29. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The next morning, we continued the list, visiting Soho, China Town, and the various markets nearby. The dreary history of the Tower of London was lit by a glimpse of the crown jewels. We indulged in an afternoon tea inside a posh hotel before taking the underground to Hyde Park.
Once we were sure we’d hit everything possible for the day, we returned once more to our hotel to prepare for our evening out. Emil’s covert planning was once again in play, so I had no idea where we were headed.
Hogging the bathroom, I finished my makeup as my curls set, an emerald-green cocktail dress hanging from the doorframe behind me. I smacked my lips together with a plum-colored lipstick as the butterflies began to stir in my stomach.
When I stepped into the bedroom, fully prepped and preened, Emil turned from the window, and his jaw went slack. I’m pretty sure mine did, too, but my face was numb. He was gorgeous in a simple, elegant, coal-black suit. His polished shoes winked as he moved around the bed to stop next to me and smoothed down his tie.
I chuckled, and it sounded breathy .
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Your tie,” I admitted. “It’s the same color as my lipstick.”
His gaze snapped to my mouth before traveling down and raking across my dress before he looked back up. “The colors suit you,” he said, his eyes playfully dark. “Though the lipstick means I can’t kiss you. I like that less.”
I went to bite my lip and remembered I shouldn’t for the same reason. “I could wipe it off.” On your mouth , my salacious mind suggested. On your skin. On your…
“Later,” he whispered, taking my hand.
I was too busy calming my racing heart to notice exactly where he was leading me until I spotted signs for the underground. I smoothed my evening dress down nervously as we swayed onboard, but we didn’t stand out as much as I’d thought we would. Half of London was calling it a day in their workwear, while others joined the car in more formal attire for a night out on the town.
Once above ground, I’d watched the sun dip as we walked. It now gleamed from between the high-rise buildings raised into giant fortresses that comprised London’s financial district.
“Where are we going?” I asked for probably the millionth time. My heels clacked along the slick pavement, which glistened from the early morning rain.
“You’ll see.”
I huffed, but Emil offered me his arm, slowing his pace to match my careful strides. Gently, he guided me up a short set of stairs toward a huge building. Tilting my head skyward, I noticed its profile curved near the top, as though it was beginning to take a bow.
The lobby was all sleek lines and strip lights. Our footsteps echoed in a chorus off the white marble. After passing through security, we joined a group funneling into the elevator. We steadily climbed higher and higher to the thirty-fifth floor, which was labeled Sky Garden.
My jaw dropped as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a 180-degree view of the London skyline. The Shard stood straight ahead like a spike as we walked out, groups and couples surrounding us with cocktails and chatting happily. We neared the vast window overlooking where the Tower Bridge stretched over the Thames, all aglow with the rosy light of the impending sunset.
“This wasn’t on our list,” I said with awe.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I improvised.”
Groups huddled on sofas and around tables. A bar and café combined into one served a long line of guests. Foliage filled enclosed curved benches and bordered the stairs, which surged upward on either side of the wide-open space. It was noisy with all the chatter and background music. People sat enjoying drinks and food, while others meandered, taking in the stunning view.
I stopped in front of the windows, staring down at the tiny insect people and toy cars far below. Water taxis cut rifts into the murky waters of the River Thames, while birds swerved by at eye level. The last rays of sunlight breached the fluffy clouds on an otherwise clear day.
“Want to go higher?” Emil offered.
I tore my eyes away from the mesmerizing scene, eyeing the stairs. “What’s up there?”
“More views, from what I read.”
“Lead the way.”
We climbed the polished staircase through London’s indoor jungle, the next level giving us a 360-degree overlook of the city. The other famous high-rise buildings nodded the tops of their heads in our direction, so close it seemed you could reach out and touch them. Inside, people lounged along the windows in a mix of formal and casual wear. We blended right in with them.
“Wine?” Emil offered, gesturing toward the slick bar.
“Please,” I agreed distantly, still dumbfounded by the view. He returned in short order, handing me a glass of chardonnay before extending his. I met it with a soft clink .
“How did you know about this place?”
“The internet,” he said simply.
I snorted. “Well, that’s too easy.”
“It looked like a cool spot.”
“I think that’s an understatement.”
We people-watched and took turns circling the gardens before Emil checked his watch for a third time.
“Got a hot date?” I teased.
“Yes, actually.” I lifted my brow in a challenge, and he added, “Our table is ready.”
“Table?”
“For dinner.”
“But we just got here,” I protested.
“We’re not going far.” His hands spun me away from the views, and he pointed toward the structure at the center of the garden room, which dangled above the café below. It was the same as the rest of the building, ultra-modern, though the tinted windows refused to give a hint of what waited inside the spaceship-esque form.
“We’re eating inside a box?”
He chuckled, but didn’t respond, instead leading me to the entrance. He held the door open, guiding me forward with a gentle pass of his hand along my back. Beyond the waiting staff, the muted glow of candle-lit tables instantly bathed us in the restaurant’s romantic ambiance, the warm, moody interior not reflecting the cool exterior.
It was easily the fanciest restaurant I’d ever been to. As we were guided to our table, waiters passed by carrying huge platters with intricate, bite-sized morsels. I couldn’t begin to guess what they were. It was the stuff you saw on highbrow travel shows or between the pages of a Michelin-starred chef’s cookbook.
We were seated near the railing on the upper level, giving us a prime view over the people below in the café, as well as the rafter-framed skyline. Across the river, the Shard continued to be a marker of both space and time as the sun slowly set. Fiery light flashed across its windows before the reflections grew dim.
“Wow,” I murmured when, eventually, darkness finally took hold. London was a glimmer of earthbound stars, the night sky flipped on its head.
The pop of a cork made me spin. Our waiter poured champagne into delicate flutes, resting the bottle in a silver bucket of ice before leaving. Emil raised his once more as I reached for my glass.
“Wow,” he agreed, his eyes glittering. Bubbles burst and simmered in our glasses as they met.
Course after course graced our table, each plate prettier than the next. At first, it was intimidating to the unrefined foodie in me, never having given the haute cuisine world much attention. I got over it pretty quickly, savoring each delectable bite.
“Well, are you a fancy food convert?” I asked Emil after a mouthful of the most delicious seared salmon I’d ever tasted. So far, fine dining was a strange mix of opulence I was enjoying, accompanied with the feeling of being a kid who had to remain on their best behavior.
He laughed, the only response I needed to know he felt the same. I chuckled with him, turning to stare out once again at the city at night.
“This is amazing,” I breathed.
His thumb brushed against my knuckles and squeezed. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s perfect. All of it.”
“Present company included?” he teased.
“It wouldn’t be perfect otherwise.” The words came without thinking, without worry, without hesitation. Because it was true. I’d experienced other wonderful things in everyday life since returning home, but they paled in comparison to the times we’d spent together. Everything was more alive, more real, when shared with Emil.
His gaze didn’t falter, and both of us became easily enraptured in our own little corner of heaven .
“Your dessert,” the waiter interrupted, dropping a plate of family-style assorted delicacies. He reeled off what they were, a bunch of fancy ingredients paired with desserts I knew by name, but I just smiled up at him politely and thanked him before he retreated into the shadows.
“What did you think?” Emil asked after the server returned to clear the empty plates and drained glasses.
“You didn’t let me lick the plate clean,” I grumbled, gathering my purse as he stood.
“Do you want me to have them bring it back?” he said dryly. He swept my jacket off the back of my chair, holding it out for me to put on. I stared at it for half a second too long. No one had ever done that for me before.
“No,” I said, my voice small as I slid my arms into the holes.
We thanked the passing waiters as we departed. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, I stared longingly out at the view. It was picture-perfect. The soft ding and slide of the elevator opening left a lingering sense of nostalgia for the place even before the doors closed.