with him. When I’d explained my fears to Remy, how I worried it was too soon, that I’d be gossiped about and not taken seriously at work because people would probably assume he’d brought me out to Monaco to bone, he said he understood. In fact, he was very sweet about it.
And to think I was worried there’d be some sort of power imbalance ebbing involved with a rich man. Maybe Amber was right; maybe power issues are the difference between dating a rich guy and a rich asshole. Remy is no ass. In fact, he’s probably one of the best men I’ve ever met. When we’re together, everything is so normal—we talk about everything, but I never wanted to fall in love with him. Hell, I never wanted to fall in love with anyone. Love leaves you vulnerable. Leaves you wanting. It makes junkies out of mothers and relegates children to the sense of never being quite enough. Yet, each time we get together, he steals a little more of my heart.
But I’m happy to exist in our little bubble for now because I know once we step out in public, all that will come to an end. Aside from how I’ll be viewed at work, there are other concerns. Will I be accepted into his world? Would he make a place for me there? Also, it seems the richer you are in Monaco, the more appealing you are as society pages fodder, which is more than a little freaky. Think TMZ but a little classier, because paparazzi aren’t allowed to follow the rich and fabulous in Monaco, by order of the Crown Prince.
Remy doesn’t get to keep me all to himself every night. He has his social obligations, and I have mine. Like tonight—dinner with my new work friends!
‘What’s up, bitches!’ Fee arrives at the table wearing a cute pink dress that shows off her toned arms and her golden tan. Charles rises to greet her, and double air-kisses are bestowed to each of us, as is the custom out here.
‘Your tan is great,’ I tell her, taking in the golden glow of her arms as they retract.
She looks down, then holds her arm against mine to compare. I’m olive skinned while Fee is fair, though after spending this morning at Larvotto Beach together, we’re both a little tanner than we were. Charles refused to come with us for fear of premature sun-induced wrinkles.
‘I thought for sure I’d be sunburnt after we laid out so long.’ I’m pleased to report I did not. I’d also began topping up my tan last weekend by spending a little bikini time out in Remy’s penthouse pool in the sky. And now I know why the man has no tan lines. And the view. It was good.
‘You looks tres glamorous, my darlings,’ Charles offers with a pout.
‘Well, you look super glamorous, too. And I see you started without me,’ she quips as the waiter arrives with our bottle of Pinot. Before he leaves, she orders herself a vodka tonic.
‘You could have a glass of wine with us,’ I suggest. ‘Especially as you’re our best biche.’
‘Biche? You mean as in doe?’
I nod. ‘Are you impressed? I’m working on expanding my vocabulary.’ Thanks to Remy mostly. ‘Though much of it isn’t appropriate for the ears of polite company.’
‘Then it is a good thing you choose us as your friends.’ Charles inclines his head in the manner of one all-knowing, reaching for his empty glass. ‘We can teach you all the good sex words.’
‘I didn’t say they were sex words. I’ve been learning some pretty good insults, too. You know, so I can mutter them under my breath when one of the residents says he needs to find someone to fill his bath with jellybeans or something equally ridiculous.’
Charles puts down his glass and brings his hands to his shaking head. ‘This has happened to me when I worked in Paris. Worse, I had to pick out the red ones. I never want to work in a ’otel again.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Fee agrees. As her vodka hasn’t yet arrived, I reach for the bottle intending to splash a little into the spare glass.
‘No, thank you. I can’t have a wine hangover tomorrow. I’m leading a spinning class at seven a.m.’
‘On Sunday?’ I splutter a little incredulously. ‘First of all, what kind of person exercises on Sunday, and second of all, who the hell is out of bed at that time?’