“I’m sure someone packed it.”
CHAPTER 33
Maxim
For all the time we had together in London, I hadn’t had the chance to romance Elizabeth the way I would have if she was any other woman. She wasn’t any other woman. Far from it. She was the most unique person I’d ever met and nothing about her merited any standard approach at all.
I’d been more than happy training her and working with her and spending all the hours we had together. But in Geneva, I had plans to show her all the perks that life in the Bratva could offer.
I arranged for one of the company cars to be dropped off outside the hotel and was pleased to note that my contact here had chosen wisely. A yellow Ferrari F8 Spider. There was never any point being subtle when you had a V8 engine that does zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds. The purpose of a car like that was to make sure everyone was looking. It was exactly what I wanted.
Elizabeth was gorgeous in the gold dress and heels to match. I opted for a full on dinner jacket, black tie affair. I was pulling out all the stops.
She looked at me like I might have cracked my nut when I took her hand and ducked down to kiss her knuckles. “This way Mademoiselle.”
Like a gentleman should, I opened the car door for her, and Elizabeth’s eyebrows twitched up as she took in the car we were getting into. I’d seen how she reacted to my motorbikes. This was going to be something else entirely.
She slid down into the leather seat, hands caressing the sides of the racing-style seats and the purr she let out was enough to have me stiffening inside my trousers.
“Just wait,” I told her, and turned the key, foot to the floor as I revved the engine and the full power of the V8 roared, vibrating through us.
“Oh my God,” Elizabeth whispered, “I think I just came.”
I cut my eyes to hers, grinning. “Don’t make me jealous of the car, love.”
She laughed. “Are you worried? You should be.”
I roared us out of the hotel parking lot, winding us fast and sharp up along the main road towards the mountains.
When we were free of the city, I let her rip, tearing around the bends that hair-pinned back on themselves, tight and narrow around solid rock. She was gripping onto the seat but her smile was wide and her nipples were tensed beneath the silk of her dress.
I hit a button on the dash and the roof started to fold down, tucking itself neatly into a compartment in the chassis of the car and Elizabeth let out a woop, lifting her hands to feel the rush of the night air going past.
It was another fifteen minutes before I skidded us into the gravel drive of an ancient little farmhouse and got out to let her out of the car.
Elizabeth squinted up at me with some confusion and took my hand to help her out of the slow seat in her heels. For thirty seconds, the farmhouse was quiet, and then a door in the garden wall opened, showing us a glimpse of a glowing courtyard lit up with naked bulbs strung along a wire.
“Maxim! It’s been a long time!”
Philippe greeted me with a double handshake and a kiss to each cheek. “This is Elizabeth, my fiance.”
He offered a dip of his head that almost looked like a bow.
“Absolutely charmed. Please, come in.”
With my arm around Elizabeth’s waist, I guided her in through the small courtyard door, holding my breath slightly in anticipation of her reaction. Inside, the garden was something out of a fantasy, climbing plants wafting perfume into the warm air and a fountain in the center bubbling quietly.
There was only one table set beneath the sweeping branches of a large tree, and Philippe showed us over to it.
“Tonight, there is no menu, my friends. You are our guests, so please, let us introduce you to a culinary feast.”
Elizabeth leaned in to me, across the table, eyes sparkling and wide. “Maxim, what is this place?”
“A very well kept secret. You’re about to find out what heaven tastes like.”
Elizabeth
Maxim wasn’t wrong about the food.
Philippe brought out endless little plates of dishes to tantalize our taste buds and make us laugh and smile and guess what each thing was. There was a little shot glass of a seafood soup that tasted like crab and prawns, and crispy little bites that crunches and then dissolved on my tongue in a burst of flavor.
He popped open a bottle of champagne, but he kept bringing out different wines to go with this dish and that dish. I didn’t know much about any of them, but Philippe definitely did because they all tasted fantastic together.
He brought out a whole fish and peeled the skin back and served the thick, white flakes directly onto our plates with new potatoes whose skins were flaking off and vegetables which he said were fresh from the gardens. It shouldn’t have tasted as good as it did. There must have been something magical in the sauce. Or maybe it was all the wine we were drinking.