Page 108 of Pretend To Be Mine

“A helicopter.” Her voice had gone up an octave. “We’re getting in a helicopter.”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“A problem? Adrian, I’ve never been in a helicopter. I’ve barely been in a plane until this week!” She was talking fast now, her hands gesturing wildly. “What if it crashes? What if the blades fall off? What if⁠—”

I caught her hands, bringing them to my chest. “Elizabeth. Breathe.”

“I’m breathing. I’m breathing very fast, but I’m breathing.”

“Helicopters are incredibly safe. Statistically safer than driving.” I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but it sounded reassuring. “And our pilot is former military, has thousands of hours of flight time, and has never had an incident.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

She looked back at the helicopter, then at me, then at the helicopter again. I could practically see her internal debate playing out on her face—terror versus the desire to experience something new.

“You’ll be with me the whole time?” she asked finally.

“The entire time. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.”

“I’m definitely going to want.” She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

I loved her bravery. We climbed aboard the luxury helicopter. She squeezed my hand as we lifted off.

The helicopter ride from central Paris to Versailles took twenty minutes. Elizabeth spent nineteen of them with her face pressed against the window like a kid on Christmas morning. Clearly, she was no longer afraid.

Her fear evaporated about two minutes into the ride.

“Is that it?” she asked for the third time, pointing at a château in the distance.

“Not yet.” I was watching her more than the view, enjoying her excitement. “Trust me, you’ll know when we get there.”

When the palace finally came into view, Elizabeth actually gasped. I leaned over and stared at the sprawling complex of gold and cream stone trying to see it through her eyes for the first time. I took in the geometric perfection of the gardens. The sheer overwhelming scale of the building was astonishing.

“Oh my God. Adrian. Is that⁠—”

“Versailles,” I confirmed. “That’s where we’re holding tonight’s show.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“But that’s Versailles. You can’t just rent Versailles!”

“You absolutely can. For an astronomical fee, admittedly, but it’s available for private events.” The helicopter began its descent to the designated landing area. “Briggs handled all the permits. Took months of negotiation with the French cultural ministry, but he pulled it off.”

Elizabeth was speechless, which was adorable. By the time we landed and made our way toward the palace proper, she’d recovered enough to start peppering me with questions.

“Where exactly is the show? Inside? In the gardens? Are we allowed to go in all the rooms? Can we see the Hall of Mirrors?”

“Yes to most of that. The show itself is in the Galerie des Batailles. The Hall of Mirrors is technically off-limits tonight because we need it clear for traffic flow, but I might be able to arrange a private viewing.” I took her hand as we walked. “Perks of paying an obscene amount of money.”

“This is insane. You know that, right? Your life is completely insane?”

I smiled. “Most weeks aren’t quite this eventful. You just happened to meet me during Fashion of Love Week. Usually it’s more boardrooms and fewer palaces.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”