He sighs heavily on the other end. “I suppose it’s not a problem—yet.”
“Of course,” I say, in such a servile way, it does end up making me sound like a smart ass.
“Well,” he says with a cough, “Just…keep me updated.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye. I just smile and set the phone down.
The day is mine.
After years of being chained to my desk, working from almost sunup to sundown, it feels strange but liberating. Once upon a time, even leaving the building to get lunch felt like playing hooky.
Now, my only job is to buy a dress.
I wander out to one of the decks on the yacht that overlooks Monte Carlo. It’s another gorgeous day, and I’m beginning to wonder if there are ever bad-weather days here.
“Can I get you anything?”
I jump in surprise at the sound of one of the staff who has approached behind me.
“No, I’m fine,” I say, then think better of it. “Actually, I’m going to wander around the city.”
“Perfect, I can have your things sent back to your suite while you’re gone, unless you’d prefer to stay on board?”
A luxury yacht or luxury suite. The life.
“Is Monsieur Reinhardt coming back onboard?”
“No, Monsieur Reinhardt has nothing planned on the Mako.”
“I see, well then I’d love for my things to be sent back to the suite.”
“Oui, very well, Mademoiselle Alexander.” With one quick bow, he disappears.
He even got my preferred address correct. Just how much control does Magnus have over each detail?
I put that thought aside as I disembark and wander up the same winding streets that first led me down to the Mako—and Magnus himself.
Mostly, I window shop, not finding anything formal enough, yet still to my tastes that I can wear tonight.
Somehow, I end up on the same street as that first dress shop I entered, the one with the blue dress. I idly wander down the sidewalk and see the same blue dress in the window.
It’s a shame the saleslady had to be such a bitch. It is a nice dress. And the color suits me so well. It’s not formal enough for tonight, so it really doesn’t matter. Not that I’d ever step foot in—
The door suddenly opens, making me jump.
It’s the same woman as before, except the look on her face lacks the mild hint of distaste as she stares at me. In fact, she looks…scared.
“Mademoiselle Alexander?”
I blink in surprise. How the hell does she know my name?
“Je suis désolée! I am so sorry. I did not realize that you were the personal guest of Monsieur Reinhardt!”
My mind is in a whirlwind. How the hell does she know that? Is this city (Country? Territory? What the hell is Monte Carlo?) really that small that word spreads this fast? How many other people know about me? Lara was right; this place doesn’t have any secrets.
The saleswoman mistakes my lack of response and slack facial expression for forgiveness.
“If we had known who you were, then—”
“What difference does that make?” I ask, finally finding my voice. “A woman shouldn’t have to be the personal guest of someone important to received polite and professional service.”
“Of course!” She blinks rapidly, then smiles and guides her hand in toward the shop. “Perhaps would like to—”
“No, I would not,” I say a little more curtly than I intended. I don’t feel bad about it. “But perhaps you would like to rethink the way you treat customers. You never know who they might be guests of.”
I turn and continue walking down the street, feeling a wild rush of satisfaction fill my veins. God, that felt good!
I realize it’s only because of Magnus Reinhardt that it even happened. The same for Jamie Reaves earlier this morning. I would never have spoken with such impertinence without that ten-million-dollar retainer.
Although that thought dims the pleasure a bit, there’s still enough left to put a spring in my step.
Whatever Magnus has planned for me tonight, I’m more than ready to handle.
* * *
“Eat your heart out, Magnus Reinhardt,” I say, looking at myself in the mirror.
I took advantage of the shop located in the hotel for this dress. Any concern I had about being snubbed was alleviated the second I stepped foot past the threshold. Considering my earlier interaction, I shouldn’t have been surprised that a shop in his own hotel would know that I’m Magnus’s “personal guest.” I might as well have been the Princess of Monaco for how much fawning there was.
Hell, I’ll take it.
As damn expensive as the dress was, the result is priceless—alluring but not provocative. It’s a white, one-shoulder, full-length gown with a side slit and a gold chain belt cinching it in at the waist. I feel like some Greek goddess. Athena meets Aphrodite.
The perfect combination for the man who’s practically a god.
I’ve checked in with Theo one more time and made sure everything was fine back in New York for now. At least Jan isn’t making a point of harassing or threatening him. Perhaps he has other helpless victims to terrorize in the meantime.
I still have no idea exactly what Magnus has planned for him, and I have a feeling pressing him would give me no answers. I’ll leave it…for now.
When I arrive at the restaurant, this time unescorted, Magnus is already sitting there. Tonight he’s in a tuxedo, looking as suave and sexy as James Bond. All that’s missing is the martini, shaken not stirred. For Magnus Reinhardt, a simple brandy will do.
His eyes catch mine from across the room, and I can practically see the green in them sparkle like emeralds as I approach. I take it as a good sign that he approves of my purchase.
I bypass the maître d’ who follows despite who I am and where I’m headed, or maybe because of it. Magnus rises to pull out my seat for me before the maître d’ can—suspiciously like a gentleman. He waves the man off and retakes his seat across from me.
“Will this dress do for tonight’s adventures?”
