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“The steeple of the National Cathedral,” Archie states after a few beats.
“Good one, Arch.” I flash him an appreciative smile before glancing in the rearview mirror once more, the reluctance slowly waning from her expression.
Finally, she sighs. “A few rays of sun trying to peek through the gray clouds. A couple holding hands as they walk along the canals. My favorite café.”
“Now four things you can feel.”
She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. “My wool coat. The heels on my feet I can’t wait to take off the second I’m home.”
A low chuckle rumbles from my chest.
While Esme may exude more glamour and class than anyone I’ve ever met, making it appear as if she can walk effortlessly in her heels, I know how much she hates them. During that summer all those years ago, I lost count of the number of times I walked into her office to find her barefoot, her heels hidden under her desk.
I loved that about her.
Still do.
Love that she prefers to walk around her apartment in yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt than any of the designer clothes she owns.
“What else?” I press.
She closes her eyes again, covering her chest with her hand. “The beating of my heart, reminding me I’m still alive. And…” She licks her lips.
“Go on,” I encourage her.
She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze through the rearview mirror. “Safety.”
“You feel safe?”
I pull to a stop outside the gates of Gladwell Palace, waving to the guard, even more photographers and reporters lining the entrance. Thankfully, I prepared for this scenario and had additional guards stationed here to keep them contained.
“With you, I do,” she confesses as the gate opens, then quickly adds, “And Archie, of course.”
“Of course,” I meet her gaze through the mirror, able to sense she only said that as to not raise suspicion.
I have no doubt Archie will always do everything he can to keep her safe. But there’s a difference between being with someone who will keep you safe and someone you feel safe around.
Refocusing my eyes forward, I navigate the short path up to her apartment and come to a stop under the port cochère, her butler hurrying down the steps and toward the SUV.
A part of me doesn’t want to get out of this car. Not when it means my obligation to her will be over. I hate the idea of things going back to the way they were before this trip.
When I first boarded the plane, I wanted nothing more than to be released from my duty to her. Now that I am, I’d love nothing more than to return to our bubble from last night.
But as I’ve reminded myself since we nearly kissed this morning, this is for the best. I need to remember my place.
And it’s not here.
Opening the door, I join Esme as her butler helps her out of the SUV. Then we follow him up the short flight of steps to her apartment, stepping into the high-ceilinged foyer, her apartment to the right, Anderson’s old apartment to the left, which currently sits vacant now that he’s moved to Wintervale.
“I’ll check everything out,” I tell Archie. “That way, you can review the new security measures.”
“New security measures?” Esme asks. “And why do you have to check the apartment when my household staff has been here the entire time I was gone?”
“It’s standard procedure,” I answer as I cross the threshold, keeping my eyes peeled for anything suspicious. “Especially after—”
“Got it,” she interrupts.
I give her a reassuring smile, then head into her apartment, checking every room for any vulnerabilities, trying to push down the memories her apartment brings forward, especially when I walk into her bedroom and am instantly reminded of the night I took her virginity.
