Damien raises a brow. “Money’s no object, pretty girl. You deserve the best.”
I’m too speechless to say anything else, and when the lady whisks me away to take my measurements and ask my preferences of color and fabric, I find myself grinning from ear to ear.
She hands me a silk robe and brings me dresses to try on. One of them is a deep pink silk, playful and sophisticated at the same time. The skirt flares out a little at the waist, hitting my ankles,and the bodice is structured and tightened with a corset back that makes it fit perfectly to my waist and accentuates the hell out of my boobs. I turn in the mirror, awe-struck.
“This was Monsieur Bright’s choice,” the attendant tells me with a grin as she smooths out the fabric. “He has a good eye, no?”
I nod, emotion rising in me fast. The way he’s treating me, spoiling me … I’ve never felt anything like it. The connection between us is unlike anything I ever imagined, but I can’t deny the need I have for him. He promised to take care of me, and he’s proving he’s a man of his word.
The consultant pulls back the satin curtain of the dressing room so I can show Damien his dress choice. I turn, finding that I’m nervous for him to see me.
His eyes go dark, and he shifts in his seat. His gaze roams over me hungrily, stealing my breath.
“Fuck, Delaney,” he groans, biting his fist.
I shift, looking down at myself and then back up at him. “Do you like it?” I ask, biting my lip.
“Likeis nowhere near a sufficient word for what I feel seeing you in that dress,” he tells me. His eyes don’t leave me as he adds to the attendant, “We’ll take it.”
I search for a price tag, sure that this dress must cost more than I make in a month, but the attendant shakes her head as she cups my elbow and says,
“You won’t find a price on the garment, Madame,” she whispers with a smile. “Monsieur Bright has taken care of it. It is yours. Now, we need accessories, yes?”
In a whirlwind of red bottomed heels and sparkly jewelry, Damien and the attendant transform me into a glamorous version of myself I didn’t know existed until I saw myself in the mirror.
I feel beautiful. Damien makes me feel beautiful.
“Ready to eat, pretty girl?” Damien asks, holding his hand out for me to take.
We thank the shop attendant, and then he whisks me away to a restaurant that blows my mind just as much as the rest of this trip has. The restaurant has an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower, and the interior is dimly lit but not so much so that I had to strain to see. The atmosphere is cozy but upscale, and we’re led straight to a private booth with the best view of the city by the front window.
“This is incredible,” I breathe, gratitude smothering me.
“Wait until you taste the food,” Damien says, smiling at me. “I meant it when I said this is the best restaurant I’ve ever been to.”
There’s no menu, but food and wine pairings begin arriving, each as amazing as the last. Damien tells me about the owners, how they’re a mother-son team who built this place from nothing, and how he comes back every chance he gets. It warms my heart to see how much he so obviously cares about these people. He’s a billionaire, but the money hasn’t corrupted his heart.
With my heart and stomach happily full, Damien asks if I want to go back to his apartment with him. The fact he’s asking, the silent offer of finding me somewhere else to stay if I’m not comfortable, only makes me fall for him more. I can’t stopthinking about the kiss on the jet and the way he makes me feel. I want more, more of him, more of this.
Just like every other aspect of this trip, Damien’s Paris apartment is amazing. It’s huge and open but feels homely at the same time. There are touches of Damien’s style throughout, books on the side tables and jackets hung up on the back of the door.
“Come here a lot?” I ask, looking around.
He chuckles, bending down to help me out of my heels. My feet ache, but it’s worth it for how pretty the shoes are.
“I must admit I view this city as a second home,” he answers, rising to his feet. “It’s an escape but also a homecoming every time I return to Paris.”
“That sounds amazing,” I say with a sigh, unable to imagine such a feeling.
“I hope it will feel that way for you, too,” he says quietly, wrapping his arm around my waist and drawing me close. I tip my head back and stare up at him, my heart racing in my chest. “I hope Ican feel like home to you. A place to be yourself, a place where you’re safe and loved.”
My breath catches, and there are no words to express how much his words touch me. So instead of saying anything, I push up on my toes and kiss him. A fire ignites between us, burning me up the second his mouth is on mine.
He lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist instinctively, arms twining around his neck. I moan as I feel his hard length press against my core, my body desperately for more. He carries me over to the kitchen counter, sitting me on the edge.
“Thank you for everything,” I whisper against his lips, panting and needy. “Today’s been incredible.”
Something flashes in his eyes, intriguing me. He licks his lips, pausing for a second before he surprises me by saying, “If you’re going to thank me, I should teach you how to do it properly.”