to him, he made a bit of a scene.”
“How did you know he’d even be at the party?”
“There’s a Euros-in-New-York crowd. Everyone knows one another. He’s not European, but he’s Euro-adjacent, and the hostess of the party—that would be the Lucrecia the boat was named after—is a major society figure within the New York scene.”
“Lucrecia. That’s not a name you hear much on this side of the pond.”
“Lucrecia von Bachenheim. Her father is a cousin to the Austrian archduke. Also, she’s a total bitch.”
Marie almost laughed with glee. A day ago, she would never have uttered those words in front of another human being. She wouldn’t even have allowed herself to think them. But there was something about being with Mr. Leonardo Ricci in a taxi in the middle of the night that inspired boldness.
“Lucrecia von Bachenheim?” he echoed. “Does she have one hundred and one Dalmatians?”
“Excuse me?” That must be a pop culture reference she wasn’t getting.
He shook his head. “So this Gregory guy snubbed you, Lucrecia von Bachenheim is a bitch, and you were stuck on a boat where everyone was being horrible to you.”
She laughed. “Yes, that about sums it up.”
Marie didn’t feel so bad about it all anymore, though. Talking to Leo, an outsider who wasn’t tied up in either her mission or what was or wasn’t proper for her to be doing or saying, had been therapeutic.
When the hotel was in sight, he slowed down. “This pizza place is good. Let me get you a slice.”
“Let me get you a slice. It’s the least I can do.”
He pulled over and parked the car—the street was relatively empty this time of night. New York City had given her the impression that it was always wall-to-wall with people and vehicles, but that wasn’t the case right now.
“Actually . . .” He was leaning over the center console and peering out her window, staring rather intently at something called “CVS.” It seemed to be some sort of pharmacy, albeit an absurdly large one. He was close enough that she could smell him. He smelled like . . . oranges. She always associated oranges with America. The California trips of her youth.
He pulled back abruptly. She missed the oranges, suddenly and sharply.
“Can you do me a huge favor?” he asked.
“Yes.” She was startled by the immediacy of her answer. Normally, she didn’t trust easily. She did her duty but hesitated over giving more than that.
An even more startling realization?
She would do pretty much anything Mr. Leonardo Ricci asked her to.
And so Leo found himself perusing the feminine hygiene aisle in a Midtown CVS at one in the morning with the princess of Eldovia.
“Gabby got her first period this week,” he said as they slowed to a stop in front of a bewildering display of products. “She needs, uh, supplies. I should really take some home for her. I tried to google earlier to figure out what to buy, but there was so much . . . choice.”
Marie’s dimples came out, and they were just so fucking cute.
She scanned the shelf. “There are so many different products, it can be confusing even for those of us who’ve been doing this awhile.” The skin between her eyebrows wrinkled and she started walking, seeming to dismiss the area immediately in front of him. “I’m going to say she probably doesn’t want tampons yet.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Could everyone just stop saying tampons in front of him?
“I think the best thing to do is to purchase an assortment of pads and liners, and she can see what she likes. There is a lot of choice.” She pulled a box off the shelf and turned it over. “More than at home. And I don’t know all these brands—we have some different ones in Europe.” She was concentrating like he’d asked her to diffuse a bomb. He couldn’t help but appreciate the seriousness with which she was approaching her assignment, even as it amused him.
After a minute or two of silent perusal, Marie picked a few items off the shelf, some in boxes and some in plastic bags sort of shaped like boxes. “This should be good to start.”
She led him to the checkout, plunked her booty on the counter, and when he got out his wallet, said, “Let me buy them.”
“You don’t have any money,” he reminded her.
She expelled a little breath of frustration. The dimples came back out, but they were fake dimples this time. Not the same ones she’d flashed at him