“Where do you live?” he asked quietly.
“Right over there.” I pointed at the villa beside the one we were in.
His eyes widened slightly. “You’re joking.”
“Not joking.” I laughed. “Why would I be joking?”
“I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“Do you come around here often?” I asked.
He must know the princes. I’d never been home to experience these parties, but I’d heard enough rumors about them. The princes were a staple here every summer. It was their escape from the paparazzi and whatever else they were supposed to be doing. Etienne knew one of them. It was the reason we’d been invited to attend. The parties were notorious for being invite-only. Cellphones were taken at the door. Costumes were provided. Masks were always in place. Even though I’d spent little time inside, the debauchery the man beside me mentioned earlier wasn’t exaggerated. In the hour I’d been inside, I’d seen drugs passed around and taken, drinks constantly being poured and refilled, and a lot more than just dancing going on. Plus, the DJ was famous and outside of here we would have had to pay top dollar to see him spin. It wasn’t my crowd. I’d partied through high school and it had been fun until it wasn’t, so now I measured myself whenever I went places. I drank more water than alcohol and said no to every pill passed my way. I’d learned a hard lesson a year ago and wasn’t willing to go through that again.
“Often enough,” he said, ripping me from my thoughts.
“Etienne does as well. He’s friends with Prince Aramis.”
“Me too.” He grinned. “He’s great. Big on parties.”
“I’ve heard Prince Elias is even bigger on parties.”
“Really? I’m quite certain it’s the opposite.”
“Who knows?” I shrugged. “Where do you stay when you’re in town?”
“Who says I’m not from here?”
“No one is from here.” I laughed. “I mean, I am, and even I’m hesitant to claim that after being away so long. Besides, your French accent is too thick for you to be from here.”
“I live in Paris,” he said, smiling. “But, like you, my mother is from Spain. Barcelona to be exact.”
“And your father is French?”
“Yes.”
“Funny coincidence.”
“I’m not sure I believe in coincidences. We seem to have a lot in common.”
“Like being bored at the biggest party of the summer?”
“Maybe you should offer your party-planning services to the princes. They’d pay you well and if you think you can throw a better party . . . ”
“Not likely.” I looked back inside. “This is the ‘it’ DJ right now, and honestly, it is a great party. I’m just not feeling like myself tonight I guess.”
“And you have a flight tomorrow.”
“And that.”
“Spend the night with me.” He set a hand over mine.
My heart slammed into my chest. No one had ever asked me to have sex with them like that. Or like anything, for that matter. In my group of friends, I was the only eighteen-year-old going off to college who was still a virgin. I had no reason for it either. It just hadn’t happened for me.
“I understand if you don’t want to,” he said, taking his hand back.
I looked into his eyes again, the eyes I could barely see, from underneath a mask I was grateful for right now. I’d never thought about who I’d lose my virginity to. I was vehemently against having a serious boyfriend during college, so at this point, I kind of figured it would be some frat boy in North Carolina and I was okay with that option. Looking at this man right now, whom I didn’t even know the name of, I knew deep in my core I wanted it to be him.
“I want to.” I slid my hand over his and squeezed.
He took my hand in his and led me down the stairs on the side of the house, and then down another set. The villa was three stories, with windows that faced the view of the ocean behind. My father and his brother had built these villas with the full intention of renting them out to tourists. Instead, their renters had been royals, actors, models, and celebrities from all around the world. Our own house had never been rented out. When my parents weren’t there, they had it locked, regardless of how much money was offered for it. I was familiar with the layout and I knew he was leading me to the first floor, where there was a bedroom—the only bedroom away from the chaos upstairs. The only bedroom in which we’d have ultimate privacy. My pulse quickened as we reached the back door and he pulled out a key to open the room from the outside.
“I stay here when I’m in town,” he explained. “Most of us do, unless you sign up too late and you’re forced to stay in one of the other villas.”