Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
And he’s doing it for us.
What a gesture.
But his demeanour changes somehow when the sprawling modern villas disappear behind us and the heat and life of Cannes swallow us up in the cab. Heath loosens up and comes alive beside me, scoping out the view from the cab window like he’s a kid at a fairground.
“You alright?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I forgot how incredible the place is.”
“Good job you’re about to get a reminder then, isn’t it?”
He’s smiling when he looks at me.
“Yes. Maybe it is.”
Heath doesn’t look half as awkward or terrified as I expected him to when we pull up outside the restaurant – Café Belle Époque. It’s almost as though his public persona has taken control as he steps out of the cab and helps me up. But there’s more to his persona than the regalness of the perfect smile on his face, and his Count-like demeanour. He’s still got the regular, down to earth Heathy baby sparkle in his icy-blue eyes as he looks at me and Josh. The undertone of him sounds loud and clear to me as he presents the door to the restaurant.
“Let’s get dining,” he says.
I take Josh’s hand as the server shows us to our table, in the back corner of the eatery – making it clear that we are a couple out with a celebrity friend of ours, and nothing more. No dodgy business. No threesomes. No curvas out with their client.
People look at Heath as we walk along, sure, talking in hushed whispers as they gawp, but nobody jumps out with a squeal and a Count, I love you! Not like they would at a Nighttime Whispers convention or a night out in Camden.
We are sitting happily in a corner booth, sipping on champagne and perusing the menu when a figure steps up to us and clears his throat. I smile politely, having no idea who the hell the old guy is, but Heath clearly does. He leaps up from his seat and pulls the man into a hug with a Clément!
“I didn’t expect to see you still working here!” Heath says as he pulls away, but the man nods.
“Oui, oui. I have never left. I have been waiting for you. I thought that maybe my escargots de Bourgogne had scared you away.”
“No, never. They are delicious!”
The warmth in Heath’s eyes as he sits back down knocks the wind from my lungs. It’s weird, to see him so alive and buzzing outside of the villa walls. I squeeze Josh’s hand under the table, and his fingers grip mine in response – the silent gesture conveying unspoken words.
I’m so glad Heath came.
And I’m also so glad that Clément put in an appearance. The pair of them talked like true old friends.
Heath’s eyes look almost watery as he grins across at us, and then he laughs.
“Thank you,” he says. “For making me come. Tonight, not just in general.”
“We’re the ones who owe you, not the other way around. Cheers to us,” Josh says and raises his glass.
It’s a cheers from me, too. I’d give all the cheers in creation for moments like this. Amazing doesn’t even come close to cutting it.
Heath leans across the table towards us, his eyes full of delight.
“You must try the escargots de Bourgogne. They are out of this fucking world.”
“Can’t wait,” Josh says.
“Me, neither,” I add.
“Seriously, guys. Those snails are truly –” He does a chef’s kiss. “Magnifique! You are in for a treat.”
A waiter appears from nowhere.
“Your cocktails, monsieur.”
From the tray he’s holding in one palm, he places three huge bowl glasses on the table, filled with yellow liquid, and pineapple chunks, and what looks like gold flakes swirling about. They’re topped with crushed ice and a cherry.
“Merci,” Heath says and the waiter bows and walks away.
“Ordered in advance,” Heath says and picks up a glass, eyeing its contents. “It’s Krug champagne, limoncello, pineapple pieces, and they’re real gold flakes. It’s called Liquid Gold. Rather fitting, I thought. And rather special, since they’re five hundred euros a pop. Bottoms up!”
He takes a sip, so does Josh. And so do I.
And I get a tingle all the way up my spine as I savour the suited Heath Mason truly coming into himself. Magnifique kinda sums him up.
“Wow,” Josh says, “that’s really good shit.”
Heath chuckles. “I have to agree. Maybe we’ll just stick to these all night.”
“Honestly, Heath,” Josh says, “this is a real treat. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Heath says, clinking glasses. “This is just the start, my friends.” He turns to me with a grin. “Bottoms up, Ells. There’s lots more treats to come.”
“Cheers, my friend.” I lift my glass and take a sip.
Holy hell, there is so much I can’t wait for tonight.
The meal.
The magnifique snails.
The club.
The magnifique company.
And last but not least – the amended proposal…