I had never known the silence inside a car could be so deafening. My ears rang. My heart pounded irregularly. I could practically hear the blood rush between my ears.

This morning I was working on my dissertation. I used notecards to sort the broader topics. They were scattered on the floor. I wore pajama pants and a tank top. My hair was twirled in a bun with a pencil crammed in the middle to hold the heaviest pieces in place.

Brooklyn walked in, carrying a carton of lo mein noodles. “You have destroyed our living room.”

“I know.” I sighed. “I’ll clean it up after I get the rest of this section nailed down.”

“Let’s go get coffee,” she suggested.

“I can’t. I don’t have time. Look at this disaster.” I covered my eyes with my palms.

She tugged on my arm. “The notecards will be here when we get back. You need some fresh air. And preferably a change of clothes that isn’t pajamas or yoga pants.” She looked over my wardrobe disapprovingly.

“Again. I don’t have time for real clothes. I’m in the middle of the most critical paper of my life.”

I stumbled to my feet and stepped over the circle of index cards.

“I know. I know. But caffeine will put some of that in perspective.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and shuttled me to my room where I shrugged off the pjs and changed into a cute mini skirt.

I pulled the pencil from the bun and let my hair fall around my shoulders.

I met Brooklyn at the door. “Better?”

“God, yes. You look like a human girl,” she teased.

I rolled my eyes. “One quick coffee. That’s it.”

“Got it.”

I had moved to Galona almost a year ago. The country was beautiful. An island the size of Connecticut floating off the western coast of France and just to the north of Spain. It was quintessential Europe. The food was incredible. The art. The music. The fashion. And my God, the wine was amazing. Only, I didn’t get to see much of it. I spent most of my time in the library at Freychon’s Literary Conservatory.

Brooklyn, on the other hand, had dropped out of the program.

We sat outside under the shade of a café umbrella and sipped espressos.

“How’s the job hunt going?” I prodded.

She shrugged. “I don’t think my skill set is appreciated here.”

“Oh, really?” I laughed. “Employers aren’t jumping at the opportunity to hire an almost-expert of one specific classical poem that no one has ever heard of? You’re kidding.”

“I know! I’m just so misunderstood.” She let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes.

“You could wait tables if you had to. Anyone can do that.”

Her cup clinked against the saucer. “I’d rather not. I’m looking for something exciting. Something more challenging than taking cappuccino orders.”

We had discussed this a few times. At some point, she was going to run out of money. “If you take a part-time job you might hear about another job. You could try it.”

“But this is Galona. I want an adventure. A mindless job to pay the rent is exactly what’s waiting for me back in the States. This is my chance to forget responsibility for a while. To make some real memories.”

Before I could respond, something blocked the blaring sun and our table darkened with shade. I looked up to see a man in a suit standing inches from my chair.

“Hi.” Brooklyn and I smiled. I waited for him to continue his walk, but he pulled his sunglasses to the brim of his nose and pushed them firmly in place again.

He nodded. “Are you two here alone?” he spoke with a clipped French accent.

“Yes.” Brooklyn grinned.

I kicked her under the table.

“I have an invitation for you.”

“What sort of invitation?” I asked.

We were alone on the sidewalk. He spoke cautiously.

“It is an exclusive invitation.”

Brooklyn looked at me. I had no idea what that look meant. Did she understand his secret code?

“Please tell me it’s what I think it is.” She looked up at the well-dressed man.

One corner of his lips turned up. “Mademoiselle, it is a high honor to be invited. However, you and your friend must complete a brief interview.”

“Interview?” I looked between them. What was this?

“Yes. Yes, we’ll do it.”

He retrieved a slip of paper from his jacket and placed it on the table. “The instructions are listed. Good luck.”

He nodded and strolled toward the flower shop. The florist watered a basket of sunflowers out front.

“Brooklyn, what in the hell was that about?”

She flipped the card over. “Holy shit, Molly. We just got two tickets into The Titan.”

“The what?”

“I thought it was real, but I never was sure until now. But, of my God. It’s real. It’s real. And we’re going.”

“You’re going to have to give me some information. Some weird random guy stops by and we’re suddenly going to a club I’ve never heard of?”

She read the details on the card. “Ok. We have just enough time to get ready before we need to be there. It looks like the interview might take a few hours.”

“What interview?”

She finished her espresso. She was practically buzzing from caffeine and excitement. “Haven’t you ever had one of those fantasies where you thought if you could just meet Harry Chadsworth or run into Michael Stone even if it was only one night, you’d do it? You’d hook up? You’d dance? You’d do whatever he wanted, right?”

I laughed. “They are Hollywood actors and I doubt they are in Freychon right now. Besides isn’t Harry engaged?” I was clueless about pop culture at this point. I only had time for my dissertation.

“Forget Harry. He’s just an example. But I heard about The Titan. It’s where that can happen.”

“Where what can happen?” I eyed her.

“Where you can have your famous fantasy.”

“That’s absurd. They are fantasies for a reason. They aren’t obtainable.”

She shook her head. “No. There’s a club. It’s here. It’s in Freychon. And for one night we get one of those fantasies.”

“What are you saying?”

She leaned across the table. “I’m saying if you want to fuck the prince or the guy on the cover of GQ, tonight is your chance.”

“No way.” I continued to shake my head, not believing a word she said.

“It’s one night. No strings attached. The ultimate fantasy. This is life-changing, Molly.”

I folded my arms. “It’s insane.”

She looked over her shoulder, but the suited man was long gone by now. “He chose us. We might not pass the interview. But if we don’t go, we won’t know.”

“Why would I even consider something like this?”

“Come on, it’s been on my Galona bucket list ever since I heard about it. I just didn’t know if it was real. You have to do it with me. Think of the memory this night will give you. For the rest of your life you’ll be able to say you slept with a billionaire. And you got every fantasy you ever wanted. They have the money to make it happen. You’ll never see him again. He’ll never see you. Just a night of off the charts sex with an A-list celebrity. Doesn’t that interest you just a little bit?” She pinched her fingers together.

“No one would ever know?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

I twisted my lips together. “And we might not even make it through the interview process?”

“Right. I’m sure it’s intense. But we have no way of knowing if we don’t at least try.”

She held up the card. “Come on. You need a night to let loose. One night to leave the post-its and note cards and have fun with a hot guy.”

I sighed. It sounded more luxurious than a bubble bath. It also seemed impossible. There was no way I’d make it through the interview.

“Fine. But I’m just going to check the place out. And make sure you haven’t been duped into some scam.”

Brooklyn squealed. “Yes! This is going to be amazing.”

That was this morning.

It seemed like days had passed since I made the decision to walk to The Titan.

“I will not ask again.” The king’s voice was clipped.

His fingers lingered on my skin, exploring with possessive pressure.

There was something predatory in his stare. An iciness in his tone that made me shiver. But I wasn’t afraid. I was drawn to him when I should have been cautious. I was attracted to his high cheek bones and dark eyes when I should have been questioning my judgement. I was falling for the heat in his fingertips when I should have been pushing his hands away.

My eyes locked on his. “I want my fantasy,” I answered.