Barcelona. Once they’d arrived in Dijon Ville early in the morning, they had to hang around a train station for four hours before they boarded a smaller train to Montpellier. After another wait at that train station, they boarded the train to Barcelona. Nearly four hours from departure, they arrived in the city at around five in the afternoon.
Bran had apparently taken care of business because Fionn immediately hailed a cab that took them to a basic but clean hotel.
“We’re near La Sagrada Familia,” Rose noted as Fionn checked them in.
“You’ve been to Barcelona before?”
She nodded. “Last year. I stayed for a long weekend and did tourist stuff.”
Bran had booked them adjoining rooms, and Rose prioritized taking a glorious shower over questioning Fionn further about their business in the Catalonian city. It was funny how a shower could make her feel human again, even though she wasn’t one.
Hmm.
The whole nonhuman thing, despite her abilities, would take a while to process. She wasn’t sure she ever would fully process it—until everyone she knew aged while she remained the same. According to Fionn, that was already happening. She’d stagnated somewhere around her twenty-second birthday.
Panic constricted Rose’s breathing. Immortality sounded great and all, but it would be excruciating to watch her parents die. They would only be the beginning. Any connections she made in the human world, she’d eventually grieve. This whole fae shit was fucking with the natural order of things.
Putting morbid thoughts aside, Rose strolled out of the bathroom and halted upon finding a backpack and shopping bags on the bed.
Inside the bags, she discovered two new pairs of black skinny jeans that fit her to perfection, a slim-fit hooded sweater, two T-shirts, three sets of lacy underwear, socks, toiletries, and a hairbrush. Clearly the backpack was so she could carry all this stuff with her when they left.
Rose veered between being moved by Fionn’s thoughtfulness and the discomfort that he’d paid for all of it. The clothes were designer, the fabric soft, and weirdly exact to her taste. However, since her clothes were in desperate need of a wash, she’d decided not to snub the gesture.
She pulled on the demure but still sexy underwear before she paired her new jeans with a black cotton T-shirt with a retro motel print on the chest. The word “Paco” caught her attention, and she checked the label before she pulled it on. It was a Paco Rabanne shirt.
The jeans were by Citizens of Humanity.
Holy shit. Fionn did not mess around with apparel.
After blow-drying her hair, Rose was pleased to find some makeup in the bag with all her new toiletries. Again, high-end makeup.
“Where did it all come from?” she asked Fionn as soon as they met in the hotel lobby.
He’d arriving dressed in something other than a suit—black trousers and a black, slim-cut sweater that did wonderful things for his shoulders and arms. Everyone in the lobby watched him approach her, and Rose had to force herself to close her mouth so she didn’t look like a gaping groupie.
“I had Bran hire a personal shopper for our arrival.”
“How did you know my measurements?”
He held the hotel entrance open for her. “I’ve been around a long time, Rose. I know women’s bodies.”
That matter-of-fact response should have been annoying.
Instead, it gave her all kinds of tingles. She’d bet her powers that Fionn Mór knew how to satisfy a woman in bed.
Throwing that dangerous thought away, Rose replied, “Well, aren’t we a little obvious? We’re staying in a three-star hotel dressed in designer gear. It doesn’t add up.”
“Are you complaining about the hotel?”
“Fionn, I’ve lived in crappy apartments for years. This hotel is a luxury in comparison. That wasn’t my point and you know it.”
“We can’t stay in a five-star. We’d draw too much attention there. But I refuse to wear anything but the best.” He cut her a look, something like self-deprecation in his eyes. “I’ve been used to the best for a long time, whether lying my head to rest on a bed of furs or wearing bespoke suits from Savile Row.” He shrugged. “I won’t apologize for enjoying fine things.”
“I’m not asking you to. But I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you buying me $300 jeans.”
“Well, it was that or leave you to stink.”
She scowled. “I wasn’t that bad. Hey, where are we going?”
“Dinner. I’m hungry. After that, we will train.”
“And while we’re eating, will you be explaining what it is we’re here to steal back?”