by S. E. Hall
He nods. “I do.”
Those two words say a mouthful. If Sebastian speaks to him, it means he knows he doesn’t have a reason not to. And I refuse to examine that point until I’m fully recovered from my faux abduction.
“You could’ve just called out my name, you know.”
“Yes, I realize that—now. But I’ve only been this fucking frightened once before, so I lost all reason and went straight to ‘livid’ as my reaction. But even so, I have little regret tonight. This isn’t about me controlling or stifling you—it’s about keeping you safe. Fair enough?”
“All right,” I grumble. “I’m getting sleepy, and I’ve had more than enough fresh air.”
He chuckles faintly. “As you wish.”
We walk back, this time with him at my side.
“Thank you for dinner. That was very sweet of you.”
“My absolute pleasure.”
He sees me all the way to my room, and just before I close the door, he speaks his parting words at a level barely above a silky whisper.
“Sleep well, Love.”
Chapter 12
“Get up, sunshine! Time to see Paris!”
I yank the covers off a groaning Natalie, giddy and eager to explore the City of Lights during the day. I’m already dressed, while she’s yet to even crack open an eyelid.
“Go without me,” she moans, pulling the extra pillow over her head. “Too hungover.”
I hadn’t heard what time she finally came in last night due to the power of the sleeping pill, but judging from the smell of alcohol oozing from her pores and the green hue of her complexion, I’m guessing it was late—or very early, depending on how you look at it.
“Nat, come on,” I plead. “Take a shower. I’ll get you some toast and aspirin, and then you’ll feel better. You don’t wanna miss Paris!”
“Sorry…no way…leaving bed,” she moans, her words nearly indecipherable. “Cover me up…have fun. Turn off the light when you leave.”
As quietly as possible, I grab a water from the mini fridge and two ibuprofen from my bag, setting them both on her nightstand. I take the trash can out of the bathroom and place it next to her bed before flipping the light switch and shutting the door silently behind me.
Guess I’ll take extra pictures for her. Because I know, once she’s thinking clearly, she’ll regret missing out on today. Plus, she seems to have a real passion for photography.
“There you are,” Kingston says, clipboard in hand, when I reach the lobby. “Where’s Natalie?”
“She’s, um…not feeling well, so she’s sleeping in.”
“Seems to be a theme this morning,” he tuts, his eyebrows drawing together.
I glance around, only just realizing what he means. There are literally only seven people here, not counting Kingston. Must’ve been a large party last night.
“Hey!”
Chad walks over to stand beside me. “Patton’s down for the count, too, so we can buddy up today if ya want.”
“Oh, yeah, sounds good.” I smile tentatively, absolutely not revisiting or judging him for what I saw the other night. “Did you skip the fun last night?”
“Nah, just the whiskey—stuck to beer. Out of all the stops on our trip, Paris is the one I’ve been looking forward to the most. Wasn’t screwing that up.” He laughs.
A loud clamor startles me, and my head jerks towards the noise.
“My apologies,” Kingston utters grimly, bending to pick up the clipboard he dropped on the marble floor.
“But now that I have your attention,” he continues to the group, albeit staring only at me, “I’d like to suggest we walk for today’s planned agenda. The weather’s lovely, and staying together shouldn’t pose a problem with such a small turnout. Any objections?”
I hold my breath, praying no one will argue because walking sounds wonderful, and exhale delightedly when everyone agrees.
“Very well, then, let’s get started. And remember, should you become separated from the rest of us, ring my mobile, and we’ll stop and wait for you. Also, you can hold up this flag to help us spot you.” He moves among us, handing out white flags on small sticks. “Questions?”
There are none, so he continues.
“All right, our first destination this morning is the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Shall we?”
He holds open the door as we pass through, nodding and smiling at…well, almost everyone. I get a glacial once-over, and Chad gets to catch the door himself.
Kingston moves to the front of the pack, reciting facts and pointing out buildings and sites along our walk. I try to focus on the tour, but get sidetracked because not only does Kingston’s ass look amazing in his well-fitted, dark-wash jeans—distracting enough on its own—but Chad gives me the Grand Inquisition the whole way.
“So, you and Kingston,” he probes. “Did you two used to have a thing?”
I discourage his nosiness with a clipped answer. “Yeah, a friendship. And we still do.”
“You sure that’s it?” he presses further. “Nothing more?”
I give him an annoyed, sidelong glare.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, and I really don’t want to be grilled all day. So can we just not?” It’s an easy smile I grace him with now. “Let’s enjoy the city.”
“You’re right,” he says, chuckling. “My bad. Sorry, won’t happen again.”
“No problem.” I elbow his arm playfully, not looking to taint my day.
There are no more questions, as promised, and within minutes we’re at the cathedral. I can’t stifle my fascinated sigh. I’m standing in front of one of the largest, most renowned churches in the world—me, Echo Kelly, from Kelly Springs, Nowhere.
I feel as much as I hear his faint chuckle, and glance his way to find a serene, yet exquisite, smile aimed at me.
“Are you ready to go inside?” Kingston addresses everyone, but again, I know he’s really asking only me.
I bob my head in uncontainable excitement, and his smile grows impossibly wide.
I can’t look, admire, and process fast enough; the vast amount of history around me is overwhelming. I snap as many pictures as I can, even as we climb the endless stairs to the famous bell tower. And the view of the city from here? There are no words to do it justice.
Before I know it, we’ve viewed everything we came to see, and it’s time to move on. It feels like I just got here, but I know it’s been several hours.
I’m staring up at the bright blue sky outside the church when a silky, compassionate whisper sends goosebumps flaring across my skin.
“I’ll bring you back any time you wish, Love—just you and me. We can go as slowly as you want.”
I don’t know what rouses me more—the thought of visiting here again, or his underlying, sensuous innuendo.
Actually, that’s a lie. The cathedral is amazing, but…
“Don’t make any more promises you don’t plan to keep,” I respond in an even tone, but send some underlying meaning of my own with it before walking away.
The jaunt to The Louvre doesn’t take long, and again, I take as many pictures as I can, honoring the “no flash” rule that everyone else is disregarding while giving them all a disapproving scowl.
The more famous the painting—specifically, the Mona Lisa—the bigger the crowd around it, so everyone soon grows bored with the tour of the museum. And much too soon for my liking, it’s time to move on.
The on-foot travel starts to take its toll on the group, so we set the pace to leisurely and stroll through the most beautiful, well-kept parks I’ve ever seen. When we come across a gorgeous fountain, I start digging for a coin to make a wish.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Kingston says with a wink, handing me one.
I shake my head with a flirty grin. “If I tell, it won’t come true.”
“Depends on the wish. If it’s anything close to what I hope, then I, indeed, can make it come true.”
I ignore the optimi
stic twinge inside me and turn my back to him, making a silent wish as I toss the shiny, copper symbol of hope into the water.
We continue our walk for a while after catching up to the others. Eventually, I gasp, recognizing the monument in front of me: the Arc de Triomphe, built by Napoleon!
I scramble for my phone and ask Kingston if he’ll take a picture of me in front of it. But instead, he turns to a stranger passing by, speaks in French, then takes my hand.
“He better not steal my phone,” I grumble as Kingston puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me snug against his side.
“It would be the last thing he ever does. Now smile.”
After a few foreign words that I assume include a “Thank you,” Kingston retrieves my phone. But he doesn’t hand it back right away, busying himself tapping at the screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sending myself a copy; I do believe this is our first photo together. It’s brilliant. And still 1-2-3-4 for your code, Love?” He laughs.
“Hush,” I snicker, snagging my phone back. “Where to now?”
“You’ll see. Better grab your buddy Chad, though. Be a shame for the poor tosser to get lost.”
I call his bluff and stroll away, peeking back over my shoulder to add, “You’re absolutely right.”
The masses start to grumble their requests for a bathroom and food, in that order. So we all agree on a quaint café and, proving again he’s not the jerk I sometimes try to protectively convince myself he is, Kingston offers to pay for everyone’s meal.
I sit at a table with Chad and two people I’ve yet to really talk to, who introduce themselves as Leilani and Chris.
“Leilani?” The Chris guy laughs. “You don’t look Hawaiian.”
“And you don’t look like Chris Hemsworth.” She gives him a tight-lipped smile. “But if you say that’s your name, notice how I accept it and refrain from further commentary.”
I give Leilani a small smile of approval…point excellently made. Then I happen to look over and see Kingston’s sitting with the only two others with us today, a girl named Kim, whom I’ve spoken to briefly, and a guy I haven’t.
He catches my gaze, instantly aware I was looking…and for once, I can’t read his expression. The tiny grin on his mouth is somewhat sour, and his silvery eyes are blank and bottomless.
I don’t have time to dwell on what’s up with him, though, because it suddenly hits me. There are four at my table, Kingston, and the two with him, which means…
Shit. We’re missing someone.
He arches his brows—finally, some sign of life on his face—silently asking me the cause of alarm on mine.
What’s wrong? he mouths.
I hold up six fingers, snickering at the flashing memory of what that once meant between us, and mouth back, Only six. We lost someone.
His eyes widen, and his head snaps left and right before he looks back at me and sighs.
“Has anyone seen Carson?” he asks in loud exasperation.
I can’t answer whether I have or haven’t, because honestly, I have no idea who Carson is and am confident I still wouldn’t even if he fell out of the sky and landed on top of me.
No one else is any help either, and when I scan the surrounding area, I don’t see a white flag waving in the air.
“Go ahead and order.” Kingston stands. “I’ll backtrack. If he shows up, someone give me a bell, please.”
Part of me wants to go help him search, but I think better of it. There’s no sense in chancing getting separated and upping our “lost” count. So I stay put with my eyes on the street, willing a white flag to pop up.
Soon, a waitress—luckily, one who speaks English and appears to have already gathered we aren’t versed in French—appears, and I order myself and Kingston a drink. But when she returns and asks for our entrée selections, I decline.
“You have to be hungry,” Chad says, nudging my shoulder.
“Oh, I’m starving, but I’m sure Kingston is too. And since he’s paying for all our meals, I think it’d be polite to wait for him. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.” His mouth curves in a lazy smile. “You’re a really nice girl, Echo. If there was anything he messed up, he’s a damn fool.”
Leilani leans in, her fondness for gossip ablaze in her eyes. “What are we talking about? I missed something.”
“Nothing,” Chad answers for me curtly before ducking his head to say at an octave only I can hear, “Sorry, only meant to compliment you. Didn’t even think.”
“It’s fine,” I answer, then bolt up out of my seat when I catch a flash of white across the street. “Carson?”
The guy turns when I yell, relief evident on his face.
As he comes over, I pull out my phone.
Me: Found Carson, he’s here with us.
Kingston: Thank you, on my way.
Me: Want me to order for you?
Kingston: No, I don’t want to hold everyone up. I’ll eat later. Enjoy.
Me: Enjoy what? I didn’t order yet.
Kingston: Why is that?
Me: I’m waiting for you.
Kingston: My sweet girl. Are you exhausted from pretending yet?
Me: I don’t know what you mean.
Kingston: Yes, you do.
He’s right. I do.
Me: You seem awfully sure of yourself.
Kingston: I am, quite.
Me: And how is that?
Kingston: Because the way you’re smiling right now, blushing a beautiful pink? You only do that for me.
I lift my head and effortlessly find him standing just a few feet away, watching me with an infectious smile and a sensuous flame in his eyes.
I roll mine and avert my gaze, adjusting the napkin in my lap.
“Carson.” Kingston joins us on the patio. “Glad to see you found your way back.”
He reclaims his seat at the other table and beckons for the waitress, asking for menus—which, we’re told, will now be those for dinner.
I didn’t even realize the sun was a bit lower in the sky, a vibrant orange growing brighter as a top layer of purple starts to move in.
Today, with everything we saw more stunning and surreal than the last, time seems to have flown right past me.
Chapter 13
Everyone finishes eating, and I think we all realize at the same time what a long day it’s been. There’s a sense of content laziness among us, and I notice a few yawns and sluggish eyelids. Would it make the most sense to head back to the hotel, via bus or car service, and start again tomorrow on fresh feet? Absolutely.
But the Eiffel Tower is now aglow, like a beacon calling us toward it, and thus the vote to charge on is unanimous.
Surprisingly, when we get there, the crowd isn’t that bad. And soon the eight of us are splitting up, most choosing the lifts to ascend the magnificent structure.
I am not most. I want the full experience, and to get it, I take the stairs…of which there must be at least 600.
With my leg muscles burning and lungs out of breath, thinking I’ve accomplished some miraculous feat, I’m more than a little disappointed when the stairs come to an end…and I’m still not at the top.
I stroll over to check out the view from this level and rest, when I’m startled from behind.
“Nice climb?” Chad asks with a laugh.
I must look as confused and defeated as I feel when I turn to face him, because his next words are, “Only one way to the very top, elevator.” He motions toward it with his head, grinning proudly. “The rest already went up. Wasn’t planning on climbing stairs, but wanted to wait for you.”
“Well, thank you.” I smile, despite the small fizzle of letdown that flashes through me upon learning he’s the only one who waited.
We get in line for an elevator, and several minutes later, one opens. We board, with too many others, getting smooshed together. Chad’s a seemingly nice guy and thoughtful enough, but we’re way too close for my comfort.
Soon enough, we stop, waiting for our turn to unload...at the top of the Eiffel Tower! Never in a million years would I have dared dream I’d find myself experiencing this. Sure, that’s my exact thought with every new wonder we see, but the Eiffel Tower?
It’s less crowded out here—plenty of room for people to spread out in different directions—but it’s disorientatingly high, and at night, so I stay somewhat close to Chad’s side since I don’t spot anyone else in our group to congregate with.
“Damn,” Chad exhales. “Pretty amazing, right?”
I hear him, but simply can’t formulate a response. I’m too awestruck by the view.
He laughs and nudges my shoulder. “You totally have the whole ‘girl thing’ going on, don’t you?”
Now I turn to him, letting my confused squint ask the question for me.
“Top of the Eiffel Tower, at night…” He lowers his voice in flirtation. “Besides being rescued from a castle by a knight, isn’t this every girl’s most romantic fantasy?”
“Sort of.”
I feel the truth color my cheeks but shrug as though disinterested, looking away and trying not to think about the most important part of my fantasy that he, thankfully, missed.
“What would make this…ah.” He slides against me, speaking his next words suggestively. “I’ve got it now. Don’t tell my sisters it took me this long to catch on, okay?”
And then his hands are on my cheeks—and his mouth is covering mine, kissing me with an enthusiasm I don’t return. Oh, he got it right, the part of the ultimate fantasy he was missing was “the kiss.” But unfortunately for him, he isn’t whom I want it from.
I pull back while simultaneously pushing him away, not angry or even cringing, wanting to spare what I can of his feelings.
“Chad, I…” I stare at my feet. “You’re very sweet, and I do—”
“Want to be kissed up here,” he cuts in.
I can’t look at his face. “Yeah.”
“Just not by me,” he states, without a hint of doubt or resentment.
I peer up at him apologetically and nod.
“I’m sorry. It was very nice of you, though, really—and some girl will be extremely lucky when you make sure to fulfill all her whimsical dreams—but—”