by K. A. Linde
So, finding a way to trust Penn seemed downright impossible. Except that…I wanted to go with him. I wanted a magical night in Paris.
“What’s your deepest, darkest secret?” I asked on a whim.
His eyes slid sideways to mine, and a clever grin spread on his lips. “You couldn’t handle that one.”
I raised my eyebrows sharply. “I, uh…what?” I stammered out.
Then, he was laughing. “You should see your face right now.”
“Oh my god!” I muttered, smacking him on the arm.
“It was a joke. Just a joke.” He put his hand over his heart and tried to control his laughter. “You were too easy a mark.”
“Well, that’s really convincing.”
But his smile eventually won me over, and I was gasping with laughter, too. People were even looking at us, and in that moment, I couldn’t care less.
“You really thought I had some terrifying secret.”
“You were supposed to reassure me.”
He shrugged. For a second, he turned pensive, as if seriously considering the question that I’d posed for him. That far-off look graced his features before he met my gaze. “You really want to know?”
I nodded, slightly breathless as he moved in closer. I could lean forward ever so slightly and brush our bodies together. Feel under the contours of that sharp suit. Graze the strong jawline on my way to those lips. My eyes snapped back up to his, heat pooling into my cheeks.
“I despise my family and all their expectations. Sometimes, I wish that I could live a different life.”
Truth.
It was written in every inch of his face and the tension in his stance and the tone of his voice. The man who seemed to have everything wanted a different life.
My chest ached for him. And…for me. For how close that hit to home.
“And you?” he whispered conspiratorially.
“My secret?” I said back just as quietly.
He dipped his chin once in response.
I considered the honesty in his answer. I wanted to give my own truth. But the fact that I really wasn’t who I was pretending to be presently wasn’t enough. Sure, I was a fish out of water here among the privileged Paris elite. But really I was a nobody from nowhere with parents who hardly had enough to rub two pennies together. And that wasn’t a truth I was willing to share. I could give him a truth without the details though.
“I always try to act like I belong, but I never do.”
His hand covered mine on the railing. “You belong with me tonight, Natalie.”
Chapter 3
“A my?” I tapped my best friend’s shoulder.
She was currently lip-locked with Enzo with his hand halfway up her dress.
“Um…Amy?”
Amy came up for air and stared at me with glazed bedroom eyes. “Huh? What’s up, Nat?”
“I’m heading out.”
“What?” Amy asked, eyes widening. “Are you not having fun? Did things not go well with Mr. Break Your Heart?”
I laughed and admired my crazy friend. “No, things are going great. We’re just going to head out together and walk the city.”
Amy’s mouth popped open. “Um…excuse me?”
“It’ll be fine. I turned on that tracker app you use, so you can always find me.”
She hopped off of the chaise, disentangling herself from Enzo, who grumbled behind her. “Are you sure about this? You don’t even know this guy. He could sell you into sex slavery.” Amy leaned in closer. “You’d be valuable, if you know what I mean.”
I rolled my eyes. My virginity and the fact that I was still intact was a topic of mutual ridiculousness. “He is not selling me into sex slavery, Amy.”
“I’ve seen Taken. I know what happens.”
“I will be fine.”
“I don’t like it.” Amy chewed on her bottom lip.
“Look, this guy…he’s not like anyone else. He speaks my language.”
“English?”
I snorted. “Yes, but I meant, he sees the world like I do. He’s different. I don’t know how to explain it. But I like him, and it’s our last night in the city. I want to make the most of it.”
Amy finally nodded. “I get it. You’re smitten. Just promise me you’ll be safe.”
“I will.”
She snagged my arm. “I mean…safe.” She grabbed her purse off the floor where she’d abandoned it and then tried to pass me a condom.
“Oh my god, Amy, we’re not going to have sex,” I hissed.
She laughed. “Better safe than sorry.”
I cut my eyes to the silver foil wrapper and then snatched it from her hand before stuffing it into my own crossbody bag. It felt monumental to even have that condom on me. As if I had made my mind up even though I was getting way ahead of myself.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I love you. Have fun!” Amy nestled back into Enzo’s lap.
I left her behind and let my gaze sweep to the door where Penn stood, phone in hand, completely at ease. I couldn’t believe that I was about to leave this party with him. This wasn’t me at all. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go. I was drawn to him. From the first time I’d seen him sitting on that bench, I’d known we were kindred spirits. It sounded insane, but I couldn’t deny what was right in front of me.
Penn snapped his gaze up from his phone and found me blatantly staring at him. I swallowed back the wave of desire that crashed over me. He arched an eyebrow. A question waiting for my answer.
Would I stay, or would I go?
I nodded and proceeded forward.
Go. Definitely go.
He held his hand out. “Ready?”
“Yeah. All set.” I placed my hand in his. A tingle ran up my arm.
“Good.”
He led the way from the room and through the rest of the incredible flat we were leaving behind for the city beyond these walls. We took the elevator to the bottom floor and exited through a set of turquoise double doors. I breathed in the fresh air. Paris smelled heavenly at night, like freshly baked bread and fine wine mixed with a unique, warm, musky smell that I would forever recognize.
Penn hadn’t dropped my hand, and he held it the entire way as we navigated the city. The distinct cream buildings lined with wrought iron balustrades that I’d come to love. Brightly colored awnings announced bakeries, cheese shops, cafés, and every manner of fine French cuisine.
“Where are we going?” I asked after we walked three silent blocks.
He just grinned. “It’s a surprise.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I can. You seem fearless.”
I almost laughed. I had never considered myself fearless. I jumped into things with everything I was. It was another part of being a military brat. Every moment counted, and they all had to be perfect. Kind of a problem honestly. Perfectionism was another curse. But fearless? No way.
“Tonight, I feel fearless,” I admitted.
“As you should since you have the run of the city.” Penn dashed across the street and stopped us in front of a restaurant with a green awning. “Wait here a minute, will you?”
“Just here?”
“I’ll be right back.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion but nodded. I’d decided to come with him, so I would see this through. I just hoped he wasn’t doing some kind of drug deal or something equally nefarious.
Please don’t make me regret this, I silently pleaded.
He appeared a few minutes later with a brown bag tucked under his arm.
“What’s that?”
“That is a surprise. Come on.”
My curiosity was piqued.
We walked another two blocks toward the Seine. The river wound lazily around the curve of the Eiffel Tower down to Notre-Dame and beyond. Dinner cruises sailed by, taking in the twilight-lit sights. The moon was full overhead, casting an eerily beautiful glow across the entire city.
Penn
stopped a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower with a stellar view of the monument from across the river. He padded across the cobblestone path in front of the water, found an open space, and sank down. I watched as he set down the brown package and dangled his legs over the edge of the riverside. He expectantly looked back at me, and it was that look that jolted me into motion.
I crossed the crowded path, removed my high heels, and sat next to him. Our hips touched in the scant space. My breathing hitched at the first heated contact. I cleared my throat to cover the misstep. “Well, this is unexpected.”
The shadows accentuated his high cheekbones, drawing a line down to his lips. I couldn’t look away as he said, “What were you expecting?”
“I have no idea, but I like it.”
“I thought you might,” he said confidently. “And you haven’t even seen what’s in the bag.”
He retrieved the brown bag from his other side and began to pull out its contents. First, he passed me a baguette, baked Camembert, and then a bottle of red wine. “Hope you like red,” he said as he removed the cork.
“I do.”
Or at least, I’d learned to appreciate it this summer. My parents weren’t big drinkers. Between my dad’s family’s alcohol and addiction problems and my mom’s belief in all things New Age, my parents stayed pretty straitlaced.
“Though I will have you know, I have had this meal before since I’ve been here.”
“God, I hope so. But if you haven’t had Monsieur Laurent’s food, then you haven’t truly lived.”
He broke off a piece of the bread, dipped it into the gooey cheese that looked like Brie but would be insulted by the comparison, and popped it into his mouth. I followed suit, tasting the intricate flavors on my unrefined palate. It was incredible.
Without glasses for the wine, we just passed the bottle back and forth between us. It was sweet but not too sweet. Fragrant with a hint of cherries. I was pretty sure I’d go my entire life and never have wine that tasted as good as it did tonight.
“So, if you could live another life, what would you choose?” I asked, leaning back on my elbows and aimlessly kicking my feet. “From where I’m sitting, your life seems kind of perfect.”
“Ah, not is all how it seems, I assure you.” His eyes traveled the length of my long, lean legs from hours of swim practice. “I guess I don’t know any other way to live, but I’m open for suggestions.”
“Well, what do you despise about your parents?”
“Twenty questions?” he asked right back.
I chewed on my lip and shrugged slightly. “Just trying to get to know you.”
“Usually, people start with favorite color and what they want to be when they grow up.”
“You make me want to cut right through the small talk,” I admitted baldly.
“I know what you mean.”
“So…very important question: what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I feel at a divide in that question.”
I laughed. “I thought you said this was an easy question.”
“I didn’t say that. I said that’s what people start with.” He brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from my cheek. “My parents want me to work for the family business. But I think I want to be a professor.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I’m working toward the degree. I shouldn’t have to think that’s what I want.”
“A professor in what?”
“Philosophy.”
My mouth popped open in surprise. “You are an enigma, aren’t you?”
“That is one way to describe getting a rather useless degree.”
“It’s not useless if that’s what you love,” I said with more vehemence than I’d intended.
“Tell that to my parents.”
“I know exactly what it’s like for others to think that your dreams should stay put,” I admitted. “My parents think that an English degree, a career in writing, is pointless. I’m smart. I could become a lawyer or a doctor or something practical in business. If only there were a way to tell them that none of that matters to me.”
But it was nearly impossible to do so. They believed it was worse than impractical, a waste of money. My parents wanted me to rise above the poverty line. An English degree might as well be a kiss of death.
“Tell me about it,” he said, taking another long sip from the bottle of wine. “That secret I told you? This is the main reason. They don’t accept me for who I am and then wonder why I’m always trying to escape.”
I could feel this mutual truth radiating between us. In some way, we were both adrift. A leaf blowing in the wind on no set course, just being pushed around. And I wanted more than that. Even if no one else understood my obsession.
“I get it,” I finally whispered, sitting up and dangling my feet.
Penn set the wine bottle aside and laced our fingers together. Something passed between us then. A current. A mutual understanding. The start of something new. It was inexplicable and incredible.
My body buzzed with excitement, taking in a truth I hadn’t let myself see before. I always blamed the fact that I never really dated on my history. Growing up in a different city every year had put a strain on all my relationships. But the truth of it was, I’d never met anyone who really saw me.
Penn’s hand moved to my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, causing goose bumps to erupt on my skin. Our eyes locked in the short distance. The nearly empty bottle of wine made my brain fuzzy and my body warm and inviting. I stayed perfectly still, taking in this moment. I wanted to write it to memory. Just wanted to relive the electricity vibrating between us. The tension was palpable.
Gasps rang out all around us, but still, we didn’t break eye contact. In my periphery vision, I could see the Eiffel Tower lights had begun to twinkle. It was a sight to see for sure. My favorite sight in all of Paris. Until this moment.
As the lights shone in Penn’s sapphire gaze, he leaned into me. He slipped his free hand around my waist, tugging me just a bit closer to him. His other hand guided my mouth to his. Then, everything else in the universe disappeared.
His lips were soft and honey sweet. Not exactly tentative at first, but the opening of a dance. He was bowing, waiting for my curtsy and acceptance for the dance to begin…to allow us to reach a crescendo. As soon as I reciprocated the kiss, pushing my hands up into his dark hair and tugging on the short strands, all reticence dissolved.
I opened my mouth to him, and the kiss turned frenzied. As if both of us had been thinking of nothing but getting to this moment. I finally saw my equal, the person who spoke to my soul.
Chapter 4
“O ur night isn’t over yet,” Penn said against my swollen lips.
For a split second, I considered that perhaps our night was over. What it would be like to be that bold. To channel my inner Amy and tell him that we should just leave and go back to my place. I could do it. My lower half was throbbing from one kiss. One incredible kiss that had made every one before it pale in comparison.
I could only imagine what it would be like to move forward. But I didn’t speak out. I wasn’t experienced in that regard. And even though I’d taken that condom from Amy…I didn’t actually intend on using it.
“What’s next?” I finally managed to get out.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “I have an idea. It’s a crazy idea.”
“I only have one night. Might as well make it memorable.”
A Cheshire cat smile crossed his face, quick and devious. “That’s what I like to hear.”
We finished the wine and trashed our impromptu picnic. Between my buzz and that kiss, I was floating above the clouds. Penn directed me down the cobblestone path. My steps were heavy as I let my fingers trace the stone barrier along the riverside. Silence hung between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward as it so often was. It held taut between us, the tension from our kiss still achingly present.
The moon swelled so large in the sky. I felt as if I could reac
h out and touch it. As if it were controlling all of this. The two of us just a tide, swept in and out by the pull of the moon. Destined to crash together over and over again. As if this very moment had been preordained. Fate or destiny or divine intervention.
My mother read tarot cards and looked into crystal balls. She deciphered tea leaves, burned herbs, and recited New Age texts about being one with the universe. I couldn’t fathom how many times I’d rolled my eyes at her latest rant. But here tonight, it almost made sense. This cosmic aligning that had brought us to the same place and time. That had set us into motion. I couldn’t deny that I had never felt this right before. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the thrill of a Paris night. Or maybe it was just Penn.
My eyes cast a glance to his, bright with a reflection of the moon dancing in their depths. “I think, if I had a new life, I’d live here.”
“Paris is a thief,” he said thoughtfully. “It steals a piece of your heart every time you come here.”
I nodded. That sentiment I understood completely. “I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve lived all over, but I’ve never felt more at home than where I am right now.”
“You’ll have to come back then.”
Yeah, like that was going to happen. I couldn’t fathom a world in which I’d ever have enough money to travel to Europe again. My parents weren’t wrong when they said that writing was a long shot. Very few made enough money to live off, and even fewer got to travel to Paris, let alone live there. That would be a miracle.
“Someday,” I said wistfully. “I just wish they still had the love locks on the bridge.”
“They were an eyesore,” he said with a laugh.
“Beautiful in their own way.”
“But the bridges look so much nicer now without them.”
“Probably. I loved the idea of it. The romantic in me I suppose.”
