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My mind races at the possible scenarios that could take place. I could be kidnapped. Sergey may attack me. One of the bodyguards may attack me. I think of every possible escape measure to keep myself alive. In every escape scenario, one thing is paramount: Don’t Panic.
I lose track of time as I plan my rendezvous with the Dictator’s son. Just as my eyes are about to get heavy, Mr. Peak nudges my arm. “Look out of the window,” he orders. I look out and see the French coastline below.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“We will be landing in Nice, France. Then we will take a car into Monaco.”
The sun is just starting to come up. I glance at my clock and it’s about 5:45 a.m. local time. Golden morning light flickers on the beaches. The Gulfstream descends into Nice. Adrenaline pumps through my body. This is it. It’s time to rock and roll!
The plane lands at a little after six and quickly comes to a stop. Less than a few minutes later, the doors open. We are met by French Customs. Mr. Peak presents his passport. I do the same. There are few questions, which my boss answers in their native language. Whatever my boss told them must be effective because the Customs agents tip their hats and let us go on our way. Now, this is the perfect way to travel.
We walk to a terminal where Mr. Peak and myself are met by a fleet of Rolls Royce sedans. A group of men take our luggage and place it in one of the Rolls Royce’s massive trunks. Mr. Peak grabs my arm and walks me to one of the sedans. We get inside.
Under a minute later, the fleet of cars races out of the airport. All I can say is that being a billionaire means there isn’t a lot of f**king around at the airport. I check my watch. 6:15 a.m.
I stare out of the window as the sun rises over the French beaches. The Rolls-Royces speed towards Monaco. It just occurs to me that this is my first time in Europe. I had gone to Canada and Mexico a few times. But this is my first time so far away from home. It can make a girl’s head spin.
The cars enter the Municipality of Monaco. I am instantly hit by the density of wealth in the city-state. Ferraris next to Bentleys next to Rolls-Royces next to exotic cars that I can’t even identify. I look out at the port and see dozens of super-yachts. It’s as though this is a country made up completely of millionaires and billionaires. I remember reading somewhere that residents of Monaco pay no taxes. That explains a lot!
“Have you ever heard of the Hermitage?” Mr. Peak asks me.
“Should I know that place, Sir?”
“Probably not. It’s the finest hotel in Monaco. I think you will like it.”
We pull up to this massive and ornate white structure. It doesn’t look like a hotel. It looks like a palace. The doors open and I step outside into the Mediterranean climate. It is much like the Westside of Los Angeles - Perfect.
My head snaps back as I drink in the splendor of the gorgeous building. I follow my boss inside and now I swear we are inside of a royal estate. The hotel lobby has a huge domed glass ceiling with the biggest chandelier I have ever seen in my life.
We are escorted to the elevators. Naturally, Mr. Peak has reserved the Presidential suite on the top floor. We get to the suite. The doors open and, well, it’s heaven. That’s the best way to describe it. The suite is designed in shades of white. Double French doors lead to the balcony, overlooking the harbor. My jaw drops. My boss walks into the place like he owns it. My guess is that he has been here many times before.
The hotel staff bring in the luggage. My boss hands them a very generous stack of Euros. We are left alone. Mr. Peak walks out onto the balcony and points to the biggest yacht in the harbor. “That’s Sergey’s pleasure craft,” he announces. Damn, that’s a big f**king boat. It also ruins the view. My hands begin to shake. As I look at Sergey’s yacht, I wonder if he sees me on the balcony. As great as the view is out there, I opt to go back into the hotel suite.
Mr. Peak removes his clothes and hops into the shower. I join him. I wash down my master. And let me tell you, I never get sick of running my hands down his strong arms and muscular chest. He returns the favor. Even after the long flight, my boss gets a little frisky. We play around in the shower for half an hour before we hop into bed. My boss suggests we catch a nap before the big evening. Good idea.
***
We get up as the sun sets on Monaco. I jump to my feet and check the baggage. To my surprise, the entire wardrobe has been hung up in the Presidential suite’s walk-in closets. Living the life of a billionaire’s pet is going to take some getting used to!
I examine all of the Hermes outfits in front of me. I don’t even remember half of the clothing that Mr. Peak purchased for me. There are some really knockout numbers here. My eye is attracted to this white dress with a flowing blue skirt. I grab the dress off of the hanger and walk to a mirror. Oh yes, this will work.
