Dreams Matter, So Let Me Try

The sun was blindingly golden, the sea flashing below the cliffs, and Mon was already halfway down the villa’s stone steps when Vel’s voice carried after her, “Take Luthen with you!”

Mon paused, one gloved hand on the door of the sleek, cherry-red Alfa Romeo Spider she’d rented for the week. The linen of her sage green sundress clung in the warm breeze, white silk headscarf tucked neatly around her hair, oversized sunglasses hiding the arch of her brow.

“I beg your pardon?” she called up.

“Go on!” Vel was grinning from the terrace, mischievous as ever. “He looks like he needs some sun.”

Before Mon could argue, Luthen was already descending the steps, looking more resigned than enthusiastic. He carried the air of a man who had been tricked into something but was determined not to give his trickster the satisfaction.

“Apparently I’m coming with you,” he muttered as he slid into the passenger seat, adjusting his chambray jacket as though it was armor that might protect him. Mon fixed him with a look of mild annoyance, but then slid into the driver’s seat with a smirk.

Mon gave Vel a saccharine smile through the windshield before turning the key. The engine purred to life, low and sensual. She gripped the stick shift in her driving glove and felt his curious gaze land there.

Kleya padded out to stand next to Vel, frowning with concern. “Did you tell him she races Formula 1 cars for fun?”

Vel shook her head, pouting, “What, and spoil the surprise?”

###

“What exactly are we—” Luthen began.

The car shot forward, tires squealing against cobblestone. He grabbed the door handle instinctively. His jaw clenched as Mon maneuvered onto the cliff road with expert precision, hair scarf fluttering in the wind.

“—doing,” he finished, voice rougher now.

Mon only smiled faintly, eyes on the horizon. “A drive. Isn’t that what you were told?”

The road bent and he held his breath as she downshifted smoothly. The engine growled as they whipped around the blind curve.

“You drive stick,” he managed, knuckles pale as he braced against the dash.

“I race stick.” She flicked a glance at him, lips curving. “My ex-husband liked expensive cars. I got rid of the husband, kept the cars.”

Luthen exhaled a sharp laugh despite himself. “You could have mentioned this before I got in.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?”

The Alfa roared again as she punched into a higher gear to overtake a lumbering scooter, scarf and sunglasses flashing like some goddess of speed. Luthen’s heart was pounding, though he wasn’t sure if it was fear or the sheer fact of sitting inches from her—her bare knee flexing as she worked the clutch, the effortless grace with which she commanded the machine.

“You’re going to kill us,” he said, though it came out more reverent than he intended.

“Not today,” Mon replied breezily, hair blowing against her cheeks.

There was another hair-raising curve, and another downshift. His shoulder brushed hers as the car leaned into the turn. Her subtle jasmine perfume mingled with the sea air as they zipped down the road. She looked utterly in control, flushed with adrenaline, while he was caught between terror and a pulse of desire so strong he wanted to curse Vel for setting him up.

Mon slid them into a straightaway, finally easing her foot off the gas. She tipped her head toward him, just enough to let him see the sly smile curving her mouth.

“Still alive?”

He swallowed. “Barely.”

She laughed then, throaty and unguarded, and for a moment the tension between them crackled louder than the engine.

Mon downshifted and guided the Alfa off the cliff road onto a narrow gravel turnout overlooking the sea. The engine coughed once before settling into a low, satisfied hum as she cut the ignition. Silence rushed in, broken only by the cicadas in the brush and the hiss of waves hundreds of feet below. The sun had begun its slow descent, staining the water a molten copper.

Luthen was still braced against the dash, as though letting go would be admitting something.

“You can breathe now,” Mon teased, tugging off her driving gloves one finger at a time.

He gave her a long, level look before huffing out a laugh. “You enjoy terrifying people.”

She peeled her sunglasses down her nose and regarded him over the rim, expression full of dry amusement. “I'm a lawyer, it's what I'm good at.”

That shut him up. He glanced back out toward the glittering water, but his pulse hadn’t quite calmed, and not from the ride alone.

Mon slipped out of the car, linen dress brushing her legs, silk scarf falling loose against her shoulders. The breeze lifted it as she walked to the edge of the overlook, hands resting on the stone barrier, her profile lit gold by the dipping sun. Luthen followed reluctantly, dragging in a steadying breath as he joined her.

“You drive like a maniac,” he said.

“I drive like someone who knows exactly what she’s doing.” She tilted her chin toward the horizon, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Can you say the same?”

He didn’t answer, but the jab landed. He found himself watching her instead—how the wind tugged at her hair, how the sunlight caught the curve of her mouth.

Mon turned her head slightly, catching his stare. For a long beat, neither of them spoke.

Her eyes flickered down, just once, toward his mouth. Then she looked away, as if that brief lapse hadn’t happened at all.

“You’re not so bad a passenger. I usually drive alone.” she murmured, almost to herself.

He smirked faintly, trying to claw back some ground. “I’ve survived worse.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “I doubt it.”

The silence stretched again, a bit awkward but laden with something that made him want to get closer, to ask the question their banter kept circling. Before he could follow through, she was already tugging her scarf tighter, composure snapping back into place.

“Come,” she said briskly, walking back toward the car. “If we don’t return soon, Vel will accuse me of killing you and dumping your body off a cliff somewhere.”