Paris...
The word echoed in her mind.
It felt like a dream.
Evie had expected little for her birthday—perhaps a quiet day or nothing at all. So when Ezra casually asked if she wanted to go to Paris, right in front of Shane, it was clear this was spontaneous. It was bold. Nevertheless, she immediately said yes.
Who wouldn't?
Paris was the epicenter of fashion and romance, a place that had long been on her bucket list. She couldn't let this chance slip away. Though Ezra's boldness shocked her, she couldn't deny the thrill of accepting such an extravagant offer, especially when their relationship was, just a fabrication.
Just how wealthy was he to drop money on a fake girlfriend like this?
They packed without delay. Time was of the essence. If it had been a romantic getaway, it would have felt different, but it wasn't—at least, not in the traditional sense.
Uncertainty wrapped around her, but adrenaline coursed through her veins. She didn't even text Ruby, knowing her friend would be ecstatic to hear that she was finally on her way to Paris.
The moment she learned they would fly on one of his private jets, everything crystallized for her. What kind of life had she suddenly entered?
There she stood, poised by the sleek private jet, dressed in an ivory gown that grazed her knees, complemented by a leather jacket and ankle boots. She felt like an intruder in someone else's world. It was surreal.
But She would soak in every moment, whether it was real or not.
Ezra approached, dressed entirely in black—a black turtleneck, black slacks, and black sunglasses. He exuded his usual air of mystery as he came closer. Holding out his hand, he said, "Shall we?"
Evie slid her hand in his and nodded, allowing him to lead her into the jet.
The interior was pristine and polished, an embodiment of understated luxury. Cream leather seats lined the cabin, cushy and inviting, with golden accents glinting under warm ambient lighting. The deep charcoal carpet muffled sounds, enhancing the atmosphere of quiet elegance.
At the far end, a small bar beckoned, its marble top gleaming, stocked with premium whiskey, wine, and champagne. Behind it, a minimalist display of sparkling glasses caught the eye. It radiated sophistication.
"Here," Ezra said, guiding her to a seat. Evie settled in, doing her best to collect her thoughts as she scanned the surroundings. Ezra removed his sunglasses, placing them in his pocket as he uncorked the champagne and poured two glasses.
"Thanks," Evie said, accepting the glass. They clinked before she took a tentative sip. Ezra settled into the seat directly across from her, their legs nearly touching under the table. He measured her with an intense gaze, and she smiled back, warmth enveloping her.
"I still can't believe this is real," she mused inwardly.
"You look nice," Ezra declared, causing heat to rise in her cheeks.
"It was a last-minute choice; I didn't think much about it," she replied.
*Just say thanks, goddamn it!* she mused inwardly.
"Yet it looks great," he noted, appreciating how the ivory dress flattered her complexion. Despite the rushed outfit, she presented herself beautifully.
Evie beamed at him and asked, "Why Paris?"
He shrugged. "Why not? It's far enough to pretend something's real."
She paused, contemplating. "Is that all you're doing? Pretending?"
"Aren't we both?" he asked.
"Maybe…" Evie trailed off, her lashes fluttering as she took another sip. "Sometimes pretending starts to feel… less like acting," she remarked.
Ezra smirked. "Is that your way of saying you're enjoying this?"
She hesitated briefly before a smirk played on her lips. "I'm enjoying the wine."
He rolled his eyes. Then, a comfortable silence settled between them as Evie turned her gaze toward the window.
The jet touched down in Paris just as the city lights began to sparkle like scattered diamonds beneath a velvet sky. Evie stepped out first, the crisp breeze hitting her like a refreshing wave, carrying the scent of night blossoms and a hint of espresso from a nearby café. Her eyes immediately focused on the Eiffel Tower shimmering in the distance.
A sleek black cab awaited them at the edge of the tarmac, the driver stepping out with a respectful nod as Ezra followed her, his hand guiding her forward with ease.
The driver opened the door and said, "Bienvenue," as Evie slid inside, taking in the luxurious leather seats and the smooth sound of French jazz drifting from the radio.
Ezra joined her, shutting the door with purpose, as the cab glided through the captivating streets of Paris. They passed golden-lit cafés, cobblestone alleys, and balconies draped in lush ivy. Evie leaned closer to the window, completely enthralled by the view.
"First time in Paris?" Ezra asked, his tone casual, but his gaze firmly locked on her.
She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "It's like a dream."
He didn't reply immediately, simply observing her before looking away, masking his own intrigue.
Minutes later, the cab slowed in front of a grand hotel at the corner of a quiet street. Warm golden lights spilled from the windows, and a doorman stepped forward with a welcoming gesture.
As the driver retrieved their luggage, Ezra assisted Evie out. The night was just beginning, but the city vibrated with energy for them.
The grand double doors of the hotel swung open as they entered, revealing a stunning lobby washed in golden light. Marble floors gleamed beneath their feet, and a dazzling chandelier hung above them, casting soft sparks across polished surfaces. The air was fragrant with fresh roses, underlined by something rich—perhaps sandalwood or warm vanilla.
Behind the glossy reception desk, a concierge greeted them with a professional smile. "Bonsoir, Monsieur Thorne. Welcome back."
Ezra nodded, a hint of authority in his demeanor. "We have a reservation. Presidential suite."
"Of course, sir. Everything has been prepared," she replied, handing over a sleek envelope with the key card inside.
Evie fought to maintain her composure, absorbing the luxury surrounding her—the grand ceilings, the soft sounds of classical music in the background, and the plush velvet chairs where guests indulged in wine or coffee.
A bellhop soon arrived, wheeling their luggage as he guided them to the elevator.
When they arrived at the suite, the bellhop opened the door, revealing a breathtaking space. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the stunning Paris skyline. A lavish living area sprawled in muted golds and creams, a fully stocked bar gleamed under soft lights, and a private terrace stood ready for them.
"Your room, Miss," the bellhop said, ushering her to a separate bedroom that mirrored the suite's luxury, featuring a king-sized bed draped in silk sheets and a complimentary box of chocolates resting enticingly on the pillow.
Once the door closed behind the staff, Evie paused, taking a deep breath as she processed the opulence. Ezra regarded her from across the room, casually loosening his watch.
"It's just a place to sleep," he remarked, attempting to downplay the extravagant surroundings.
"Right. Just sleep," She quipped, then added, "I'm going to take a shower now."
"Sure. I'll order something," Ezra replied. "What are you in the mood for tonight?" he inquired, glancing up thoughtfully.
Evie turned back casually, "Anything light?" she stated.
"Right," he answered, and after placing the order, Ezra walked away to take his own shower. He was already fresh and ready when the food arrived, the staff telling him to enjoy before drifting away. Just then, Evie emerged, dressed only in a shirt, her hair pulled back.
What was that on her face?
"Planning to scare me?" Ezra teased lightly.
Evie pivoted toward him, catching him stepping closer, his damp hair framing his face, a fresh scent surrounding him. "Is it working?" she replied, her small smile betraying her confidence as she smoothed the mask across her skin.
"What's that?" he inquired, narrowing the distance between them.
"Face mask," she answered, not meeting his gaze. "It's calming. Good for the skin."
He watched her intently for a moment. "Give me one," he said.
She blinked, turning slightly. "What?"
"I want one" He reiterated, while she watched him, unblinkingly.
Evie's lips curled as she snatched another packet from her pouch. "Sit down."
Ezra raised an eyebrow but complied, settling onto the couch. "Make it quick."
"You need to stay still," she instructed as she leaned in, applying the substance to his face. With precision, she shifted his hair back, the silky strands slipping through her fingers. She focused on her task, the product melting into his skin as her hands worked to smooth it out. Ezra's gaze remained locked on her, his breath hitching slightly as her soft exhales brushed against him, the scent of jasmine enveloping them.
He didn't speak, but the smirk twitching at the corner of his lips revealed his amusement.
"All done," Evie announced, pulling back.
Ezra caught his reflection in the nearby glass. "Not bad," he admitted, then added, "How long does this take?" His tone softened, curiosity edging into his voice.
"Usually fifteen to twenty minutes," Evie replied. Then rubbed her tummy, "What did you order?"
Ezra jerked his head toward the meal, and Evie moved toward the laid-out feast: a bowl of French onion soup with toasted baguette and melted cheese.
"They look amazing," she stated, and they started eating while their conversation flowed effortlessly. Evie felt a strange sense of ease, almost allowing herself to get lost in the moment.