Connor sat on the family plane and waited for Sam. He had to give her credit for her response for his last-minute invitation to Monaco. She rolled with the punches a lot easier now. Sure, she may have secretly flipped out, but her reply was fast, smooth and professional.

What do I need to bring? she’d asked.

He peered out of the Cessna 680 and caught sight of her being escorted by James. She ran surprisingly well in heels while James carried her leather duffel bag and white roller bag. Sam wore white linen pants and a matching breezy shirt with heavy, colorful beading at the neckline and oversized sunglasses.

She no longer looked like a hot girl he’d hired to play a certain part. Sam looked wholly natural.

“Hey,” she said when she entered, just slightly flustered. “I made it!” She smiled warmly at him and pushed her sunglasses up and back to act as a headband.

He appreciated that, her smile. Although he’d do the same if their roles were reversed, he realized. She didn’t have to, since there was nobody around who mattered. James tucked away her luggage and gave him a nod before he departed. The hired attendant briskly brought out a mimosa for her.

“So, why the sudden getaway?” she asked as she sat next to him and clinked glasses.

“Why not?” he asked. In reality, he figured he might as well make the most of the family plane before his rights to it were pulled. He still planned to leave the company. Connor just couldn’t deal with being made the model figurehead in lieu of an actual, relevant leader.

But why bypass the perks while they were still within reach?

As the plane took off, she gazed out the window at Reagan’s signature flight strip below. He felt the slightest pull at his chest. She looked like a kid in awe during her first flight. There was an innocence to her beauty he rarely noticed. Or maybe she’d just never let her guard down before. “You act like you’ve never been on a plane before,” he teased.

She blushed and looked away. “I didn’t realize private planes use major airports,” she said, and sipped her morning cocktail.

“Sometimes,” he said. “I prefer the services at major airports over the smaller ones. Even though, as you saw, even with the private parking facilities it can still be a bit of a pain to get here.”

“It was fine,” she said with a shy smile. “I’ve never been to Monaco. What’s it like?”

“It’s paradise,” he said simply. The sun was fully visible, and with its rise it felt like they floated through the incredible violet sky.

Remember the contract, he told himself repeatedly as he watched her finish the drink as she took in the morning. You promised yourself you wouldn’t make a move. Why spoil a good thing?

“You should get some sleep if you can,” he said. “As soon as we land, we’ll stop by the hotel to freshen up, then it’s off to a night out.”

“How long’s the flight?” she asked.

“About nine hours. You’re welcome to go stretch out in the back if you’d like.”

She glanced toward the back of the plane, where the otherwise twelve-seater had been converted into six seats to make room for two sprawling beds covered with fluffy white down comforters. “You think of everything,” she said softly.

“I can’t take credit for this,” he said. “This was all my father. Only the best,” he said. Even he heard the twinge of hate.

“Are you going to sleep?” she asked.

“Maybe later.”

After an hour, she got up and spread out on her side on top of the comforter. The attendant offered a silk eye mask, but she declined. Connor took another cocktail—this one a scotch since it was past noon in Monaco, after all—and tried to bury himself in the news. It didn’t work.

Eventually he went to the other bed himself. “Mask, sir?” the attendant asked.

“No, thank you,” he said. “Do you mind some privacy?”

Without a word, she went to the front of the plane, pulled shut the privacy curtain, and it suddenly felt like just the two of them.

Connor half-shuttered the windows to allow in just a wisp of light. In the soft glow, he lay down and stared at the roof. His father had asked to have “galaxies overhead” and that’s exactly what the creative team had done. Just a few feet above them, it was a virtual show.

Sam moaned lightly in her sleep, and he looked to her. God, she was beautiful, even as she slept. Her face was relaxed, lost in a dream. She was the kind of vulnerable you only saw in adults when they were asleep, and it made him feel protective of her. How could it be that he didn’t even know her just a few weeks ago? And now here they were.

He felt drowsiness as it washed over him and fell asleep facing her.

Connor awoke with a dry mouth as the pilot announced their landing. He moved quickly to her bed and shook her lightly. “Wake up,” he whispered. “You should see the landing.”

Her eyes snapped open, those gorgeous green eyes alert and excited. “We’re already here?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Oh my God,” she whispered as the plane descended into Monte Carlo. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” he asked.

She looked at him with big eyes. “Why the Monte Carlo in Vegas was designed like it is. It looks like it would fit in here perfectly. All white and regal.”

He laughed. “I guess I can see that. I’ve never stayed at that Monte Carlo. I’m usually a Bellagio or Caesar’s kind of guy.”

“I’ve never stayed there,” she said. “But I won twenty dollars with just a quarter in a slot machine there once.” Her eyes were glued to the white sandy beaches and turquoise waters as they neared the little airport. “What do they speak here? French?”

“Oui, tu as raison,” he said. His French was rusty, and he’d always struggled to place his Rs in the back of his throat. Still, he’d persisted. It was good for business—and great for turning on women.

“Remercier Dieu pendant quatre ans de français,” she replied.

He looked at her, impressed. There were so many things he didn’t know.

“Four years in college,” she said with a grin.

He’d instantly hardened when she’d turned, so naturally, and that native-sounding French poured out of her mouth. Don’t let this get to you, he reminded himself. Her excitement, how the language sounded on her tongue, the romance of being in Monte Carlo—it would be easy to get swept up in it. Remember that we’re going back. And the money that’s between us. It’s a business arrangement. That’s all.

“Thank you,” he told the attendant and pilot as they departed, palming both of them a generous tip.

“Just renewed your passport?” the customs attendant asked Sam.

“Oh, yeah,” she said.

“Nice picture,” the small man said. “Belle femme,” he told Connor.

Parked with the engine running just past the small booth was the cherry red Alfa Romeo Spider 1600 he’d rented.

“Oh wow,” she said as she traced her hand over the convertible. “A 1966?” she asked.

“Alright, what don’t you know?” he teased her, and nodded for the hired attendant to take their larger bags ahead to the house.

“Who doesn’t know that?” she asked. “Besides the fact that the Duetto is what Dustin Hoffmann drove in The Graduate.”

“Ah, Mrs. Robinson,” he said. “One of my first crushes.”

She looked at him with a raised brow.

“My father loved that movie,” he said. “Big surprise. You want to drive?” he asked, and surprised even himself.

Her eyes got big. “No!” she said. “I… I don’t like driving abroad. It makes me too nervous.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. The sun still lit up the sky, barely.

“Where are we staying?” she asked as she tied a silk scarf kept in her purse around her hair. She looked like a young Anne Bancroft, he realized. Save for those eyes that pulled everyone close.

“Hôtel Hermitage Monte-Carlo,” he told her. He was slightly ashamed by how poor his accent was compared to hers. That was a first. It had been a long time since he’d felt bested by anyone.

“Never heard of it,” she said. Sam’s hand soared just beyond the door as she let the wind carry her. “Not that I expected to,” she added.

“Well, it’s no Monte Carlo in Las Vegas, but it should do,” he told her. She slapped him lightly on the arm and laughed.

Sam took in the city with sheer wonder. He’d forgotten what that was like, to be so thrilled and awestruck at being somewhere new. To not feel like he had to act nonchalant and unimpressed with everything in life. Connor soaked it up happily and let himself experience the city through her eyes.

As they checked in, the man at the front desk eyed Sam without reservations. “Your, eh… sister?” he asked Connor. It seemed half in hope, and half in confusion that he’d booked a suite with two bedrooms.

“My fiancée,” he said quickly.

“But, monsieur, you have the Exclusive Room,” he said.

“Yes…”

“It has the, eh, two bedrooms? Are you expecting more guests?”

“No. We just like our space,” he said. Sam had wandered away slightly and stared up at the soaring glass dome ceiling supported by elegant white columns which featured swirls and lattice-like details.

“Yes, I understand,” the man said with a nod. “Pierre will escort you.”

“Pierre,” Connor whispered to Sam as they walked toward the private elevator. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

She rolled her eyes. “You caught me,” she said.

“I can see you really do make full use of your French,” he said.

As they crossed the foyer, a teenage boy on holiday with his parents meowed at Sam. She jumped and gave the kid a funny look. “What was that?” she asked Connor.

He laughed. “Meowing is the catcall in France. And, apparently, Monaco.”

“Well, that’s weird!” she said.

“Your suite,” Pierre said, as he threw open the double doors in a grand gesture.

“Oh, my…” Sam’s voice trailed off as she took in the incredible ocean views. “The beach is right there!” she said. Below them, the last of the setting sun was reflected in the waters.

“Would you like me to show you—” Pierre began, but Connor shook his head and handed him his tip.

“No need, I’m familiar with the suite,” he said.

“It’s incredible,” Sam whispered to him. She stood at the glass that overlooked the beach, and he came up behind her.

“Go get ready for dinner,” he said into her ear. “There are a few options beyond what James packed for you, waiting in your en suite.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, but turned to him with eyes filled with wonder.