The flight was as fast as it was surreal, girl. Lucius and Bruce's eyes seemed to track my every move. Evangelina and Moetia chatted away, while I—well, I stayed quiet. I had this strange gut feeling that something was about to happen, something that would change everything. Amid stolen glances heavy with tension and that specific silence that settles in when there's too much left unsaid, we finally touched down at Nice Côte d'Azur Airport… and I have to admit, girl, the air just hits different there. I don't know if it's the money, the sea, or just an overload of beauty concentrated in one place, but everything seems to gleam, as if someone decided to polish the world only in that specific corner.
Our ride picked us up, and within minutes, we were cruising through Monte Carlo. I recognized the Casino the second I saw it; Carol used to love a movie filmed there. It was lit up with that exaggerated, borderline theatrical elegance. Parked out front were cars I won't even bother naming because I'd feel like I was making them up. It looked like Killian's garage, except they were all lined up in the open air, looking like they were in a showroom even while standing perfectly still.
The harbor lights looked like stars fallen onto the water, the yachts lined up side by side as if competing to see which was the most obscenely luxurious, and the streets… God, the streets. Everything was spotless, quiet, elegant. Nobody rushes in Monaco; everyone seems to glide, as if being in a hurry were a chore left to people like me… and out here, clearly, nobody is.
As we drove on, I couldn't help but think that this place has zero tolerance for simplicity: you either dress to dazzle, or you simply don't belong.
We continued down Avenue des Beaux-Arts and then wound our way along Port Hercule. I actually had to close my eyes there because the yachts were just absurd. Not big… absurd. Some looked like floating apartment complexes, their warm lights spilling onto the dark water as if each one possessed its own private night.
The Mediterranean Sea was so calm it reflected everything: lights, balconies, excess. It was as if Monaco had duplicated itself just to admire its own reflection.
We drove up one of those narrow, perfect streets that looked like they'd been drawn with a ruler, leaving La Condamine behind, and entered a quieter, more… exclusive area, if that's even possible in this tiny country. Lucius didn't explain a thing because, of course, he takes it for granted that the entire world is like this… his.
The building had no visible name. Because why would it? A glass façade, clean lines, and invisible security woven into every detail. No people walking in or out. Just doors that opened exactly when they were supposed to. A private elevator. Direct access. The moment I stepped into the penthouse, the Mediterranean hit me dead-on.
It wasn't a window, girl. It was a solid wall of glass from floor to ceiling, showcasing the harbor, the distant lights, and beyond that, the dark line where the sea bleeds into the sky. Though I wasn't even looking at that for long, completely captivated by the interior colors: pale marble with flawless veining, neutral-toned furniture that looked chosen by someone who understands the power of understatement. Gold accents, but barely implied. Warm, indirect lighting, under which my eyes seemed to burn with a sudden spark.
Lucius finally spoke up. "Welcome to Monaco. There are seven bedrooms here; take whichever you like. If you need anything, call Charlotte; her contact information is on everyone's phone now. She is… well, here she is."
The door opened, and a young woman, as beautiful as she was blonde, appeared, waving to everyone before giving Lucius a hug. Then, with the effortless grace of someone born into luxury, she said, "Well, you can call me Char. I'm a very, very distant cousin of the Longfield family; we've known each other since we were kids. My place is one floor down. Just let me know if you need anything. My brother Phillipe is coming over for dinner in two hours, and I want to invite you all to join us."
Before leaving, she walked back over to where I was standing and whispered, "What you do for people—the way you help them—it's amazing. You have millions of fans around the world, and I'm one of them, so you're sitting next to me tonight. Let me introduce you to my brother; we're twins, but everyone loves him more. You two have a lot in common."
I smiled at her, but the idea of going on a pseudo-blind date with some Phillipe from Monaco—who was also a cousin, however distant, of the Longfields—felt like a bit much, considering I already had my hands full with the mutual desires of my four roommates.
I picked the bedroom closest to the kitchen. It had a massive bed and a TV that I turned on and immediately flipped back off when I saw my own face on two of the ten channels I scrolled through.
Bruce knocked on my door with Evangelina a while later, saying everyone was ready for dinner. I had put on jeans and a white blouse, thinking… well, clearly I hadn't understood the Monaco dress code, because they looked stunning, both dressed in black. She wore a perfect V-neck dress and heels that made her look as tall as Lucius. I told them to go on without me, that I'd catch up in a bit, that I still needed to change. A little white lie to hide the fact that I desperately needed to upgrade my casual-girl look.
When I opened the door wearing a short, matte purple dress that cinched at the waist, I bumped right into Lucius, who, like a total gentleman, was the only one who had decided to wait for me. He looked me up and down, then glanced away. "You look beautiful. Follow me, and take my advice: Charlotte and Phillipe talk way too much. Let me know if you need me to rescue you."
The new Carmilla surfaced in a split second, and I replied, "Then sit next to me and don't leave my side. Wouldn't want me getting distracted making new friends when I'd honestly rather be with you."
He smiled. "Just give me a signal if you want me to get you out of there."
I answered playfully, "Fine. If they overwhelm me, the code word will be 'passion.' The moment you hear me say it, rescue me from the clutches of polite conversation."
Charlotte's apartment had a grand piano in the living room, and she seemed to have a massive thing for Apollo. There were paintings and a statue depicting him everywhere. I can't really judge anyone's taste since I was the girl about to show up in jeans and a blouse, but except for a modern interpretation of the sun god chasing Daphne, the rest felt a bit too dark for my liking. Holding a glass in my hand, I found myself drifting back to that specific painting just as Charlotte slid up beside me.
"That's actually my brother and his ex-girlfriend," she said. "They've been broken up for a year. They modeled for the artist. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes," I managed to say, right at the exact moment the door opened.
He walked in carrying a small duffel bag, and she rushed over to hug him. I could say he was your typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy, dressed in a light blue button-down and crisp trousers, but I wouldn't be telling the truth. He had something extra. His sister guided him over, smiling. "Carmilla Morris, this is my brother, Phillipe Patterson."
He kissed the back of my hand, but a second later, he buried his face in his hands, pointing at the artwork. "I can't even begin to tell you how embarrassed I am that the real Carmilla Morris has seen this painting. For the record, it wasn't my idea. My ex-girlfriend—a fantastic woman who grew bored of me in less than a year—insisted on having the artist paint us like this. I don't even know anything about mythology, and I know next to nothing about art. I just said yes, and ever since, I blush just looking at myself looking like an idiot chasing her through the gardens."
I smiled. "At least you kept the painting."
"She didn't want it," he added. "She didn't want to see me again in any capacity. If it were up to me, it would've ended up in the trash, but my sister… well, she collects this stuff and claims it's worth a fortune. But she loves me, so it's probably a lie."
Okay, girl, confession time: I found Phillipe completely charming. Not only did he smell amazing and speak with effortless wit, but he was also gorgeous. He looked a lot like an old-school Hollywood heartthrob—one of those rugged, deeply masculine leads who played heroes in epic movies like Ben-Hur. His aquiline nose and sharp, defined jawline gave him the air of an emperor. Yeah, no doubt about it, I liked him.
He greeted the others, and a second later, Moetia and Evangelina were giggling by my side, whispering about how sexy Phillipe was.
He stepped away from Lucius to grab a drink and walked right back over to where the three of us stood, doing a terrible job of hiding how attractive we found him.
Stepping up next to me, he spoke with a flawless sense of humor. "Carmilla, Evangelina, the media is always running polls on which of you two is more beautiful. I have to confess I've voted more than once, but then I felt like an absolute heel. You see, you're both so completely different and enchanting that choosing one was agonizing—like I was betraying myself."
Moetia chimed in, "And which one did you pick?"
"Are you crazy?" he shot back. "I'm not saying. I'll just have to work hard to find an infallible secret code to let her know."
And as he said that, his hand subtly brushed past my back, and I couldn't help but laugh. Within a single hour, everything revolved around him, and honestly, he earned it. He was incredibly natural in conversation, and it was a major bonus that Bruce and Lucius had become visibly jealous of our reactions to his flirting.
Lucius followed me into the kitchen, and I teased him, "I haven't mentioned the word 'passion' yet. I don't need rescuing; in fact, I'm having a great time."
"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped back. "It's obvious from a mile away that you like Phillipe."
I confirmed it, laughing with a touch of irony. "I really don't have time for a jealousy routine right now because those two foxes, Moetia and Evangelina, are all over him, gaining ground. I need to get back to Phillipe. Maybe the golden boy doesn't have a political career and an arranged marriage to prioritize."
Lucius grabbed my arm, clearly intending to say something, but then he let go and whispered, "No, it's better this way, just…"
He didn't finish the sentence, and I walked right back to the others, knowing that all of this was working perfectly. The new Carmilla is smart: if I'm going to hunt an Alpha like Lucius and bring him back with me, I need someone else to challenge him. And Phillipe is right there. He placed his hand on my back again as we talked, letting it slide down to rest gently on my waist. Yes, I know it—Phillipe is here to put up a fight, and that… I absolutely love it. I can practically feel it in the air, as if both of their pheromones have flared up just to pull me in. There's going to be a storm tonight, and it's going to be over me.