Chapter Six
Allegra teetered on the edge of a wooden bench at Bain des Pâquis, fingers white-knuckled around a glass of ice water. She nudged her sunglasses higher, wincing as a pulse ricocheted inside her skull.Thanks for nothing, Advil.
She’d sprinted back to her hotel, no time for shopping, no time for anything but a shower and a costume change, and reemerged in an outfit cobbled together from her suitcase. The Chloé linen shorts, usually reserved for champagne brunches, had been wrinkled beyond recognition and paired with a white Ralph Lauren button-down she’d knotted at the waist, the sleeves rolled up to hide the monogrammed cuffs. Her feet were strapped into Valentino sandals, pounded against the hotel’s concrete terrace until they looked like they’d survived a hike through the Alps.
Thepièce de résistance: a Viven Sheriff sunhat so wide it could double as a satellite dish, purchased for nine hundred euros in Saint-Tropez last summer and now deliberately sat on to suggest a supermarket impulse buy.
Subtle. Inconspicuous. The epic, Oscar-worthy performance ofJust a girl waiting for a boy, hoping he doesn’t notice I’m literally a heiress.Nailed it.
Her phone read12:11 p.m. Nate was late. Not catastrophically, but enough to make her Valenstadt-raised brain twitch. Back home, punctuality wasn’t just expected; it was an obsession, a way of life, the closest thing her country had to extreme sports.
She took another gulp of water, her stomach sloshing unhappily, and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, bargaining with her headache.
That’s when the thought landed.
Oh shit. If Nate had changed his plans, decided to show up later, bail, or been taken out by one of those stealth-mode electric trams, she’d have no way of knowing. His phone was currently in her bag. Genius. Real mastermind stuff.
“Ella!” a voice called.
Her brain took a second to catch up, like a record skipping before the sound kicks in.Right. Me. She whipped around, and there he was.
Nate.
Okay, wow. Had he always been this tall? And the tattoos. Full sleeves, winding down his arms. How had she missed those last night? The sunlight did him favors, casting him in a glow that made him look like he’d stepped out of a music video: LA Dodgers cap pulled low over artfully tousled hair, grin easy, the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes sending an unexpected whoosh straight through her middle.
And wait.
She blinked. No socks.
She must have been staring, because he glanced down at his feet, then back up at her with a sheepish grin.
“Decided to try something new.”
“Oh. I hope that wasn’t because of—”
“You shamed me into it,” he laughed, shaking his head. “It’s an improvement, right?”
Allegra smirked. “It’s a start.” She fished out his phone and pressed it into his hand. “Anyway, I really am sorry. About the flight. And, uh… everything.”
He took it, grinning. “You keep apologizing, but I’m starting to suspect you enjoy watching me suffer.”
Allegra snorted. “Shut up. Maybe a little.”
“Seriously though, don’t mention it. Feels like the universe was trying to tell me something.”
Her ears warmed. “Still. Flights aren’t cheap. And you must’ve had things to get back to.”
“Not really,” he said, shrugging. “I’m an… actor.”
There was the tiniest pause before the word, enough to make her wonder. Actor, as inred carpets and after-parties?Or actor, as inI once played a corpse on a crime show?
“Cool. Anything I might’ve seen?”
“No!” he said quickly. “I mean, small-budget stuff.”
“Ooh.” She wagged her finger at his mobile. “Show me.”
His eyes went wide. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t inflict that on you. It’s kind of indie.”
