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This one takes me by surprise. I didn’t expect we’d dive deeper this soon. I draw in a breath and let it out slowly. “I’d say Napoleon. When I was a kid, I was fascinated by him, but maybe instead…” I’ll start this slowly and lure her in. She doesn’t know what I’m going to ask her to do. But if I’m honest… “I’d say my father. I was an asshole when I was a teen. Mouthed off a lot. Thought I knew better than he did.”
“Not uncommon for a teen, though.” I realize she’s the one holding my hand now, instead of the other way around.
“There were things I’d like to say to him.”
“Believe me,” she says with a sigh. “I understand. Though with me, it would be my mother. My father and I understood each other. We talked all the time. My mother was hardworking. She dedicated her entire life to her family. It mattered to her that we became successful, and the two of us fought a lot about what that looked like.”
I nod and stroke my thumb along the top of her hand. “I understand that, too.”
I draw in a deep breath.
“Two minutes until landing,” the pilot tells us.
“Good. Just enough time for you to answer my question. I want you to tell me, in detail, what your perfect day looks like.”
“Oh, my. Now that I’d have to think about.”
“You have to answer before we land.”
“Okay. Hmm. Alright, I’d have breakfast in bed to start. Featuring, of course—”
“French pastries and eggs.”
“Very good, Fabien.” I adore that look of approval so much, I’d do anything to earn it.
“And good, strong coffee, of course. Then I’d take a nice, long shower, in one of those huge luxury bathrooms with pretty white candles all lit up, scented soaps and lotion and fluffy towels and maybe soft strains of music playing somewhere. Everything gleaming and spotless and spacious. We grew up in a tiny, cramped apartment in Chicago, so to me, a spacious bathroom is the height of luxury.”
Such an easy accommodation.
“Go on.”
“I’d get dressed in clothes that fit me perfectly but were comfortable, then head downstairs. No gym, thank you. If we’re fantasizing, I have a perfect figure that comes to me naturally without having to break a sweat.”
“Of course.”
“I’d go for a stroll to the heart of the city, because it would be warm and sunny. I’m in Paris, of course. I’d buy a book and read it at a café with a nice hot cup of tea, then do a little shopping. Maybe get some shoes. I’ve always wanted to shop in the Louvre and Tuileries district. Then maybe I’d do something fun, like bike ride along the Seine.” Her voice trails off as we begin to land. “There’s only one problem with all of this.”
“What’s that?”
She manages to give me a coy little smile. “I’m alone. It would be a lot nicer if I had someone with me. Now, your turn.”
I don’t bother playing nice or coy. I go straight for the jugular.
“That’s an easy one. A perfect day for me is a day spent with you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nicolette
Everything’s moving so quickly, I can hardly keep up. But I don’t want it to stop. We’re on a merry-go-round, and I want it to keep spinning forever.
It seems as if there’s no pretense in his words, no hidden agenda in what he says. Maybe Fabien enjoys being with me and doesn’t bother to hide the truth. And if I’m honest with myself? I love that, even if a part of me feels a bit uneasy.
Men don’t fall for women like me. He doesn’t even really know me.
But I want more of this. More of him. When he touches me, I come alive. He kindles something in me that’s lain dormant so long, I’ve nearly forgotten what it’s like to be cherished, appreciated, wanted. I’d convinced myself that kind of affection was only in novels.
If this is what it’s like to be the object of someone’s obsession, sign me up.
“This way.” Fabien leads me off the plane. I don’t know what to expect, but it definitely isn’t a line of men waiting for us in coal black uniforms, like soldiers standing at attention.
“There’s a small chance our plane was intentionally tampered with,” Fabien explains in a low voice. “There will be an investigation.”
Tampered with? What? Why would anyone tamper with his plane?
“What makes you think that?”
No response but a casual shrug. “You can’t be too careful.”
But I’m unsettled by all of this. Who is he, that someone would ever consider such a thing? I’m definitely not worthy of attention like that.
Does wealth alone bring such exposure? Such risks?
“Just a minute, please. Stay here while I make arrangements.”
I stand beside one of the flight attendants as he walks toward the pilot and one of the uniformed men.
