Page 117 of Coveted

“Good evening, Mr. Hale, Miss Marlowe. Welcome to France.”

CHAPTER 29

Sadie

Lucan takes me to dinner at an ancient-looking bistro in Paris. The tables are tiny, close together, and lit by candles. The food is an array of dishes I’ve never eaten before, including the creme brûlée that becomes my new favorite dessert.

A man circulates, selling flowers. Lucan buys me six long-stemmed white roses and six red. I’m slightly puzzled that he chose two colors, but the flowers are beautiful.

We leave the bistro in the early hours of the morning, the candle on our table burning low.

“Merci beaucoup,” says the waiter with a bow on our way out. “A pleasure to host you, Mr. and Mrs. Hale.”

Lucan smirks, and I whack his bicep with the back of my hand.

“Did you pay him to say that?” I ask.

“No, but I wish I thought of it. I’m slipping.”

I shake my head. “I would accuse you of many things. Slipping would never be one.”

We step into the cobblestoned street, chilly air threading through the old buildings. Lucan puts his coat over my shoulders as we stroll up the street, buzzed with champagne.

“I notice you neglected to correct the waiter though,” I say.

He winks. “It sounded good, admit it.”

“I admit nothing. But as far as first dates go, I suppose you did pretty well.”

“There’s more,” he says. “The date’s still in progress.”

“Really? Where are we going now?”

“Somewhere quiet.”

Like a total harlot, I hope it’s a hotel room, because Lucan looks incredibly hot and he smells even better. The hint of cologne on his coat makes my blood race, as though my body’s been conditioned to desire him.

I’m wrong about the location though.

He takes me a short distance to a dark, silent street. Medieval stone walls enclose the entire block, guarded by gargoyles and topped with wrought-iron spikes.

Ghostly treetops sway over the wall, but I have to peer through a gap in the locked gate to see what’s inside.

“It’s a cemetery,” I say, the iron bars cold against my cheeks.

When I move back, Lucan’s smiling.

“Want to go for a walk inside?” he asks.

“Sure. I’ve always liked cemeteries. They’re peaceful.” I squint for a larger gap in the fence. “I’m not dressed to jump a gate though.”

“We can walk in.”

He goes to a gatehouse by the main entrance, where he chats to the cemetery caretaker through a window.

Lucan must say the magic words or pay the magic price, because in less than a minute, we’re inside. The caretaker tips his slouchy cap before locking the gate behind us and resuming his post.

“Whoa, this place is pretty,” I say. “Eerie, but pretty.”