I nod my head in agreement.
“I’ve never been inside any church this grand,” Adora says. The sunlight shining through the stained-glass windows is dazzling.
“Can you imagine being married here?” Priscila whispers.
“Thanks to the Royal Wedding, which I admittedly cried my way through, yes,” Adora says sheepishly.
Scott chuckles. “The Gregorian architecture is breathtaking, and many moments of history took place within these walls.”
Priscila walks over beside me. “Do you like history, Weston?”
“It’s important to remember it, so we don’t repeat the past.” I keep my tone polite but distant. When I gave her an inch previously, she tried to take a mile.
“Such a brilliant way to look at things.” She flutters her lashes.
I glance over at Adora, who smirks.
“Yes, I’ve found his mind is one of the most attractive assets,” Adora purrs silkily.
“How long have you worked for him?” Priscila emphasizes the word worked.
“About five years now? Though it seems like a lifetime.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without her,” I say honestly.
“Good help is so hard to find.” Priscila nods.
“Oh, she’s much more than that.” I trail my hand down her back. “Aren’t you?”
She shivers, and her eyes darken. Her full lips form a smile. “Hmmm.”
Scott studies us both quietly.
“I want to show you where they sit for mass.” I guide her away from the curious eyes.
Chapter Three
Adora
I always heard travel will drive a couple apart or bring them closer together. It’s just my luck that West and I fall into the latter category. The ease in which I fall into this relationship zone terrifies me. Our hands brush, and my heart leaps up into my throat. His knowing looks and dark smiles make me squirm in the seat of our tour bus. The asshole is enjoying this. I can feel Priscila’s eyes burning into the back of my skull as the bus pulls up at our next destination. Bath, England. The bus pulls into a parking spot, and I all but jump up when the vehicle stops moving and the doors open.
I want to get out of the enclosed space, with spiteful eyes and Weston’s delicious body pressed against mine. He’s making it hard to remember this will all end with the trip. His light caresses up my arm and the way he intertwines our fingers. The caress of his thumb over my knuckles had my breasts swollen and my underwear damp. Has he always exuded this much sexual energy? How had I never noticed? Because it wasn’t aimed at me. The thought is sobering. This is nothing for him.
The parade of women I purchased gifts for is proof enough of that. I try to extinguish the lust building up inside of me, a fire being fueled by more logs. The fresh air is a welcome reprieve as I step down onto the sidewalk. My eyes drink in the Neo-Classical style with its towering stone buildings, faded over time to a light sandstone brown. It’s easy to see Roman’s preferences for blank walls and columns as I spin in a circle. Other buildings boast simple geometric frames taken from the Greeks. The stone slab walls are full of people, but there’s no bustle. A street musician plays a chill tune with his guitar, and people travel at a leisurely pace.
It’s a refreshing change of pace after Windsor. I pause in front of the sweeping gothic architecture of the Bath Abby.
“I have to take some photos for my sister. She’ll love this.”
“You go pose, I’ll take some shots,” West’s voice rumbles from beside me.
“Oh. Thank you.” I move to stand in front of the building as he pulls my camera free and smiles as he snaps shots.
“Why don’t I get one of the two of you together?” Scott says.
“If you don’t mind, sir,” West says with a smile.
“Not at all. Memories are important to capture.” Scott takes the camera, and West walks over and pulls me to his side.