Page 19 of The Billionaire's Devotion

“It’s impolite to take photos, so don’t do it.” He did it though, and no one complained. In fact, everyone seemed to be taken with him. More than a few women approached him and touched his arm, saying “Beau.”

He smiled with the compliments and provided a compliment in kind. I would have thought he was a terrible flirt, but he didn’t exchange numbers to prolong the casual interaction.

I tried what he did, capturing the eyes of a man that passed. He gave me a bright smile and approached. “Belle.”

“Merci,” I said politely.

His smile broadened. “You’re American.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Would you like to go to a café?—”

“Non,” Hayden hissed and rattled off something in French that made the man frown. He walked off without another word.

“What did you say to him?” I asked.

Hayden tutted. “I told him you weren’t serious. He was talking to you like I’m not here. Don’t hold eye contact with men unless you want them, or do you?” He lifted an arched brow.

“No, I don’t. I…I was only being polite.”

I furrowed my brows at the next guy in front of us, and he turned away from me. “Better?

Hayden chuckled. He took my arms and squeezed gently. “C’était mignon.”

I puzzled.

“Cute.”

I bit my smile.

Hayden took more photos of me, and I covered my face playfully. “I’m not the trend.”

“I’m learning what excites you.”

I chewed on my lip and stared at the stone footbridge ahead where a couple stopped to take a selfie together. And make out.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” I lied. My stomach had been giving little growls for hours.

He peered at me and my best poker face and scoffed. “You are. Do you ever relax?”

I laughed. “I do.” But he made me feel like I was out with a teacher taking a test that would pass or fail me.

“I’ve seen five smiles in an hour.” His tone wasn’t exactly delighted. And it was then I realized he took photos when I smiled.

I shrugged. “I smile when I’m happy.”

“It’s a lovely one when you do,” he muttered in the wind.

I didn’t get time to contemplate the compliment. Hayden had us moving at breakneck speed back to where he parked, and we were back on the Vespa. He drove through many areas and mentioned them in French. I didn’t completely grasp them. However, I saw Picasso, Dali, and so many other museums I wanted to return to. But soon I recognized the area with the Louvre and the Jardins du Palais-Royal. To my surprise, he chose Café de Flore.

“Oh, my God. This is the famous café that Picasso, Satre, Camus, James Joyce, Simone De Beauvoir, James Baldwin all went to.” I bounced on my feet excitedly after I climbed off his bike.

“You tourists love the fantasy of nostalgic artists. They eat here once; you make a big deal. The truth, it’s crowded, loud with noisy tourists, and it’s too windy for eating outside.”

Hayden was approached by people on the street, stopping with a casual conversation or complaint from what I gathered from their expressions and gestures.

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