I peeked inside.
My ‘boyfriend’ watched me with casual interest as I pulled the items out and set them on the table beside the bag. Two small cylinders with different bands of color on them turned out to be lipsticks—deep red and a pretty nude. The elegant gray pouch held a silver bangle bracelet. There was a small bottle of perfume as well. I couldn’t resist giving it a test and spritzed some on the inside of my wrist.
“How is it?” he asked after watching me take a whiff.
“It’s nice.” I walked over and held my hand out for him to make his own judgement.
His fingertips were cool when he grasped my wrist, and my breath caught. In our tired state, I didn’t think either of us had realized how provocative it’d be for him to inhale the perfume as it wafted from my skin, putting part of me only an inch from his face. It’d take nothing for him to press his lips to the sensitive underside of my wrist, and heat flickered inside me.
Then his gaze drifted over my shoulder, making the flicker burst into flames.
It was because he'd glanced at the bed like he was seriously thinking of carrying me there.
But the butler had finished outside, and the dishes clattered on the trolley as it rolled through the sitting room, shattering the intimate moment. Vance dropped my hand and stepped back, needing to put space between us as quickly as possible.
“Yeah,” his tone was detached, “it’s nice.”
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” the butler asked.
Vance’s response came quickly. “No, that will be all. Thank you.”
As soon as the door was shut, I couldn’t hear the trolley at all as it rolled down the hall. The soundproofing in the suite was top notch. I meandered through the sitting room, gazing at the artwork and the fresh flowers in the vase beside the couch he’d claimed he sleep on.
It looked inviting, but at this point, so did a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. I’d sleep anywhere.
I strolled through the open French doors that led to the bedroom, turned to face him, and sat down on the foot of the bed—the one where there was more than enough room for two people to share. “I can’t believe you booked such a romantic place for just yourself.”
He followed me but stopped just short of crossing the threshold. Like this was my room and he didn’t have permission, which was stupid. He was paying, so I was the guest in his room. And he hadn’t had an issue coming into the room earlier, either. The housekeeper had placed our luggage in the dressing room that connected the bedroom to the master bathroom where we’d both taken our showers earlier.
His tone was resigned. “Everywhere in Monaco is romantic. My brother came here on his honeymoon.” His expression was weary, but there was something vibrant in his eyes. His tone was teasing. “I know it will be incredibly hard for you, but try not to fall in love with me.”
It had been a joke, but his words hung awkwardly in the space between us, and his expression went blank to cover his alarm. There was so much truth in what he’d said. I heard the plea buried inside, and I would do everything I could to honor it.
I had no business being with a man like Vance Hale, plus . . . there was no room in my heart for love. All the space inside it was dark and consumed with the need for vengeance. Some days it was a struggle to think about anything else.
I flopped down dramatically on my back, letting the cloud-like down comforter absorb me. “Don’t worry. I’m too busy falling in love with this bed.”
I gazed up at the crystal chandelier and the ceiling above, which was wallpapered in a pattern complimentary to the pastel stripes on the wall. The pink floral design was interesting, and—
Wait a minute.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest. “Oh, now I see why you booked this room. It’s covered in vaginas.”
“What?”
I pointed at the suggestive pink flowers with their frilly petals making an elliptical shape. Adding to it was the button-like stigma in the center of each one.
“I don’t see it,” he said, which had to be a lie.
“You’ve forgotten what vaginas look like in just twenty-nine days? Come over here.” I patted a hand on the empty spot beside me.
He hesitated, perhaps weighing whether it was a good idea, but must have decided it was, because he walked to the bed, sat on the edge, and lay back. I turned my head, fighting to keep my sleepy eyes open, and watched him sink into the comforter as he stared up at the wallpaper.
“Okay,” his tone was reticent. “They do kind of look like vaginas.”