wishing for me when I entered the tower.
“Mmm,” I say. He’s kissing my neck.
“That’s it,” Rashmi says. “I’m outta here. Enjoy your hormones.”
Josh and Mer fol ow her exit, and we’re alone. Just the way I like it.
“Ha!” Étienne says. “Just the way I like it.”
He pul s me onto his lap, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His lips are velvet soft, and we kiss until the streetlamps flicker on outside. Until the opera singer begins her evening routine. “I’m going to miss her,” I say.
“I’l sing to you.” He tucks my stripe behind my ear. “Or I’l take you to the opera. Or I’l fly you back here to visit.Whatever you want. Anything you want.”
I lace my fingers through his. “I want to stay right here, in this moment.”
“Isn’t that the name of the latest James Ashley bestsel er? In This Moment? ”
“Careful. Someday you’l meet him, and he won’t be nearly as amusing in person.”
Étienne grins. “Oh, so he’l only be mildly amusing? I suppose I can handle mildly amusing.”
“I’m serious!You have to promise me right now, this instant, that you won’t leave me once you meet him. Most people would run.”
“I’m not most people.”
I smile. “I know. But you stil have to promise.”
His eyes lock on mine. “Anna, I promise that I will never leave you.”
My heart pounds in response. And Étienne knows it, because he takes my hand and holds it against his chest, to show me how hard his heart is
pounding, too. “And now for yours,” he says.
I’m stil dazed. “My what?”
He laughs. “Promise you won’t flee once I introduce you to my father. Or, worse, leave me for him.”
I pause. “Do you think he’l object to me?”
“Oh, I’m sure he will .”
Okay. Not the answer I was looking for.
Étienne sees my alarm. “Anna. You know my father dislikes anything that makes me happy. And you make me happier than anyone ever has.” He
smiles. “Oh, yes. He’l hate you.”
“So that’s . . . a good thing?”
“I don’t care what he thinks. Only what you think.” He holds me tighter. “Like if you think I need to stop biting my nails.”
“You’ve worn your pinkies to nubs,” I say cheerful y.
“Or if I need to start ironing my bedspread.”
“I DO NOT IRON MY BEDSPREAD.”
“You do. And I love it.” I blush, and Étienne kisses my warm cheeks. “You know, my mum likes you.”