Chapter 37
EVANGELINE
MONACO
By the time we land, the rest of the group is eager to deplane and say their goodbyes. Probably because they were supposed to be here a few hours ago.
As Mick, Vinnie, and Ian head toward a waiting car on the tarmac, Alaric and I hold back, gathering our belongings and tidying up our seats.
When he glances my way and tips his head toward the exit, I nearly squeal with excitement.
Hold your nerve, Evan.
Despite my silent chiding, it’s impossible. I have to bite down on the insides of my cheeks to keep myself from smiling. I can’t believe this is the start of an entire week of alone time with this man.
Alaric thanks the pilot and crew, then keeps one hand on my low back as we finally deplane.
“This way,” he murmurs, pivoting toward an unmarked garage several hundred feet away.
I follow, keeping a few feet between us. If I don’t, the temptation to grab for his hand will be too great.
When we reach the garage, he inputs a code, then one of the bay doors springs to life.
Inside is a shiny red vintage Mercedes-Benz convertible.
“Ready, angel?”
My heart leaps. Am I ever.
With a giddy spring in my step, I make my way to the passenger side of the car.
He stalks after me and loops one arm around my body, dragging me into his chest. Hovering, he dips down like he’s about to kiss me but doesn’t complete the motion. “I wasn’t kidding. That ride was truly torture.”
I survey the open bay door. “Are we—”
With a sigh, he shakes his head. “Not yet.” His dark eyes bore into mine for a few more seconds before he tears his gaze away. “But soon. Once we’re at my condo, we’ll have nothing to worry about.”
I spin out of his hold and reach for the door handle. “Let’s get going, then.”
He mentioned that the drive from the airport to his condo was about thirty minutes, but clearly, he didn’t account for this traffic when we discussed it earlier.
“God dammit,” he curses, smacking the top of the steering wheel as we come to another stop. It’s been more than two hours since we climbed into the car.
“There’s not another route we can try?” I suggest, peeking at the clock again.
He’s grown more agitated with every mile we’ve crept along the compact streets of Monaco, scooters and bikes whirling past us the entire time.
“We’re less than two miles from my place.” He chokes the steering wheel and sits straighter. “I’d suggest we get out and walk if I wasn’t worried about what to do with the car.”
Fair enough. It’s an amazing machine. I smooth my finger along the door, grateful I make a habit of applying sunscreen every morning. The sun is low in the sky now, but in this heat, I keep having to dab sweat away from my hairline.
At least this glacial pace has afforded me a chance to take in some the sights and sounds of the principality.
I’ve been to Monaco twice before. Last year, I stayed with Luca, though he only left the hotel for F1 required activities or to go to a casino or nightclub.
There is so much culture and so much rich history here that I’d love to explore.
The delightful little patisserie we’re stalled in front of keeps my attention for several minutes.
As I examine the details, I decide I’d like to try it.
There’s also a café up ahead with lots of outdoor seating.
Monaco has some of the strictest paparazzi laws in Europe, which bodes well for my plan to talk Alaric into playing tourist with me.
Not that anyone would be interested in photographing me shoving pain au chocolat into my face. But that extra assurance doesn’t hurt.
We crawl a few more feet, then pick up speed.
“We’re moving?” I ask, angling forward in my seat.
“It appears so,” he hedges as we accelerate a little more.
As we merge into a roundabout and the sun shines directly in our faces, I shield my eyes and let out a little yawn.
“Will you want to rest once we get there?” he asks, clasping my thigh.
A bolt of lust courses through me. His long fingers and watch-clad wrist look incredibly hot pressed against my bare leg.
I’m exhausted from traveling and having to be “on” when I didn’t think I’d have to be. But I’m far too excited to finally be alone with this man to even consider napping.
“A nap sounds lovely, but it’s pretty low on my priority list.”
He grips my thigh harder.
Yeah, buddy. Me, too.
As he navigates through a bit more traffic, he lifts my hand to his lips.
“I thought we’d have more time alone this afternoon.” He sighs. “But I made plans for tonight, and if we want to be on time, we’ll have to leave my condo by six.”
I check the clock again and wince. It’s already 5:25.
“How much longer before we get to your place?”
He accelerates and hits me with a stern glare. “Far too long.” Softer, he adds, “You’ll want to dress up for where we’re going.”
Uncertainty threads through me. “Like dress up dress up? As in wear a dress?”
While I didn’t expect to have to change into more formal clothing tonight, I did pack a few dresses in the suitcase Alaric sent ahead with many others on a separate flight last night. There’s no way our luggage was fitting in the trunk of this car.
“If you’d like. I plan to change into a sport coat.”
Lip caught between my teeth, I look him up and down.
“Where are we going?” I ask, that uncertainty turning into excitement.
“I’m taking you out.” He gives me a sly smirk that causes a shiver to run down my spine. He’s devastatingly handsome behind the wheel of this vintage car with his dark sunglasses and his hair blowing in the wind.
I agreed to this trip less than twenty-four hours ago. How in the world did he have time to make plans?
“I thought the whole point of coming to Monaco early was to hide away in your condo.”
He grips my thigh tighter, teasing along the hemline of my shorts. “The whole point of coming to Monaco early was so I could give you the time and attention you deserve.”
“Will you at least give me a hint as to where we’re going?”
“You’ll see,” he murmurs, lifting my hand to his lips once more.
If it was anyone else, his answer (or lack thereof) would unnerve me.
But already, I trust him implicitly. I’m confident Alaric will have thought of everything.
I don’t have to hold on to my worries like they’re essential to my survival.
My needs will be met—and if they aren’t, I’ll have no trouble talking to him.
Twisting in my seat, I take the opportunity to really drink him in.
He looks so good behind the wheel. Beaming in a way that’s eager and confident despite rarely coming off as cocky and never condescending. He’s handsome, polished, and so damn competent. He’s kind to everyone. He’s especially kind to me.
While his self-confidence is a turn-on, the way he makes me feel seen and settled at the same time is far more impressive.
In any other scenario, with any other person, I would be wound tight and stressed to the max right now. Our whole day has gone off the rails. Nothing has gone according to plan. And while I’ve experienced a few moments of apprehension, I haven’t been truly anxious.
“We have arrived.” He pulls off the road into a portico and greets the valet who hustles out to meet us.
“Come on, angel. Welcome to my home.”