chuckles, and I swear I could live inside that sound.
We walk along the cobbled street, and I rest my head against his bicep. The next thing I know, I yelp as he scoops me up and carries me against his chest.
“Drago!”
“Lily.”
“I have legs.”
“Yes,” he says dryly. “Very sexy ones. And they’re moving far too slowly.”
My mouth forms a small “o”, but I don’t fight him. My feet were killing me anyway.
“This is nice,” I whisper.
“Being carried?”
“Being looked after,” I correct softly. “Not having to rely on myself constantly. Letting my brain switch off for a moment. Trusting someone else.”
God. I’m rambling.
“You trust me, lastochka?”
I nod, my eyes fluttering shut. “Well… yeah. I’m pretty sure I could fall in love with you.”
He stops dead.
Shit.
“Hypothetically,” I rush out. “I mean—”
“Could,” he asks quietly, “or are?”
I swallow.
“I think maybe… potentially… I am,” I admit. “But it’s way too soon, isn’t it?”
He starts walking again, holding me tighter in his arms.
“I’ve never done this before, Lily,” he says. “I don’t know the socially acceptable timeline for falling in love.”
“Six months?” My voice pitches higher.
He chuckles. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“Well, when I do tell you I love you,” I say, “I’d rather not be half-drunk while you’re carrying me home.”
He presses a kiss to my temple.
“I’ll take it however you want to give it to me,” he murmurs. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I sigh, closing my eyes and listening to his heart beat.
Maybe the idea of loving someone doesn’t feel like a weakness. It feels like coming home. And maybe, that home could be right here.