FOURTEEN
Kross is right. Sweltering heat arises whenever he touches me, and I’m craving more, even now on this long flight.
The sinful fantasies fade as the private jet lands in Paris at the crack of dawn. A bus chauffeurs our group to the hotel, and we check in and plan dinner before separating.
“Ah!” Iree squeals as we enter the vintage-style hotel room we’re sharing. “Can’t believe I’m in Paris!”
She dashes out the French door to the balcony to admire the area. The place is starting to come alive with the Tuesday morning, the smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee wafting the air.
“All set, Mesdames,” the polite porter says after removing our luggage from the cart.
“Merci.” I hand him a tip.
“Enjoy your stay at H?tel Fleur.”
With his exit, I close the door and massage my temples, ready to crash from the seven-hour flight.
“Mind if I shower first?” I ask Iree while opening my suitcase.
She glances back at me. “Go ahead. I need to let my brother know I made it, and no one’s kidnapped me.”
I smirk. “It’s past 1 a.m. in Baltimore.”
“He’s at Krossfire ,” she says with a lift of her shoulder.
“Ah.” The mention of the club leads to visions of its owner. I blink his handsome face away and tell her, “Pick any bed you like. Let’s try to sleep for a few hours and walk around before dinner.”
A sweet expression masks her face. “Thanks again for this, D. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate you convincing Chavonne.”
“It’s fine. She wants everyone to have the experience.” Putting on slippers, I grab my hygiene kit and enter the chic Parisian bathroom, in awe of the patterned tiles, clawfoot tub, and statement mirror with a gilded frame.
Exiting after my shower, I hear Iree mention Kross, and that causes a flutter in my belly.
She concludes her call and places the phone on the table by her bed. “Kross says hi.”
“Okay.” Act cool .
“Seems y’all are friends now. Have you been back to the club since opening night?”
“Yeah. Place is a vibe. Kross is a nice guy.”
“Huh,” is all she says before entering the bathroom.
I wrap my straightened hair, secure it in the bonnet, and draw the curtains to shut out the morning light. Climbing into bed, I pick up my phone and call Jamir to tell him I’m in Paris. He doesn’t answer. I guess it’s too late. Regardless, he could have stayed up, considering his arrogant ass stormed off Friday night and hasn’t called. Annoyed, I text him and Trishell before closing my eyes to try and sleep.
We stroll the streets of Rue Saint-Dominique, enjoying the vibrant afternoon, the trendy styles suitable for the cool March weather, and the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
Following a tour of Musée d'Orsay and a brief stop at Arc de Triomphe, we meet Chavonne, Wren, and the team for dinner. Afterward, Iree suggests checking out some French bars. It’s midnight by the time we return to the hotel room. We take turns washing up, and she collapses in her bed, falling asleep immediately. I was like her at twenty-five, ready to take on the world. I’ve slowed down a lot since.
Restless, I sit on the balcony cloaked with a blanket, staring at the starry sky. My phone vibrates in my hand with a text from Trishell telling me to have fun. There’s still nothing from Jamir. He could have at least replied to my message, but it seems he’s still ignoring me.
Having the strong impulse to talk to Kross, I scroll through my contacts to the letter K. He offered me something, and calling him is an answer.
“Hello?” His raspy voice makes my heart sprint.
“Ahem. It’s Davia. Did I wake you?”
“I just woke up from a quick nap.” He clears his throat. “It’s cool. Hey, Ms. Designer. You’re calling me from Paris.”
“Yeah. So, about stopping by the youth center. I can be there at noon on Saturday.”
“Great. You’ll love the kids.” He hums. “You called me from Paris to set that up?”
I touch my neck. “It just popped into my head.”
There’s a quiet pause before his low breath. “How is the city of light and love?”
“Uh, good.” I glance over my shoulder into the room, checking if Iree is still asleep. Her snoring confirms it. “I don’t know. Something feels missing compared to the previous trips.”
“What’s different this time?” he asks.
I relax in the comfort of his tone, saying, “I’m not sure. Guess I’m changing after turning twenty-eight.”
“You’ll experience that more when you hit your thirties.”
“Speaking of age,” I say on an exhale. “How old are you, Kross?”
“I’ll be thirty-one April twenty. I like gold jewelry, fine dining, collectibles, and new experiences. To give you some gift ideas.”
“Okay, Taurus King,” I laugh softly.
“Iree asleep?”
“Yeah.” I look at her again and smirk. “We went drinking. She passed out.”
“And here you are, talking to me. Can’t sleep?”
“Something like that.” I’m in a relationship. This isn’t appropriate. “Um, I should—”
“Don’t analyze it,” he stops me. “You want to talk to me. You wouldn’t have saved my number otherwise.”
My eyes fall shut, and I relax. “Talking is fine.”
“Uh-huh. I like hearing your voice.” His noticeable hunger makes me warm. “I could listen to you all day and night.”
“Is this what you do? You lure in involved women? Are you keeping score or something?”
He scoffs. “Davi, I’m a grown man. I don’t play games. I offered to be there for you when you’re lonely. I gave you the choice. You called me.”
“Right,” I murmur, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
“Let’s focus on you,” he implores. “What do you need?”
“Um…” I sit up. “You know, it’ll be busy tomorrow. So I should get some rest.”
He releases a low groan. “Okay. Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”
Though a biting sensation is trying to prevent me, I fight it and tell him, “Enjoy the rest of your Tuesday night.” I hang up, rise from the chair, and enter the room, quietly closing the balcony door.
As I slide under the warm covers, visuals of Kross preoccupy every corner of my mind, shrouding my body in guilt until I drift off to sleep.