Chapter 17 #2
My feet were killing me by the time dusk rolled around. But it’d been worth it to hear Ollie wax lyrical about everything we’d seen.
I’d been to Paris countless times before, but seeing the city through Ollie’s eyes gave it a whole new colour. It was in the questions he threw at the guides, how he studied every detail in awe, how he grabbed my hand and yanked me over to something he’d spotted.
Ollie relaxed as the day went on without me being recognised. The band around my chest loosened. If it was just my celebrity he was struggling with, then that was a barrier we could overcome.
We’d just come off the riverboat and were meandering along the city streets, killing time before our dinner reservation. Jack hung back several paces, giving us some privacy.
Ollie stopped abruptly before pulling me to his side. “What are they queuing for?”
I eyed the chattering tourists, craning my neck to see what was at the other end. “Some shop, by the looks of it.”
“Do we have time to join?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…but you’re telling me you want to queue without even knowing what we’re waiting for?”
Ollie gave me a look of mock solemnity, underdone by the humour in his eyes. “Well, it is very British to queue. We’d be letting our fellow countrymen down if we bypassed an example as impeccable as this one.”
“Heaven forbid. We can’t have that. What would our ancestors say?”
“Exactly.” Ollie beamed, pulling me to the back of the queue. “It’s an adventure.”
I snorted. “I think my years in America must be showing because I can’t see how a queue is an adventure.”
Ollie rolled his eyes, not rising to the bait.
As we drew nearer to the shop front, I was the one to let out a groan. “Oh my god—macarons.”
“I take it you’re not pissed about the queue now.”
“Depends,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Will you let me buy an extra box so I can eat them off your naked body later?”
He blushed before tugging me in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
Draping his arms around my shoulders, he pressed his front against my back. “Thanks to you, I have a little problem. Because it’s your fault, you’re going to help me hide it until it goes away.”
“Hardly little,” I muttered, remembering how it’d stretched me the night before. I pushed my rear back against his erection, rubbing against it a couple times.
Ollie growled in my ear. “Tease.”
“You know it.”
I managed to behave myself for the rest of the queue, and before long, we exited the shop with two boxes of the delicacies.
“Okay, that was definitely worth it.” I spoke the words around a mouthful of macaron. “We might need to go back before we leave.”
“Aren’t we going to dinner?” Ollie asked with barely concealed amusement as I shoved a third biscuit in my mouth.
“Don’t care. I’ll just live off macarons. Leave me here. I’ll be happy so long as that shop is nearby.”
Ollie laughed, his eyes soft as he grinned at me.
I swiped a crumb from the corner of my lip as he continued to stare at me. I was starting to get paranoid. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” He stepped closer, his hand coming up to my face. “You’re just…I can’t even describe it, Luca. I look at you, and it’s like I can breathe easily for the first time ever. Everyone looks at you and sees this star, but you’re so much more than that. You’re witty, caring…free.”
I gaped at him, unsure where this sudden burst of emotion had come from. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. “Thanks.”
He leaned down to peck my lips. “No, thank you, Luca. I’m so glad you chased me. And thank you for today. It’s been…amazing.”
I swallowed around the sudden lump in my throat. “It’s not over yet.”
“I don’t even want to know how you managed to land a table there,” Ollie said as we left Jules Verne. Situated on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, there was nothing to beat it in terms of views.
“Perks of being a rock star. What did you think of the food?”
Ollie winced. “Okay. I mean, obviously, it was great, but…”
I chuckled. “I get it. It was way too fucking fancy for me too. Give me ham, egg, and chips any day of the week.”
He grinned at me in relief as we got into the lift, Jack at our backs. As it began its descent, I couldn’t help but remember our first meeting. From the heated sidelong glances Ollie gave me, he was right there with me.
I slipped my hand in his as I considered all the ways I wanted to make him scream once we returned to the hotel room.
All those thoughts shattered when the lift doors opened to reveal hordes of shouting paparazzi.
Ollie dropped my hand like hot coals. Something fractured inside me until I realised what he was doing.
He was standing in front of me. Shielding me from view.
Just as he had all those months ago.
“Damnit,” Jack cursed, his arms flying wide to keep the press from entering. I was frozen in place. There was no way we’d be able to get out of this lift. “Back up, everyone!”
“Luca, is this your new boyfriend?”
“Are you on a date?”
“Is it true you’re sleeping with a journalist?”
Ollie’s back stiffened, his hands curling into fists. I could practically hear his thoughts. His panic about what this would mean for his job.
Someone shoved Jack back a step. Camera flashes filled the small lift.
I tried to breathe in, but someone had capped off my lungs.
They weren’t working.
The walls were closing in. The flashes blinding me.
“Luca, over here.”
“Luca…”
“Luca…”
“Luca…”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
A warm strong chest cradled me, drawing me deeper into the lift. Big arms pulled me close, a hand covering one ear while the other was pushed against cool cotton.
“Jack, get the fucking press out of here. Now.”
I closed my eyes. Ollie’s cologne mixed with the scent of the wine we’d consumed with dinner. I inhaled, drawing him into me.
Ollie was here. Ollie would make it okay.
The shouts cut off suddenly. Were they gone? Or was it my hearing?
Nausea waged war with dizziness for my attention. “Wanna lie down.”
Ollie muttered before shifting me in his arms. “I’ve got you, baby. Here, sit on my lap.”
Numb, I let him move me like a puppet. Somehow we were on the floor, me straddling his lap. “Can’t feel my hands. Feet don’t work.”
“I’ve got you. It’s just us, Luca. You can let go.”
Normality returned to me slowly. First, the sensation of Ollie’s hands stroking up and down my back. Then the feel of damp cotton under my cheek. Sweat or tears, who the fuck knew.
Finally, the sound of Ollie’s voice humming.
“Are you humming ‘Something’?”
The notes cut off immediately. “Huh, I guess I am. Must be stuck in my head.”
I ducked my head so my face was hidden. I didn’t want him to see how deeply this moment was hitting me. There was no way for him to know that I’d written “Something” after going through an anxiety attack alone…wishing desperately to have someone who’d hold me through it.
God, I wanted this. Wanted him.
Always.
“Sorry,” I muttered, embarrassment filtering through as the anxiety ebbed away. “Not how I envisaged this date endi—ouch!”
“Quit it,” Ollie said firmly, massaging the patch of skin he’d pinched on my side. “I don’t want to hear you apologise. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Ollie’s right. If anything, I should be the one apologising.” Jack’s voice had me jumping out of my skin. “We’ll be out of here shortly.”
I cursed under my breath. “Fuck, didn’t know you were still here.”
“Wouldn’t leave you alone with those piranhas out there,” Jack grunted, his fingers flying over his phone screen. “No offence, Ollie.”
“None taken,” he replied darkly as we got to our feet. “Trust me, that side of journalism has never appealed.”
Jack frowned at me, his lips in a thin line. “Someone posted photos of you arriving here for dinner on Twitter. I should’ve spotted it earlier. I’m so sorry.”
I waved Jack’s apologies off. “No, I knew this was a strong possibility. As Ollie pointed out, it’s not like my disguise is foolproof.”
Jack pushed the emergency stop button, and the lift started to move again. In my panicked state, I hadn’t even realised it’d stopped. “I’ve called in the rest of the security team. They’ve cleared a path, and there’s a car waiting.”
I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. “How bad do I look?”
Ollie lifted a hand to stroke over my hair. “You look like perfection. Fuck any of them who say otherwise.”
His muscles were tense, small lines framing his thoughtful eyes.
What was wrong? Was it because he was going to be photographed with me again? Was he worried about his job? Or was this too much of a reminder of what the reality of being mine looked like?
My time to ask was up. The doors opened, a million bulbs going off at once.
Jack and Ollie moved into position on either side of me, their faces grim. My heart sank as we pushed our way through the crowd, fans now intermingled with the press.
This was a lot to ask of someone. Especially someone as private as Ollie.
Perhaps it was too much.