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I wish I knew. It can’t be healthy for him to work so hard and for so long. If I knew, I could help him avoid burning out.I could make sure he has more of whatever encourages him to wind down.
Surely that’s part of my job?
Carrie comes out and offers us breakfast. It’s strange, since back in New York, it’s the middle of the night. But here, flying east over the vast Atlantic Ocean toward France, the darkness of night is gradually giving way to the first hints of dawn, the sky shading from deep blue and purple to the first streaks of fiery pinks and oranges.
A desire to capture the beauty of this moment flutters in my chest. A need to memorialize it on canvas. The sensation is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I haven’t experienced such a strong urge to paint in years.
I watch the sunrise out the window until Carrie returns with our breakfast a few minutes later. Roman and I both have poached eggs on toast with a side of bacon. Normally I don’t have a big breakfast, but today will be busy, and I need the fuel.
Our conversation as we eat centers around what the next day and a half looks like. Miraculously, I find myself mostly focused on it rather than how his dark hair is a little tousled, as if he’s been running his hands through it. Or how the five o’clock shadow on his jaw makes me want to drift my fingers along it to feel the prickle against my skin.
An hour later, we land in Nice. There’s a car waiting for us, and after the driver has loaded our bags in the trunk, we settle in for the trip to the hotel.
The scenery is spectacular as we drive along what Roman tells me is the Promenade des Anglais, which runs along the coastline. The sparkling blue sea stretches out to the horizon on my right, while the left side of the road is lined with palm trees, luxury hotels, restaurants, and residential areas.
Though it’s still very early morning as we approach the Azure Marquis Hotel, staff members are ready and waiting for usbeneath a portico. As we step out of the car, the soft murmur of the waves, the hint of salt in the air, and the warm breeze immediately relax my tight muscles.
I don’t get much time to enjoy the hotel’s impressive lobby. Check-in is expedited and before I know it, we’re being whisked up to our suites.
“We have half an hour to freshen up,” Roman says as we approach our rooms. “Then we’ll meet back downstairs.”
Enough time for a shower, thank goodness. Even if there won’t be much time to apply makeup and make myself presentable afterward.
I scan into the room, and as the door shuts behind me, I stutter to a halt. “Wow,” I whisper, even though I’m alone.
Long, sheer curtains billow in the warm, ocean-scented breeze coming in through the open window. Outside, the water is a vibrant blue that makes me wish I could go for a swim instead of attending the expo.
If only. I shake off the fantasy quickly. I need to have my game face on for this. I don’t want to let Roman down, and although I slept a bit on the plane, my body still thinks it’s the middle of the night.
Inside the huge marble-tiled bathroom, I turn on the shower, then strip off my clothes while I wait for the water to heat. The warm spray is incredible. I’d give almost anything to stand underneath it until the water ran cold, but time is of the essence.
Once I’ve washed quickly, I dry myself, then get dressed. I probably overpacked, but since I’ve never traveled internationally for work, I’m not completely confident in what I should wear to each activity, so I brought options. This morning, I choose a lightweight pastel blue blouse, fitted black pants, and black flats. Usually I wear heels to work, but I don’t know how much standing or walking I’ll be doing, and I don’t want my feet to hate me by the end of the day.
I quickly do my makeup, then pull my hair back into a ponytail. With one last look in the mirror, I grab my tablet and head down to the lobby.
Roman’s already there, looking sharp and impeccable, as if he’s just walked into his office after a full night’s sleep at his penthouse apartment.
If he weren’t so gorgeous, it would be infuriating.
He glances up from his phone as I approach, his gaze drifting down my body in a way that steals my breath. It’s not my imagination. Ever since the day that must not be talked about, he hasn’t worked too hard to hide the way he watches me. He doesn’t leer the way Geoff used to. It doesn’t make me feel dirty. Instead, it sends electricity prickling over my skin and a rush of heat through my veins.
Considering how often I catch myself looking at him, I wouldn’t even consider complaining about the attention.
“I got a coffee for you,” he says, plucking a paper cup off the table next to him.
I smile up at him, having to crane my neck even farther back than usual since I’m not wearing heels. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”
That seductive mouth of his curves up. “I thought I’d stretch myself.”
It hits me for the first time, how his eyes soften when he smiles. He might not let the expression slip through often, but when he does, my heart flips in my chest.
Suddenly desperate for a drink, I take the cup from him and bring it to my mouth. The way he stays focused on me as I do, though, is overwhelming, and I take a too-large mouthful, causing a little coffee to overflow.
I hastily swallow, then lick my lips before it can drip onto my blouse. I must miss a drop because Roman reaches out and drags his thumb underneath my mouth.
“Good?” His voice is low.
“Y-yes,” I stutter, my cheeks heating.