French Wanker - Victoria Pinder Page 0,26
me. Simon was sure to spill the beans, so it was better she understood my point of view and how I was incapable of protecting those I loved.
I don’t know why I’d gone quiet on the way here, but clearly, that needed to end.
As we walked onto the castle grounds, she stopped at a bronze sign. “What does the sign say?”
I read the French and then told her the gist, “It says unlike other royal families, the Grimaldi family have lived in this palace for over seven hundred years, not building another palace, which helped keep their royal monarchy intact.”
We passed the black gates and followed the path to a clean, whiter version of Buckingham as she stared at the palace like she’d never seen anything like it. “That’s so cool. My parents used to love the classic movies, and it’s so interesting that an American ended up living her happily ever after here.”
Yet, in the United States some houses were more luxurious. We crossed the white gate for the tour entrance for the state apartments, and I said, “She helped usher this tiny country from unknown to a member of the UN, and her husband credited her for ensuring the country’s financial security wasn’t just based on gambling.”
We went straight through, poking our heads in rooms, and ended outside in the inner courtyard. Kara glanced all around to the intricate statute of a monk from the royal family back a few centuries ago. “She sounds cherished. That must be nice.”
The sweetest woman in the world held my hand. “You should be cherished, Kara,” I told her with a squeeze.
A blush covered her face. “You’re right. Next time that’s going as a requirement, but you’re going to be hard for any other man to live up to.”
I stopped her near the car turned museum piece outside and asked quietly, “What do you mean?”
I wasn’t the marrying kind. I ruined lives.
She went on her tiptoes and held me closer. She spoke in a low voice. “It means now that I’ve been with the best possible man there is, it’s impossible to imagine some man I’d never meet. I keep picturing your face.”
This was impossible. I’d had many girlfriends, but never had words tugged at my heartstrings. “You’re the best woman I could ever imagine in my life, if I’m being honest.”
She laughed. “Well, that’s good to hear.”
I tugged her closer. I needed to kiss her again. “I wish we were different. I’ve never had a good woman, and it would be fun to have you.”
At least I was safe; I was her rebound. I didn’t need to bare my soul on how I was bad news. Her entire face brightened like we were both in some sweet dream. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Impossible dreams. I wasn’t worthy of a real relationship with a woman like Kara. I narrowed my gaze, and my heart raced more. “I’m not a marrying man, Kara.”
Her eyebrow went higher, and she tilted her head. “Luckily, we can only last a week anyhow.”
A life with Kara flew in my mind as something that would be in full color and vibrant instead of the dreary secluded life I had planned. “Sometimes, I don’t know if you’re joking or serious, Kara. You keep me on my toes.”
She lifted a shoulder playfully. “Well, I’ll keep doing that.”
I tugged on the waistband of her jeans. “Come here.”
She curled her arms around me. “No kissing. We’re in a royal palace.”
Why she’d turned prudish was almost charming. I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m sure these royals did their sharing of kissing in their day.”
She didn’t move, and goosebumps grew on my arms from the need to have her again. “I don’t know,” she said. “America was a British colony, and those royals seem super reserved.”
I let her go, a bit disappointed we didn’t kiss, but I tucked my hands in my back pockets to straighten my spine and follow her as I admitted the truth about me to her. “That’s true. In the village I was born in, kissing in public was looked at more like some mainland European invasion to our British sensibilities.”
She bumped into me. “So, you’re British and French?”
“Both.” I took her hand in mine. “My father is French. My mother is British. As a child we lived in England, but then we moved to France and never left.”
“Interesting.”
My brother’s death was still hard to put into words. I’d avoided it just now but shook that off