Chapter 19
Nineteen
I have a strong suspicion Mateo is trying to talk me out of going up the Eiffel Tower.
‘It’s better from the ground,’ he claims, as I lead the way to join the ticket office queue. ‘There’s not much point in going all the way to the top. Here, you can appreciate it, but spending money to get, what, a good view? It’s not worth it.’
‘That must be why no one ever does it,’ I reply sarcastically, getting out my phone and replying to Jasper, who’s messaged to ask how it’s going out here.
‘It’s like all these tourist things in cities, though. The locals don’t do it. They know it’s a trap. I can take you to a dozen rooftop bars across Paris where we don’t have to pay to get just as good a view – better, even, because the view from those has the Eiffel Tower in it.’
‘Mateo, I warned you that this is how the day was going to go,’ I tell him, busy typing my reply to Jasper.
‘If you don’t want to come, then you don’t have to.
But I am not spending a day in Paris and not going up the Eiffel Tower.
I’m sure the views from your rooftop bars are lovely, but,’ I glance up from my phone and point to the top of the tower, ‘they’re not that high, are they? ’
Tipping his head back, he squints up at it, before relenting. ‘No. No, they’re not.’
‘Are you getting a ticket with me, then?’
He sighs, his shoulders slumping. ‘Fine,’ he mutters.
‘That’s the enthusiasm I’m after!’ I cry, giving him a playful jab on the arm.
With a reluctant smile at my quip, he folds his arms across his chest and looks towards the top of the tower again while I shuffle forwards in the queue.
When we enter the elevator to go up, I hear him mumble something under his breath, questioning the necessity of the glass windows, but it doesn’t make any difference anyway since it’s so crowded, I can’t see a thing as we ascend.
Mateo is gabbling on at about one hundred miles per hour at how the view is good enough from the lower floors, but I’m determined to go to the summit.
‘I know you’ve done this before, but I want the full experience,’ I insist as we make our way to the smaller elevator that takes visitors all the way up.
‘We don’t have to spend long up there, but apparently, the views are spectacular.
Don’t worry, there’s still plenty of time to do everything else. ’
It’s not until we reach the top and everyone files out that I realise something is wrong.
Expecting him to be next to me, I walk out and realise I’ve somehow lost him in the few paces from the elevator onto the viewing platform.
Turning round in confusion, I see that he hasn’t exited the elevator at all.
He’s pressed up against the side of it in one corner, the colour drained from his face while the elevator attendant attempts to coax him out in French and then, when that’s not working, excellent English.
‘Mateo?’ I come back to him as the operator steps aside to let me closer. ‘Are you all right? What’s wrong?’
His eyes are wide with fear. I’ve never seen him like this before.
‘I probably should have m-mentioned that I’m not g-good with heights,’ he stammers.
‘What?’ I gape at him, guilt hitting me like a gut punch to the stomach. ‘Mateo! Are you serious? You’re afraid of heights. Why wouldn’t you say something?’
‘You wanted to come here so badly.’
‘If you’d said, I never would have—’
‘That’s why I didn’t say.’ He gulps audibly. ‘I… I want to do this. I just… can’t.’
My heart swells as I watch him try to build up the courage to step out the elevator.
His bottom lip trembling slightly, his eyes gleaming with panic, he looks consumed by fear, but there’s a hint of determination in his expression, the look of someone who’s not ready to give in quite yet.
I step towards him and reach for his hand, linking my fingers through his, squeezing it tightly.
His eyes flicker down at me as I give him a reassuring smile.
‘It’s okay, I’m here,’ I say so gently, it’s almost a whisper. ‘We’ll do it together. This lower level is completely enclosed.’
He gives a sharp nod, his throat bobbing.
‘Big, deep breaths,’ I encourage as we begin to walk out, his legs wobbling enough for him to put a hand out against the elevator wall to steady himself.
‘I… I want you to know, that there are many things I am not afraid of,’ he stammers, his hand clutching mine so tight, I’m beginning to lose all feeling in it.
‘Sharks, no problem. Snakes or spiders, they don’t bother me.
You ever have a spider in your room that you need handling?
Come to me, I will rescue him and put him outside for you. ’
Oh God, he’s so cute. The way he’s hating being this vulnerable in front of me. How he’s specifying that he wouldn’t harm a spider. This is disastrous.
How am I going to stop my feelings for him after this?!
‘I am fine in enclosed spaces,’ he continues to ramble, shutting his eyes now that we’re officially standing on the viewing platform and I bring him to a stop. ‘And I’m good with speed. I can go fast. You’ve seen me on a horse.’
‘I have seen you on a horse,’ I confirm quietly, gazing up at him as he talks, completely ignoring the view of the entire city stretching out around us and choosing instead to study his face, so strikingly handsome even when scrunched up in angst.
‘So you know that I-I am a strong a-and f-fearless person. Usually.’ His eyes still clamped shut, he swallows again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘Oh God, I hate this, Ash. This is horrible, I can’t… I can’t do it, I’m sorry. I need to—’
The rest of his sentence dissolves on my lips as I’ve reached up to cup his face in my hands and draw his mouth to mine.
I couldn’t fight my need to kiss him a moment longer.
Any sensible thought has been squashed by the need to be as close to him as physically possible when he’s standing in front of me like this, exposed and worried.
In this moment, I can’t help my raw and overwhelming urgency for it to be me that comforts him, and only me.
I want him to need me the way I think I might need him.
The way I know I need him.
He’s stunned by the kiss at first, his breath hitching at my lips, but then I feel the warmth of his hands find my waist before sliding slowly round to the small of my back, locking me in place against him.
My arms loop around his neck as I arch my body into his, kissing him tenderly and firmly at the same time, my heart thrumming as he responds by deepening the kiss, his arms tightening around me.
I’m not going to let you fall, my lips are telling him.
I’m not going to let you go, his are telling me.
When we break the kiss, he doesn’t release me quite yet, his forehead pressed against mine. Digging my front teeth into my bottom lip, I slide my palms down to rest against his warm, solid chest as it heaves up and down with heavy, shaking breaths.
Bollocks. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want him.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
‘Better than I was,’ he croaks, the corners of his mouth tugging into that small, secretive smile of his, before he draws his head back to glance to his right. His face crumples and he closes his eyes again. ‘Oh fuck. Mierda.’
‘We’ll go back down.’
‘No, you need to… get your fucking pictures or whatever the fuck you want up here in the sky,’ he says, making me laugh. ‘Then we’ll go back down.’
‘Are you sure? If you’re uncomfortable then—’
‘Please, go,’ he insists. ‘And enjoy the view. Don’t rush it and let this all be a waste.’
‘Thank you for coming with me. I wish you’d told me you were scared of heights, but… thank you.’
He shrugs. I run my hands down the curves of his arms, finding his hands and grasping them in mine. He sighs heavily, dropping his head as his eyelids reluctantly flutter open and he keeps his eyes determinedly locked to mine.
‘I won’t be long,’ I add.
‘Sure, sure,’ he says, clearing his throat as though wanting to give the impression he’s in full control, the unease flickering in his eyes giving him away. ‘You go.’
‘I’m going to go up onto the upper deck.’
‘The upper—’ He stares at me, aghast. ‘You can go higher? Than this?’
‘The level above is open air.’
A small, strangled sound emits from his throat.
‘There’s literally a cage around the deck, so it’s completely secure,’ I add calmly, easing my fingers loose of his grip. ‘I’ll be back in a bit.’
‘Fine. Be careful,’ he says gruffly, folding his arms across his chest as he remains frozen to the spot, refusing to go near the window.
‘I will,’ I say, heading to the elevator to go up a level. ‘I just want one picture of me hanging over the edge…’
As his jaw drops open with his gasp, I cackle with laughter.
‘I’m joking!’
‘You…’ He blows the air out of his cheeks, shaking his head. ‘I’m going to make you pay for that.’
I’m still smirking as I step onto the open-air deck, gazing out at the breathtaking panoramic views of the entire city. I take a moment to appreciate how beautiful it is, how peaceful and calming it is up here, and how I wish Mateo was looking out at this with me.
‘This better be good,’ mutters a grumpy voice behind me.
I spin around to find him stepping out of the elevator in a comically dramatic fashion, clinging to the rail and pressing his foot down very slowly and carefully onto the deck.
‘Fuck me. This better be magical,’ he emphasises in a strangled voice.
Rushing over to him, I throw my arms around him.
‘You came up here!’ I exclaim in disbelief.
‘Yes, I had to come find you,’ he says, in between deep inhales and exhales as he tries to steady his breathing.
I take a step back, holding his shoulders.
‘Aren’t you scared?’ I ask in amazement.
He swallows and nods after a long exhale. ‘Yes,’ he admits, his eyes shining at me. ‘I’m terrified. But usually, that means the reward is greater.’
My heart aches for him. Before I can think about what any of this means, I take his hand and lift it to my lips, planting soft kisses across his knuckles. When I look back up at him, he’s watching me intently, his mouth parted slightly, his eyebrows knitted together.
‘Here,’ I prompt, leading him cautiously to the edge. ‘Come with me.’
*
As a born-and-bred Londoner, I find it hard to imagine any other city ever coming close to being as cool as mine, but Paris sure does put up a good fight.
There’s so much to see and do here, I’m disappointed we only have a day to enjoy it.
After coming down from the Eiffel Tower, Mateo had an adrenaline rush so big, he could barely stand still, glancing back over his shoulder constantly as we walked away from it, going, ‘What the fuck? You see how tall that thing is? You see how high it is? We were up there, Ash! Right at the top!’
It is such a gorgeous sunny day, we went for a coffee by the river and I sat there sipping from my tiny espresso cup, looking at the Seine through my sunglasses, feeling like Audrey Hepburn.
We went on to the Louvre where both of us tried to out-bullshit the other talking about the exhibition, neither of us knowing anything about art, and sending each other into fits of laughter.
My favourite moment was when Mateo gasped suddenly and I turned to see him waving me over eagerly.
‘There’s a horse in this one!’ he exclaimed, pointing at a painting in front of him.
He’s never been cuter.
He insisted on taking me for a long lunch at one of his favourite bistros, which thankfully turned out to be a tiny place down a narrow street I never would have come across without him.
They greeted him warmly and treated us both like royalty.
Mateo explained that there used to be a young French groom at Maycourt from Paris who once brought him here and introduced him to the ma?tre d’ of this restaurant.
Ever since, whenever he’s in the city, he makes a point to come here because the food is unlike anywhere else.
‘That groom has moved to Argentina now,’ he told me with a proud smile. ‘He was a talented player already. After his training, he’ll be up there with the best.’
I realise as the lunch is concluding that the conversation has mostly revolved around me.
Without it seeming like an interrogation, Mateo has asked me questions about growing up in London, my close relationship with Jasper, and how I came to work for Ren through Mum.
The questions continue as we stroll across the bridge towards Notre Dame, but take a pause while we stand in front of the magnificent, imposing cathedral, both of us awed into silence.
I made it clear to Mateo this morning that I wanted to finish the day with a cruise down the Seine, emphasising it was non-negotiable as I suspected he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
But when I walk in the direction of the boat-tour signs, Mateo puts his arm around my shoulders and gently angles me another way.
‘Hey!’ I protest, ducking away from his arm. ‘We’re going on a boat tour, Mateo.’
‘Yes, we are.’
‘Then why are we walking away from it?’
‘We’re not. We’re walking away from the large, public boat tours, and walking towards the small, private boat tour that we’ll be going on.’
He nods towards a small boat bobbing at the jetty, a skipper standing next to it, waiting for us with a beaming smile. I stare at him in bewilderment before turning to Mateo, who looks very pleased with himself.
‘You… you booked a private boat? When?’
‘This morning, when you said you wanted to go on a boat,’ he replies simply.
‘But… I was with you this morning!’
‘I made a call when we were queueing for security at the Eiffel Tower. You were distracted by those people holding everyone up by filming a dance for TikTok.’
‘You really booked a private boat for us?’
‘Yes, I did.’ He smiles hopefully at me, a thousand butterflies dancing around my stomach. ‘Is that okay?’
I laugh lightly. ‘Mateo, it’s amazing!’
‘The least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.’ He offers me his arm. ‘Shall we?’