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Suddenly, my singular purpose in life is to give Alexander the best gift I can think of. Something he’ll actually like—something that will blow his mind. It’s socrazyto hear him say that, when he’s been giving me amazing gifts for almost the entire duration of our relationship.
But when I really think about it, who is going to give him gifts? His father would sooner give him a black eye, his friends don’t seem to be the gift-giving type, and just like me, he doesn’t have much extended family.
Gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don’t notice we’ve got to our destination until the car slows down and Alex kills the engine. I peek through the windows anxiously, trying to figure out where we are. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like we’re in the city.
We’re parked on the side of a narrow street, the brick pavers damp from frosty rain. The buildings are all made of weathered natural stone, a stark contrast to the modern-looking doors and sliding glass windows that must have been added after a renovation. It’s not too busy either—sparse groups of people amble along the streets, some with their umbrellas still out.
Alex gets out of the car first then comes around to open my door. The moment I step outside, the cool air assaults my cheeks. I give him a tight smile—it’s so much colder here than at the estate. Tucking my hands into my coat, I let Alex put his arm around my shoulders and guide me down the street.
He’s talking about the historical significance of this city but I can barely focus, scanning the faces of the people who walk past us. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my father—probably close to a year, since he had been gone for months when the estate was attacked. I don’t expect him to look the same.
Every time he came back from his “business trips,” he always looked a little older, a little less human. Before I knew the kind of person he really is, I thought it was because his job was grueling. Now I know it’s because he’s probably narrowly escaping death almost every day.
“What’s got you so perplexed?” Alex’s deep voice slides into my consciousness. My eyes flick up to his face, and his blue eyes are hard. “You’re clearly not listening to a word I say.”
I clench my fists in the pockets of my jacket.
“Just thinking about our life,” I say, my lips twisting into a slight smile. Watching the hardness melt from his eyes makes my chest tighten. I’ve lost track of the lies I’ve told Alex so far, and if I really do care about our future, I need to stop. But, it’s just never the right fucking time to tell him the truth. “What it’s going to be in a few years. I never expected to be the wife of a don.”
Alexander snorts, pulling me closer to him with his grip on my shoulders. “You really just saiddon, like we’re in The Godfather.”
I roll my eyes, laughing. “We might as well be.” His head is still bandaged from where his father hit him. “I’m just thinking about how well I will fit in.”
“You’ll be fine,” he says. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for how smart you are.”
“What?” My eyebrows pull together.
“I think you’re really smart. Maybe notstreetsmart yet, but you’re resilient and observant, which is mostly all you’ll ever need.” He looks over at me, a small smile twisting his lips. “Let me put it this way. You’ll be fine, because you’ll never have to do any of the dirty work.”
“Right. I’ll just have to worry about you dying every day.”
Alexander huffs a breath. “Does that bother you because you’d rather kill me yourself?”
“Maybe.” I can’t stop myself from smiling.
He laughs too and presses a kiss to my forehead. He drags his soft lips against my skin, the sensation like a butterfly kiss, but arousal hits me like a sledgehammer. If we weren’t on a public street, I would want him to kiss me more. He pulls away, almost abruptly.
“We’re here.” Alexander gestures to the building we’re standing in front of.
All the shops on this street are joined together, almost like a row house. But this one is bigger than all the others. It’s a two story sandstone building with huge glass windows overlooking the street. There’s a sign hanging above the door, made of dented iron that looks just as old as the weathered stones of the building. I squint to make out the words.
La Pâtisserie.
A dessert parlor? I look at Alexander then back at the sign again. He grins, then starts leading me toward the building. I don’t know what to expect—desserts are quite possibly my favorite thing ever, and it seems like a French shop which could only make things even better.
“This is the best dessert parlor in the country,” Alex says.
Though the windows out front are so big, they’re frosted so we can’t see inside. That’s a little odd, since usually bakeries and pastry shops want you to see their delicious treats through the window. Is this a special dessert parlor?
The door opens for us, and there’s a slight woman with a pixie cut and bright smile standing on the other side. She greets Alex, then turns to me with the kind of excitement you’d expect from long lost friends.
“Monsieur et Madame Duke, welcome! I am Cherie.”
I side eye Alexander, then accept the woman’s warm greeting. Mr. and Mrs. Duke? Oh, he had the time of his life making this reservation, didn’t he? Cherie leads us deeper into the building and suddenly it all starts to make sense.
This place isn’t your typical dessert parlor.
