Chapter 249
Madison
The London Eye stood proud in the distance, and I felt a flutter of excitement at seeing it up close. Despite my attempts to maintain a cool, professional demeanor, I couldn’t help but feel the childlike anticipation bubbling up inside me.
“Ready?” Alexander’s voice came from behind me.
I turned to find him sliding his wallet into his back pocket, keys in hand. The casual outfit somehow made him look even more attractive than his usual suits, more approachable and less like a CEO, more like a man.
“More than ready,” I replied, grabbing my purse. “Lead the way, tour guide.”
Alexander’s hand found its familiar place at the small of my back as we left the suite. The elevator ride down was quick, and soon, we were stepping into the opulent lobby of The Savoy.
“Good morning, Mr. Knight,” the concierge greeted us. “Will you be needing a car today?”
“Yes. We’ll be exploring the city.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll have it brought around immediately.”
Within minutes, a sleek black Bentley pulled up to the entrance. The driver held the door open for us, and I slid into the buttery leather interior.
“Buckingham Palace first,” Alexander instructed the driver as he settled beside me.
“So this is how the other half lives,” I murmured, running my hand over the leather seat.
“Quarter,” Alexander corrected with a smirk. “The other quarter.”
“Humble as always.”
The driver navigated through London’s busy streets with practiced ease. I pressed my face against the window like an excited child, taking in the architecture, the red double–decker buses, and the iconic phone booths.
“You’re adorable when you’re excited,” Alexander commented, watching me with amusement.
“I can’t help it. Everything is so… British.”
He laughed. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. It’s just different seeing it in person versus in movies.”
The car slowed as we approached Buckingham Palace. Even from a distance, the building was imposing, its creamy façade gleaming in the morning sunlight.
“The changing of the guard is about to start,” Alexander said, checking his watch. “Perfect timing.”
We exited the car, and I immediately felt the energy of the crowd gathered at the palace gates. Alexander kept close, his hand on my back guiding me through the throng to a prime viewing spot.
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“How did you manage this?” I asked as we settled into a position with an unobstructed view.
“I have my ways,” he replied enigmatically.
The ceremony began with military precision. Guards in their iconic red uniforms and bearskin hats marched in perfect synchronization, accompanied by a brass band. I watched, mesmerized by the pageantry and tradition.
“They do this every day?” I whispered.
“Every other day during winter. Daily in summer.”
“It’s incredible.”
“Wait until you see the Tower of London.”
The ceremony concluded, and we made our way back to the waiting car. As we drove away from the palace, I noticed Alexander watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self–conscious.
“Nothing. Just enjoying your reactions.”
Our next stop was Westminster Abbey. The Gothic architecture took my breath away, with soaring arches and intricate stone carvings that spoke of centuries of craftsmanship.
“This is where they crown the monarchs,” Alexander explained as we walked through the nave. “Every coronation since William the Conqueror in 1066.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice hushed in the sacred space. “All those kings and queens, right here where we’re standing.”
“And where many are buried,” he added, guiding me toward the tombs. “Seventeen monarchs are interred here, along with countless other notable figures.”
We wandered through the abbey, Alexander pointing out significant memorials and architectural features. His knowledge surprised me.
“How do you know so much about this place?” I asked.
“I read,” he replied simply. “And I’ve been here before.”
“For business or pleasure?” I couldn’t resist asking.
His lips quirked. “History is its own kind of pleasure, Madison.”
After Westminster Abbey, we crossed to see Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. The iconic clock tower was partially covered in scaffolding for renovations, but it didn’t diminish its impact.
“It’s smaller than I expected,” I admitted, squinting up at the clock face.
“That’s what all the tourists say,” Alexander replied with a smirk.
I elbowed him lightly. “Don’t be crude.”
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“I was merely making an observation about tourist reactions,” he said innocently, but his eyes danced with
mischief.
We took photos–well, I took photos while Alexander watched with amusement. When I asked him to take one of me with Big Ben in the background, he surprised me by handing my phone to a passing tourist and joining me
in the frame.
“A souvenir,” he explained when I raised an eyebrow.
The resulting photo showed us standing close together, the Thames and Parliament behind us. Alexander looked relaxed, one arm around my waist, while I smiled brightly at the camera. We looked like any other couple enjoying a day in London.
Couple. The word echoed in my mind, bringing with it a complicated mix of emotions. This wasn’t real; it was an arrangement. Yet, standing here with him, seeing his genuine smile as he showed me the city, it felt dangerously close to something authentic.
“Hungry?” Alexander asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Starving,” I admitted.
“Perfect. I’ve made reservations.”
The car took us to a discreet entrance of what appeared to be an ordinary building. Only when we stepped inside did I realize we were at one of London’s most exclusive restaurants.
“Mr. Knight, welcome back,” the maître d‘ greeted us warmly. “Your table is ready.”
We were led to a secluded corner with a view of the Thames. A bottle of champagne already waited in an ice bucket beside the table.
“This is too much,” I whispered as we sat down.
“It’s lunch, Madison,” Alexander replied, signaling for the champagne to be poured. “Besides, you need the full London experience.”
The menu had no prices, which was never a good sign for my budget–conscious mind, but Alexander ordered for both of us with easy confidence.
“Trust me,” he said when I started to protest. “The chef here is a genius.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
