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“Yes.”
“Would he be able to take me home?”
The officers looked at each other.
“He brought me here last night. I’m not a tourist.” I was getting irritated with the royal treatment.
They finally seemed to be convinced by some part of my story. “Outside, mademoiselle. His car is parked in the tunnel.”
“All right. If you see D—” I corrected myself. “His Royal Highness, will you please tell him for me that I went home?”
“Certainly.”
“Thank you.” I felt this innate need to curtsy, but stopped before I reached the hem of my skirt. I turned for the door and walked outside. I recognized the car from last night. Georgan polished the eagle on the hood.
“Bonjour.” I smiled. Maybe talking to the driver wouldn’t be as awkward. “Hola.” I didn’t know what to say.
He looked up from the hood ornament.
“Oui?”
It was hard constantly bouncing between French and Spanish. “I was wondering if you would be able to drive me home?”
“Of course.” He rounded the engine and met me at the rear door.
I looked at the palace over my shoulder. Something told me I should stay. Camp out next to the king’s security, no matter how they glared at me. But the fantasy had to end at some point. It couldn’t last forever. I knew how this worked.
“Merci.” I nodded as Georgan closed the door behind me.
It was strange to be in the same car from last night. It didn’t feel the same without Damon. He had consumed the air around us. Now, it just felt like an empty back seat.
Georgan called through the speaker, “Do you have the address, mademoiselle?”
“Oh yes. It’s 1408 Rue de Santa Lucia.”
I settled into the seat as he pulled from the curb and drove us through the tunnel. We exited on the other side of the entrance. The palace grounds were immaculate. The flowers whizzed past me. We turned outside the gate and I wondered if I would ever be back here.
Would I see the king again? Or had I just made the stupidest decision of my life?
My notecards were exactly where I had left them fanned out across the living room floor.
“Brooklyn?”
“In here.”
I walked to her bedroom. We shared a comfortable two-bedroom apartment. It was one of the perks of the city. Freychon wasn’t as expensive as other European hubs.
“Hey.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. I was getting worried.”
“I’m sorry.” I sat on the edge of her bed. “No phone, remember? I couldn’t call you.”
“But I was back by nine. Where have you been? I thought something happened.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to scare her. And I didn’t know what I could or should say without revealing more than I was allowed. It was strange how yesterday, I felt like Brooklyn and I were the ones who shared the secret—we shared the bond of going through the Titan experience, but that had shifted overnight. I had some sort of weird allegiance to Damon. He was the one I felt I shared the experience with. I didn’t want to share it with her. I didn’t know if that was selfish or naïve, but it seemed like something I needed to keep private.
“I-I was looking at a special collection.”
