by Holly Rayner
Thankfully, a pipe burst in one of the rooms on the fifth floor, so I was called down to speak with the guests and arrange maintenance and generally be around to calm everyone down. It was a wonderful distraction.
A young couple in town for the races had come back to their room after a day at the beach and found their luggage sunk in three inches of water. It had also dripped through the floor to the room below, where a woman and her elderly mother were staying. Everyone received complimentary dry cleaning, upgraded rooms, and unlimited room service. In the end, the man said he was glad the pipe had burst, which was how I knew I’d done my job.
When that was finished, my phone rang.
“Hey, do you want to grab dinner?”
I could hear the wind whipping in the background of the call and knew Alain was driving too fast with the top of the car down. He had so many speeding tickets on his record, it was a wonder he was still allowed to drive.
“I can’t. I already have plans,” I said.
“With who? I’m your only friend.” He cackled.
“Ashlynn just got into town.”
“Oh, yeah. The American. I still can’t believe you did that.”
“All I did was book entertainment for the race,” I said.
“The race is the entertainment, Julien! We’ve never had a singer before.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I argued.
As soon as I’d seen Ashlynn perform, I’d called the other members of the organizational committee and put forth the idea of providing alternate entertainment. Everyone had been hesitant at first, but they’d quickly gotten on board when I’d said I would foot the bill.
“I hope she’s worth it. I don’t understand what’s so wrong with the girls here—everyone practically worships you. Do you know what I’d give to have your kind of luck with the ladies?”
Alain muttered something under his breath that I was pretty sure I didn’t want to understand.
“I like Ashlynn,” I said.
“Just like you’ve liked hundreds of girls before her.” He snorted. “When you’re done with Ashlynn, make sure to give me a call before she heads back to the States. I’d like to take her out, if you know what I mean.”
I never felt like I’d been particularly flippant with women. I went on a lot of dates, sure, but I didn’t take an inordinate number of women home with me. Somehow, though, I’d earned a reputation as an incorrigible playboy, and I wasn’t sure how to break people of the notion. It wasn’t enough to come right out and say it. Alain would only roll his eyes and make another crude joke, which I didn’t particularly want to hear. No, the only solution was to prove it to him. To everyone.
“I brought her here to sing,” I said. “If she decides she likes you better, then feel free to take her out. In the meantime, I need to go get ready.”
I hung up on him before he could say anything else. It felt like a dramatic move, but I knew Alain was probably laughing. It was hard to hurt his feelings. Sometimes, I wondered whether he had any at all.
I traded my navy blue suit for a gray one and then—worried Ashlynn would think it was pretentious of me to change into a different suit from the one I’d been wearing when I’d seen her only a few hours before—put the blue one back on, but ditched the jacket. I rolled the sleeves of my white button-down up to my elbows, unrolled them, and then re-rolled them.
I felt like a kid going to his first high school dance rather than a grown man taking out a woman who had already flown all the way across the world for him. Well, for the job.
Ashlynn hadn’t come to Monaco for me. She’d come for the money. But either way, she was here, a few floors below me, and I needed to get myself together and go pick her up. Settling on rolled sleeves, I took one last swish of mouthwash and then left before I could make any more sudden outfit changes.
At seven o’clock on the dot, I was standing outside Ashlynn’s door. She answered after one knock, stepping into the hallway in a black sleeveless dress that hugged her hips and flared out mid-thigh. Her hair was still twisted on top of her head, but rather than the messy bun she’d been wearing before, the strands were now shiny and sleek.
“You look stunning,” I said, trying to strike the perfect balance between business associate and hopeful suitor.
Her lips pursed in a smile and she glanced at the floor. “You look great, too.”
Ashlynn was quiet as we moved down the hallway towards the elevators, and no matter how often I looked over at her, she kept her eyes straight ahead or on the floor. Her nerves were palpable, and it was nice to know I wasn’t alone in feeling jittery.
When we reached the lobby, Ashlynn turned to me. “I thought the hotel had a restaurant.”
“It does,” I said. “A great restaurant. I’d highly recommend it.”
“Are we not going there?”
I shook my head. “I thought I’d give you your first look at Monte Carlo, if you don’t mind.”
Her eyes widened, as though she’d just realized something, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.”
The restaurant I’d selected sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. It was one of the most romantic places I’d ever been. The roads getting there were narrow and tight, though, so I asked Gérard to take us in the town car, rather than the limousine.
As we drove through the city, I pointed out the top of the Prince’s Palace through the window and places where the roads had been blocked off for the race the next day. I wanted to ask her a million questions, get to know her, but with Ashlynn taking it all in with wide-eyed wonder, I decided to save the small talk for dinner.
“The roads will get a little narrow as we move up the cliff. But don’t worry, Gérard has driven this route plenty of times.”
“Up the cliff?” Ashlynn turned away from the window for the first time, her lower lip pulled into her mouth.
I reached out and patted her hand where it sat on the leather between us. “It’s a small cliff, if that helps.”
“Is there such a thing?” she asked, nervous laughter bubbling out of her.
“I can handle these roads,” Gérard barked from the front.
The old man had worked for me for years, and he didn’t appreciate taking directions or having his skills called into question. Now that Ashlynn had doubted him for even a second, I knew Gérard would take the turns at twice his normal speed to prove a point.
“No one back here doubts you, Gérard,” I said, a warning in my tone.
He made eye contact with me in the rear-view mirror and I would have sworn I saw him wink.
The roads wound around the rocks, occasionally getting close to the edge, the Mediterranean gleaming blue below. I pointed out a cruise ship in the harbor, but Ashlynn refused to look, nodding as she stared directly into the craggy rock face just outside her window. It appeared as though she was afraid of heights, and I made it a point to remember to request a table inside the restaurant, rather than on the outdoor terrace that looked over the side of the cliff.
When Gérard pulled along the road in front of the restaurant, Ashlynn nearly jumped out, taking deep breaths as she planted her feet firmly on the concrete.
“I hope Gérard hasn’t traumatized you,” I said. “No one has driven off the side of this cliff in years.”
“I’m fine,” Ashlynn said, waving me away and smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. I could tell in her eyes that she wasn’t, but I didn’t want to press it.
The restaurant was dark, lit only by the candles on the tables, and I pressed a hand to Ashlynn’s lower back as we followed the hostess through the maze of small tables at which sat gorgeous, glamorous couples. We sat in a quiet corner, farthest from the string quartet playing at the front.
“This place is beautiful,” Ashlynn said, folding a cloth napkin in her lap.
“It’s a hidden gem,” I said. “It’s never as busy as I think it should be. The atmosphere is wonderful, and the food is even better,
if you can believe it.”
“So, you come here often?” she asked.
I could hear the question hiding beneath her words. She wanted to know how many women I’d brought here before her. The answer was many. The restaurant on the cliffside was one of my favorite date spots, if only because it was away from the beaten path and that almost guaranteed I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew personally.
I was saved from answering by the arrival of our waitress. She had cherry red lips and long blond hair that hung to her waist. She looked like a cartoon princess. She smiled at Ashlynn, but when her eyes landed on me, her smile faltered, her lips parting in shock.
After a long moment of intent staring, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you are Julien Garnier, no? The racer?”
I nodded, glad the woman was speaking French. I hadn’t exactly told Ashlynn the entirety of my identity yet. She knew I helped organize the race and had learned today about my hotel, but she didn’t yet know me as a race car driver. As someone who had sponsorships with athletic companies around the world. It felt nice to be with someone who didn’t already know my reputation.
Noting my cold response, the waitress nodded and said nothing else. If she kept that up, she would find herself with a very nice tip at the end of the meal. I ordered oysters with mignonette as an appetizer and two glasses of the chef-paired wine.
“Did that woman know you?” Ashlynn asked when the waitress left. “It sounded like she said your name.”
“I’m recognized occasionally,” I said. “It’s a small town, after all.”
In truth, I was recognized almost everywhere I went. I wasn’t a celebrity by any means, but people knew my face, and often wanted me to stop and pose for selfies or sign autographs. I usually tried to get away with a smile and a quick wave, but sometimes, I couldn’t avoid stopping.
“Your hotel is beautiful,” she said. “I’m sure it draws a lot of tourists.”
“It’s one of my better performing resort properties,” I said, watching her reaction in my peripheral vision.
“One of?” She raised her eyebrows. “You have more than one?”
“Three, actually.”
She tilted her head to the side, smiling at me. “How are you just now mentioning this?”
“We haven’t known one another very long. It didn’t come up in conversation.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I feel like this is something most people would mention straight away. Giving your job description is one of the first things that people say about themselves when meeting someone new.”
“Is it?” I wrinkled my forehead in faux confusion. “I wasn’t aware.”
“Well, now you are,” Ashlynn said. “Do you own any other businesses I should be made aware of?”
I took a long sip of my wine and then set down the glass. “Actually…”
“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “It can’t be possible for one man to be so busy. You can’t possibly manage anything else.”
“I build yachts,” I said with a shrug, trying to make it sound like less of a big deal than it was. “I started the company in my twenties, and it took off. It was my first business, and the one that led to all the others. My customers were all ridiculously wealthy businessmen, and I picked up on a few tips and tricks for how to invest my money. That’s how I came to be involved with the luxury resort properties. Now, I own three of those, as well.”
“You are an impressive man, Julien,” she said. “Suddenly, my career feels inadequate.”
“No, Ashlynn. You are the furthest thing from inadequate. You are marvelous,” I said, meaning every word.
“You are too kind. And have been from the beginning,” she said, her face turned away from me, but her eyes seeking me out. “I think my entire family is wondering if I’ve been brought to Monte Carlo by mistake.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true. I saw your talent in a second, and they’ve had a lifetime to soak it in.”
“Most people aren’t as taken with my singing as you,” she said.
I shook my head, dismissing every word she said. “Most people probably aren’t as outspoken about their feelings as I am. I don’t believe it would be possible for anyone to not be taken with you immediately, Ashlynn Reed.”
Her small chin wiggled slightly, as if she were chewing on what to say next, and then she leaned forward even further, though the band was on a five-minute break.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“To the restaurant, or Monaco?”
“Both,” she answered without hesitation.
I wasn’t sure how to answer the question. If I was honest, my answer could scare her off. At the same time, I didn’t want to muddy my intentions.
She took a deep breath in and continued. “I’d like to know where to set my expectations, if you understand my meaning.”
I nodded once. I understood perfectly, and it gave me hope.
“Your singing voice is beautiful, as I think I mentioned just a couple of times,” I said with a grin. “And I think your performance would make a beautiful addition to the race festivities. However,” I paused, wanting to say everything perfectly.
“However?” she prodded, leaning forward onto her elbows, her shoulders scrunched around her ears.
“However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in you. Just you,” I clarified. “Not your voice or your talent. I’d like to get to know you.”
Her entire body relaxed, shoulders easing away from her ears, hands falling into her lap. For the first time since we’d left the hotel, she looked comfortable.
“So, how are you connected to the races?” she asked. “You’re busy enough running your multitude of businesses, I’d assume. So why take on an organizing role in the race?”
“Is that question your way of saying you’d like to get to know me, as well?” I asked, teasing her.
Truthfully, I just appreciated that she was asking me about something other than how many zeroes were at the end of my paycheck. She was thinking about my time and energy, the work I put in to my businesses, and that was more interest than most women I’d been with had ever shown. They only cared what my hard work could do for them.
Ashlynn smiled at me but said nothing.
I sighed, realizing the time had come for me to bear all.
“My businesses keep me quite busy throughout the year, but they are all big enough now that I don’t have a lot to do with the day-to-day operations. This means I have time for a few hobbies.”
“Hobbies like organizing races?” she asked with a laugh. “My hobbies involve watching movies and taking spin classes.”
“I don’t so much organize the race as…participate in it,” I said.
Her brow furrowed.
“I’m a racer,” I said. “I compete in the FP100 every year.”
Ashlynn stared at me for a few seconds, and then pushed herself away from the table, crossing her legs. “Okay, is there anything you don’t do?”
I laughed. “What does that mean?”
“You aren’t real. It’s not possible for someone like you to exist. You’re an incredible businessman and a sports star. You like opera and speak multiple languages. Then, on top of all of that, you are absolutely gorgeous and French. It isn’t fair!”
Ashlynn leaned back in her chair and exhaled, a strand of hair near her temple lifting in the breeze. She seemed winded from her rant, and her frustration gave her a peachy kind of glow. But as the seconds passed, she shifted nervously in her seat and looked at the floor, the shyness I’d noticed as we’d left the hotel creeping back in.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I asked. “It sounded like a compliment to me.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but her lips lifted into a smile. “Did I mention your confidence? Because it’s off the charts, too.”
“See, now that is starting to feel a bit like an insult,” I said.
She laughed, and it was beautiful.
More melodic than the most talented orchestra.
“Confidence isn’t a bad thing, as long as you have the goods to back it up.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because I was about to inform you that not only do I race in the FP100, but I’ve won it for the last three years. And tomorrow will make it four.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “And you’re positive?”
“Absolutely,” I said, finishing the rest of my wine in one swallow.
“How can you be so sure?”
I leaned close to her, whispering so she had to lean in, as well. Her eyes were on my lips, and I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was.
“The night before my first race, I was a nervous wreck. I paced the carpet bare and thought I was going to tear my hair out. Unable to sleep, I went out for a walk. I was walking through the city center, past bars full of drunks and clubs with pulsing music. All of it—the laughing and shouting and persistent beats—left me nauseous. I was convinced there was nothing that could sooth my nerves.
“Then, I stumbled into an open cobblestone square. Couples were sitting on the old wooden benches and a woman was positioned directly in the center, singing opera. She didn’t have a microphone or a speaker. She was using the natural acoustics of the buildings around her. Her voice was rich and full. It settled over my skin like a warm blanket and I sat down and listened to her sing until the square was empty and she packed up to go. When I left, I felt light. Lighter than I’d felt all day. And the next day, I won my race.”
I had never been so open with anyone before. In fact, I’d never told anyone the story about the opera singer. Sharing it felt intimate.
“That’s a wonderful story,” Ashlynn said. “But how will that help you win tomorrow?”
“The story won’t,” I said, swirling my finger through the air before landing it perfectly on the tip of her nose. “But you will.”
She looked at me in surprise. “Me? How?”
“The first time I heard you sing, I felt exactly the same way I had in that square four years ago. Your voice soothed me. So, listening to you before the race tomorrow is going to help me win. You, Ashlynn Reed, will be my good luck charm.”
