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I gasp, absently clutching Killian’s hand when the Palais Garnier comes into view.
The Paris opera house.
The Phantom’s Paris opera house.
“Oh… my… god.”
The fourteen-year-old Brynn locked away inside me is dying right now.
Killian looks out the window at it, too. “It’s pretty damn impressive.”
“You don’t understand. I was obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera for a good portion of my adolescence. The romance, the drama, the deformed weirdo who would certainly have kidnapped Christine away from a shitty family if she had one and swept her away to his underground lair.” I glance at him just long enough to punctuate my point. “Obsessed.”
Instead of being horrified or in any way surprised, Killian smirks. “I know. I knew you were interested since it was your costume the night we met, but then you ran off and left me to sleep alone, so I had time to kill. I pored over everything I could find about you online. I liked your fifth-grade water cycle project, by the way. Elaborate for an eleven-year-old.”
I stare at him because what he said sounds like a joke, but I did do a water cycle project in fifth grade.
“I read your self-insert Phantom fanfic, too,” he states.
I feel mortification start in my toes and work its way up. “You didn’t.”
He nods solemnly. “And saw the way you spelled fan…”
“And you still like me?”
He laughs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to pull me in. “Of course I still like you. And, given your particular interest, I thought you’d appreciate this…” He points to a beautiful, classically Parisian building just past the opera house. “That’s the hotel we’re staying at.”
My jaw unhinges, then I grab him and kiss him so hard, it should hurt.
I can’t quite believe it as the car pulls up to the front of the hotel. Killian gets out first so he can grab our bags. I offer to take some, but he tells me just to bring the cat.
The hotel lobby where we check in is absolutely beautiful with stunning interior architecture, and they have music playing that really sets the tone. I spin around, trying to take it all in, but I just… I can’t believe I’m here.
I can’t believe a guy liked me enough to do something like this for me.
And not even something I ever would have asked for. Something he decided would thrill me based on the research he did about me on his own.
Although, while sweet, it worries me a bit about what else he may have seen in my past.
I shake my head, refusing to invite that crap here. No, I am in Paris, dammit, and I will be present for every moment of it.
Once we’re checked in, we head up to the room. Killian opens the door and gestures for me to go in first.
I do, and… wow.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, walking inside.
It isn’t huge, but it’s perfect. There’s a big king-sized bed with a massive silver-lined headboard, and there’s a little sitting area with a couch right at the end of the bed for Toast to chill on while we’re not here.
There are clear double doors leading out to the balcony. Since Toast is still in her bag and I don’t have to worry about her escaping, I open them up and step outside.
We have a perfect view of the opera house.
Killian comes up behind me, taking the backpack with Toast in it and hauling her back inside, then he puts her on the couch at the end of the bed and closes the doors so she can’t sneak out and begin her new life as a Parisian kitty.
He comes back up behind me, and this time, he wraps his arms around me. “You like it?”
He shouldn’t have asked because now that he has, I feel a rush of emotion. “This is… I never imagined anyone would ever do something like this for me.” Tears rush to my eyes, much to my annoyance, and I turn in his arms so I can face him. “I don’t even know what to say, Killian. Thank you so much for this.”
