After savoring the pasta Lucien had sent over, May drifted off for a quick nap, her excitement and nerves keeping her dreams light and hazy. Her 3 p.m. alarm jolted her awake, and she leapt out of bed, buzzing with anticipation.
She showered, scrubbing and shaving every inch of her body until her skin was smooth and glowing. Then, reaching for her favorite cookie dough-scented body oil, she glazed herself from head to toe, the sweet, comforting aroma filling the room. She could practically hear her mother's voice reminding her, "When you look good, you feel good."
Her hair styled with just enough effort to look effortless, and she applied light makeup, focusing on accentuating her eyes. May was no pro with makeup, but she knew enough to bring out her best features, and tonight, she felt good—good enough to eat, she thought with a grin.
A few minutes before six, she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart raced as she peered through the peephole and saw Lucien, looking even more striking in an impeccably tailored suit. She opened the door, and his cologne—a blend of rich, smoky notes—wrapped around her, making her feel weak at the knees.
"You look ravishing, May. And you smell absolutely divine," Lucien murmured, his eyes traveling over her exposed legs before meeting her gaze.
She gave him a playful smile, letting her eyes linger on him in return. "You don't look so bad yourself, Lucien." She took his hand, feeling a spark as he gently guided her out the door.
They reached his sleek black Range Rover, and he opened the door for her, helping her gather her gown as she slipped inside. She felt his hand linger briefly on her arm, his gaze warm and lingering. "Thank you," she said softly, watching him walk around to his side.
As they drove, she noticed Lucien's gaze on her, an intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver up her spine. She smiled, curiosity dancing in her eyes. "So, do you have something in mind, Lucien? And, dare I ask, where are we headed?"
He adjusted his collar, a glint in his eye as he replied, "I'd rather keep that a surprise."
His Italian accent deepened as he added, "As for the second question, darling... I do have something on my mind. And trust me—it's dirty."
A blush crept up her cheeks, but she held her composure, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good," she replied, her voice teasing. "Because I happen to like dirty things, Mr. Romano."
Their eyes met, and the unspoken tension between them hung heavy in the air as the city lights flickered by.
