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It wasn't as late as Paris had thought it was, and everything in the city seemed to stay open longer into the night than it did in her small college town. First, they stopped at a pastry shop, with window displays filled floor to ceiling with the most delicious looking creations she had ever seen in her life. Croissants, profiteroles, petit fours, jesuite, religieuse... Paris immediately wanted to try one of everything. Alex smiled at her, as she practically salivated from outside the shop.
“Would you like to go in? I'm sure they taste even better when you actually eat them and don't just imagine doing so.”
Paris nodded emphatically, and Alex led her inside the warm and inviting bakery, where he pointed out every delicious treat and taught her their proper French names and pronunciations. They sat at the small table, and before long, Paris was confident they had actually tasted one of every pastry in the shop. How she could have possibly eaten anything more after the dinner they had had, she wasn’t certain, but somehow she managed.
Everything was more delicious than she possibly could have imagined and she let the sweet, buttery, flaky pastries melt on her tongue. As they talked, Paris was only vaguely aware of an English-language news station playing over a radio in the background as she chattered happily.
* * *
While Paris might not have been paying attention to the news broadcast, Alex’s ears perked up when he heard his own name. And then, Alex's face went white.
“Crown Prince Alexander Phillip Lennox III of Dalvana is in Paris this week... but where? That is the question on the minds of both the political and the social worlds tonight, as the dashing Royal has failed to show up for most of his planned engagements in the last two days, and he is certainly not escorting his lovely fiancée around town. Rumors swirl over the location of the Prince, as several eyewitness reports claim to have seen him at a movie theater in city central. So where in the world is Prince Alexander? We will keep you updated with any news on this intriguing turn of events...”
Alex had stopped in the middle of chewing and was just sitting there, staring off into the distance, saying nothing. He was shaken out of his reverie by Paris’ inquiring words.
“Alex? Are you okay? What's wrong?”
Alex hastily swallowed the food in his mouth that had formed a hard lump, and he pulled a cap from his pocket, jamming it on his head as he jumped up from the table. In a flash, Alex had Paris by the hand and was pulling her out of the shop.
“Alex! Stop! What is the rush?”
Once they were out from under the street lights and standing next to a closed shoe store, Alex reached up and pulled at his newsboy cap, which he pulled down as far over his eyes as possible. Paris felt her petulant side taking hold, and found herself concerned that he was dragging her from one location to another with no explanation.
A passerby jostled them, startling Alex from his reverie.
“Are you feeling all right? You don’t look well… Did you eat too much? I know I think I did…” Paris held her stomach with a rueful smile.
That was enough to halt Alex in his tracks.
“No! I mean, I'm sorry. I just... there is this really nice movie theater around the corner, and I thought maybe we could catch a film? Or... something?”
Paris felt herself looking up at him again, concern showing on her face.
“Maybe we can just walk along the river some more? You seem to know so much about the architecture here. I'd love to hear more about it.”
Alex's whole demeanor changed; his shoulders relaxed and his face visibly brightened.
“Yes, Paris. Yes, let's do that. I'd love to walk through the city. But please don't think me rude if I bundle up. I'm feeling a bit... exposed... to the elements that is.”
Paris laughed at his odd choice of words as they set off further into the heart of Paris. Language barriers are a funny thing, she told herself. But she couldn’t get enough of his charming accent.
As they walked, their footsteps echoing on the pavement as the city slowly cleared its streets and people made their way home, Alex told Paris everything he knew about the grand cathedrals and beautiful museums. He neglected to mention the part where some of his ancestors had gone on crusades and sent home funds to build those self-same cathedrals…
The evening air was mild, but still brisk enough that Paris found herself shivering. Alex, not saying a word, slipped off his leather jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders in one motion. Paris smiled up at him, her warm brown eyes grateful for the thoughtful gesture.
His arm lingered there, over her shoulder, as if he was waiting for her to either brush him off or give him permission. Paris felt warmth permeate her body, and in silent acknowledgment, she let herself be drawn closer to him and tucked her head just beneath his shoulder. They walked in companionate silence for several blocks, and somehow along the way, their hands found each other’s and didn’t let go.
He tried to put it out of his head when they walked past an electronics store, and the evening news was broadcasting his face, with the headline:
Where is Prince Alexander Hiding? And Who Is He Hiding With?
His stomach flipped. They don't even care this much about me at home, he thought wryly. All he wanted was to disappear into the Parisian crowds and just walk with Paris, focus on the warmth of her hand, the genuineness of her smile. It felt as if they walked the entire evening, taking in everything the City of Lights had to show them.
And then, they were in front of a hotel... If you could even call it a “hotel.”
It was absolutely nothing like Paris' trashy dive, of which she still didn't know the location; it was more like a mansion that allowed people to sleep there. Le Manoir de Luxembourg was huge, tall and glowing like a giant Christmas tree. Every window was accented with beautiful flower boxes, and a small candle flickered happily in the center pane behind every bunch of hydrangea. Paris was utterly transfixed by the beauty of the building, and didn't even notice the two doormen standing at the front entrance, grinning happily at her wild-eyed wonder. She barely noticed when Alex reached down and took her hand in his.
“Paris, I would never want to be presumptuous. But would you like to come in for a while? Maybe have an espresso, see the hotel? I hear it's... I mean, it's really quite lovely inside. But of course, only if you're comfortable.”
Paris felt her heart leap, her stomach flip-flop inside of her. She wasn't in the habit of going home with men she had just met, but there was something about the kind sparkle of Alex's eyes, the gentle tone of his voice. She felt her head nodding “yes” before she'd even stopped to truly consider the decision. As she walked into the hotel with Alex, the two men opened the doors for them and bowed regally.
Wow, this place is REALLY formal, Paris noticed, feeling out of place once more. Nothing in her entire life had prepared her for setting foot in a place like this.
* * *
As they walked through the lobby, every porter, every concierge, every everyone stopped and smiled at Alex, or bowed politely at him.
Every time Paris would open her mouth to ask him a question about why he was so popular in this hotel, Alex would deflect: “It's so funny. You pay a little extra for a nice hotel, and everyone is your best friend.”
Paris couldn't help but scowl, yet she continued alongside him, trying to ignore the open-mouthed stares of every woman in the lobby, their eyes shooting daggers at her. She was lucky she didn't trip over her own feet, distracted as she was by the opulence of just the entryway of the magnificent hotel. Just the lightbulbs in the crystal chandeliers that dangled overhead probably cost more than the house Paris had grown up in.
Alex walked Paris over to the lush couches and motioned for her to sit.
“Do you mind waiting here for a minute? I actually need to sort something out with the concierge.”
Paris eyed Alex curiously, unsure of just what he was up to. When he'd walked out of ear shot, she leaned over just enough so she could make out most of what they were sa
ying to each other. Her French was abysmal, but Alex’s was clearly outstanding. She still caught only bits and pieces of the conversation though—
“Yes, of course. We can charge the room to...”
“My things...”
“We'll have them sent right over, of course...”
“Can I give you... Tell no one…”
“No, no. Please, we'll inform the staff...”
“Under the strictest...”
“Of course! It goes without saying...”
Alex turned and began making his way back to Paris, who spun around to hide that she'd been eavesdropping. She smiled up at him, as he reached down and took her hands.
“Ready?”
