He leaned closer. “You’re very beautiful, you know.”
“I’m married,” I said with a smile, flashing my ring pointedly. “This is my honeymoon, actually. But thanks for the compliment.”
He held up his hands defensively. “Just a friendly observation. How are you finding the city? Have you had a chance to see much of it?”
“Vienna is amazing, but…my husband has been here before, and he’s not into sightseeing.” I shrugged. “I want to seeeverything, but he’s been busy working. I’ve barely even left the hotel.” My mood deflated. I nursed my beverage.
“Tsk, such a shame. There is so much here to discover. And you’re a woman who likes to explore. I can tell by your eyes—they dance around the room. You hunger for experience.”
“That’s exactly right! I really do.” I found myself smiling despite my reservations.
“Surely you’ve at least had Sacher torte? Visited the gardens at Schönbrunn, and the Belvedere Palace? What about the Danube Tower?”
“Just the dessert so far,” I admitted. “It was great—”
He gaped at me dramatically. “Mais non! This is a catastrophe!” He checked his watch and downed the rest of his drink quickly. “We must go now. The gardens and the palace are closed, but the Tower is open until midnight.”
“Ha ha, I don’t know…”
“Yes. Come with me. If you want to see the best view of Vienna, there is no other way.”
He tried to pull me off the stool and I couldn’t help but giggle. Sure, I barely knew the guy, but by this point, the third drink had really begun to kick in…and I was starting to wonder what would be so bad about engaging in a little innocent sightseeing with my new friend. Sneaking out with him would be fun, romantic, adventurous. Essentially everything my honeymoon wasn’t—but should have been.
“You said it’s open ‘til midnight?” I asked.
“You will love this tower. I swear it.”
His hand rested lightly on my arm but I still held my cocktail. I lifted it, drinking it down slowly, stalling for time. Did I want to go with him? After all, it was clear that Stefan had absolutely no intention of staying true to me, so why shouldn’t I do the same? Maybe this was exactly what I needed—to find a hot European guy I’d never see again, and just get the whole virginity thing out of the way.
There was no doubt this French guy fit the bill. He was hot, if a bit cartoonish, and clearly attracted to me. I would bet all the designer clothes I’d bought that day that if I asked to skip the sightseeing and go straight to his room, he’d be more than happy to oblige.
“Why don’t we have another drink?” I said. “We have plenty of time before twelve.”
“But of course.” He motioned to the bartender for another round, and we were quickly served.
“You know the French invented the word affair,” the Frenchman said meaningfully.
“That is not strictly true in the sense that you intend it,” I informed him, raising my fresh drink for emphasis. “Though the term ‘afaire’ originated in Old French, the connotation of it being a ‘to do’ of an illicit nature didn’t come into popular use until the 18thcentury, and that was the English.”
My new friend looked perplexed. “I…see.”
“Though of course the English were repurposing the meaning of the French phrase ‘affaire de coeur,’” I plowed on, really hitting my stride, “which at the time referred to an episode of passion—butnotin the sexual sense. So I guess you’re technically rightandwrong.”
I smiled proudly, took a loud slurp of my drink, and plunked the glass down on the bar. Four drinks in, and I could still whip out my etymology knowledge with relative ease. Not bad.
“That was…very interesting,” he managed after a moment.
We talked for a bit, and I learned all about Rouen and why Paris was the most romantic city in the world. I was surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. For the first time on this trip, I was getting some real social interaction. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing it.
Of course, this guy may have been gorgeous—with a sexy accent and no trouble expressing his interest—but he couldn’t hold a candle to Stefan’s rugged, masculine intensity. Or those green eyes that burned straight through me. Just thinking his name had gotten me wet.
I took in the soft light reflecting off the curves of the amber bottles behind the bar, the murmur of voices around us, and I came to a decision. If I couldn’t have sex with this guy, then I might as well get totally hammered. At least it would make the evening more fun.C’est la vie.
I swiveled on my bar stool toward the Frenchman, intending to tell him I was happy to hang out for a bit, but that I was in no way going to be leaving with him tonight. But as I did, I spotted a familiar figure striding into the bar. It was Stefan.
As he scanned the room his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. I knew he would see me.
I glanced at the clock and was shocked. How was it past eight already? He’d probably been waiting for me at the restaurant this whole time. I was tempted to check my phone to see if he’d called or texted, but didn’t want to give any indication that I was hoping to hear from him.
