Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
JEMMA
Well, it’s official: I just might be the dumbest person alive.
I’m about to walk into Luca’s apartment.
The half-bottle of wine I downed at dinner certainly didn’t help my decision-making skills.
Yet, I’m extremely drawn to Luca, like Santa to a plate of cookies.
I want to believe I can trust him. I suppose it’s not much different from meeting someone at a bar and then going home with them for a one-night fling.
Although I haven’t done that since college.
Gosh, I haven’t done much of anything since college.
I deserve to be a bit spontaneous and enjoy this little adventure for what it’s worth, right?
I hold my breath as Luca opens the door to his fifth-floor apartment, unsure of what to expect given the fact that we just stepped out of the world’s tiniest elevator.
He switches on the lights, and I’m immediately stunned. It’s breathtaking. Earthy green colors cling to the walls, while high ceilings stretch overhead, embellished with ornate moldings painted in a soft ivory. It’s a bit small by American standards, but large for Paris.
Luca slides off his black loafers, placing them neatly on the mat next to the door.
I imitate him, not wanting to be an impolite houseguest. He tosses his keys and wallet into a dish resting on a gorgeous antique-looking piece of furniture and hangs his coat on a wooden coat rack.
He thoughtfully moves one of his jackets into a tiny closet to make room for mine on the rack.
While I’m fussing with my coat, scarf, and gloves, he takes my luggage somewhere down the hall and returns quickly.
I follow Luca through a beautiful, inviting arched doorway into what appears to be the living room, where a nearly floor-to-ceiling gold mirror commands an entire wall.
I quickly scan the room, albeit with a hint of anxiety, desperate not to find anything that could tie back to his mystery caller, Colette.
To my relief, the space seems uninhibited by any hint of her presence, easing my mind a little about agreeing to spend the night here.
What’s one night? Right?
Luca’s home mirrors his impeccable style, with everything meticulously arranged and in its rightful place.
A plush white sofa adorned with mossy green throw pillows sits along one wall, while a fancy chandelier dangles from the ceiling over an elegant glass coffee table, pulling everything together at the center of the room.
This place totally beats my faux rental.
“No Christmas tree?” I ask playfully, wandering further into the room.
Not that he’d find one in my apartment either.
“Remember, I’ve been in New York, but I plan to get one soon.” Luca strolls over to the marble fireplace, adjacent to the mirrored wall, and lights it.
The logs burst into a crackle and glow red, adding to the dreaminess of his place.
“Your home is absolutely beautiful,” I say, my gaze drawn to the two tall windows, free of screens, framing the view outside.
“Ah, the balcony,” Luca says, unlatching the windows and pulling them open wide. A crisp breeze waltzes into his home and mingles with the heat from the fire, making me shiver.
He hands me a velvety soft blanket from a woven basket next to the window.
I wrap it snugly around my shoulders. Luca takes one for himself and gestures for me to step outside, offering his hand to help me over the narrow window frame.
As I step onto the terrace, which has that classic wrought-iron railing that I love, a breathtaking panorama unfolds before me.
The Eiffel Tower rises beautifully against the evening sky.
The view before me is nothing short of magical.
“It’s almost the top of the hour—watch,” he whispers, nodding toward the iconic landmark. He keeps his eyes on the black-banded watch around his right wrist.
I wait with bated breath, keeping my eyes pinned on the structure.
“Three, two, one,” he counts down, his voice hushed.
On cue, the Eiffel Tower erupts into a glittery display of lights that glimmer and flicker along the lattice beams and shine like gold against the night sky.
I gasp, completely captivated by the image in front of me. “This is amazing, Luca.” A smile creeps across my face, warming me more than the blanket around my shoulders.
Images of the dazzling window display that led me to this very moment swirl through my head, making me question my own reality. Was I really on the streets of Manhattan just days ago dreaming of this exact moment?
I turn to Luca, my heart pounding wildly against my ribcage. We’re now face to face, the distance between us shrinking with each fluttering heartbeat. I can almost feel the warmth of his sweet breath mingling with the cold air, creating soft clouds that dissipate between us.
“I’m so glad I stayed.”
“I’m glad you stayed too,” he responds softly.
For a breathtaking moment, our eyes lock, and I’m engulfed by a rush of emotions. A hopeful, almost reckless, thought flutters to the front of my mind: could he . . . might he kiss me?
The air seems electric, and my entire body tingles with anticipation, as if a thousand sparks have ignited within me, urging me to go with whatever might happen next.
He leans in, and my breath grows ragged with desire.
Is this it?
Is he really going to kiss me?
A jarring sound erupts from his phone, slicing through the charged atmosphere between us.
Frowning, he quickly reaches into his pocket and dismisses a call for the third time tonight.
Has the man ever heard of the silence feature?
All I can think about is the beautiful brunette from earlier, and just like that, our moment is lost—swept away into the dusky night sky.
When Luca looks back up, his expression shifts. A crease deepens on his forehead, and his lips are tight. “It’s been a long day. You must be ready to sleep.”
Pulling the soft, velvety blanket tighter around me, a small shiver traces its way up my spine. I nod and follow him back inside.
“As I mentioned earlier, I have to be somewhere in the morning, so I’ll try not to disturb you. There’s a Nespresso machine if you’d like coffee in the morning. Help yourself.” He gestures toward the narrow, galley-like kitchen to the left of the living room.
He doesn’t elaborate on his plans, and I don’t press him further.
“Where can I sleep?” I ask, a small yawn escaping my lips.
“Eh, oui”—he clears his throat—“You can use my guest room. You’ll have a private bathroom just to the left of your room. I’ll lay out fresh towels for you. My bedroom is the last door on the left if you need anything.”
Anything—the offer lingers in the air, but I don’t think he meant it the way I’m hoping he did. Why am I falling so hard for a man I just met? Is it the wine—Paris—his kindness?
I muster a platonic smile and follow him down a very narrow hallway.
He pauses in front of my room, opening the door to reveal a cozy space with a single bed. “It’s not much, but it’s better than giving up and going home.”
While it may not be as nice as the other rooms in the house, he’s right; it does beat the alternative. I can regroup and figure out a plan after some much-needed sleep. At least I got to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle.
“It’s perfect.” I grin.
“I’ll leave you to it then. I’m really glad you decided to stay. Bonne nuit, Jemma.”
“Bonne nuit, Luca. And thank you again for everything. I really appreciate all you did for me today.”
He nods and continues down the hallway. Once I hear his door close, I drop onto the bed.
Am I imagining things?
Did we almost have a moment?
Am I being irresponsible?
Who the heck is Colette, and why does she keep calling?
A whirlwind of thoughts spins through my mind, making me even more exhausted than I already am. I pull out my phone to set my alarm clock for seven a.m. when I’m bombarded with several messages from Gretchen.
Gretchen: OMG are you safe?
Gretchen: You can’t tell me you’re with a stranger and leave me hanging!
Gretchen: JEMMA!
Oh my goodness. I can almost hear her panicked voice in my head. I should have texted her when I was at the restaurant, but part of me didn’t want her to tell me this was a bad idea.
I quickly tap out a response before I give my poor friend a heart attack.
Jemma: I’m so sorry. The night got away from me.
I pause, fingers hovering over the screen as I think of what to say next. Is she going to think I’m out of my mind for staying here tonight?
Jemma: So, my day got a bit crazier . . .
Jemma: Besides getting scammed, which I will deal with later, I couldn’t find a hotel. I checked several booking sites, and there was nothing nearby, except for luxury suites costing a few grand a night. If I only knew this city better . . .
Jemma: I was running out of options and Luca (the guy who’s helping me) offered for me to stay at his place. Oh, and he took me to dinner, so I feel like I got to know him a bit . . .
Jemma: So, it was either go to the airport and give up or stay at Luca’s. I chose Luca’s. Please don’t worry.
Gretchen: WHAT!!! You’re at his house now?
Jemma: Yes! But everything is fine. He’s very sweet and kind. His place is so amazing. He has a view of the Eiffel Tower from his living room, Gretch! Plus, he’s crazy good-looking. He’s French and Italian. The hottest combo there is!
Gretchen: Please tell me you’re being smart.
Jemma: I’m in his guest room. I’ll lock the door to my room if that makes you feel better, but I don’t think I have anything to worry about. Well, except for the fact that he might have a gorgeous girlfriend named Colette who keeps calling.
Gretchen: What! Does she live with him? And yes, please lock your door.
I walk over to the door and flick the lock upward. It makes a slight sound as it latches into place.
Jemma: Door is officially locked.
Jemma: It doesn’t look like she lives here.
Jemma: But besides all of that, everything is fine. I’ll check in with you tomorrow and let you know my plans. I’m about to fall asleep texting. It’s been a really, really, really long day.
Gretchen: Happy to FINALLY hear from you. Glad you’re safe. Please keep me posted. I was very worried about you. I expect a morning check-in!!!
Jemma: OK. Goodnight!
I toss my phone onto the bed, my exhaustion fully taking over. I quickly change into my pajamas and crawl under the covers. The mattress is a little firmer than I’m used to, but right now, I don’t care. As soon as my eyes fall shut, I’m asleep.