“Is that a good thing?” I reply.
“Of course it is. Love is the best thing.”
Chapter Eight Alex
We wake at three in the morning to get ready for the train ride to Monaco. Our false passports were delivered to Victor last night. The photos on the passports were edited to make us look different. In my photo, I have blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned skin, and a bump on the bridge of my nose. In Daimon’s photo, his beard is gone and his eyes are brown. But I can’t help but laugh at his hair.
“That’s a good look for you,” I say, grabbing the shaving brush from the bathroom counter.
He glances at his reflection in the mirror before he takes a seat on the toilet and closes his eyes as he leans his head back. “Don’t get too excited. You can’t pull it during sex or you’ll blow our cover.”
His passport photo shows him with blonde hair slicked back and secured in a ponytail at his nape.
I dip the shaving brush in the cream and swirl it over his jaw creating a rich lather. “Are you planning to have sex with me in this disguise?”
“I have many plans for you. Would you like me to recount them aloud?”
Once his face is all lathered up, I put down the brush and grab the straight razor. I’ve never shaved a man’s face, but it can’t be that hard. And the fact that Daimon trusts me to press a razor against his jugular gets me excited.
I lift my leg and rest my foot on the toilet seat between his legs, then I lean forward and begin shaving the left side of his jaw first. The pain in my stab wound is barely noticeable. But my hand is shaking, until I lay it flush against his skin.
“Yes, please tell me what you plan to do to me when this is all over,” I murmur, dragging the razor in a smooth downward motion.
The rasp of the blade on his skin is exhilarating. I dip the razor into a cup of hot water and Daimon seizes the opportunity to speak.
“First, I’m going to take you to the safe house in Vienna.”
I swipe the blade over his cheek. “Mm-hmm…”
“Then I’m going to lay you on the first surface I can find. A floor, a counter, a piano…”
“A piano?”
“Yes, let’s go with a grand piano.”
I chuckle as I push his head back so I can shave under his jaw. “What tune are we going to play?”
His hand reaches up, landing on the inside of my ankle where my foot rests between his legs. “I’m going to bend you over those ivory keys and start off slowly, like an adagio symphony. I’ll undress you slowly.”
I smile as his fingers trace the inside of my leg, moving up toward my thigh. “Then what?”
“Then, I’ll turn you around and kiss you. But it won’t be just any kiss. It will be the kind of kiss that makes your body ache with so much longing that you won’t be able to breathe.”
I swallow hard as I press the blade against the right side of his face. “Sounds like quite a kiss.”
“Oh, it will be. You’ll be dripping wet before I even touch your body.” His hand lands on the inside of my thigh and my clit throbs with anticipation. “Then, I’ll lift you onto the back of that grand piano and kiss your gorgeous legs.”
His fingers brush the edge of my panties and I suck in a sharp breath as I try to concentrate on the blade in my hand.
“Then what?” I whisper.
“Then, I’ll put my mouth on your hot, aching pussy.”
He slips his fingers underneath the cotton fabric and easily finds my clit. I quickly pull the blade away from his neck, whimpering as I grab his shoulder with my other hand.
“Then, I’ll suck on your hard little clit while my fingers slide inside you. You’re so wet.”
His finger slides inside me as his thumb caresses my clit. I drop the blade onto the counter so I can hold onto his shoulders with both my hands.
“I’ll lick your pussy up and down and all around, spreading your flesh to get to the most sensitive spot.” He moves his thumb a bit to the right, instantly finding the spot he speaks of, and my knees weaken. “I’ll savor you slowly. You can’t rush perfection.”
He massages my clit gently, but I soon find myself collapsed on his lap, still twitching with orgasm. My arms are draped around his solid neck and my head rests on his shoulder.
“Then, your body will explode with ecstasy. And I’ll drink from you, savoring every last drop of your sweet essence.”
“Oh, God. Can we just skip the gala and go straight to that?”
He chuckles and softly swats my ass. “Get up and finish shaving me so I can dye your hair.”
I laugh. “Give me a minute. You don’t want me to shave you while I’m still trembling with lust, do you?”
He nuzzles his face into my neck and kisses me softly. “You should know by now, chérie. I never shy away from danger.”
The train ride from Nice to the Monte Carlo station takes just eighteen minutes and a few euros, but it’s enough to get my pulse racing. I’m going to meet my biological mother. The first person to judge me before ever getting to know me.
A sleek, black Mercedes is waiting for us outside the station. It quickly whisks us away to the Sunset Lounge at the Fairmont Hotel; ground zero for Billionaire Club Formula One Gala. The car drops us off at the steps of the hotel where a red carpet has been set up for the guests to enter.
A gentleman in a tuxedo opens our door and offers me his hand. I try to remember to take slow, steady breaths as I allow him to help me out of the car. I smooth down my black skin-tight dress, just to have something to do because I’m feeling completely out of my element. Daimon places his hand on my arm and I flinch a little, then I flash him a tight smile as he leads me toward the red carpeted steps.
“Oh, my God. That’s Beyonce and Jay-Z,” I whisper to Daimon out of the corner of my mouth as we climb the steps behind the power couple.
“Oh, my goodness. Can you get their autograph for me?” I shove my elbow into his side and he laughs. “Ah, chérie. They are human just like you. Only you are much more beautiful and skilled with your hands.”
He waggles his eyebrows at me and I try not to laugh at his fake blonde ponytail hairdo. “Oh, stop it.”
The prosthetic bump on my nose is itching, but I have to resist scratching or I’ll scrape off the makeup and glue holding it in place. Since Daimon never allows himself to be photographed, the only person who can describe him is the man he carjacked in the El Medano beach parking lot on Tenerife island. That man saw Daimon when he had blue eyes, dark hair, and a full beard. Which means Daimon doesn’t need to wear a prosthetic nose to further disguise himself. I, on the other hand, can’t rely on a simple hair and eye color change. The key to a good disguise, according to Daimon, is to change at least three aspects of your appearance.
At the entrance to the hotel, the door man asks us where we’re headed. Daimon responds, in French, that we are going to the Sunset Lounge. The squat man with the wide neck responds by nodding over his shoulder for us to proceed.
We enter the hotel and head in the direction of the club. As we walk arm-in-arm, Madonna walks past us with another woman and two security guards toward the hotel entrance. I’m not sure why being near so many celebrities should make me nervous. Maybe it’s my days of worshipping the television in the basement that programmed me to feel this way. Or maybe I’m just intimidated because high-profile people come with high-profile security teams.
Can we really pull this off? If Daimon thinks we can, I trust him.
I have to trust him.
When we reach the Sunset Lounge, there’s a short line of five people waiting to get checked by security. Oh, shit. Is that the Prince of Wales?
Daimon grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Do you know what my grade school teacher used to say about people who only care about physical beauty?” I look up at him and he smiles. “Nothing has caused more foolishness in this world than the pursuit of beauty. It’s foolish to pursue something that is everywhere.”