To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1) (8 page)

Her eyes drifted down to his mouth. She loved watching the way he said his words and the sexy play of his lips.

This man.

She craved him.

Her eyes closed to survive the hypnotic pull of her will. But that didn't help. The other four senses fed her entire body with information that turned up, turned on all the right emotions.

He kissed her.

She kissed him back. Her breathing sped up keeping pace with her heartbeat.

Again, he kissed her. This time, he didn't stop. Their mouths instantly interlocked and sealed. His mouth hungrily devoured hers.

Her appetite matched with equal vigor and she welcomed the plunder of his tongue.

Every neuron path lit and blazed with solar intensity. His lips were guilty of all sorts of sensual deeds because nothing in her lay dormant.

Awake and energized. Her
patata
was wet as if he'd reached between her legs and stroked her.

"Don't ever stop dropping those hot kisses on me," she said before gasping a sigh as she fell back in the seat. Her chest rose and fell from the passionate exertion. Her lips still tingled.

He gently interlocked his fingers with hers. "Never."

D
amien
waited a few seconds before attempting any conversation. Kissing Anna shredded through his reservations. The lingering anxiety that had clutched his heart in a vice slowly dissipated to trace levels.

"You brought me to the gardens?" He looked around the famous area unsure why she'd selected this place.

"Figured the Princess Grace Rose Garden was an ideal spot to push pause."

"I guess," he offered with a hint of doubt. Sitting among the flowers to de-stress never hit the top of his priorities.

"Come on. We can hide for the next hour." She exited before him but waited near the car's hood for him to join her. "Gosh, I look like I have bed-head." She fluffed her hair and tried to smooth it back into place.

Unable to contain the urge to touch any part of her, Damien targeted a stray curly lock. Gently he slid his fingers along the spiral and watched it bounce back into its original coils. Then he tucked it behind her ear allowing his fingers to linger along her jawline.

"You are a delicious dose of wicked." She popped a kiss on his expectant mouth and danced away from him.

Damien swallowed his protest and followed her through the gates into the Fontvieille Park and on through the floral arched gate into the garden that was built in memory of Princess Grace. The park and garden's combined nine-acre oasis offered an idyllic tribute to the movie star turned Monaco's princess.

Anna sighed. "It's so beautiful and yet, I can't help but feel sad."

Damien understood Anna's reverence. Monaco and the Grimaldi royal family had suffered a terrible loss.

His hand sought Anna's for the comfort of their shared thoughts over Princess Grace's untimely death.

"I've been here multiple times on school field trips. Also have been a tour guide for our international clients," he added.

"I know this may sound unbelievable, but this is my first time at the gardens." She slowed to admire a cluster of pink tipped roses. "Now you can be my personal guide."

"Okay, but I'm not naming all of these roses. In here, there are at least 4,000 roses and 300 varieties. A rose is a rose."

"Sacrilege!" She elbowed him in the ribs. Her outrage tempered with a slight smile.

He pulled her in and kissed her until she giggled beneath his lips.

"You're not getting out of giving me a tour." She headed down one of many paths that carved a circular grid through the sculpted landscape with direct lines to the centerpiece—a mound. Taking the longer route to the center they strolled and paused to read the signs describing each rose cluster and sculptures that shared the outdoor space.

"How about this spot. It's shaded and quiet," she suggested after they'd continued along the path.

He pointed to a bench just up ahead. The seat offered not only a close-up presentation of the floral centerpiece, but also the historic backdrop of the 300 hundred-year-old
Église Saint-Charles Catholic church with its famous dome imprinting its magnificence against the landscape.

Complementing the rich green carpet of grass, the splash of color felt as if the sun had kissed the small plot of land. Anna slid into place on a bench and patted the space next to her. A small area was dedicated to golden yellow roses.

"I really appreciate what you did earlier." Damien took her hand. His gaze fastened on her. "But why? Why suddenly care about what happens to me?"

"We were supposed to stay friends. We didn't. And I didn't know how to be a friend. You know what I mean. Staying clear of further entanglements."

"I understand the no entanglements. That's why I stayed on my side of the border." He shook his head. "Seeing you, but not being able to be with you—that still hurts."

Anna had tried not to think about the past or her actions. An impossible task that she didn't mind failing.

She took in her surroundings. "Do you think the Grimaldi couple had a fairy tale marriage? You know ... one attitude for the cameras and total hell behind the palace walls."

"I'm sure they had their share of marital feuds." He shrugged. "That's natural. Nothing's perfect. I think Prince Rainier loved Princess Grace. They were good for each other and good for Monaco." He squinted into the sun, in the direction of the statue of Princess Grace.

She offered her hand and didn't hide the smile when he clasped hers. "I like it here. Calming. Maybe that's what the Prince wanted for us, not only to remember Grace but to find peace here."

He didn't say anything. His fingers stroked her hand, tracing the outline of her nails. "I'm struggling." He let go of her hand and rubbed his palms against his legs and stood. "I'm a mess right now. Every angle of my life is blowing up. And you're this bright light at the end of the tunnel that I can't decide if it's an illusion or real. And going after something that's not real, that steadily moves out of my reach ... not doing it again."

"I'm real. I'm here. I lived by the rules that I knew. Rules of life thanks to my father, the great Milton Gaston."

Damien didn't look at her and she was glad. She needed to get out what she had to say without guessing at his judgment.

"The tabloid news said that my mother had walked in on his affair with the nanny." She choked out a bitter laugh. "That would have been normal. The usual nonsense."

Damien reached over and softly squeezed her hand. She accepted the encouragement.

"My mother and I had returned back from a trip a day early. I think she suspected something. She was getting out of the taxi and I ran ahead into the house. I made it past the housekeeper who never liked my mother. I saw them in my parents' room." She squeezed her eyes shut. The image--the nightmare--was now a grainy flashback with the nanny's face now blurred and her father's face draped in shadows. "He told my mother to get out and take me with her."

"I never knew."

She let out a shuddering breath. "Never told anyone. First I thought it was my fault. I shouldn't have run into the house. I shouldn't have run into the room. I shouldn't have seen what I saw." Damn the tears that welled in her eyes. Her father didn't deserve any more tears. "My mom turned her hurt and anger into the fuel to fight for her company that she'd started while married. And she worked it to the success that it is until I was old enough to join in." She swiped at the tears. "And I made a vow when we'd paid the last debt hanging over her head that I would never marry a rich, entitled asshole."

"And then you met me. I'm not going to like this turn of the story. We already know the ending."

"Look I admit to being scared. Overwhelmed. A bit out of my comfort zone. You had that seductive power."

"Seductive, but lacking in everything else."

"Hardly. I remember the day that Lydia brought you to the house.  Two friends sharing in the misery of earning the label of the former wife with a key difference. Your father didn't abandon you."

"I'm sure that we share more experiences than not."

"Maybe. Anyway, I fell hard for you from the beginning." The tears dried as she recalled the first time that she saw and fell for the brooding teen with a thick mop of black hair, wicked blue-eyed gaze and a killer smile that hooked and reeled her in.

"You wore your hair in two ponytails. Wore all black. And covered those beautiful eyes with thick eyeliner. All sexy in my book." He chuckled. "You didn't smile a lot. I wanted to make that my job."

"Even back then, so young, you had a love for life. We'd spend days at the lake talking about our dreams. You talked about conquering the world and I thought about you." She blushed over the thoughts of kissing Damien. When they finally did kiss, the sparkly pop outmatched any fireworks display.

"Our mothers were eagle-eyed chaperones. Had to steal every kiss and work hard to outwit them."

They laughed over their shenanigans. She didn't regret a thing. And she was pretty sure that Damien with his cheeky grin could live with his sins.

He sobered. "But after all of that, we still couldn't make it work."

How to answer him. "Your bad-ass attitude inspired me to find my place. But you're a heady ride." She clasped herself. "And that scared me. Scared that once the vows were said that a side of you would emerge. And life would turn into the same hell like my mother's." She couldn't look at him.

The confession had never been said out loud. But she had to tell and unburden her soul. But what would he say? What would he think?

"Never had any idea. Didn't understand why you pushed me away. I allowed my pride to kick in and I walked away without a fight."

"We need to believe. We need hope."

"I'm yours." He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. "You are mine." His lips marked her wrist again. "I could take you right here, right now. We'd better walk before I lose self-control."

"I love you so much." She stepped into his open arms and hugged him as tightly as her arms could squeeze him to her body.

A bird's chirp framed the awkward silence. Too late to reel in what she'd impulsively offered, leaving herself open for his rejection. She closed her eyes to focus on this single moment.

"It's a new beginning," he said softly in her ear.

Anna bit her bottom lip to stem back a sob fest after Damien kissed her on the temple. Her declaration has slipped out, escaping because of the sentimental setting. Dare she trust that all would be well? She buried her head against his chest and held on tightly before taking a deep breath and letting go. "Let's continue with our walk." She swiped at the tears that refused to evaporate.

When she could peel herself off Damien's chest, they walked the carved path hand-in-hand. Anna looked at the flowers, but no longer remembered what she read or what Damien added with his folksy commentary.

"It's said that Princess Grace wanted to return to Hollywood. Maybe continue her career while being princess and wife," Damien's voice soothed her. She loved walking nestled within his arm.

"But she didn't."

"Apparently, we, Monégasque citizens, and her husband didn't want a part-time starlet as a princess."

Anna tilted her head, her gaze focused upward on Princess Grace's statue. "Think it was an adamant discussion or one with compromise? At least, she found her outlet through many philanthropic works."

"You're not going to protest against her having to walk away from what she loved?" Damien stopped abruptly leaving her to walk a few steps ahead before she looked at him questioningly.

"If I still believed in rules, I would."

"Rules aren't all bad. After all breaking the rules did bring us together." He kissed her softly to the delight of several passersby who chuckled over their public display.

__________

D
amien drove the car this time. One—he wanted to get to his destination in one piece. Two—well, he really wanted to get there in one piece. Getting away with Anna healed him and healed the cracks between them. 

"Where are we going?" Anna asked, retying her headscarf.

"You'll see. Should get there in two hours."

"What? Do we need an overnight bag?"

"No need." He didn't elaborate further. "Settle back and enjoy the ride."

They eventually emerged out of Monaco and stayed on the A8 that followed the southern coastline of France. In no time they drove through Nice and Cannes. He ignored Anna's moans of protest to stop and take precious hours to shop. Not that the roadwork and occasional traffic incidents helped his defense that they needed to get there for lunch. No particular reason, but she didn't know that.

"Why are you smiling? It's as if you know a secret," Anna complained. "South of France is beautiful."

"I tell visitors to skip the capital and head to the southern coast." He pointed out the landmarks and showing off his expertise on French history and his knowledge of the region where he'd spent most of his childhood before his exile to America. He and his brothers were sent not only for the university prospects but to open up their horizons with more than their European roots.

Finally, he paused, realizing that he had run on at the mouth. And Anna hadn't said anything.

He glanced over and she was asleep with her head against the headrest.

Damien laughed. "Thank goodness this wasn't the first date." He'd bored her to sleep.
His
woman. That sounded right.

Two hours later, he veered off the main highway and took the A50 through Toulon with its large harbor and a site for the French navy base. But he aimed further south where the crowds were less, temperatures mild, and the ambiance was in tune for two romantics.

"Are we there yet?" Anna stretched and yawned. "Should I be worried that you're kidnapping me?" She surveyed her surroundings.

"We're in Bandol,
ville tranquille
, which says it all."

"It's absolutely gorgeous. I love seaside towns. Smells great. Look at all the colorful houses. Can't wait to take a long walk." She curled her feet up on the seat and turned toward him. "So why is this place so special? And be careful how you answer. Don't want to hear about conquests."