I follow Luca to the rear of the taxi, where he pays the driver.He slings my carry-on bag across his trim body and retrieves my suitcase.Hisfree hand rises behind me, hovering near the small of my back, guiding me down a picturesque street lined with glowing lampposts.
“So, where exactly are you taking me?”I question as we round a corner, turning into a claustrophobic alleyway.The tall stone buildings swallow the scant moonlight.
“You’ll see.It’s this way.”He gestures.
We walk down an uneven cobblestone path, and after a few steps, I hesitate.I’m enjoying Luca’s company, and I appreciate his help, but has my situation clouded my sense of judgment?Should I really follow a man I just met into a darkened street?
My mind races with what-ifs.
He could easily rob me or lead me into who-knows-what.
Trusting tourists go missing all the time, and I’m sure this is how it starts.
But Luca seems too charming to be dangerous ...right?Although, didn’t people say that about Ted Bundy?Ted looked like a killer if you ask me; Luca Dubois, on the other hand, does not.I swallow down the lump that’s rising in my throat.
“Jemma, are you coming?”he calls back, breaking through my spiral of self-induced anxiety.
“Yes,” I reply, shaking off the horrid thoughts taking over my mind.
Everything will be fine.
“Jemma, I promise you what’s through this alley will be worth the short walk.”He gestures to the end of the passageway, which I can’t see for the life of me.It’s too dark.
But I guess I’m already here, so I’m going to trust Luca Dubois, the French hottie.Plus, I don’t know if I’d be any better on my own, and Luca has my luggage, so I guess what will happen will happen.
Fingers crossed I don’t die tonight.
The absurdity of my situation—my day—and my entire week makes me let out an involuntary sigh.As I do, I trip over a stone hidden in the shadows, lurching forward before regaining my balance just in time.
“Careful, this uneven street can be hard to navigate if you’re not used to it.”Luca reaches out, extending his hand toward me with a sweet smile.
I accept his offer to help, feeling the warmth of his hand envelop mine.As we finally emerge from the alleyway, I’m pleasantly greeted by a bustling five-point intersection with restaurants at every corner.My shoulders sag with relief as I realize my worries were for nothing.He really is a nice guy, helping me out, taking me to dinner, and showing me his beautiful city.
“Wow, this is incredible,” I exclaim, my eyes sweeping over the dazzling garland, spanning from street to street, with twinkling lights elegantly wrapping around balconies and cascading down to the glowing restaurants below.
Despite the chill in the air, countless people are sitting outside, enjoying their beverages and tiny plates of food.It’s like something straight out of a holiday painting.
“Jemma, this is Paris,” Luca replies with a hint of pride, while making a sweeping motion.
“This is better than I could have ever imagined.”I beam.
“I’m glad you’re pleased.The trick is to get away from the touristy areas and find the quaint local hangouts.That’s how you’ll truly experience Paris,” he explains, gently taking my arm to guide me into one of the small restaurants with a handwritten chalkboard sign listing the evening’s specials.
“You’re going to love this place.”He grins.“Well, I hope you will.I mean, I suppose I don’t know enough about you yet to predict what you’ll enjoy.But everyone seems to love it here.”He chuckles.
Inside, the host greets us with a nod.He shows us to a cozy little table for two tucked away in the back of the restaurant next to a small, beautifully decorated tree with silver ornaments and white lights.
Luca tucks my luggage into the corner behind our table and pulls out my chair for me.
I’m not sure if it’s the romantic atmosphere or the soft glow of the candle on our table or just Luca’s kindness, but I think I’m falling for the attractive man sitting across from me.I mean, how could I not?
However, I can’t help but wonder if Luca is only being kind out of pity ...that I’m simply his good deed for Christmas.
I attempt to pull my gaze away before he notices I’m staring, but our eyes briefly meet.The moment sends a surge of desire through me, leaving me blushing like a fool.
To compose myself, I open my menu, forcing my focus onto the foreign words below.As I scan the selections, my mouth waters at the tempting array of options—from crispy duck confit to the classic steak frites—or at least that’s all my tired brain can translate right now.I want to pull out my phone and use Google Translate, but I don’t want to look silly.
Luca glances at me.“How about mussels to start?The mussels here are to die for.They make them with white wine, garlic, and herbs.”
