Chapter 23
I leave the mansion before Willow gets back, so I have no idea where she went or if things with Sebastian went well. Did he kiss her, too? I know the bachelors always develop relationships with a handful of women on this show, and we’re far enough into the process that he should probably be serious about us all. The thought has me twisted up inside.
Then, I get to the airport and all I can feel is excitement when I learn of my destination.
Paris.
Paris. Freaking. France.
I’m going to die. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. It’s my number-one dream vacation. I looked into going to fashion design school there and trying my hand at living abroad, but it was too expensive. I took four years of French in high school instead of Spanish, just in case I ever got the chance to go.
I’m giddy. Floating on air, and not just because I’m on a plane literally soaring above the clouds.
I’m going to Paris!
I try to get some sleep on the plane, but it’s almost impossible. My mind races with possibilities of the things we’ll do. The places we’ll see. The Louvre, Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower!
After an extremely long flight in which I lose a whole night, my plane arrives in Paris at about six in the morning local time. I’m going to regret not getting a nap before the day is over, but I don’t care. I’ll find a way to stay awake. No way is jetlag going to ruin this for me.
Aaron and James meet me at the airport, and Aaron does his host duties getting me to talk about how excited I am to be here and what I can expect. He won’t tell me what we’ll be doing today no matter how much I beg. He will only tell me that we’re going straight from the airport to meet Sebastian for breakfast and that we have a long day planned, and I should consider getting coffee.
My nose is plastered to the window of the limo all the way to the café where I meet Sebastian. I take it all in. The buildings, the people, everything, and I practically leap from the car when we arrive at our destination. Sebastian is already there, and I’m so thrilled that I jump at him and wrap my arms around his neck. “We’re in Paris!” I squeal, shocking him with a kiss to his cheek.
He has to catch me when I throw myself at him, and he stumbles a little as he steadies us both to keep us from falling, but his arms come around me, and he laughs. Our hug lasts longer than a normal greeting because I can’t stop squeezing him. His hold on me is gentle, but he seems in no hurry to release me. Slowly, the embrace gets tighter, as if he’s enjoying the hug and wants nothing more than to hold me forever. His arms cage me in, and he starts slowly rubbing his hands up and down my back. The feel of his body against mine and the smell of his cologne makes my head swim, momentarily distracting me from my elation.
“I take it you’re excited?” he asks with a low chuckle in his voice that causes goose bumps to rise on my arms.
I should be embarrassed by my actions, but I just can’t find it in me to care. I pull back and grin at him. “You don’t understand. Paris is number one on my bucket list. I’ve dreamed of coming here my whole life. I can’t believe we’re here!”
He smiles as if he’s mighty pleased with himself and holds his hand out to me. “We’d better not waste any time standing around then.” He nods to the quaint café behind him with cute umbrella-covered tables out front. “Shall we get some breakfast and then do a little sight-seeing?”
He’s still holding out his hand to me, and it finally catches up to me that I basically jumped him and kissed his cheek. I blush, and Sebastian’s lips quirk up at the corners. He reaches for my hand when I don’t automatically take his. My stomach flutters when his hand curls around mine. His grip is warm and confident without being too firm. His fingers are soft with no calluses. He clearly takes care of his skin. It makes me want to touch his clean-shaven jaw to feel how smooth it is.
He laces our fingers together and guides me into the café. I’m tongue-tied, which isn’t very common for me. Somehow, Sebastian twists me all up inside, and I have no doubt he knows it. I’m also sure he plans to use that to his advantage as much as possible. He commands boardrooms. He might not be the most charming man or great with women, but he’s proven several times that he knows how to take charge of a situation. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. It just so happens that what he wants this time is me. It’s a little terrifying and a lot sexier than I care to admit.
He asks the hostess to seat us outside on the patio. It’s a gorgeous day with a bright blue sky. The temperature is mild, but the sun kisses my skin just enough to keep me comfortable. It’s perfect, and I can’t stop smiling.
Sebastian lets go of my hand to pull my chair out for me. A beautiful woman with a thick French accent tells us about their specials and helps us order our breakfast, which is a light affair of a tartine and jam with juice and coffee.
While we wait, I take a moment to really look around. We’re on a long street lined with beautiful buildings all standing two and three stories high. It’s narrow and has a bit of a medieval feel to it, but there’s an air of luxury and elegance to it as well. There’s nothing like it in California. “Where are we?” I ask.
Sebastian casts a glance up and down the street. “I believe it’s called Rue Saint-Honoré.”
My eyes widen, and a giddy squeak escapes me. Rue Saint-Honoré is famous. It’s one of the best places to shop for high fashion and unique boutiques in all of Paris. I scan the street again, wanting to see all the shops. I could spend days here.
A light laugh pulls my attention back to my breakfast companion. “Worry about breakfast first, and then I promise we’ll go look around.”
“What are we doing here? You hate shopping.”
He gives me a secretive smile. “It’s a surprise.”
I’m going to die of curiosity. Our toast and jam arrives, and I eat as quickly as I can without embarrassing myself in front of the cameras. Sebastian watches me with amusement the entire time. His table manners are much more refined. “I’m surprised they let us eat,” I say, finishing off my coffee.
Sebastian shrugs. “They can’t just not feed us. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been on a plane for hours.”
“Same.” His comment brings up another question. “Where did you come from?”
“Singapore.”
“Wow. You’ve had a long couple of weeks. Rio, to Hawaii, to Thailand, to Singapore, and now Paris. You must be exhausted.”
“My internal clock is very confused,” he admits, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “But don’t worry. I slept on the plane. I’ll be able to keep up with you.”
I grin at that. “Good, because I want to pack in as much as we can today. If we only get one day here, I don’t want to waste a single minute of it.”
“Let’s get to it, then.” He stands and offers me his hand. This time I take it without hesitation.
We stop in front of the café and look down either direction on the street. I can see several boutiques. Excitement bubbles up in me, but I tamp it down. We’re not here to window shop. Sebastian said he had something planned. “Where to first?” I ask.
To my surprise, he points down the street. “It’s just down that way.”
“What is?”
“You’ll see.”
He smiles again. The man is toying with me. He starts at a leisurely pace down the street and asks, “So what is it about Paris that’s made it your dream destination?”
A grin spreads across my face. I take in a deep breath and twirl once, waving my hands out to encompass everything around me. “The fashion, the history, the food, the art—everything. It’s so rich with culture.”
“So you appreciate the finer things in life?” Sebastian asks. There’s no censure in his voice, only curiosity.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love my crappy little studio apartment and watching my friend’s band play in seedy dive bars all over Los Angeles. I don’t need all of this.” I wave my hand at the luxury around me. “But part of my heart was definitely born for it. All of this feels magical.”
Sebastian studies the shops with such a dubious look that I burst out laughing. “All right, Mr. I Don’t Own Casual Clothes. What kind of things do you appreciate?”
His brow furrows. “I don’t really know. I have nothing against art or music. I enjoy the theater and the occasional sports game, but if I had my choice, I’d much rather stay home. I love spending time with my family. We get together every Sunday for brunch.”
“Who’s we?”
“My mom, my older sister and her husband, and my niece. Olivia’s four and the cutest kid you’ve ever seen. I can’t help spoiling her rotten. Sophie is constantly lecturing me about bringing presents every time I come over.”
My heart gets all squishy seeing the loving smile cross his face. He’s a workaholic, but deep down he’s a homebody and a family man. I like that about him. I love to go out with the girls, but only on occasion. I don’t much care for the party scene.
“Something else we have in common,” I admit. “I spend most of my free time hanging out with my dads watching reality TV, or chilling with Brian, Ella, and Apollo in their ridiculous mansion hiding from the public. I can have expensive taste, but it really doesn’t take much to make me happy.”
Sebastian stops walking and turns to look at me. He studies me with such an intense gaze it has me squirming. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to know. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides not to say whatever’s on his mind. Instead, he places a hand on the small of my back and waves toward a store. A thrill surges through me when I see the words Couture Dubois in elegant scrawl above the front doors.
The store hours listed on the window say that the shop doesn’t open for another two hours, but Marguerite herself comes to open the door for us. “Sebastian! Vivian! Welcome! It’s good to see you again.”
I accept the cheek kisses she gives me in a daze, then turn to Sebastian. “What is this?”
He ushers me into the shop. “You need an evening gown for tonight.” He waves at all of the dresses on display. “I promised you could pick your own dress.”
I gasp softly. “You want me to pick a gown to wear tonight? From here?”
He smiles again, almost smugly. “Shoes too, and whatever else you need.”
My mouth falls open. I can’t believe it. As much as I love my dads and think their gowns deserve awards, I’ve never worn something from Couture Dubois. I could never in a million years afford such a dress.
Marguerite laughs a light, tinkling laugh at the stunned expression on my face. “When Sebastian’s assistant called me and told me what you needed for the evening, I was more than happy to help. I got your sizes from the show and have pulled some gowns that I think would look stunning on you, including a few new ones from the upcoming line.”
I gasp again and whirl around to face Sebastian. “You set this up?”
He shrugs. “You seemed to really like her at the ball. I thought, since her original shop was in Paris, and we’re here, why not?”
I blink several times. Why not? Like it’s no big deal to be personally dressed by Marguerite Dubois?
Something tugs at my heart. Just a tiny pull that’s almost a throb. I swallow thickly and croak, “That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
His answering smile is soft and pleased. “It’s my pleasure.”
Silence stretches out between us. I don’t know what else to say. How had he talked the show into doing this? And why? It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.
A soft clap pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn my gaze away from Sebastian. Marguerite is smiling. “Let’s get started. We only have two hours before the store opens.”
A couple of attendants come over and offer Sebastian a glass of champagne before directing him to a nearby sofa. He takes the drink and settles on the couch, giving me a small grin. “Come show me when you try them on. I want to see them all.”
Who even is this man? He’s certainly not the disgruntled jerk I first met. In fact, that man is almost a distant memory. He’s smiled more today than he did the whole first month of filming, and it’s barely after breakfast. I like this relaxed side of him. I don’t have time to dwell on where it came from or what brought on the change, because Marguerite hands me a gown.
I spend the next two hours in fashion paradise. Having Marguerite Dubois play dress-up with me is a dream come true. I ask so many questions and learn so many tips while getting to try on beautiful dress after beautiful dress. I soak it all up like a sponge. I would seriously give up my firstborn child for a chance to apprentice under someone like her.
And that’s not even the best part. No, that would be the looks on Sebastian’s face every time I model a gown for him. The man has classic taste that falls on the conservative side. Sometimes when I walk out to show him, his look of awe releases a wave of pleasure in me. But then I try on something bolder and a little funky, and he can’t hide his distaste. It’s kind of hilarious. One time, I try on this teal mermaid dress with a small train made from actual peacock feathers. I happen to think it’s fabulous and a perfect blend of colors for me, but the look of absolute horror on Sebastian’s face when he sees it makes me burst into laughter. “Okay, not this one, then,” Marguerite says, sharing an amused glance with me. “I think I have just what we need.”
When she brings me the next gown, I’m in love before I even try it on. It’s a one-sleeve navy blue slim flare gown that clings softly to my slender figure, enhancing the few curves I do have. It shimmers like the night sky thanks to a layer of Swarovski crystals sewn into the fabric. It’s gorgeous. And the deep blue makes my pale skin look almost ethereal.
I step out of the dressing room, and Marguerite’s face lights up. “That’s the one,” she declares. I nod, because it’s definitely the one.
I feel almost shy when I step into the main room where Sebastian is waiting for me. I’m nervous for his reaction. I want him to love it the way I do. I walk hesitantly out, smoothing down the side of the dress, and hold my breath as I take a slow spin. His response doesn’t disappoint. His eyes grow wide, and he sucks in a breath. The look of reverence that washes over him makes me blush. He looks as if he’s staring at an angel. “This one,” he breathes.
I stand there, speechless and overwhelmed by his admiration until Marguerite breaks up the moment. “We have a winner. Let’s find some accessories. You’ll need a clutch, and I have the perfect pair of heels.”
After our shopping trip is over, a limo takes us to our next destination. Sebastian is back to being secretive. “What’s next?” I ask, my patience and anticipation driving me nuts. “Please say the Louvre or Notre-Dame.”
He laughs. “Nope.”
I’m dying. “Then what?”
“Think about it. What else is Paris known for other than art, fashion, and architecture?”
I sit back and try to think, but I’m stumped. I quickly lose focus and plaster my face to the window. I want to see everything.
Beside me, Sebastian chuckles. “You’re like a giddy little kid walking into Disneyland for the first time.”
I turn back to him. He’s teasing, but my grin goes nowhere. “I wasn’t this excited the first time I went to Disneyland.”
He shakes his head and laughs again. “All right,” I say, folding my arms and eyeing him skeptically. “Where is your one place? Anywhere in the world.”
“Japan,” he says, without thinking about it.
I study him, trying to figure him out. Dream destinations say so much about a person. What does Japan say about Sebastian? I can’t make the connection. If I had to guess his answer, I’d have no idea. It makes me realize I know almost nothing about Sebastian Monroe. I’m not sure if that’s because he’s very tight-lipped about himself or if I just haven’t taken the time to ask.
I feel like a jerk. Since this thing started, I’ve made zero effort with him. I haven’t even tried to see past the grumpy, workaholic billionaire. I’ve been too wrapped up in my own issues and could only see him as my captor. I’m usually not so self-absorbed. I can do better.
“Why Japan?”
His cheeks tint pink, which has me instantly intrigued. Just when I think he won’t answer, he says the last thing I ever would have guessed. “Pokémon.”
I bark out a surprised laugh. “Pokémon?”
His face blushes a shade darker, but he sits up straight and rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t the only little boy to ever be obsessed with Pokémon. Plus, they have ninjas and futuristic toilets.”
I purse my lips, but I can’t stop grinning. “Futuristic toilets?”
“They’re impressive, and you know it.”
We meet each other’s gazes and both erupt into laughter.
I like this side of Sebastian. The silly, carefree kid. He must have had a very fun childhood filled with love and imagination. “How many times were you a ninja for Halloween?”
“Probably like five.” He grins. “But then there was Mario, Link, Ash, and a sumo wrestler.”
I laugh again. “You were a sumo wrestler?”
He sits up proud. “That was a great year. I was the most popular kid in school that day. Everyone wanted to try and knock me over.”
My laughter dies down to chuckles, and I shake my head. I’m having a hard time connecting young Sebastian with the man he is today. What happened to him to make him so closed off? Then again, right now, he’s not being the broody, aloof billionaire, and all I had to do was ask. He’s letting me see him—the real him. And I’m honored.
“In all seriousness, though,” he says, “Japan is a treasure trove of history, culture, and innovation. I find it fascinating.”
“Have you ever been?”
“My parents took me for my birthday when I was twelve. It was an amazing trip, but I’d love to go again now that I’m an adult and would appreciate a lot more of the culture and history. I’ve been a number of times on business, but I never have time to do any sightseeing.”
“Maybe whoever you pick at the end of this show will let you take her there on your honeymoon.”
I say that offhandedly, but Sebastian’s eyes find mine again. The ease of the moment vanishes, and tension springs up between us. Thick, crackling, mouth-drying intensity. He takes my hand and murmurs, “Or, maybe I’ll bring you back to France. You can’t possibly knock off all of your Paris bucket list items in one day.”
My stomach explodes with a million butterflies, but for once, they’re the good kind. They’re anticipation and excitement. Curiosity and flattery. The surprise eagerness is disconcerting, and I clam up. Sebastian is like a shark smelling blood in the water. If he gets even a hint that he’s breaking me down, he’ll attack, and we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. by the end of the year. I’m not ready for that. Admitting I have a crush on the guy is not the same as wanting a ring from him.
I clear my throat and change the subject, unwilling to touch his last comment with a fifty-foot pole. “So what bucket list items will I be able to cross off today, if not all of them?”
He stares a second longer, as if deciding whether or not to let me off the hook. I wait. No way are we having the conversation he tried to start. Not happening. I’m staying firmly in Camp Avoidance. He must read my defiance, because a small sigh escapes him. He flicks his gaze out the window and surprises me when he says, “Actually, we’re here.”
It’s not until I’m out of the car and standing on the front steps of the building that I see the sign. Whirling on Sebastian, I blink at him in surprise. “What are we doing here?”
Pleasure washes over his face at my reaction. “Dance lessons.”
I gape at the building again. Shock and excitement zing through me from my hair to my toes. The Paris Opera Ballet School is one of the best ballet schools in the world. Just being in the building is thrilling. “We’re getting a lesson? From one of the instructors? Here? At this school?”
He laughs at my disbelief. “I wish it were just you getting the lesson and I could watch from the sidelines, but Aaron and James pulled the ‘must participate in all activities’ card on me.”
I process what he says and blink at him again. “You’re going to take a ballet lesson?”
His grimace has a hint of wry amusement in it. He sticks his hands in his pants pockets and shrugs. “Looks like it.”
He holds his arm out to me like a gentleman to escort me into the building. I don’t automatically take it. I’m still too surprised that we’re here. “Whose idea was this? I watch this show. They don’t cater the destination dates to the individuals like this. This is too specific. Too personalized.”
Sebastian wets his lips and looks up at the school again. “I may have suggested a change of venue when I learned we were supposed to go someplace tropical. I was pretty sure you got your fill of the ocean in Puerto Vallarta.”
Appreciation slams me in the chest. My eyes sting, and my nose tingles. I can’t do anything but stand there, speechless, battling emotions. As if coming to Paris and being dressed by Marguerite Dubois wasn’t amazing enough, getting a ballet lesson at the Paris Opera Ballet School is more incredible than I ever could have dreamed.
I swallow hard and lose the battle with my tears. I look up at the building, and my eyes gloss over. “This is…I can’t…Sebastian…” My voice gives out, and I have to take a steadying breath.
Unable to find words enough to express my gratitude, I whirl around and throw myself at him. I wrap my arms around his neck as if I need to feel his solid body against mine to prove that this isn’t all a dream.
His hands find my hips and slide their way to the small of my back. A shiver runs up my spine. This man. This sexy, generous, thoughtful man is going to wreck me. He’s going to steal my heart and possess me so thoroughly I’ll never be the same again. And I’m going to let him. I have no choice. I can’t fight it. As terrifying as it is, I don’t want to fight him anymore.
He tightens his grip, pressing us together in a way that heats me up from the inside out. He’s tall enough that I have to look up at him. His steely gray eyes are tender, staring down at me with something like devotion. “Did I do good?” he asks so, so softly.
My answer is a kiss. I lift up onto my toes and press my mouth to his. His surprise lasts only a second before he parts his lips and kisses me back. He immediately takes control, but it’s not aggressive like I would have expected. He’s not dominating me. He’s leading me like we’re partners in a dance. It’s slow and sensual and positively toe-curling. He kisses me like he’s got all the time in the world. Tasting. Savoring. Exploring.
I lose myself in him.
When he breaks the kiss, I open my eyes to find him gazing down at me. I don’t want to say there’s love in his eyes. That can’t be possible, can it? But there’s something. He can’t hide his feelings. I’m not sure he’s even trying. He’s telling me, without words, that he’s all in. I only need to accept what he’s offering, and he’ll give me the world.
The question is: Am I brave enough to take it?
He presses one more kiss to my lips, then steps back. He holds out his hand in offering to me. “Come on, Baryshnikov, let’s go learn to dance.”
I laugh. “You know he was a man, right?”
A crooked smile spreads across his face. “Sorry. He’s literally the only ballet dancer I’ve ever heard of.”
I shake my head and match his grin before taking his outstretched hand. He laces our fingers together and leads me into the building. I can’t help noticing how comfortable things suddenly are between us.