Gabriel lifts his elegant shoulders. “Take your time, my treasure. Whenever you are ready, we’ll get on the plane. My pilot flies on our schedule.”
“Wow. But we’re going tonight? Right now? As soon as I’m ready?”
Of all the mind-reeling things that have happened since I woke in this castle, it’s funny that leaving for Paris on short notice is the one that seems hardest to believe.
I mean… dragons.
That one should’ve blown my head right off my shoulders.
Yet somehow it came easily. Maybe because I’d already learned about werewolves. Maybe because of the dream. For some reason, it just made sense. Gabriel is a dragon. It explains his eccentricities. Excuses his insanities. Not that it means I’m staying.
I’m not.
I mean, not without him…
My brain spins out on what it would take for me to stay with Gabriel after the forty days and forty nights have passed.
He’d have to show me more of himself. He’d have to give up control–be more of a free spirit like me. And I’d want more kisses.
Maybe that’s why I’m so excited about this Paris trip. I have a wanderlust that needs to be slaked. The fact that Gabriel suggested it spontaneously and then arranged it in a matter of minutes thrills me.
I mean, he does have a private jet. I don’t care about luxury, but the convenience is pretty cool.
I pull on a soft cropped sweater and a pair of Gucci jeans with high-heeled boots and a matching belt. I love clothes but haven’t worn full-on designer like this since my years as a model. It feels fun in a way it never did then.
I take my time in the bathroom, blowing my hair dry and applying makeup and then I come out, throw my arms wide and announce, “I’m ready.” I drop the cosmetic bag into the suitcase and zip it closed.
“You’re magnificent,” Gabriel murmurs, rising from where he was lounging on my bed and picking up the suitcase at the same time he holds out a hand.
I take his hand. My pulse picks up speed at his pleasure. We had a rocky start, but now that we’ve struck an accord, it feels like we’re dating. And I’m actually excited by my date, for the first time ever.
He finds a cashmere coat for me in the closet and wraps it around my shoulders, then carries the bag (even though it has wheels) and ushers me out of the room.
We travel in an elevator to some lower level–lower than the evil villain warehouse with the cage–and when we exit, we’re in some kind of giant hangar filled with rows and rows of luxury cars. Lamborghinis, Porsches, Teslas, a Bentley, a pearl gray Aston Martin.
Am I impressed? Okay, maybe a little. Only because they are beautiful and sexy. Not because a man with a big bank account turns me on.
Gabriel leads me to a Learjet where a uniformed pilot stands at the ready. They converse in Italian, and then we board the jet, and the pilot backs it out of the hangar.
“My mom would be so impressed,” I tell Gabriel when he shows me to my seat, and an attendant offers me a glass of champagne.
He reaches over to buckle my seatbelt like I’m a child. I would take offense, but after seeing how he melted down about me being in danger on the cliff wall, I understand how terrified he is of me getting hurt. “But not you?”
I shrug. “Money isn’t everything.”
“But it’s not something to disdain, is it, my treasure? Will you refuse the gifts I want to shower you with?”
I lift my chin. “I won’t trade my freedom for your gold.”
Gabriel studies me. “That is what happened with your mother.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I nod.
“What happened?”
I sigh. “The same thing happened over and over again. My mom would work hard to land a rich man. He would take us in. Provide things. My mother provided him with things. He would get controlling. Make demands. Eventually, things would blow up, and she’d be off looking for the new man.”
“You judge her for this.”
Gabriel’s statement takes my breath away. Not in a good way. More like a sucker punch. Am I judging my mom? I don’t think of it that way, but perhaps I am.
“I don’t want to be like her,” I say, but I sound a little defensive. I don’t think of myself as a judgmental person. I frown, considering my feelings toward my mom’s behavior a little more. “I guess…” I say slowly, “I guess I could always feel my mom’s fear. It’s like she was always scrambling for the money, even though we didn’t need that kind of luxury. There was always a whiff of desperation to her, and that’s what led her to accept these less than ideal relationships.”
Gabriel takes my hand as the jet starts down a runway. “She never saved any of the money? Invested it?” The jet lifts off the ground. I wonder if it feels unnatural for Gabriel to fly in a jet when he’s capable of flying with his own wings. Or maybe he enjoys flying, no matter how.