As the waiter places our main courses on the table, Luca studies me, an amused grin dancing at the corners of his mouth.
“What?”I snap, feeling the heat of his gaze.
“You Americans—always trying to figure out the impossible.C’est comme ça.”He chuckles.“It is what it is, and you can’t will a different outcome, Jemma.”
Ignoring his playful jab, I dive back into my search, fingers flying across the screen.
With each swipe, my heart sinks deeper; utterly unaffordable rooms flash before my eyes.“I think I should leave—go back to New York.”
“I think you’re making a big mistake,” he counters.“What’s waiting for you in New York?You lost your job, and clearly, you chose to spend Christmas here instead of with your family.You should stay.”
“It’s one thing to accompany you to dinner, but it’s a whole other thing to sleep at your home, Luca.I can’t.That’s crazy.We just met.”
“I understand, but we’re friends now—amis.You don’t have to decide right now, but I think you’d be making a huge mistake if you went home tonight.Enjoy your meal first, then think about it.I know my word might not mean much, but I promise you I’m not a creep or anything.I’m just a guy extending his kindness to someone who had a terrible week.Plus, it’s Christmastime.Everyone deserves a break at Christmas.”
“I’ll think about it,” I respond, draining my glass in one shaky gulp.
ChapterTwelve
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.
