“And you’re sure they don’t suspect a thing?” I ask slowly.
“They’re convinced it’s you talking to them. They’re hanging on your every fake text. What’s the phrase you Americans use? Hook, line, and sinker?” Felix says adamantly.
“Alright. Well, I can’t say I’m particularly enthused about having your computer pretend to be me, but still, if it keeps my parents from having an aneurysm worrying about me, I guess it’s okay,” I admit reluctantly.
“We’re here,” Max comments, changing the subject. I look out the window into the midnight darkness. The streetlights cast a fuzzy, romantic glow over the cobblestone streets and I crane my neck to look up at the gorgeous, pale building beside us, numerous open windows decorating its smooth face. I squinted to make out the golden letters flanked on either side by French flags which read Le Meurice.
“Merde,” Felix whispers, his eyes round and huge.
“I have a friend who works the concierge,” Max remarks. “I’ve convinced him to book a junior suite for you, Felix.”
“What about us?” I ask, turning to look at Max. He gives me a grin.
“We’re on the seventh floor. The Belle Etoile Suite,” he tells me. These words don’t mean much to me until we enter the lobby of the building and my jaw drops instantly.
This place is beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. Felix heads off to his own suite, nearly floating away down the hall, he’s so giddy. Max takes me by the hand and leads me up to the top floor, where our room is located.
“Max, this is amazing,” I breathe, turning in a slow circle to take in the vaulted ceilings, white carved panel walls, luxurious fabrics, monstrously-huge bed, vintage furniture, and balcony. As I walk toward the double doors which open to the outside, I notice that it isn’t just a balcony — it’s a full terrace, with a full view of the cityscape in all directions.
I feel a strong hand on my shoulder, Max’s thumb tracing a circle on the nape of my neck as we both step through the doors. Even though it’s warm outside, this far up there’s a lovely breeze that swirls around us, lifting my hair in playful tousles. We have a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower illuminated in the distance, the moon hanging like an antique lantern, casting a sepia glow over the sleeping city.
It’s beautiful, and I can feel tears of overwhelming emotion rising in my eyes. Despite the terror of the past several days, the danger both past and future — I can’t help but give in to the intense beauty of the moment. Everything is so still and quiet and calm up here, just the two of us pressed together under the starry sky.
And if I’d never been kidnapped, this never would’ve happened. I’d never have realized how much Max draws me in. I’d have been left with a stern instructor who was hiding so much inside, practicing every day and never experiencing this one, perfect moment.
“Thank you,” I mumble, leaning into Max’s side. His arm goes around me, pulling me closer as he bends to kiss the top of my head. I don’t understand how this happened so quickly, so easily, but the two of us together just fit. I should have suspected it from the first moment our eyes met over the banquet table, the way my entire body just tingled like some magical electricity had crackled between our shared gaze. I should have known it would happen. I should have seen this coming from a mile away, despite the age difference, the ocean in between that separated us from ever meeting until that fateful night in the least assuming town in North Carolina. I never really looked for love, and I know without even having to ask that Max has spent all his years pretending not to need it.
But love has found us, along with chaos and pain. I just hope that when this clash of uncertainty and fear has ended, we will emerge from it together. Looking up to meet Max’s expressive eyes, it occurs to me that despite the darkness we’re fumbling through now, I’m confident that love will overwhelm every battle we encounter.
Wordlessly, I fold into his arms, tip my head upward, and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.
There’s such a silent beauty in the air, a sort of magic that I feel like Paris has been hiding for me since we arrived at that club that night. I feel like I’m getting myself back, finding that spark of excitement once more.
I’m finding what I’ve been missing in the arms of a killer.
22
Max
I hold Liv tightly, my hands caressing her, memorizing her curves and the sensation of her soft skin. I’ve never touched someone with such tenderness. For so long, I thought of my hands as weapons of death, never of pleasure.