Page 63 of Her Cruel Empire
“You’ve never taken a—acompanionup there?”
She studies me for a moment. “Paris was only ever a place I visited with my father.” Before I can stammer out an apology, she smiles. “And besides, I’ve never taken a companion with me on a business trip before. Which this is supposed to be. But I’ve never blown off a meeting before, either. So I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” She leans forward to Leon in the front and says something in their native language. He responds in a low, disapproving tone, but Eva waves him off with an imperious gesture. “Stay down here,” she says stubbornly, and in English. “Let us have some time alone.”
Leon’s jaw tightens, but he nods. Eva takes my hand and leads me toward the entrance, past the long queue of tourists. A few words in French, and we’re whisked to the front of the line.
Of course Eva gets VIP treatment. She gets everything.
And while I’m with her, so do I.
The short elevator ride up to the second floor—which Eva assures me is supposed to have the best views—is a blur of nervous chatter on my part about heights and enclosed spaces,but Eva barely seems to notice the city falling away beneath us. Instead, she watches me with that same intense focus, like I’m the most fascinating thing in her world.
When the elevator doors open onto the viewing deck, I rush to the railing and press my hands against the metal barrier. Paris spreads out before us like a living map—tiny cars threading through streets, the Seine winding through the city like a glittering path, people reduced to dots of color moving through their lives.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, then louder, “Eva, look at this! Look how beautiful it is!”
I find myself pointing out landmarks I recognize from movies and guidebooks—the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, the boulevards lined with trees. Everything looks so perfect from up here, so orderly and peaceful.
When I turn to share my excitement, Eva is standing a step back, watching me instead of the view. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something soft in her eyes that makes my breath catch.
Eventually we get to the summit, which is even more breathtaking as I see the size of the city spreading out around us.
“You should take a picture,” I say, gesturing at her phone. “When will you ever be up here again?”
With a shrug, she opens the photo app for me and leans against the railing with her usual inscrutable expression. “Smile!” I demand.
Eva raises an eyebrow. “I don’t smile for cameras.”
“Humor me.” I snap the photo anyway, catching her with a faint smile playing on her lips. She looks happy.Actuallyhappy, not just satisfied or amused. “Perfect.”
I turn back to the railing, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. “I wish the kids could be here,” I say without thinking.
“‘The kids’?” Eva prompts.
“Oh—my siblings. My family. They would love it all so much.” I shake my head with a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring them up.”
She regards me with a curious expression. “You must have thought about them often, during your time away.”
I give a huff of laughter. “That’s an understatement. If anything, I trynotto think about them. It makes me way too worried and homesick.”
She’s silent for another moment, and then she nods at her phone, still in my hand. “Call them.” I stare at her, barely daring to believe I heard her right. She nods. “Call them. See how they are, so you can enjoy Paris without fear.”
I don’t wait another second, even as I half expect her to snatch the phone back from me. I memorized all their numbers after Maisie’s first trip to the ER, so if Adrian doesn’t answer, I can call one of the others, but he picks up after what feels like forever. “Robin?” Adrian’s voice crackles through the line, bleary and confused. “It’s, like, four a.m. here. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, sorry, sorry!” I say quickly, grinning even as my heart lurches just hearing his voice. “I didn’t think. I just—I had a minute and I needed to hear you. How is everyone? How are you?”
There’s the faintest pause that I assume is a slight lag from Paris to Las Vegas. “We’re fine,” he says. “Everything’s just the same.”
I close my eyes briefly, relief flooding through me. “Thank God. And Maisie? How’s she doing?”
“She’s good. She’s fine. We’re all fine. Just missing you.”
“Oh.” I let out a breath. “Me too, Adrian. Metoo.”
He sounds slightly more awake as he asks, “How’s the TV show? Are you winning?”
I force a laugh. “I’m slaying, obviously.”
He chuckles, and it feels so good to hear it, even if I feel guilty about lying. “Of course you are.”
