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7
Nina stared out the window,her eyes pulled to the illuminated arch of the Arc de Triomphe. She’d allowed herself to be led onto Jack’s plane without question, relieved to find that he’d arranged for fresh lobster and champagne to be served once they were in theair.
She was famished, and she’d eaten enthusiastically as Jack looked on with laughter. Last year she’d been too nervous around him to indulge her appetite, but her promise to be herself was liberating, and she ate without apology, closing her eyes and savoring the fleshy meat drenched in lemon juice and butter, a perfect counterpoint to the drychampagne.
She’d tried to pack a bag and had been assured by Jack that everything she needed would be provided. She knew him well enough to know it wasn’t an empty promise, and she’d left her apartment with nothing but her handbag, coat, and a quick text to Moni that she was leaving town for a last-minute trip and would explain at the gallery Monday morning, plus a plea to feed Virginia while she wasgone.
She hadn’t allowed herself to second-guess her decision to trust Jack until she’d woken with her head on his shoulder and had turned her eyes to see the Eiffel Tower rising in the early morningsky.
She’d immediately stiffened, the memory of their last trip to Paris coming back with an alarming crash. Jack had brought her hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on her palm before turning his eyes tohers.
“I’ve ruined the most romantic city in the world for you,” he’d said. “Let me fixit.”
“No sexclubs?”
“Just you and me,Nina.”
She’d nodded with her heart in herthroat.
They’d landed at De Gaulle and stepped into a waiting limo. She tried not to think about the last time they’d been in the city, about her naivety and her flight back to New York with nothing but the clothes on her back, her phone still with the guards at the mansion that was a sex club for therich.
They were starting over. Jack understood the rulesnow.
So didshe.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when the car pulled up to the Plaza Athenee. It was the same hotel where they’d stayed the last time, and while anyone else might have sought to differentiate this experience from that one, Jack wasn’t one to run from discomfort. He wasn’t going to let her runeither.
She understood what he was doing: replicating as much about their first trip to Paris as possible, insuring they wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, allowing this trip to overwrite thatone.
They took the elevator to the same suite where a bottle of champagne on ice greeted them, along with a bowl of luscious strawberries. Nina found an assortment of expensive toiletries in the bathroom, obviously chosen for her by someone in Jack’s employ, along with a selection of underclothes with tags from LaPerla.
“I take it we don’t plan on leaving the hotel?” she asked, closing thedrawer.
Jack removed his jacket. “What makes you saythat?”
She smiled. “I can’t see Paris inunderclothes.”
“You haven’t checked the closet,” he said, tossing aside hisjacket.
She walked to the closet and found several items hanging there — a dress, a skirt, four tops, even a pair of trousers. Three Christian Louboutin shoeboxes were stacked on the floor. She had a feeling the brand was no accident, that underneath Jack’s brooding, he’d been paying attention to every detail, even the kind of shoes shewore.
She wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he knew the black Louboutins she’d worn when they were dating were a huge splurge, her one pair of expensive shoes, purchased only because Karen had insisted they were onsale.
“It should get you by until Monday,” hesaid.
She turned to look at him. “How do you know I have to be at workMonday?”
“I called the gallery andasked.”
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’tyou?”
He returned her smile. “Just attentive todetails.”
“I’llsay.”
He loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. She watched as his bare skin appeared at the top of hischest.
“Would you like a bath?” heasked.
