When recognition settled over her features, her hands flew to her mouth and she began to bounce on her toes. She looked up at me, her eyes bright with excitement, and I couldn’t help but grin at her in response.
“That’s—that’s the steps!”
I nodded and laughed when she bounded toward them. The large, stone stairs were the shooting location of her favorite movie, Midnight in Paris. Owen Wilson sat on these steps each night, waiting for the vintage Peugeot to whisk him back to the lost generation of writers' era.
Joining her, she almost knocked me down when she threw herself into my arms and locked our lips together. I was holding on by a thread and my mind started cataloging a list of places where I could discreetly fuck her on the way to our last stop; I wasn’t sure I’d be able to wait until we reached the hotel.
Madeleine was the first to pull back and end the kiss. She touched her fingers to her swollen lips and studied me, confusion clouding her eyes. “I don’t know why I did that. Sorry.” Her apology pissed me off.
I grasped her arms and slammed her body up against mine. “Because you’re mine, Madeleine. And even though you’re fighting it as hard as you can, we both know it’s true.” I dropped my hands quickly and stepped back, knowing I was right on the edge. If I kept touching her, I’d drag her to the nearest dark corner and prove it. She shook her head a little and stepped back further, her walls slowly building up again.
I decided to let it go for the moment, but I’d be saying and doing a lot about the subject when we returned to our hotel. We still had one more stop to make, so I silently held my hand out. She looked between my outstretched hand and my face a few times, searching for who the fuck knows what. Eventually, she placed her palm atop mine and I laced our fingers together.
I hailed a cab and gave him our destination in flawless French, wanting to surprise her. He drove us up to the riverfront and dropped us at the mouth of a bridge crossing over the Seine. Guiding her to the center of the structure, we stopped to take in our surroundings.
It was then Madeleine noticed the lattice, wrought iron railings. They were covered by thin sheets of transparent plexiglass, but still recognizable.
“This is in the movie, too,” she whispered with awe. “It’s a ‘lovelock’ bridge. They used to be covered in a multicolored sea of padlocks.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “The locks were placed by sweethearts, the keys thrown away to symbolize an unbreakable bond.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the Cartier box I’d held onto all evening. I flicked open the lid so Madeleine could see the white gold and diamond bracelet inside. Nestled in the box next to it was a white gold screwdriver, which would let me lock the bracelet in place on her wrist. It wasn’t the most expensive piece of jewelry I planned to buy her, but I couldn’t resist the idea of a piece that was under my control.
She reared back suddenly and dropped my hand, her gaze darting around wildly, as though looking for an escape.
“Madeleine, come here,” I demanded. She shook her head again, backing up a few more steps.
“An unbreakable love, Caleb. Those locks represented an unbreakable love.”
Chapter 8
Madeleine
Caleb took one step toward me and I held my hands up to ward him off. I shook my head as I tried to understand what he could possibly have been thinking to bring me here, of all places. There was no way a playboy like him could understand the depth of meaning behind those locks—the level of commitment they represented to the couples who had placed them on the bridge for years. So many couples, the city had to finally remove the locks and cover the wrought iron crisscrossing the bridge because it couldn’t handle the weight of them all.
This wasn’t some mere imaginary place from the movies I loved to watch. It was real. As true as the emotions the men and women who’d stood here before us had felt for each other. As pure as the love my parents still felt for each other. The same connection they’d felt when they visited Paris and placed a lock of their own onto this very same bridge years ago. The same love I saw every day between the two of them and wanted for myself. The reason I was fighting so hard to save the business my father had almost killed himself to keep afloat.
Unlike the day I’d spent with Caleb, wearing rose-colored glasses as he showed me the most romantic spots in the city I’d dreamed of visiting. Today wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Not when it was the stuff of my fantasies. I’d spent it doing all the things I’d imagined and it had been better than I’d expected because I’d been with Caleb—with the man who held the fate of my father’s business in his hands. He wasn’t just the man who’d fucked me senseless after sweeping me onto his plane. I needed to remember he was a ruthless businessman and notorious playboy. It was beyond belief to expect he would view our day together the same way I did. For all I knew, today’s trip was one he’d done many times before as he romanced whichever woman he found himself with while in Paris. A day that ended with a token of his appreciation like the gorgeous bracelet he was holding.