“Whether or not you are impressed is irrelevant. He is the man she has chosen, and you can either accept that or don’t…and then lose her.”
“They’ve only known each other for—”
“Also irrelevant,” she interrupts with a casual wave of the hand. “And you are being very rude to your stunning date right now, Magnus.”
She looks ahead with her chin up in a way that settles the matter, at least as far as she’s concerned.
“I plan on enjoying tonight. John Legend is performing, and I want no distractions!”
“Yes, Mona,” I say, twisting my lips into a smile.
* * *
I usually hate the string of social events that take place in Monte Carlo. But I have to admit that even I am thoroughly impressed by the Gala de la Croix Rouge Monegasque each time I attend.
When our car makes it to the entrance, following a long line of luxury vehicles ahead of us, I escort both of my guests into the crowd of wealthy and famous individuals, diamonds and bow ties galore, mingling in the Salle des Etoiles Sporting Club. We pass under a canopy of flowers into an open area. The space is tastefully decorated in the apt colors of red and white. Vases of fat red and white roses are strategically placed, and pieces of art hang on the wall.
“There they are!” Mona exclaims, resting her hand on Sloane’s arm. I follow both their gazes to see the royal couple, posing for the mandatory press photos.
“She looks positively stunning,” Sloane admires.
“Yes, so elegant, just like Princess Grace,” Mona says, pressing one hand to her chest as she smiles sentimentally.
I note how she tactfully refrains from saying anything about Prince Albert II, who has a notorious past as a playboy—something that Mona has always fretted over (“his poor, dear mother must be turning in her grave!”).
“This is amazing,” Sloane says, looking around, her eyes practically bulging at the designer gowns and dripping jewels. The net worth in this room alone—including myself—could probably encompass the GDP of most countries in the world.
I lean in and whisper in her ear. “Just wait until it gets going.”
Chapter Fifty-One Sloane
Magnus’s words still ring in my ears as we enter the main event where long tables are set up in the glamorous setting. The red lighting gives it a dramatic flair, making me feel like I’ve stepped into another world.
In fact, I probably have. In my job, I’ve been in the presence of obscene wealth, if not exactly rubbed shoulders with it. Here, I’m perfectly camouflaged as part of it.
Normally, I’d feel completely out of place. A girl from the Bronx, here in Monte Carlo of all places? Hobnobbing with the elite from literally every continent? A fact which is proven by the variety of traditional, yet exquisite attire I’ve seen so far.
It’s surreal.
Magnus’s presence is enough of a buffer to temper any feelings of inadequacy I might have. With my arm in his, he feels like a shield, guarding me against anyone who might look at me sideways. Not that anyone has—I mean, really, this dress alone would defy that.
Mona is also a calming yet amusing presence. Something about her is so perfectly wholesome and down-to-earth, yet here among the one-percenters of the world, she definitely doesn’t hold back.
“I mean really, showing that much…décolletage,” she says with her lips pursed as she stares at a young woman who, to be fair, has a rather impressive décolletage to show off. “And right here in the presence of the princess! I don’t even want to think of what may be going through the head of the prince.”
I bite back a smile, having already heard an earful about the infamous prince. I eye Magnus across from us as I take a bite of the starter, which is a zucchini flower with a dollop of caviar on top. The exotic flavorings, at least to my inexperienced palate, are delicious.
By the time we get through the multiple courses—not to mention bottles of wine that Magnus has been more than generous with—to the dessert, I’m full. Still, the artfully constructed treat placed before me that looks like a delicious mix made of apricot, vanilla, and hazelnut on a chocolate cake is just too tempting. Besides, the night has been pure indulgence already. What’s one more treat?
The prince and princess are the first on the dance floor, and I watch, feeling the alcohol and gourmet food lull my senses so that I practically swoon watching them. When the floor is open to everyone, Mona takes first dibs with Magnus. I sip my wine and watch with amusement as they try to make it work, being that she’s more than a foot shorter than him. But I have to give it to Magnus, the man has moves.
They get through three dances before she drags him back.
“I am officially done with him, my dear.” She turns to Magnus, who leans down to accept a kiss on the cheek from her. “As always, thank you, my love. Your annual obligations are done.”
Magnus chuckles. “You say that like this is a chore. I could think of worse obligations.”
“Please, I know how you feel about these things,” she says, pursing her lips. Then, she turns to me with a knowing look. “At least how you used to feel about them.”
I smile with pleasure as she grins at me. Then, I melt when I see the way Magnus is looking at me.
“Shall we?” He asks, reaching out a hand toward me.
I literally feel like a princess in some fairy tale—Cinderella at the ball, an updated version with John Legend singing live. I take Magnus’s hand, and he leads me to the floor.
By now, the couples around us are in full swing, and I get wrapped up in the vibe. My body feels as loose as my mind. Just a touch from Magnus sends sizzling electricity through me as he
