Chapter 12
Isabelle
When we landed, Austin went to unpack, and I went directly to meet some of the wedding-planning staff with Selena. I wasn’t
tired and I had a complete week to be here and present for my best friend, so I was going to be.
“We’ve checked and double-checked with our staff and local officials. I can assure you there won’t be any press.” Jean-Luc,
the divisional president for the Ritz’s European hotels, guided us through the Ritz Paris’s different event spaces a few steps
ahead. “As an added measure, all guests have been checked in under pseudonyms.”
Selena nodded and her planning team took over with questions and details.
“That’s him.” Selena leaned in and whispered to me. Her heels clicked through the grand marble lobby as we made our way in
the direction of the garden. She tipped her head to the side toward a man speaking to one of the hotel staff a few feet from
reception. “Malcolm Parks, the Voulez reporter.”
I stayed in step with her and flicked a glance over my shoulder. Tall and lanky with curly dark brown hair, he wandered into the Ritz like he was lost. He adjusted his rounded glasses and pushed them up the bridge of his nose.
I looked back at Selena as we stepped out into the Ritz Paris’s garden’s stone patio from inside.
“Got it.” I saluted her playfully.
Along the edge of the garden, towering hedges—perfectly manicured—extended up, cloaking the green in privacy. Roses and magnolias
perfumed the summer air.
“Wow . . . this is unreal,” I added.
The wedding festivities would span over a week’s time. All two hundred guests were staying at the Ritz Paris for the first
few events: a welcome party, a Mehndi, a couple days for guests to enjoy the city, and then the Sangeet at Versailles.
Then, every single guest would be taken via either jet or private car to the French side of the Vosges mountains for the ceremonies.
A literal fairy tale made real for my best friend.
“I know.” Selena’s mouth hung open as we walked along the stone path. Just above the hedges’ perfectly lined tops, you could
see Paris’s iconic wrought iron balconies and mansard roofs from the adjacent buildings. “I want next week to get here already.”
“Well, try to enjoy it,” I reminded her. I wondered what that kind of love felt like. I thought I had had it with Blake, but
I had never been as deliriously happy as Selena seemed to be all the time. It gave me a spark of hope. “This is beautiful,
Selena.”
Tomorrow’s welcome reception would be in the Salon Vend?me and the garden would be lit with twinkling lights so the guests could filter out.
“It is, isn’t it?” Selena looked around, disbelievingly. The city was just outside of the leafy walls; it was hidden but not
secluded. “A little different from the rooftop garden we had in that horrible place in Brooklyn.”
It hadn’t been a garden so much as a flower bed next to an unregulated bee colony. The bees hadn’t had enough flowers for
food and ended up eating syrup at a nearby cherry processing factory.
That place was all Selena could afford at the time, so we had made it our own.
Selena giggled so loudly it was nearly a squeal. “That red honey.”
“I can’t believe you tried it!”
“It looked like candy.” She playfully smacked my shoulder. “And you dared me to.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” I smiled and leaned my head on her shoulder. I was an only child, but Selena was my
sister.
“Well, I think the honey here is probably safe to eat,” she teased.
I paused for a second and took in the moment with her. We weren’t in our tiny apartment in Brooklyn anymore. The shift that
was happening in front of me felt like an endless trail of monkey bars. But I was stuck, unable to move forward, and my grip
slowly loosened as she passed beside me.
I closed my eyes and, just as I did, I tried to swallow a yawn.
“Isa, go get some rest.” Selena gently patted the side of my forehead. “I slept on the plane, but you’ve got to be exhausted by now.”
“Yeah, we can handle this with Selena.” The voice belonged to Selena’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, Sloan. She walked up from
behind us and slung an arm over Selena’s shoulder, pulling her into a side hug.
Selena’s new family was wonderful. It still yanked at my heart, though.
“The Amaris bought out a bar for dinner and drinks in the city for a little family night tonight, before the rest of the guests
start arriving,” Selena said, linking her arm in mine. “Why don’t you get some sleep beforehand?”
I nodded and unlinked my arm from hers.
I started walking back to the room, but not to sleep. I was the “power through” type of traveler, so I was determined to stay
awake until I was on Paris time. But Selena could spend the day with her new family. And maybe I could use that time to get
myself together a bit.
I swung open the door, sure Austin was probably unpacking, but he was nowhere to be found. There was a large living area and
a fairy-tale-esque Juliet balcony that overlooked the Seine and the seventh arrondissement on the other side.
I walked into the bedroom. Taking a quick glance in at the French baroque-style furniture, my eyes were drawn to the tufted
headboard in between the intricate lattice work that wrapped around the heavy mahogany posts.
One bed.
My pulse ticked up. I forgot about that. Oops.
“Tell me again how you don’t have a crush on me?” Austin’s warm breath swept down my spine, and a ripple moved through my
body. I jumped a bit, not expecting him or whatever that feeling was. I looked over to the side of the room where the bathroom
door was open and steam spilled out. “Because one bed seems . . . convenient.”
I took a quick glance over my shoulder. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet with droplets occasionally rolling
down his sculpted frame. He walked past just as quickly, over to his suitcase in the corner.
My eyes followed as rivulets tracked down his pecs.
“Says the man in a towel,” I shot back, taking a hard swallow and pulling my attention away from his unreasonably solid body.
I hoped my face didn’t look as warm as it felt. “Put some clothes on.”
I ignored the erratic thumping in my chest.
He was hot. So what? Lots of people were hot.
“I didn’t know sharing a bed made you so nervous. Oh, that’s right.” I snapped my fingers. “Your Regency-era sensibilities.
Sorry,” I cooed patronizingly. He leaned over his suitcase and pulled out a shirt, but instead of putting it on, he put it
on the side of the bed, crossed his arms, and looked at me. “Don’t worry—”
“You’ll be gentle?” His cheek twitched.
“Nope.” The anxious buzz became something else, because going shot for shot with him was a little fun. “But if you’re scared,
I’ll put a little pillow wall up for you.”
His tongue tucked to the side of his mouth.
“Alright but watch those hands.” He walked past me, his shirt and what I could only assume were boxers in hand, with a rolling
chuckle.
Deep and heavy, the sound settled at the bottom of my stomach.
“Tonight is a dinner followed by a wine tasting with whoever’s here so far.” I felt the need to shift my weight between my
legs and, at the same time, the reminder that I came up here to rest and maybe get some work done popped into my head. “Will
you be clothed for that?”
He stopped at the bathroom door and turned back to me. His grin became blinding. “Where’s the fun in that?”
This guy. This version of Austin seemed like the Austin Cade from interviews. The ones I only watched because, while I didn’t care
for soccer, he was the dream guy for collectively every red-blooded American woman every four years during the World Cup or
the Olympics.
“It’s going to run a bit late into the night,” I added.
“Don’t worry. I can keep up.” The side of my mouth lifted. Was he being funny or forward? A little of both? I sort of . . .
didn’t hate it.
“A night out at a bar is a young man’s game.” I needed to stop baiting him and do what I came up here to do, but the thrill
it sent down my body was addicting. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“It’ll be good practice. You know, to pull off the perfect ruse.” He waved me off and shut the bathroom door behind him to
get dressed.
The reminder stole the warmth in the room.
Blake was going to be here soon. Probably tonight or tomorrow. I hated myself for it, but it made my mind wander to all the reasons Blake chose her. Why—while I’d held on to the idea of him—he let go of me.
It was proof that my brand of ambition didn’t get the same happy ending that everyone else’s did. That my uncompromising,
unyielding commitment to my career meant there were some things I got to have and some things I just couldn’t. And breaking
because of a wounded heart wasn’t an option when you were a woman in a male-dominated field. I had to be on top of my game
at all hours.
And like an alarm, it pulled all my shields up.
I walked to my suitcase, grabbed my laptop, and tried to put it out of my mind.