“What’s wrong with it?” Antoine asked, surprised.
Cally gestured to the main room. “It says ‘Roberto’ all over it.” She turned, pointing to where Belle had stayed when she was last here. “That wing… I’m not setting foot in there again.” She shuddered. “Do we have to stay here?”
“Not tonight, then,” he said, taking her hand. “We can return to Hopedale Street.”
“Or maybe my apartment?” Except she had no idea where her keys were. She paused. “Isn’t this place legally in Roberto’s name?”
“Probably,” he said with amusement. “Marcel’s very expensive lawyers will take care of that little detail.”
Cally nodded slowly. “You do need a new house.”
“Weneed a new house,” he corrected.
“How many bedrooms does this one have?”
“No idea. Ten or twelve.”
“Really?” She surveyed the space critically. “I think I could like it if it had a woman’s touch.”
“Good. Then, come morning, I’ll have Noah and Marcel strip this place and put it back together the way we want.”
“That’ll take ages.” Cally pressed against him, trailing her hand across his bare chest. “We could leave instructions, couldn’t we? I feel the need to get away from all of this. Holiday?”
“I haven’t had a holiday in…” He frowned. “I’veneverhad a holiday.”
“Then I think you’re overdue. Would you like to show me France, my lord?”
Antoine smiled and slid his arms around her. “We can do whatever we want, my lady,” he said, and kissed her.
Epilogue
Eve eyed the bar and considered another glass of wine, if only because there wasn’t anything else to do.
The bottle wasn’t that far away, but the deck had a habit of swaying more whenever she tried to traverse it. She was safest on the sofa.
All she had was her phone to keep her company, and they were so far out to sea there was no signal. Normally, four hours alone with her Kindle app and a bottle of white would be heaven, but it was a different matter when it was enforced, not chosen.
Technically, she wasn’t alone. Gabe had left her with Amir, but he stood stoically by the door with his hands clasped before him, eyes scanning the room for threats. Constantly. As in, they never stopped.
It was actually a bit disconcerting.
No, it was freaky.
Gabe’s yacht was the pinnacle of luxury. The room she was in had floor-to-ceiling windows along both sides—though it was too dark outside to see more than white horses. A mahogany bar, two cream sofas like the ones in his apartment, with a glass-top table between them. The floor was polished wood; definitely not laminate. Probably teak. That sounded naval.
In short, no threats at all.
Other than theobviousone, of course, but Gabe was with him, down in the dive room, where he’d been the whole trip out. Keeping guard. Belle too, apparently.
Gabe hadn’t wanted to leave Roberto alone for long; their conversation had been brief. But she knew exactly why they were out here, and she wouldn’t wish such a fate on her worst enemy.
But then, from the brief summary Gabe had given her, it sounded like Roberto deserved it.
She still couldn’t believe Cally had risked killing herself with that damn foolhardy spell. They’d be having words as soon as Eve saw her again. Just very politely… now that she was a member of the Curia.
Eve couldn’t believe that either.
Maybe that glass of wine wasn’t a bad idea, after all.
