Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp Page 0,5

and just as I put it away, I watched him turn to his right, murmuring to some guy wearing a beret, before handing him one-hundred dollars. A second later, the man gave James his hat.

“What—” I broke off in shock. “Did you just—”

I couldn’t get the question out before I was escorted toward the bar with James leading the way.

When we arrived, his beret was in place and somewhere along the way he’d grabbed an unlit cigarette from someone, letting it hang seductively from the corner of his mouth.

He ordered the drinks from the bartender before bending close to me with a grin.

“I’m not French, but I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said with a wink that felt like a lightning bolt of desire shot straight to my core.

“Did you really pay a hundred dollars for that hat?”

He handed me my martini. “Why? Doesn’t it look good on me?” he asked with that smile.

It was like a weapon. So broad and wide. So sharply seductive I didn’t even feel it slice through me until my severed halves were lying achingly on the floor.

“It looks really good,” I reassured him with a laugh, the dismay I’d felt at missing my friends completely abated under the brilliance of his smile—and his determination to make my night fun and memorable with all the things that searching for my friends would make me miss.

“Alright, then grab your phone and let’s get this toast in the photo,” he instructed.

Seconds later, we were posed for a selfie with our French martinis, the Eiffel Tower jutting up behind us, and James’ classic beret and cigarette faking his Francophile descent.

“To big changes for the better.” He held up his glass.

I lost myself in his eyes as I repeated, “For the better.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” I covered my mouth, still laughing even though my dress was still wet in a few places.

We’d made it down to The Venetian in search of the other girls along the canal. It worked out that the scavenger hunt task for the Italian-themed casino was to get a photo in a gondola with the gondolier as he sang to you.

What was unexpected was that after helping me into the gondola, James paid the gondolier several hundred dollars, to ‘take a break.’ I wasn’t sure exactly how much he’d paid, but the man’s eyes bulged and he even gave James’ his striped neck scarf to wear.

We spent the next thirty minutes frantically navigating along the canals inside the hotel, searching for my colleagues who, unsurprisingly at this point, had left when they realized they couldn’t all fit in a single boat.

Of course, I’d gotten the message as soon as our cruise started and James refused to cut it short for a group of women obviously who didn’t deserve my time.

“That sounds like upper management to me,” I teased, taking a sip of my espresso martini.

I’d never had one before and boy, was it dangerous. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the sway of the gondola on the faux-canal. Or maybe it was that smile. But thoughts felt light. Laughter came as easy as breathing. And my body felt hot as though magma ran through my veins.

“Life is like business,” he replied. “You constantly have to make sure the people in it are a benefit rather than a drag… and sometimes, you have to cut the excess weight.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“And what about you? Where are your friends? Or were you here alone tonight?” I asked, suddenly realizing that he’d been keeping me company for over two hours now with no mention of his plans that meeting me had interrupted.

He chuckled. “I was here with my brother and some of his friends. We got in a few nights ago, though, and they were… doing their own thing tonight.”

There was more to the story. I could see it, but I didn’t press. I kept forgetting that I’d only known him a few hours, but there were moments like this that reminded me.

We almost forgot to take the necessary photo for documentation before James helped me off the small boat.

This time, when I went to look at my messages, the ground swayed beneath me until strong, warm hands steadied me.

“Are you alright?”

As long as you don’t let go.

I nodded, making the spinning a little worse, and answered instead, “I just looked down too fast.”

We’re skipping the Luxor and heading to New York. Where are you???

I rolled my eyes. Because I was the one keeping