Page 100 of Lorenzo

To start, the room’s recessed LEDs are dimmed. Music drifts softly through hidden speakers.

And one of the hotel workers has taken the sexy nightgown I had Antoine buy Em and draped it across the bed.

The fabric, a deep claret... shimmers under the bright moonlight peeking in from the window.

If Em were wearing it right now, I’d tear it off her.

“This is my best birthday ever! Should I put on the nightie now? I can wear it while we nibble on the strawberries and chocolates there on the coffee table.”

“That’s one idea. But I have another,” I say, charmed by how excited she is.

“Okay, but just so you know, someone’s filled the bathtub with rose petals! Maybe we can take a bath together first?”

“The bath can keep. Now, I’d like you to slip into something comfortable. We’re going to be exploring.”

“Ah, a mysterious birthday,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “I’ll change now.”

I lead Em out of the suite and to the private library of this historic estate.

We’re alone in the vast room, which is just how I want it.

The room must look exactly as it did a few hundred years back.

An elegant Persian rug in deep reds and blues covers the hardwood floor, its pattern worn soft by centuries of footsteps.

The walls, paneled in deeply burnished walnut, reflect the amber glow of the roaring fireplace.

“Why does the hotel have it going in summer?” Em asks, looking at the flames licking the wood.

“Ambiance. Maybe they get an extra star for it? Charge an extra thousand bucks a room,” I say, coming up behind her and taking her in my arms.

I inhale the fragrance of her auburn hair, twisted into its customary French twist. I haven’t yet told Em how much I enjoy the tease. The anticipation of knowing I’ll rip it free from its pins.

“Come,” I say, forcing myself to break away.

I grab two of the candles from the wall sconces, their genuine flames burning bright.

“Take one and use it as a lantern,” I say, giving one to her.

grabbing one of the sconces on the wall, burning real flames.

“Take one and use it as a lantern,” I say, giving one to her.

“I feel like Nancy Drew in one of those old mysteries. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I glance at my phone, then move toward one of the bookshelf-lined walls.

“Looking for a book in particular?” Em asks in a teasing tone.

She follows me as I search the shelves, craning to see what’s guiding me on my screen.

“A very specific red book,” I say, angling my phone away.

I find the book tucked between two larger volumes.

It’s thin, with faded gilt lettering on the spine.