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I clear my throat. “What kind of bike is this?” I ask over the low rumble.
“A big one.”
“Do you know anything about bikes, Alex?”
“I know enough.” He pulls on his helmet. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
Vladimir throws us a warning look.
“Promise to bring her back no worse for wear,” Alex says.
“We will tail you,” Vladimir assures, to which Alex revs the engine a few times, Fast & Furious style, making me giggle.
Vlad does not look amused.
“Hold on, Texas,” he instructs and I wrap my arms around his waist, my body pressed against his back.
I’m not going to lie. Holding on to him is spectacularly good, and I quietly congratulate him on coming up with the motorcycle plan.
The engine roars beneath us like a caged beast as we make our way across Parliament’s cobbled quadrangle, through the grand gates, past the waiting members of the press and public, eager to catch a glimpse of their new princess.
In our helmets, we’re incognito, and the feeling is exhilarating.
Alex weaves the motorcycle through the narrow streets, the bike’s low rumble echoing off the old walls. We whiz through the city, lined with old stone buildings and new, little churches and shops. We pass a market, filled with fresh produce and flowers, picture perfect in its quaintness. As we climb the hill, zig-zagging up the steep streets, the fresh and salty sea air fills my nostrils.
Eventually, we wind our way to the summit of the hill, where Alex slows the bike to a stop.
Climbing off, I remove my helmet and run my fingers through my hair. Helmet hair is worse than hat hair, let’s face it. I unzip the leather jacket, warm in the summer sun. I look across at Alex and notice him watching me. “What?” I ask, self-consciously.
“Just admiring the view,” he says with a grin, and his eyes tell me I don’t need to wonder whether he means me or the actual view.
I smile back at him, my pulse beating like a frenzied drum.
The wheels of our respective security guards’ cars crunch over the gravel behind us, pulling my attention. It’s a strange feeling to have your every move watched, particularly when you’re not used to it, and not just by one bodyguard, but by two.
“Come with me.” Alex holds out his hand, and I take it in mine, walking to a platform overlooking the city below.
“Is that the palace?” I point at the large structure at the edge of the city, surrounded by greenery, the parklands stretching all the way to a forest and lake in the distance.
“It is.”
“And that’s the airport where I flew in, and that’s the sea! Oh, I would love to go to the beach someday. That’s something we didn’t have in Houston. A beach. I always wanted to live by the sea.”
“And now you do.” His eyes flash to mine and he lets out a laugh.
“What?” I ask, wondering if I have something on my face.
“You’re having fun. I like it.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of this? I’m being impulsive and non-middle-aged.” My eyes land on an ice cream truck a hundred meters or so away.
“Does the non-middle-aged princess want an ice cream?”
“That would be a firm yes.”
“I’ll shout you one.”
