Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Mauro
Icome through the front door, stomping my boots against the mat before crossing into the living room, finding Alina exactly where I knew she would be.
Curled up in my favorite chair, a book resting loosely in her hands, and firelight dancing across her features.
Only her eyes aren’t glued to the pages like they usually are; instead, they’re staring outside, appearing almost lost. Distant.
She’s been like this for the past few days, the light she normally provides to my darkness dimming. No longer shining as bright as she used to. The sight of it wraps a tight chain around my heart, squeezing until it’s almost impossible to breathe.
I’ve never cared enough to make someone smile, but when it comes to Alina, I would do anything to keep the light in her eyes.
So, I’m taking matters into my own hands.
As I approach her, she turns her head toward me, her lips only slightly arching up. “Hi.” She tucks her hair back and sets the book on the table beside her.
We’re going out.
She arches a brow. “Where?”
Go pack an overnight bag. I turn on my heel and head for the front door.
“Wait!” she calls out, quickly appearing by my side. I grin, knowing curiosity wouldn’t let her stay behind. She pulls on my jacket sleeve. “Where are we going?”
I shrug.
She pouts. “Can’t I at least get a hint?”
I shake my head.
She crosses her arms over her chest, jutting her hip to the side. “How many nights should I pack for?”
I hold up two fingers.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Will it be just the two of us?”
I nod, watching as she wages a silent debate in that beautiful mind of hers. I reach up, gripping her chin, tilting her face until her eyes meet mine.
“Trust?” I ask in a hoarse whisper.
Her soft lips part. “More than anything.”
Warmth fills my chest at her immediate response.
I lower my head and kiss her. Slow and reassuring before pulling back. I’ll be in the truck.
She grins before quickly turning and heading to my room. Or I guess, our room.
An hour later, as we take the exit off the highway, she presses her face to the window. “Why are we going to the airport?”
I take the private access road, driving straight to my family’s jet, already waiting on the tarmac.
Stepping outside, I circle the vehicle and open her door, taking her hand as the crew moves in to collect our bags. Her gaze lifts to the plane, then back to me, brows knitting together.
“But you hate flying…” She chews on her bottom lip. “So, why are we about to get on that plane?”
Because I would do anything for you, including looking my fears in the eye.
I squeeze her hand, guiding her up the stairs and into the cabin. She settles onto the couch while I check in with the pilot and crew, making sure everything is ready. When I return, I find her looking out the window.
I take the seat beside her, and she faces me. “Now, will you tell me where we’re going?”
I pretend to mull over her request and then eventually shake my head.
She rolls her eyes, laughing.
The second the plane starts moving, my fingers grip the leather armrests, my knuckles whitening.
Alina reaches into her bag and pulls out a few books. “I didn’t know where we were going, so I brought these along. Would you like me to read one?”
I quickly nod, knowing the sound of her voice will instantly calm the nerves running rampant through me.
Like it’s something we’ve done a hundred times before, she shifts closer, fitting perfectly against me as my arm comes around her.
Our bodies settle together with an ease that feels natural.
And as her voice fills the space, steady and soothing, my racing thoughts quiet.
I don’t even notice the moment the plane lifts off, disappearing into the dark sky.
Hours later, the captain’s voice filters through the cabin, instructing us to prepare for landing. I gently stroke Alina’s arm, and her head resting on my thigh shifts as she blinks herself awake.
She lets out a soft yawn. “Are we there?” Sitting up, she stretches, arms lifting above her head, before she turns to peer out the window.
After we land, I guide her down the stairs where a car is already waiting. She settles beside me, quiet but alert, watching the world pass by as we leave the airport and merge onto the highway.
Then she sees it.
A sign that reads, “Bienvenue à Paris.”
Her eyes widen as she looks at me over her shoulder. “Mauro… Are we in Paris?”
I nod, suddenly nervous that she’ll think this is too much.
Is this too much? It doesn’t feel that way to me when I wish I could give her the whole damn world.
To my relief, her arms wrap around me as she presses her body against mine. “I can’t believe it,” she whispers, sounding stunned. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”
I know.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands resting flat against my chest. “Thank you.” And then she smiles. Really smiles. The kind that steals the air from my lungs, the kind I haven’t seen in days.
Without wasting a second, I capture her lips in a kiss, pouring everything I can’t say into it. She melts into me, her body molding to mine as my arms surround her, securing her to my chest.
The car slows to a stop, and the driver clears his throat. “Sir,” he says, his French accent thick. “We’re here.”
I step out of the car and turn back to offer Alina my hand.
We stand before a small building, and Alina reads the sign, “Lire C’est La Vie.” Her eyes glisten, and I place my palm on her cheek, capturing her attention. My brows furrow as I watch a few tears escape down her cheeks, my thumb quickly gliding across her skin to catch them.
Did I do something wrong?
“You brought me to the same bookstore my mother frequented.” Her fingers circle my wrist. She rolls in her bottom lip, blinking back tears as she stares into my eyes. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
I lean down, gliding my lips over her ear. “Anything…” I swallow hard, fighting off the agony traveling down my throat as I desperately need to finish this sentence. “For…you.”
Bells chime as the door near us opens. “Ah, Monsieur Alarie! Bienvenue à Lire C’est La Vie,” a woman’s voice calls out to me, and I turn, facing her as I take Alina’s hand in mine, intertwining our fingers.
The woman, whom I assume is Eloise, the owner, offers a wide smile as she opens the door for us and gestures for us to come inside.
I’m familiar with French, seeing that it was one of the languages our father had us learn and speak growing up, but I’m thankful when she transitions to English for Alina’s benefit.
“You will have the store to yourselves for as long as you’d like, and please let me or one of my associates know if you need any assistance. The whole back wall acquires books written in English, if you would rather that option.”
“To ourselves?” Alina asks, confused.
“Bien s?r. Monsieur Alarie has rented the space for a shopping spree.” She points over her shoulder. “I’ll be in the back to give you two some space, but again, if you need anything at all, please let me know.” She advances toward the back and disappears behind a curtain.
“This feels…surreal,” Alina murmurs, pressing her palm to her forehead. Glancing up at me, she says, “I don’t even know what to say.”
I grin. Pick out as many books as you want.
A playful smile appears. “We could be here all day.”
I shrug. Fine with me.
She shakes her head and stands on her tiptoes, her fingers clutching onto my jacket as she presses a soft kiss to my lips.
After Alina found as many books as possible to keep her heart content, I gave her a tour of the city, wanting to experience everything we could in the short time we were here.
Her eyes sparkled beneath the Arc de Triomphe. Her laughter echoed through the winding streets of Montmartre. And now, as we sit across from each other inside a softly heated enclosure aboard a private dinner cruise on the Seine, she’s practically glowing.
She gazes dreamily out the window beside her at the lit-up city around us. “It’s so beautiful here. It’s not hard to see why my mother loved it so much.”
I stare at her, completely enraptured by her.
Could this be our life? Traveling the world together, collecting moments and memories.
Seeing every wonder with Alina at my side.
But when I catch our reflections in the glass, the thought quickly dims. I’m not good enough for her.
Not the kind of man she deserves to spend the rest of her life with.
I’m only her temporary husband.
Nothing more than that.
I glance at her, and the realization strikes like a sharp stab to my heart. But I’ll be damned if I don’t intend to savor every second I have with her.
She faces me, smiling softly, her head tilting to the side. “What?”
I lean forward, taking her hand in mine, kissing the back of it as my eyes stay locked onto hers. Heat rushes to her cheeks, her blush unmistakable even in the soft glow around us.
She peeks around the space, then lowers her voice once she’s satisfied no one is close enough to hear. “Is it…” She hesitates, then asks, “Is it time to go to our room?”
A grin spreads across my face. I love that she’s just as eager as I am. But we still have one stop left. Not yet.
She frowns. “Where are we staying? A hotel nearby?”
I shake my head. My cousin’s villa.
Her brow lifts. “Are they home?”
Out of town. It’s the safest place in the city.
I would never risk Alina’s safety by staying at a five-star resort where anyone could gain access. Not when my cousin’s home has more security than the President’s residence.
She lifts her wineglass, draining the last sip before setting it down. “This meal was delicious. The French certainly know how to eat.” She removes her napkin from her lap and places it on the table. “So,” she asks, eyes bright with anticipation, “if we’re not going to bed, then where to next?”
I check my watch, then stand and offer her my hand.
It’s time for the biggest surprise of the night, wife.