The streets of Monaco shimmered in the late afternoon sun, the breeze warm and salty off the marina. Everything here glowed — the stone buildings, the cobbled streets, the glint of luxury everywhere you looked.

And Drew? He glowed most of all. Backwards hat, white tee, sunglasses sliding down his nose, hand tangled with yours as he guided you through the boutiques like it was just another normal Saturday.

Except this wasn’t normal. This was Monaco.

And you were doing your very best not to have a heart attack at every price tag you did manage to glance at.

Drew, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch. He’d already tried buying you a pair of sunglasses that cost more than your flight. You’d gently — desperately — talked him out of it.

“You don’t have to buy me anything, baby,” you kept saying.

And he’d just raised an eyebrow, like you were speaking another language.

Now, the two of you had slipped into a designer beachwear shop tucked between two jewelers, and you were practically hypnotized by the racks of silky, tiny, gorgeous bikinis.

One in particular caught your eye.

It was a deep, almost molten gold — barely-there, with delicate ties and a cut that screamed luxury. Totally impractical. Totally not affordable. You let your fingers skim the fabric for half a second too long, then turned away quickly, pretending you were just browsing.

You thought you were being subtle.

You were not being subtle.

Drew was watching you with his arms folded, leaning lazily against the wall, a slow smile creeping across his face.

When you turned around, pretending to admire a beach towel instead, he pushed off the wall and came over.

“You liked that one,” he said casually, nodding toward the gold bikini.

You blinked. “It’s beautiful.”

“Then why didn’t you grab it?”

You shrugged, heart picking up slightly. “I just— it’s probably insanely expensive.”

He stepped closer, voice soft now, lips near your temple.

“Don’t look at the price, baby,” he murmured. “Do you want it?”

You paused.

Bit your lip.

He tipped your chin up so your eyes met. His gaze wasn’t teasing now — it was all warmth, all seriousness.

“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t care what it costs. I want you to have what makes you feel good. What makes you light up like that.”

You hesitated a moment longer, then finally — shyly — nodded.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Good girl.”

Your cheeks flushed immediately.

He winked, turning to wave down the attendant like it was the easiest decision in the world. And before you could protest again, the bikini was being wrapped up, Drew’s card was out, and you were back on the street, your hand in his, a crisp little shopping bag swinging from his fingers.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Mmhm,” he smirked. “Wait ’til I see you in that bikini.”