Meet Me In Monaco: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Meet Me In Monaco

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  MEET ME IN MONACO

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 237

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2021 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  MEET ME IN MONACO

  I don’t see her at first but when I collide with her I know she was meant to be mine.

  She’s a real woman, unlike the stick-thin models who walk around Monaco most of the time, with curves in all the right places.

  I've never found a woman before who tempted me enough to distract me. Women don't affect me the way that she does. But one look at her lets me know I’m in trouble.

  There’s no way this curvy young goddess is her alone. When I hear her say “Dad” I know she’s here with her father.

  I have always been a successful man. Luck never came into it. I worked hard, and smart until I had everything I needed. Or I thought I did until I meet her.

  I can’t help being drawn in by her and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her disappear from my sight.

  There are just the small problems of the fact that she’s her only for the week and she’s here with her father.

  I have to say I feel like the luckiest man on earth now because I’ve found my one. And there’s no way I’m letting her go without a fight.

  *Meet Me In Monaco is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Nico

  I walk along Avenue J. F. Kennedy, making my way towards my boat, thinking about taking her out on the water for the afternoon. Looking out at the water, trying to assess the stillness of the sea, making sure the conditions are good, and thinking about what kind of meal I will take with me.

  After a long business meeting, there’s nothing better than taking the rest of the day off.

  That’s why I’m not looking where I’m going when I literally walk into her.

  “Oh!” she exclaims, her voice soft and light, and I instinctively put my arms out to steady her. I grab onto her elbows, stepping back as I hold her firmly upright, making sure I haven’t set her off balance.

  I can still feel the imprint of her body against my chest, and a tingle runs through my hands where they connect to her skin. It’s enough to make me stop and look at her, an apology forming on my lips.

  And I stop, struck dumb by her.

  The first thing I see is her eyes, big and blue, so wide I can hardly believe it. They’re set into a dainty, round face and framed by long blonde hair. The arms I’m still gripping are not so thin and weak I’m afraid to snap them. She feels like a real woman, unlike the models who walk around here most of the time. Like she actually eats three meals a day.

  I find my eyes traveling down her body, over a full chest and wide hips that make me want to grab hold of them and pull her closer. She’s wearing a white sundress to mid-calf, modest and yet so alluring, perfectly flattering to her curves. The lacy embroidered pattern at the hem on the neck, arms, and calves offers a further glimpse of skin through the fabric, and I think each line of it might be imprinted forever on my brain.

  “Sorry about that,” I say, at last, finding my voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Oh,” she blushes, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. No harm done.” Her accent is American, which instantly intrigues me but also sends a jolt of fear down my spine. Either she’s wealthy enough to live here, and I’ve never seen her before, which seems unlikely or she’s a tourist. Which means she’s not here permanently, and I will never see her again.

  Or there is always the third, and perhaps more awful option, that she’s married to a man who lives here, and he has only just brought his new bride back home.

  But why would that be so awful? I’m getting ahead of myself – so unlike me – normally these women can never turn my head…

  “Honey, are you alright?”

  The male voice interrupts my thoughts, and I instinctively step back as the man comes forward. I release her elbows reluctantly, seeing that she no longer needs my support and besides, he’s putting an arm to the back of her shoulder, checking on her.

  Damn. I was right. I didn’t want to be. But, of course, a gorgeous young thing like this would not be here unaccompanied. Of course, some middle-aged man who drives a Ferrari has swept her off her feet.

  “Yes,” she says, her cheeks still infused with the most enchanting pink blush. “No harm done. Actually, it was probably my fault. I was too busy looking at this map.”

  I look down and realize that she is, indeed, holding a map. The cheap kind that are usually printed by hotels to allow their visitors to find their way around. Monuments are always represented too large by cartoon drawings, and side streets are missed off, and it’s almost impossible to actually get any use out of them.

  So, they are tourists, after all.

  “If we could just find this darn place,” the man says, shaking his head. I look up at him, taking him in. Now that I look closely, I can see, the clothes he’s wearing are not the kind of thing a resident would wear. His watch is barely worth anything, just some small-brand smartwatch with a rubber strap that will probably disintegrate in the space of months. No, he’s no wealthy resident.

  This means the absolute worst-case scenario, she is both married and only here for the moment. It could not be any worse.

  “Sorry, Dad,” she sighs. “I just don’t think this map is very good.”

  Wait – Dad?

  I look between them, my gaze shooting from one to the other. His nose, the same as her
s. His eyes and hair are brown, but I think I can see something of him in the shape of her chin. And they’re around the same height.

  He’s her father.

  “Are you looking for something?” I ask, seizing my chance. “I’m a local. I can help, if you need it.”

  There’s no way in hell I’m letting her disappear from my sight so quickly. I need to figure out the real story here and stop relying on assumptions because if there is any chance she might be here for longer…

  I think I’m going to have to take it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Liliana

  I turn in a circle, studying the map and trying to make some sense of the street signs, figuring out if I’ve got the whole thing wrong. Surely, the café was somewhere around here, but I don’t even see–

  I collide right into someone, letting out a gasp of surprise as my face is implanted right into someone’s chest. Hands grab my elbows, holding me steady as the owner of both the chest and the hands’ steps back.

  I look up at him and find my voice is entirely gone.

  He’s tall and strong, with broad shoulders encased in a pale blue linen shirt that seems to stretch at the seams as he holds me still. His dark hair is swept back from his eyes, which are a grey color that puts me in mind of the sea, sharp and piercing. He has the chiseled features of a model, and even the tailored black slacks he’s wearing seem to hint at well-muscled legs beneath. His skin is lightly tanned, and he has the casual, just-so-perfect air of a rich man who lives by the sea.

  “Sorry about that,” he says, in a lightly accented voice that I can’t place. It’s deep and clear, sending a tremor right down through my body. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Oh,” I squeak, shaking my head rapidly. “No, it’s fine. No harm done.” How embarrassing. Of all the people I could run right into, it would have to be this example of absolute perfection. I can still feel the pressure of his chest against my cheek, and they heat at the memory.

  I can’t stop staring at him. He doesn’t look like he should be real. He should be on the cover of a magazine, or an aftershave ad, not standing here in front of me.

  “Honey, are you alright?” My dad’s voice shakes me out of my reverie. I feel his hand connect with my shoulder blade and then the utter disappointment of the stranger’s hands dropping from my elbows.

  I can still feel their presence. I try to hold onto the feeling. I don’t want to forget it. The time I was touched by the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

  “Yes,” I say, feeling more embarrassed by the second. “No harm done. Actually, it was probably my fault. I was too busy looking at this map.”

  How could it be his fault? I look at him and think he must be the most elegant man in the world. I’m sure he would never trip and fall, or drop his phone into a lake, or spill a huge cup of soda all over himself right when the movie was about to start.

  Not that I’ve ever done any of those things, of course.

  “If we could just find this darn place,” Dad says, shaking his head. I take that as another indication of my blame in this whole thing. He’s right. I haven’t been able to find the café we were looking for. I’m sure it must be around here, but this map doesn’t seem to have half the roads we pass by printed on it.

  “Sorry, Dad,” I sigh. “I just don’t think this map is very good.” I should probably look it up on my phone, that’s the only way we’re going to get anywhere, even if it is expensive to use data out here.

  “Are you looking for something?” the stranger asks. “I’m a local. I can help, if you need it.”

  Be still, my heart. Yes, oh yes. Please, let him take us to the café. Even if all I get to do is stare at him a little more, it will be worth it.

  “Oh! Voo et un local?” Dad says, enthusiastically loud. A passerby stops and stares at us.

  Oh, god. That was his attempt at speaking French. I stare at him with wide eyes, hoping he will stop.

  “Uh,” the stranger says, attempting a grin. “I think you mean to say, vous êtes un résident? And the answer is, yes, I am. But don’t worry. I speak English just fine.”

  “Of course, you do,” I say hastily before Dad can embarrass himself any further. I catch sight of a group of girls who have stopped a little way down the street and turned to watch us. No – not us; they’re watching him. Openly staring and admiring him.

  Which isn’t really something I can blame them for, because I’m more or less doing the same.

  “Well,” the stranger says. “How about it? Tell me where you are going, and I can guide you there.”

  I look up at him, and I know I can’t wait for Dad to answer. What if he says something awful? What if he says no? We need the help, and besides, I will take any help this man offers me. I would probably agree that the sky was green and the sea was burning red-hot right now if it would make him linger one more moment with us.

  “Yes,” I say, quickly and with enthusiasm. “Yes, thank you – that would be amazing.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Nico

  I can’t help but grin at how eagerly she accepts my offer. I guess they must have been really lost, and probably for quite some time as well.

  “What’s the name of the place?” I ask.

  “It’s a café,” she says, showing me the back of the map where she has written down the name. I guess she doesn’t want to risk pronouncing it wrong like her father did. “I heard some recommendations about it online.”

  “Ah, yes,” I smile, nodding as I recognize it. “Saint Sebastian de la Thé. I know it well. Come, it’s this way.”

  “Oh, we don’t want to put you out,” her father says, irritating me to no end. These Americans – I thought they were supposed to be rude and entitled? They aren’t supposed to try to refuse my help. “You can just tell us where it is.”

  “I’m headed in that direction anyway,” I reassure him, flashing him an easy smile – and making sure that the tail end of it drops on her. After all, I want to charm her, even if it is pointless. Something in me is reacting to her in ways that I can’t explain. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone, an urgent need to stay in their presence, in her presence, no matter what it takes.

  I lead them through the streets, heading down away from the water. I slow my pace deliberately so that she can keep up and walk by my side. Her father seems to be lagging behind, which is just the way I wanted it.

  “So, you are having lunch, I guess?” I say, checking my watch. It’s a little later in the afternoon, but then I suppose they may have been wandering around for a while.

  “No, actually, we already ate early,” she says. Even her voice is like music to my ears. What is this woman, some kind of siren? “We just wanted to get a coffee. We only flew in yesterday, so we’re a little tired still.”

  “Ah. So, you’re here on vacation?” I ask, even though that much is already obvious. I just don’t want it to be true.

  “Yes,” she replies, then exclaims. “Is that it?”

  “That’s it,” I say, gesturing to the café. “Well, how about I get a coffee with you? I can show you a few things on the map. This is my favorite café, as it happens.” I glance back at her father as if he has a say in the matter. Truthfully, he doesn’t. So long as she agrees, I don’t mind.

  “Oh, if you would, that would be so helpful,” she says, her huge eyes shining up at me. Wow. I think I may be in trouble. If she looks at me like that, I’ll give her the shirt off my back, the watch off my wrist, and the wallet out of my pocket.

  “Great,” I say, leaving her father in our wake as I usher her along in front of me to head into the café.

  It’s not just to make sure that I can get her inside without her father objecting. It’s also because this way, I can watch her walk in. And I really, really enjoy the view.

  We slip inside and get in line, and then I stand between her and her father as we wait to be served. I noticed that she’s hesitating as she looks up at the me
nu board most of it is written in both French and English, though I wonder if she’s looking at the prices.

  “I’ll get this one,” I tell her, quietly enough that only she hears, right before the server asks for her order. She’s so startled, I think, that she just asks for a mocha without responding to me, and then the server is moving on to me.

  “For you, sir?”

  I smile and nod in acknowledgment to the server, who must recognize me. “The usual cappuccino, please. And for yourself?” I turn to her father and raise an eyebrow.

  “Oh,” he says, put on the spot – which was exactly my intention. I don’t want either of them to have a chance to refuse. Since I bought their drink, they can’t say no to at least a chat. “Um, an Americano, please.”

  I take out my wallet and hand over the required cash before either of them can stop me, and gesture back towards the seating. “Why don’t you find us a table?” I suggest to her. “Oh – by the way – what name should they write on the drinks?”

  She blushes, and I get the feeling she hadn’t realized until now that she hadn’t introduced herself. “Liliana,” she says. “And for him, Frank.”

  “I’m Nico,” I tell her with a smile. “I’ll bring our drinks over.”

  She nods and smiles back at me, hesitating for just a moment before she turns to go. I’m so busy watching her that I almost miss the server telling me the drinks are ready.

  I carry the tray over and place it down. I notice that Frank has chosen the seat next to his daughter, perhaps protectively. Which works out just fine for me, because it means I can sit opposite her. All the better to stare into those lovely eyes.

  And it had better be those eyes. Because if I look anywhere else, I feel a desire taking hold of me that I’m not sure I can control. I want her to be mine. For a brief moment, I picture her bent over this table, right here in front of me, and I have to sit down fast before I give myself away.

  “So, you’re here on vacation, I take it?” I say, handing out the drinks to their respective owners and then stow the tray aside on an empty table. I’m sure the servers will take care of it. I don’t want to get up again and miss a moment of conversation.