Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Jesus,” I laugh. “I seriously doubt St. Monarch’s has those kinds of services.”
She lets out a huff, pretending to be disappointed. “A girl can hope.”
The guards pile into the SUVs, and soon Abbie and I are gushing with happiness from being back in Geneva. We both love Switzerland with its snowy alps and picture-perfect cities and villages.
When we’re able to see St. Monarch’s from a distance, my stomach spins with excitement and nerves. I know the castle has been renovated, and seeing it standing proud at the top of a hill, I can’t wait to explore it.
We lose sight of the magnificent grounds when we drive up a road lined with trees, and a moment later, large imposing gates loom in front of us.
“Holy shit,” I gasp.
“You can say that again,” Abbie murmurs.
St. Monarch’s is more than a castle. I have no words for how grand and monumental the place is. It looks like a photo straight from Pinterest.
After the guards at the gate have checked our IDs and verified our details, the gates slowly swing open, and we’re driven onto the grounds.
“Oh, my God,” Abbie laughs. “I’m going to love it here.”
Perfectly manicured gardens line the sides of the driveway that leads to a magnificent fountain with a statue of two angels caught in a swordfight.
Everywhere there are guards dressed in black combat uniforms that are heavily armed.
The SUVs stop in front of the stairs leading to the entrance.
“Shit, it feels like we should’ve worn ballgowns,” Abbie jokes.
“Yeah.” I see a woman come out of the doors and point to her. “Nope, she’s wearing tights and a crop top. We’re good.”
“Damn, she’s gorgeous,” Abbie mentions.
“And probably deadly,” Elio adds. “You’re not here to make friends.”
“Ugh.” Abbie shoves the door open and climbs out.
I wait for Elio to open my door, and when I step out of the SUV, I glance over the grounds.
There’s so much space, I’m sure it’s easy to avoid any enemies. Lots of hiding places.
“Come, let's go,” Abbie calls. “I can’t wait to see our suites.”
Just as I join Abbie, four guards come out of the castle, followed by Carson Koslov, the director of St. Monarch’s.
“Welcome to St. Monarch’s. I’m Director Koslov.” Even though the man must be over fifty, he’s attractive and has a sharp gaze that settles on us. “My guards will show you to your suites, and I’d appreciate it if you could join my wife and I for dinner at seven in the dining hall.”
Abbie nods. “It would be our pleasure.”
“Thank you for having us,” I add quickly.
Director Koslov nods at us before he turns and leaves us with the four guards.
Elio comes to stand next to me, and when our luggage has been off-loaded, he says, “I’m staying in Geneva while you’re here. If anything happens, contact me, and I’ll come for you.”
“Thank you, but you can go home. Mr. Sartori has a whole army stationed at their vacation mansion.”
“That’s where I’ll be,” my bodyguard grumbles at me. “Call if anything happens.”
Just to appease him, I nod.
Finally, our personal guards climb back into the SUVs, and we watch them drive toward the gates.
“Jesus, I thought they’d never leave,” Abbie mutters, then she aims an excited smile at me. “We’re here, babe!”
We hug, and when the St. Monarch’s guards take our luggage inside, we follow them.
I have a feeling the next four years are going to be life-changing.
In a good way.
Chapter 6
Aurora
Holy. Shit.
Walking into Abbie’s suite, I’m struck speechless.
Presidential suites at the best hotels have nothing on this place.
“Yep,” Abbie says as she glances around the room, totally awestruck, “We’re in heaven.”
“Miss D’Angelo,” one of the guards says to get my attention. “You’re suite is next door.”
I look at Abbie. “I’ll be back.”
“Hurry,” she squeals.
I follow the guard next door and smile brightly when I see my suite has a different color scheme from Abbie’s. Where hers is bathed in pale purple and gold furnishings, mine is royal blue and silver.
The colors instantly make me think of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
Both suites have a fireplace, sofas to lounge on, eighty-five-inch TVs, an exquisite coffee table, and marble statues that remind me of Rome.
“Your keycard, Miss D’Angelo,” the guard says.
With a smile, I take it from him. “Thank you.”
As soon as I’m alone, I hurry to the bedroom and shriek when I see how gorgeous it is. A kingsized bed stands on a platform with three steps to the floor. The steps, the platform, and the moldings all have intricate classical patterns, lending an antique feel to all the luxury.
I love it.
God, do I love it.
The bedspread is to die for, the fabric softer than silk, and the pillows are plush. There’s a desk opposite the bed and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows.
Walking closer, my jaw practically drops to the floor as I stare at the gardens below. To the right of the grounds, I see a trail disappear beneath a canopy of trees, and to the left is a maze with tiny white flowers blossoming on the hedges.