26 Hours in Paris

by Demi Alex

  “Seriously, Jean-Luc?” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her toe, fixing him with a steely look. “I thought we settled this last time.”

  The driver fidgeted and glanced at Marko, whose smirk was easy to notice. He was more than enjoying her display of annoyance. Marko cocked his head and raised his hands in surrender.

  Jean-Luc stepped forward and wrapped his arms around a conquering Kat. “Bonjour, Kathryn.”

  “Better,” she said, going up on her toes and planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

  Once in the car, she folded her hands in her lap and turned to Marko. “Do you think your parents will approve?”

  “Of us?” He nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. They already love you.” Then he covered her hand with his. “They won’t be happy about me going to New York, but they’ll get used to it. They’ll just need to make more trips across the Atlantic.”

  “Marko, you’re not coming to New York,” she said, confused by his assumption. She hadn’t asked him to move to New York. He had responsibilities and duties only he could see to, and she knew it. “It isn’t logical.”

  He tightened his hold on her hand, but didn’t say a word.

  “I spoke with your papa three times this morning. Once, when he told me to get your cell phone out of the bedroom and let you sleep. The second time about everything Martine needs to go through during recovery.” She looked past the window and tried to hide her sadness. “And the last time was right before you came downstairs.”

  “I don’t get it. Papa speaks to you for hours, but I can’t even get reception in the hospital.”

  “He wasn’t at the hospital,” Kat said. “He called when he stepped out to clear his head.” And to share the burden with someone he didn’t need to be strong for, she thought. Marko and his dad had so much in common. They took care of the family. Made the decisions. Shouldered the responsibilities.

  “For the long conversation, he was at the café across the street.”

  “It figures,” Marko grumbled. “I didn’t know about the café until two nights ago. Well, at least he managed to find a way to speak with you.”

  She wasn’t sure it was her place to share what his papa had told her, but Marko needed to know. He couldn’t be surprised with something so important. Worrying her lower lip, she hoped his father hadn’t discussed the family’s situation in confidence.

  “Marko, I know it’s difficult to think of what lies ahead for your cousin, but we can’t leave. With Martine facing such a long recovery, they need you. Your papa is planning on asking you to take the reigns at the vineyard.” She placed her free hand over his, and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “At least for the time being, we need to stay between Paris and Provence. I’ll speak with Paul about making accommodations for an overseas writer. With the right slant, I can write from anywhere. For now, you need to be here. We need to be here.”

  “You said we. We.” He curved his palm at her nape and kissed her. “I love you, Kathryn Taylor. I love you so much.”

  * * *

  With the bakery box hanging from one hand and Marko swinging the other, Kat walked into the arms of his maman for a consuming hug and a flurry of kisses. “Bonjour, mes chers. Comment allez-vous?

  “We are well,” Marko answered, swooping in and placing more kisses on his mother’s cheeks. “How is our girl?”

  “Beautiful.” The matriarch’s face beamed with delight and her eyes twinkled with joy. “Marceau and Maynard have seen to all the details, and the doctor is preparing Martine to be moved to a new room—one where her brothers will be allowed to visit.”

  “Pardon,” Marko said, giving his mother another kiss and striding toward his father and uncle, creating a tight testosterone huddle as they discussed the new development.

  “You are glowing, ma chère.” Angelique took Kat’s hand and pulled her toward the corner of the waiting room. “You have good news to share?”

  Unaccustomed to the keen observation and forwardness, Kat inhaled sharply. She and Marko had discussed how they were going to announce their news, and it wasn’t at the hospital. With her mom on FaceTime, they intended to tell all three parents—four, including Ralph—at the same time. Heat infused her cheeks and she nodded, incapable of dismissing the woman. “We do. Good things have been happening all day.”

  “Oui?” Angelique held Kat’s hands in her lap and leaned forward. “Of course. These things happen in threes. I am listening, ma chère.”

  Kat giggled and rubbed Angelique’s hand. “Well, there is much to tell. Marko would like to visit with Martine, and then perhaps you and his papa will join us across the street for the news.”

  “Bien. I will not ruin the surprise for Marcel.” She pinched her thumb and finger at her lips, twisted them, and threw away the symbolic key.

  “I can’t . . . well, actually, I can, just a little,” Kat whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to the other woman. “Do you remember the research that brought me to Paris?”

  “Oui, oui,” Angelique said, rolling her hand for Kat to continue. “It was about finding love in Paris.”

  “Well, my boss called and informed us the piece will be published in the Valentine’s Day edition of the magazine.” Confident the news would satisfy Angelique in the interim, Kat braced for the onslaught of congratulations. They didn’t come.

  “I expected that, Kathryn. That is very nice. Now, tell me the real news,” Angelique prompted. “How did my son propose? Where?”

  Stunned, Kat withdrew her hands, sat pin straight, and glanced nervously at Marko. Her gaze must have burned a hole in his back, because he glanced at her and immediately came to her side.

  “Why do you women always find a way to sabotage my schedule and plans?” Marko asked, lovingly cupping his mother’s face and shaking his head in amusement.

  “Because you take too long,” his mother replied. “Now tell me everything.”

  The threesome’s laughter drew the remainder of the family to their circle, and Marko announced that Kat had agreed to marry him.

  This time, there was an absolute onslaught of congratulations and cheers. His mother spoke of a spring wedding at the château, and the men reviewed a mental list of trusted contractors that needed to be contacted to start work immediately on a proper home.

  “Mademoiselle Renard is ready for you,” a nurse said, interrupting the celebration. She indicated for Kat to follow.

  “At least there is still one woman who adheres to my schedule,” Marko joked, taking Kat’s hand and leading her to his cousin’s room. He pushed on the door and stepped next to Martine’s bed. “Perfect timing, chérie.”

  * * *

  Marko entered the code into the keypad and fit his gloves in his coat pocket. His fingers skimmed over the box he’d placed there for safekeeping. He laughed aloud, realizing he’d skipped tradition and gone straight for what his heart wanted. Her. The ring was an afterthought. And to think he’d stressed over the right diamond and proper setting, when he already had the most valuable jewel in the world.

  “What’s so funny?” Kat asked, walking into the foyer.

  “I am,” he said, chuckling and pulling her back toward the elevator. “Indulge me with a quick ride to the rooftop. Please.”

  Wide eyed, she obliged his request. He knew he must have looked like a lunatic, hurrying up the iron staircase, but he wanted to add a little romance to his proposal.

  “This is my favorite spot in Paris,” she breathed, intertwining her fingers in his.

  “I hoped you’d say that. This is your view.” He brought their hands to his chest and lowered to his knee. “I never considered a future without you, bella. By now, you must know I only let you go in order to give you the space you said you needed to accept me. I always planned to come for you.”

  “Always?” The wind swept her hair off her pretty face and her cheeks flushed.

  “Always,” he repeated. “The plan was to seduce you with the romantic allure of Paris and my
wonderful charm, then drag you back into my life. What I didn’t plan on was realizing that I’d follow you anywhere. You are my life. I may have chosen and refurbished this house so Paris could win your heart, but, sweetheart, Paris is no longer a player. I want you and only you.”

  “You have me, Marko.” She tugged on his hand and tried to make him stand. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

  “Give me a chance, my impatient woman. From the moment you stepped off that plane, you continuously altered my seduction strategy.”

  “Are you saying I screwed up your plans?”

  “Most definitely.” A sense of pure delight flashed through his body. Only Kat could make him so eager that he’d do things out of order, and that was something extra he loved about her. Regardless of how, he was happiest with her.

  Pretty white teeth scraped over her lower lip, and she squeezed his hand in understanding.

  He reached into his jacket, and with happiness pounding in his heart, he opened the small blue box. “Bella, will you wear this ring as a token of my love?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, then her gaze settled on the princess-cut diamond ring, her mouth dropped open, and her hands flitted to her chest. “Yes. Oh, Marko. You did have plans.”

  “I most definitely did, but I much prefer the way things happen with you.” He slipped the ring onto her finger and lowered his lips to her knuckles. “Je t’aime, bella. Je t’aime.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Three weeks later, life had settled into a comfortable routine. With around-the-clock medical supervision, Martine had returned to Provence and was improving rapidly. Kathryn’s mother had also arrived, and she and Angelique were planning a dream wedding for May. Ralph and the Renard men claimed to spend their days supervising the laborers at the beautiful house, which sat at the top of the mountain, but in reality they spent their time sampling the potential wedding food and deciding which wine went best with each course.

  Marko spent business hours between Château de M’s operational headquarters in Provence and the satellite office in Paris. Often Kat would accompany him, her MacBook in tow, and she’d managed to rewrite the ending of her novel. She planned on revisions with a literary agent, and was looking forward to the submission of the finished manuscript to publishers.

  Sitting at her desk, in her new office at Château de M’s luxurious Paris headquarters, she admired the view of the Eiffel Tower outside her window. As requested, Paul had worked an overseas staff writer into City Wings’ masthead. He had assigned her a series of articles about the most romantic day trips available to honeymooners in Paris. She was finishing the last paragraph of a piece about the Eurostar train between Paris and London when there was a knock at the door.

  “Ciao, bella.” Marko strode in, brushing a kiss over her hair and placing a priority-mail package on her desk. “This just arrived from New York. Want to take a break and tear into it?”

  “That’s an advance copy of the magazine,” she cried, excitement racing through her. She fanned her face with her hand and looked at Marko. “You open it. I’m too nervous.” She held out a trembling hand as proof.

  “No way, Kat. This is your baby. I’m just along for the ride.” Marko chose a bottle from the wine cooler and uncorked what Kat recognized as one of his favorite vintages. He arranged it on the desk with a wine glass on either side. “I’m ready for the celebratory drink.”

  She took a deep breath and picked up the package. Tearing the perforated seam on the back, she closed her eyes and reached inside. The feel of the cover’s glossy paper slipped under her fingers, and she gripped the spine and pulled out the latest edition of City Wings. The edition with her very first professional byline.

  She exhaled and opened her eyes. On the cover was her picture of Marko, the one she’d taken of him looking out over the city.

  The headline read PARIS, with a subtitle beneath: The perfect place for love.

  A caption scrolled across the bottom in italicized font was a quote from the article. “Paris may be the perfect place for romance, but the perfect place for love is anywhere with your person. This is my person, the man that holds my heart and future, Marko.” By Kathryn Taylor.

  “Paul has it right,” Kat breathed, removing the sticky note scribbled with Paul’s writing and holding it up for Marko to read.

  You’re probably reading this over her shoulder you lucky bastard. Take good care of her—or else! P

  “You wrote this before you came back to Paris?” Marko turned her in his arms and looked down at her. He held her face in his hands and feathered his thumbs over her cheekbones.

  “I did,” she admitted.

  Her heart filled with love as he lowered his head and brought his mouth to hers. “I guess my charming seduction worked after all.”

  “I guess it did,” she replied, opening to his kiss and losing herself in her man.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Charlie’s take on the perfect

  place to find love in the next International Affairs romance,

  Four Nights at Sea, coming in December . . .

  Chapter One

  Charlie debated whether to kiss her boss or kick him in the balls. Paul was off his rocker with this one.

  “That’s right, ladies. This is your chance. We’re going to feature the winning article in the Valentine’s issue,” Paul said, puffing out his mouth-watering chest and grinning haughtily. “The selected piece will join ‘Aphrodisiac Foods from Around the World’ and ‘How to Say I Love You in Twenty Languages’ in City Wings’ Valentine’s edition.”

  Holy shit! This was it. This was the chance Charlie had been waiting for. It was the break she needed.

  “Our readers devour anything and everything having to do with international desires,” he continued. “It’s a way to escape the daily grind and dream of possibilities. Who would have thought New Yorkers were so romantic?”

  Yes, Charlene—Charlie—Stanton wanted her writing to win. She wanted to publish a real feature, with her own byline, in one of the trendiest travel magazines for New Yorkers. No, she didn’t want to compete against her friend and roommate, Kathryn Taylor, though. They’d worked together at City Wings for over two years, worked well together, and Paul was pitting them against each other. It was so messed up. A disastrous idea.

  “Get out there. Do your research,” Paul said, circling his hand above his head like he was a Texas rancher. “Lasso someone that makes your body hum, and write about the perfect place to find love, ladies.”

  “Seriously, Paul? Lasso someone that makes our bodies hum?” Kathryn rolled her eyes, then smacked her forehead with the back of her hand. “Wait. Hold on a minute. Wait . . . wait. I’m seeing a handsome man, in a far off and romantic place like Paris, sweeping me off my feet.”

  Paris. Kat had to go and mention Paris. Like, why? Did it really matter if Paris was the most romantic place on Earth if neither of them wanted to fly over and find out?

  Charlie didn’t travel well and wasn’t in the mood for a trip to the doctor in order to get a prescription so she could get on a flight. Kathryn had to stop speaking about the perfect place to find love on the other side of the Atlantic. How did one argue the romance of Paris?

  Wondering why she’d ever picked up the stupid vape stick when she’d never even smoked, Charlie reached for her pink sixty-dollar vaporizer, and twirled it in her fingers. She answered the silent question in her mind. The thing was a crutch. Something to keep her grounded when thoughts crowded her mind and she wanted to scream at the world. Screaming and throwing temper tantrums was not allowed in the grownup world. Puffing on vanilla-flavored vapor kept her mouth occupied. It kept her from engaging in the unladylike behavior.

  “I think we can take a small detour from the publication’s travel angle on this,” Charlie said. After all, living in New York did have its benefits when it came to an abundance of male prospects for the feature. “Why can’t a woman find love in her neighborhood, and then sail off into a foreig
n and exotic land with the love of her life?”

  “If it’s done properly, I can see it working. However, any featured lovers must take off in the end for a foreign destination.” Paul nodded, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered her argument.

  Maybe, just maybe, Charlie could convince the sexy tyrant to see things her way? Hope spread in her chest and she leaned forward in her seat.

  “There is a pragmatic benefit, too,” Paul added. “If we concentrate on finding love locally, more of our readers will relate to the accessibility of that goal and can dream of escaping to a romantic place with their loves.”

  “Exactly,” Charlie said, breathing with relief.

  Paul encouraged her to continue, so Charlie barreled on. “The dating scene has evolved so much over the past few years. There’s always the chance of meeting someone at a bar or a club. Online sites host a bunch of events in this city. And let’s not forget the old-fashioned way of being introduced by common friends.”

  “Great options.” Kathryn looked doubtful. Charlie and Kathryn had exhausted all those options, but neither had found Prince Charming at a neighborhood hangout. Her friend was even more disillusioned than she was. Kat didn’t believe that love could last. Yet, she was blabbering about far-off and exotic locations. Maybe because Kat loved to travel and Paul was willing to tag along?

  Doubtful. Charlie was screwed. Kat angled for Charlie to write about Paris. What was up with that? Why couldn’t they keep it in New York? Considering how many people lived and worked in Manhattan, if you couldn’t find love in the Big Apple, you couldn’t find it anywhere.

  “How are those local options working for you?” Kat asked, snapping her fingers before Charlie’s eyes.

  Kat continued on her Paris Romance 101 introduction, but if Charlie was honest with herself, she had to admit she was just as disillusioned as her friend with the local love options. She couldn’t truly get behind any romance for herself. Sometimes things weren’t fair. Like maybe it wasn’t about the location. Maybe it was about the fact that Charlie hadn’t let any guy in since her divorce. She simply couldn’t. It was too difficult to decipher their intentions. Did they like her for her? Or did they like her for her trust fund?