Kissed in Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  Julien whipped around, his brown eyes the biggest I’d seen them all day as I stumbled to the ground, heaving to catch my breath.

  The Seductress tossed her scarf to the floor and charged toward me, her eyes now narrow little slits. But Julien reached me before she did. In one swift movement, he pulled me up from the floor and blocked me with his body.

  “She is not a threat. She is just a friend I am traveling with and neither of you will lay a hand on her.” Julien’s voice echoed through the small, cluttered apartment as he shielded me from their menacing glares.

  I sucked in a deep breath as I wondered why I hadn’t just listened to Julien. Did I really think I could handle everything on my own?

  The man who’d pushed me into the apartment approached Julien, and I noticed then that he was the same man, covered in tattoos, who I’d just seen enter the building. He must’ve been hiding in the shadows, waiting for me. A chill ran down my spine just thinking about it.

  A look of disgust fixed onto his face as he eyed Julien. “You and Claude make me fucking sick. You sleep with my sister, you use her to run your stupid cons, and then you leave her. Every time.”

  “You are right about Claude. But I am a different man. I have no interest in harming your sister,” Julien responded without so much as a hint of fear in his voice.

  “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I needed to ask her a few questions, that’s all. And she was more than happy to answer them.” Julien’s snarky tone challenged the angry Australian.

  The corners of Seductress’ lips curved into a devilish grin as she slithered toward Julien and shoved her looming brother out of the way. She stood inches away from Julien’s face, so close I could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on her breath.

  “Julien Dubois,” she breathed into his ear. “You were the one I always wanted.”

  She brushed her full lips up against his cheek before running her long forefinger down the middle of his chest.

  “I didn’t come here for that, and you know it, Marie.” Julien pushed her hand off his chest, took mine instead, and led me to the door.

  But just as we were about to leave this dodgy apartment, I remembered my ring.

  I would not leave without it.

  When I turned back toward the coffee table in search of the sparkly diamond that had been lying there moments before, it was nowhere to be found.

  Aware that both Tattoo Guy and Seductress’ eyes were glued to my back as Julien pulled me through the doorway, I leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, “But my ri—”

  He didn’t let me finish my sentence as he whipped me out into the dim hallway and slammed the door behind us.

  “But my ring!” I hissed again as I slipped my dreaded heels back onto my sore feet.

  “Don’t talk until we get outside.” Julien gripped my hand as he led me out into the cool night air.

  Once outside, I yanked my hand from his grasp and crossed my arms over my chest. “My engagement ring was lying on that coffee table. We have to go back in there and get it!”

  Julien grunted as he stalked further down the alley without me.

  “I’m serious! I have to go back in there. This is not an option.”

  Julien flipped around, his eyes flashing, his hand stuffed into his jeans pocket. Then he reached out for me.

  “No, I am not holding your hand again. Who knows where that hand was before I arrived. And another thing,” I spouted. But I didn’t get a chance to finish when I noticed what Julien had placed in the palm of my hand.

  My engagement ring.

  I stared down at the large diamond shimmering underneath the faint glow of the street lamp, my head spinning in circles.

  “But how did you . . .?”

  “I told you I would help you, did I not?” Julien flipped around and headed back underneath the stone archway.

  I hobbled to catch up with him. “And my passport? Did you find it?”

  He shook his head before pulling a cigarette out of his jeans pocket and lighting up. “No passport.”

  “But there were all those passports on the coffee table. What about those?”

  “Yours was not there. I checked.” His tone grew impatient as he blew a puff of smoke into the night air.

  “But how can I trust that you actually looked? I saw you in there with that . . . woman. You didn’t seem too focused on getting my passport back.”

  Julien’s gaze fixed on the ground ahead of him and his jaw clenched before he spoke. “It was not what it looked like. And you had no right to follow me. I asked you to stay at the restaurant. I knew what I was doing, and you, thinking you know how to do everything, had to run in and ruin the whole operation.”

  “I’m sorry for ruining the operation, but there are clearly things you’re not telling me. What does any of this have to do with a painting?” I asked.

  Julien flicked the cigarette onto the curb and took a sharp right up the river. “That is confidential information. You shouldn’t have been there to hear it in the first place, so forget you ever did.”

  “Fine. So what now?” I said, realizing that after all of this madness, we still hadn’t found Claude or my passport.

  “We will get a hotel for the night, and we can take the first train out of the city tomorrow.”

  A sinking feeling gripped the pit of my stomach. What was I going to do? How was I going to get home? What if I went back to Paris and the police were still after me? And if those transfers really were tied to illegal activity, Paul would certainly be hearing about it soon. And how would I ever begin to explain the past twenty-four hours to him? How could I let him and my family down like this?

  I peered down at the engagement ring I held in my hand. That diamond had once symbolized the security of the life I was to have with Paul.

  But in one day, the safety net I’d worked so hard to build for myself had been swept out from under me. And all because I’d allowed some sweet-talking French man to feed me a few glasses of wine.

  I followed Julien through the winding streets of Annecy in silence as I held the ring in my palm, physically unable to slip it back onto my ring finger. I wondered then, as I thought of Paul, if he too felt that we weren’t just one, but many oceans apart right now.

  Eight

  I’d never been so happy to see a regular, paved sidewalk. After following the cobblestone street along the river for a few minutes, we finally arrived at a main intersection with normal sidewalks and streetlights. It was a miracle I hadn’t sprained my ankle with the amount of times I’d slipped in my heels on those damn uneven stones.

  The river that flowed through town fed into a huge lake, its silky waters shimmering under the moonlight. Instead of continuing toward the lake, Julien took a left down the paved sidewalk and nodded for me to follow him.

  That’s all I was going to get now? A nod? Like I was his dog or something?

  “Where are we going?” I asked, suddenly feeling so exhausted I could’ve curled up on a bench and gone to sleep in two seconds flat.

  “There is a hotel up ahead. It is called Splendid Hôtel. We will get a room there for the night.”

  “Splendid,” I replied dryly.

  A tiny smirk emerged from Julien’s lips.

  “Should I even ask why you would be smiling at a time like this?” I asked.

  “I am just thinking that my . . . what I mean to say is that Claude must have seen a very different side of you last night when he followed you up to your hotel room. I don’t imagine this is the side I will be seeing tonight?”

  “French men, American men, you’re all the same.” I sighed, removing my gaze from the mischievous look brewing in Julien’s eyes. “One minute you’re furious, the next minute you’re thinking about sex.”

  “You are the one who is engaged, and who is about to spend another night in a foreign hotel with a different French man, chérie.”

  “Thanks for pointing that out. Where is the hotel again?” />
  “You ask, and I deliver.” Julien gestured to his left.

  The Splendid Hôtel awning hovered overhead.

  I followed him into quiet lobby, thinking about what he’d just said. He was right. I was the one who was engaged, and who, for the second time in a row, was about to spend the night in a foreign hotel with a guy I’d just met. I was so deeply ensconced in this mess though, I didn’t know how else to emerge on the other side without trusting Julien one more time.

  Julien pulled out a credit card and paid for our room, leaving me to ponder the fact that I’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, and yet there wasn’t even a tiny part of me that felt frightened at the thought of spending the night in a hotel room alone with him.

  Scanning back through the events of the day, with the exception of the vicious punch he’d thrown at the police officer in the hotel bathroom, nothing about Julien had scared me. In fact, it was just the opposite. He had this fiercely protective nature about him, like no matter what disaster came our way, he would handle it . . . and he would protect me in the process.

  I’d never met anyone like him.

  Then again, I’d never met anyone like Claude, and my sleaze-bag, con-man alarm signal clearly had not gone off the night before when he’d smooth-talked me. Maybe my gut instincts weren’t to be trusted after all.

  At least this time I had nothing left for anyone to steal. And at this point, I would’ve actually paid Julien to steal my heels and this slutty red dress so I wouldn’t have to wear them for another second.

  After Julien collected our room key, we waited for the elevator together.

  “You know, once all of this is figured out, I’ll pay you back for everything,” I told him.

  “That is not necessary,” Julien said, pushing the button once more.

  The bell dinged, and when Julien opened the door, he revealed the tiniest elevator I’d ever seen.

  “After you,” he said.

  The two of us crammed against each other in the tight space, our chests and knees knocking together.

  I tucked a strand of my ever-thickening hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling awkward and nervous. I diverted my eyes toward the wall.

  “Seriously, though,” I said. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I get home.”

  Julien lifted his forefinger up to my lips.

  “Shhh.” He grinned at me, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “When you are around me, you can relax. I won’t tell anyone.”

  Julien dropped his hand, his fingertips brushing over mine. A wave of heat pooled below my abdomen as tingles shot up my spine, making me feel light-headed. I swallowed hard as I broke his gaze.

  Before I could say anything else to cut the weird tension that had filled up the stale elevator air, we arrived on the fourth floor. I took a deep breath as I followed him down the slim, dark hallway.

  Julien unlocked our door, revealing a miniscule room containing a less-than-generous double bed, a tiny wooden desk and chair, and absolutely no floor space.

  We stood in the doorway together and stared at the bed for a moment before Julien spoke.

  “I am sorry. There were no rooms with two beds left. And all hotel rooms in France are small. Well, except for the Plaza Athénée.”

  I was so tired, I didn’t know what to say. I mean, the man had shuttled me around France all day trying to find my passport, he’d retrieved my engagement ring, and he’d paid for my food, my train ticket, and now this hotel room. What was I going to do? Tell him to sleep in the wooden chair?

  I plopped onto the bed and kicked my heels off my feet, which were red, swollen, and covered in blisters.

  “Ouch,” Julien said as he crossed to the other side of the bed and peeked inside the bathroom. “Your feet do not look happy. I will give you some privacy in case you want to take a shower. I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Okay?”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Julien smiled kindly in my direction before letting himself out of the room.

  Before I knew it, my back had plummeted into the mattress, my head like a dead weight which was too heavy to hold up for another second. I stretched my arms out to the sides and lifted my tired legs onto the bed while I stared up at the ceiling.

  If I focused long enough on the way the paint swirled in endless circles above me, I could’ve forgotten what was actually going on. Or at the very least, fallen asleep. But the throbbing in my feet was too painful for me to ignore, and more than that, whenever I closed my eyes, my insides heated up again, just as they had in the elevator with Julien only moments before.

  As I forced myself up to a sitting position and shook off the heat that stung my cheeks, I spied the hotel phone on the desk across from me. Sophie would be flying into DC the next day, and she had no idea I wouldn’t be there when she arrived. The thought of my sister staying alone with Paul for even a day made me queasy. They didn’t just dislike each other, they loathed each other. Paul couldn’t stand Sophie’s constant chatter, question-asking, and general lack of practicality, and as Sophie had so eloquently put it in her email to me before I’d left, she wasn’t a huge fan of the giant stick up Paul’s ass.

  I’d stopped trying to make them like each other long ago.

  I picked up the receiver and dialed Sophie’s cell, deciding I would tell her the exact same story I’d told Paul. I had no other choice. If I gave her even an inkling of the truth, the whole family would know something was wrong within two minutes of me hanging up.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Soph, it’s me, Chloe.”

  “Dude, you need to tell your future husband to take a chill pill.”

  “What are you talking about? When did you talk to Paul?”

  “I called the house about an hour ago to see if you were home yet, and he was freaking out.”

  “So, I guess he told you I have to stay in Paris for another day or two.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t sound too happy about that, and he was flipping because he just tried to call you at the hotel and they said you’re not a guest there anymore?”

  I rested my forehead in my hands, preparing myself to lie for the third time that day.

  “Oh, yeah, um . . . I forgot to mention to him that Angela had me switch to a more reasonably priced hotel so we don’t rack up the company credit card since the extra days here weren’t planned.”

  “Well, you better call him and let him know. He said he really needs to talk to you, like now. Something about your checking account being on hold. I guess he tried to use your debit card and it wouldn’t work. He was rattling on about it forever on the phone. He sounds really stressed, Chloe . . . not that it’s any different from how he usually acts, but still. I think with the wedding coming up this weekend and everything, you should really get home.”

  I had nothing to say, except my life was turning to complete shit.

  “Chloe, are you there?”

  “Mmhmm,” I mumbled as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe.

  “So is this the hotel number where you’re staying? Do you want me to give it to Paul so he can call you there?”

  “No! I . . . um, I mean, no. I’ll call him in a little bit. Don’t trouble yourself.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. I mean, I am your maid of honor, and you’ve barely let me take care of anything for the wedding. Which, by the way, can you believe you’re getting married in less than a week?”

  “No, Soph. I can’t. I really can’t.”

  “So tell me about Paris. What are the French men like? Are they sexy? Or are they super skinny?”

  “Sophie.”

  “What? I mean, I know you’re about to get married, but that doesn’t mean you’re dead. It’s not like you can’t look at another man besides Paul for the rest of your life.”

  “Fine. I guess you could say they’re . . . interesting. Not that I’ve really had much contact with them. I mean, you know I’m here for work.” I cringed as I glanced around the hotel room. If she only knew
.

  “Work, work, work. You could at least have a little fun if you’re going to be there for another day or two. You know how stressful it’s going to be when you come back with all of us in town for the wedding. I talked to Lily and Magali and Dad this morning. They were stressing me out just listening to them. You’ve got to get home.”

  “I know, Soph. I know.”

  “Well, keep us posted on when you’ll be back. Until then, it’ll be me and Paul holding down the fort.”

  Oh, God.

  “I will, Soph. Can’t wait to see you.”

  “Me too. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  I hung up with Sophie and briefly contemplated calling Paul, but decided to take a shower first. I was sweaty, exhausted, and my feet hurt. Plus I needed time to figure out what I was even going to say to him. The only two options were to keep lying to him, or to tell him the truth. And if I kept lying, the lies were going to spiral out of control. I would have to tell him that I’m staying in a new hotel. Which, by the way, I wouldn’t even be in tomorrow. And Paul wasn’t an idiot. He would notice that none of this was adding up.

  And now the checking account disaster. I had no clue how I would even begin to explain that.

  The other option—telling Paul the truth—still didn’t feel like a viable option to me if I still wanted to get married this weekend.

  So, lying it was.

  I stared at the phone, and as the queasiness piled up in my stomach, I turned away and headed to the shower.

  ***

  After twenty minutes of standing underneath a blazing hot stream of water in a comatose stance, not willing to think about my mess of a life for another second, I wrapped myself up in a towel, only to realize that I was going to have to put that dreaded red dress back on to go to bed. Ugh.

  Just as I was about to slip the miniscule sliver of a dress over my head, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

  “Yeah?”

  “I bought some pajamas for you,” Julien called.