Chapter Eight

I have three lingerie options laid on the bed in front of me, one next to the other. It wasn't easy to narrow it down only to three—it's not gonna be easy to pick just one. Each will make me feel different about myself, will serve a different purpose, will mould differently on my body, and yes, of course, will look different too.

The first option on my left is a killer look. The combination of a high-waist black bra and brief with suspender. Tule and lace are the main materials, and what I love the most are the lace panels at the hips, they are like wings. This one won't let me feel intimidated, it goes with the fact that I'm still annoyed that he was flirting with Lesley.

The second option is completely the opposite. It's a very light rose bralette and a hipster brief both made of incredibly delicate lace so thin you almost don't feel it between your fingers. The bralette extends just under my ribcage, and it has satin straps in a bow on the back. This is one of my designs, one that only I know exists. Today, it would make me feel like myself: vulnerable, sensitive, but daring.

The third option is a bodysuit. Completely transparent if not for the nude-coloured flowers spread out through it. It's back is almost completely open, thin straps hold it around my neck. It would make me feel impassive, neutral and powerful because my nipples will show to anyone who dares take off my dress.

Why is it so important to me to choose the right one? Today of all days? Because right now I don't feel control over anything related to him, it's only fair I feel control over my underwear, at least. Even if I'm not planning on showing it to him.

I leave the three options there waiting for me while I take a shower. It will help make up my mind. Eventually I make a decision. Today, number two will be my companion, under my tight dark red dress matching my black Louboutin heels. Let's see what the night will bring us.

#

I leave my flat at 6:55 pm to find Luc by the stairs in front of my door checking his phone. He's wearing skinny navy-blue chino pants, a white polo shirt, a blazer matching his pants and white sneakers to complement the outfit. For a brief moment I wonder if there's still time to cancel our plans. I'm like a teenager on her first date. I feel like someone getting cold feet before a big moment. But the way he looks at me when he sees me makes me feel like the only beautiful woman he has ever seen, and like the best thing that happened to his day.

‘Hi,' he says, his voice husky.

‘Hi,' I reply, closing the door behind me.

He greets me with a kiss on the cheek, his warm lips lingering longer than normally. His big hand lightly holds me by the waist; the simple touch makes my stomach flutter. We take the lift and outside there's a driver waiting for us. Where he came from might have something to do with Luc.

We both sit on the back seat of the black BMW, each by a window, on opposite sides.

‘Didn't see you at the café yesterday, nor today. Did you get your smoothie?' he asks, bringing back thoughts of him flirting with Lesley, but at the same time, I'm glad that he noticed.

‘I skipped it,' I say, avoiding eye contact, staring out the window where London's life goes on, busy on a Saturday night.

‘Hmm.'

‘Was Andi there?' I don't know why I feel like I should test him. As soon as I ask it I feel like a jealous stupid teenager. So what if Luc was flirting with her? I'm the one he's taking on a date tonight, besides, wasn't I trying to avoid him anyways?

‘Nope. There was a girl there, not sure what her name was,' his answer is sincere, his eyes don't even blink as he says it.

‘Lesley. She takes over sometimes,' I say.

We are staring at each other, as he lets out a curious smile at me.

‘What?' I ask.

‘You look beautiful. I mean, you are beautiful,' he says making me blush.

‘Thank you,' I say. Always take a compliment.

The honesty in the way he says it makes me feel like it's the first time a guy's told me that. I rest my head back on the seat and look out the window once again, avoiding his gaze, but failing at containing a smile.

‘Is it your first time in London?' I ask after a while.

‘Not really. I've been here a few times,' Luc says running his hand through his hair.

‘Do you like it?'

‘I do, yeah. It's a big city, a bit different than Monaco,' he says, getting my full attention.

‘Why are you comparing London to Monaco?' I ask.

He's smiling, it's that amused smile again. I get the feeling I'm a great source of amusement to him.

‘I live in Monaco.'

Wait, what?

I stare at him surprised, probably more than that. He's making a funny face, as if I already should have known that he lives in Monaco. I mean, who lives in Monaco? Seriously, how many people have you actually met that live in Monaco? He told me he's from France, but never mentioned where he lived. Okay, I never asked either. I'm beginning to get worried about all this. I uncross my legs and cross them in the other direction, shifting a bit uncomfortably on the seat, and pulling down my dress, which has slid up my thighs.

I wonder what the girls would say if I told them Luc lives in Monaco—all the outrageous assumptions they would make.

Isn't he weird? He undresses me, puts me to bed without even knowing me and leaves my shoes neatly placed, is nice, cooks, has an athlete's body, runs with me, likes to eat the un-popped kernels, takes me on a date in a BMW with a driver, and now he tells me he lives in Monaco like it's the most common place to live. If he's royalty I don't want to know. I really don't want to know, because knowing it might ruin this once and for all.

I decide not to ask him if he belongs to the Monaco Royal Family, first because this sounds outrageous, and second, why would a prince from Monaco choose to stay at a penthouse in Richmond? I thought they had a room in one of the British Royal Family palaces, don't they? Whatever. He's not royalty, and I'm not in some kind of common girl meets prince romcom movie.

After crossing half of London all the way to Mayfair, we finally arrive at the restaurant. Once we step out of the black BMW, after Luc opens the door for me, he threads his fingers through mine. The gesture takes me by surprise. I know this is a big deal not only for me, but for him too by the way he looks at me searching for my approval. My tiny fingers welcome his long rough ones and I follow his lead. We walk towards the restaurant's entrance holding hands.

The restaurant's inside a white building with high windows. After being greeted by a man at the door and once we're inside, I realise where we are. It's Sketch. I have never been here and it's nothing less than one of the most exclusives restaurants in London, Michelin starred and all.

The place is loud, bright and colourful. Art and music and haute cuisine blend in one place. As I take a look around, Luc lets go of my hand to speak to the hostess. I barely hear them talking—I'm enchanted by the ballerina dancing around the room for the guests. I've never seen anything quite like it. There is a mix of expensive perfume and exotic food in the air. Some people are clinking champagne flutes, while some girls are taking selfies in front of a flowered wall. This place is popular amongst influencers and stars, I know that because just the other day Lexi wouldn't shut up about it when she saw some photos of Taylor Swift here.

I'm brought back to where I am when I feel his hand take mine again, as if he's claiming me. I don't know why, but it feels goddamn good. And right.

A guy wearing a suit leads us to our place. I secretly wish our table is in this room where everything is pink, floor, chairs to ceiling. But our table is nothing compared to any restaurant table I've ever had. It's a table for two, in a private room. How about that for a dinner night out?

The room is in gold, red and beige colours. A big fireplace stands behind the table, on the left side is a big window framed with red velvet curtains and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Thick velvet curtains separate us from the rest of the restaurant, just like the ones framing the window.

‘Welcome to the Lecture Room and Library,' says our host. He introduces us to our private waiter and explains how the menu works once we take our places at the table for two. We both agree that the wine pairing menu is out of the question, I'm the first one to say no to alcohol tonight, and I suppose this makes him decide not to have it either, which I think is thoughtful.

‘So. It seems to me I know nothing about you,' I say.

I generally am not one to ask many questions to the guys I hook up with. The less information, the better. Why search for something I'm not willing to give a chance to?

Luc's playing with his wristbands, something I notice him doing a lot, and looking at me with thoughtful eyes.

‘What do you want to know about me, Olivia?'

I think by now it's fair to say he's the only person to give me goosebumps when calling me Olivia. Otherwise, in general, hearing my name means something serious.

He has his face of amusement on, he seems relaxed and curious to know what's coming his way. I feel pressured about the questions I'm thinking. There are many things I want to ask, I don't know where to begin. I haven't been on a real date in years.

‘Should I be worried that you live in Monaco?'

He lets out a sexy delicious laugh, his voice almost hoarse.

‘If you mean worried by having a date with someone from the Monaco royalty, you can stop worrying about it now. Not only royalty live in Monaco, you know that?'

I almost feel stupid about my question, but at least now I know he's only rich and not royalty. I'm not sure how I'd feel if he belonged to the Monaco Royal Family. I never imagined myself as a princess, or living in a castle, or having paparazzi stalkers following my steps like Lady Di.

‘Now I'm relieved,' I say, teasing Luc. And he cracks another one of his smiles. He's looking so delicious sitting across from me with his powerful daredevil eyes fixed on mine. It makes me unconsciously cross my legs, as if by doing so I'd calm the desire building between my thighs.

‘Why's that?' he puts on a curious face, frowning a little, making his eyes smaller.

‘I don't like paparazzi,' I say, a smile tugging the corner of my lips.

He crosses his arms and watches me with his curious eyes. The way he stares kind of makes my chest warmer. I tighten my leg around the other even more.

‘Tell me about your ex,' I regret it as soon as I say it.

‘I thought you wanted to know about me,' he grins, making me blush. But before I say, ‘never mind', he says, ‘We weren't a match. There was nothing easy about our relationship, work demands, busy schedules, long-distance relationship and all.'

I feel jealous already, even though I know they've been broken up for two years. It makes me jealous too because their relationship sounds nothing like mine and Josh's.

‘What?' he asks, he's watchful, eyes trying to read me.

‘Sounds complicated,' I say.

What I don't say is that it all sounds like normal problems in a relationship. I wish my problems with Josh were busy schedules, or even a long-distance relationship. Actually, in our case, a long-distance relationship could have been a very positive problem.

It doesn't take much for me to drift from reality and have my mind revisit unpleasant memories. Now I'm thinking of one of our fights, the one which we were arguing about me having a weekend getaway with the girls. He didn't want me to go, and I said I would go anyways. We were in his flat. Lately I had been spending more time in his flat than mine. He pushed me into the bed, grabbed a pillow and pressed it against my face for longer than he should have, leaving me gasping for air. Every time I think about it I feel breathless, and hot, and like my soul's leaving my body for a while. And …

‘Olivia?' I hear Luc's soft voice, pulling me back to where I'm supposed to be. ‘Did I say something wrong?'

‘No, no, it's fine,' I pretend and put on a smile on my face.

Because we decided not to have alcohol, the waiter suggested making a special homemade drink for us. They surprised us with a ginger, mint and peach lemonade, which had a light touch of pepper. Not long after, another waiter brings our first course and puts our plates before us, as he does so, Luc's eyes keep trying to find mine. As soon as both waiters leave us alone in our private dining room, Luc says, ‘Do you want to talk about it?'

‘About what?'

‘Your ex.'

How can he possibly know I was thinking about Josh?

‘Not now,' I say, and I mean it. Even though for some crazy reason I feel comfortable talking about Josh with him, I don't want to do it now, tonight. I don't want to ruin the vibe.

‘Ok,' he accepts my choice with an understanding gaze. ‘My turn,' he says.

I smile and nod.

‘You told me you don't do serious relationships. What could change your mind?'

His question takes me by surprise.

‘Why? Are you asking me to be your girlfriend already?' I tease.

Luc snorts at my question, but he's waiting for a reply.

Truth is, I don't know the answer to his question.

‘I haven't thought about it,' I say

‘Have you banned all men from your life?' he asks, making me chuckle.

‘No, I still have a brother and a father.'

He laughs.

‘And I'm here with you, aren't I?'

I don't mention I've done one-night stands more times than I can count in the past years. I don't think he needs to know.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches me with heat in his eyes. He doesn't say a word, he watches me running my hand through my hair, studying me or searching for some answers I can't give him right now, because even I don't know them. His silence makes me want to talk.

‘What?' I say self-conscious of the way he's staring.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing, just thinking of how you make me feel,' he says it as he plays with his wristbands.

‘And how do I make you feel?' I'm so curious right now to know where this conversation is going.

‘Confused, but certain all the same.'

Oh.

‘Elaborate.'

‘I can't. I don't even understand it myself,' he says.

I don't either.

He's so focused staring he doesn't blink. We keep our eyes locked.

‘You make me lose my focus on everything else but you.'

Oh God.

I cross my legs even tighter, but it's pointless, I can't control my attraction for Luc. No table, legs, food, glasses, waiters or anything can keep me from wanting him. That's why my words betray me.

‘Do I drive you crazy then?'

‘Something like that,' his voice comes out hoarse, and I feel sparks running from my stomach down to my core. It's like the adrenaline of a free fall.

God.

I wish I had a glass of rosé to drink all at once right at this moment. No, tequila shots would be best—a quicker effect.

We stare until I give up. I smile the kind of smile that gives away how the other person makes you feel. Staring at him makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I think he drives me crazy too.

‘Favourite colour,' I say.

‘White. Yours?'

‘Pink.'

‘Favourite drink? Oh, let me guess, rosé,' Luc says.

‘Yes,' I chuckle. ‘Yours?'

‘Champagne.'

‘Ooohhh fancy,' I tease.

‘Do I have another choice coming from a family who owns a champagne house?' he says.

‘I wouldn't complain if I were you,' I say.

‘Who's complaining?' He smirks.

‘Favourite place?' I ask

‘The beach. Anywhere. Yours?'

‘Same.'

‘You should visit Monaco sometime.'

‘Is that an invitation?'

‘Would you accept it if it were?'

Luc throws me completely off balance. I flush, and by the way he's looking at me I can see a dare. The blues of his eyes have turned into flames, and it might have started burning me in the process.

‘Maybe,' I say.

No, would I? No, I wouldn't.

‘There's hope then,' he says, his face now turning serious, but the blue flames are still pretty much alive.

‘For what?'

‘Us,' he says, making me let out an unexpected laugh.

I regret not ordering the tequila shots.

‘What could change your mind? About me?' I ask.

‘Nothing,' he says.

Oh God.

‘You don't give up easily then?'

‘You'd be surprised,' Luc runs a hand through his hair. ‘What could change your mind?'

‘I don't know, I already told you.'

‘Your answer is unacceptable.'

‘God, you're impossible,' I'm burying my face in my hands, hiding from his intense stare. When I look up after a few moments, he's still glaring at me.

‘Ask me again another time,' I say, knowing this time may never come and I'll be able to get away with it.

‘I will,' he says, and it sounds like a promise.