They cut across toward the Jardin Anglais, until a flower clock came into view in a riot of red, yellow, and violet blooms, planted in precise, hypnotic swirls. Thousands of tiny flowers formed the face, while slender clock hands glided over the living petals.
Allegra beamed. “Voilà. L’horloge fleurie.”
Nate frowned. “I’d heard about it, but… that’s it?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s a clock. Made of flowers.”
“I see that,” he said, scratching his cheek. “I just expected it to, I don’t know, do something. Sing. Dance. Release a swarm of bees.”
“It tells time.”
“So does my phone.”
She gasped. “It’s iconic.”
“For a country that invented luxury watches, this feels like a missed opportunity.”
Allegra wrinkled her nose. “All right. Maybe it’s not the Eighth Wonder of the World.”
“Thank you.”
“But it’s cute. In a very Swiss, hyper-organized way.”
He leaned in, squinting. “Does it at least pop out a tiny wooden bird?”
She laughed. “First Saint Pierre’s, now this. You really are impossible.”
They left the flower clock and wove back toward the lakeside path, dodging clusters of tourists snapping selfies, families corralling children, and people lounging on benches. Street performers strummed guitars nearby, and the scent of roasted nuts and gelato mingled with the lake breeze. A coffee stall waited under a striped awning, steam curling from its espresso machine.
“Caffeine?” Nate asked.
“So much.”
They veered toward the stall—
—and that was when she saw him.
Dark suit. Dark tie. Formal enough for a funeral. In ninety-degree weather. He stood near the edge of the path, sunglasses on, posture rigid—like he was trying to blend in but had forgotten how to relax.
Shit.
Could be nothing. Geneva was full of men in stiff suits, all of them rushing to meetings or pretending to be important. But this one? His focus was all wrong. Too intentional. Like he wasn’t just looking—he was waiting.
“Hey,” Nate’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You okay?”
Allegra didn’t look at him. Didn’t dare glance back at the man, either. “Ferris wheel,” she said.
“Huh?”
She grabbed his elbow. “We’re doing the Ferris wheel.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.” She tugged him toward the large white wheel turning lazily a short distance away.
“Allegra—coffee?”
“After.”
