Page 70 of Soulmate of the Mafia King
Once we’d exhausted their collection, we stepped out onto the Paris streets in the setting sun.
“Time to head back to the hotel? Get ready?” she asked, a little bit of those suspicious nerves returning.
I shook my head. I knew her well enough to know we needed to get ready at the last possible minute, or she was going to overthink things. “Tour of the catacombs, if you can handle it.”
“At night?” She grinned. “I think that might be the biggest daredevil experience you can have in Paris.”
I laughed as we got back into the car to drive to the start of the tour.
The catacombs were beautiful, in their own spooky way, but the tour guide I’d hired had a thick French accent and droning monotone that made him almost impossible to understand. Paige and I quickly drifted toward the back of the pack and started making our own jokes, drawing glares from the other tourists who really wanted to struggle to hear facts about the creepy bone walls.
She tugged me in closer and whispered in my ear, “Killian has a tunnel system under his house like this, right?”
I nodded, wondering where she was going with this but enjoying the herbal smell of her, the easy way she touched me after all we’d been through.
She grinned. “I think he decorates the tunnels like this.”
I barked out a laugh, earning us a few more glares. The tunnels under Killian’s place were as concrete and utilitarian as possible, but it would make sense under that big, creepy house.
My mind drifted away to what Adrian would do with Killian’s system of cells, his syndicate in general, and then quickly to Killian and Sera spending time together on a private beach somewhere. He’d seemed happy when he left the reception. Hell, he’d seemed happy every time he talked about that goddamn island. Maybe the bastard would finally relax for once. I could barely picture him lazing around on a beach for the rest of his life. Did I want that? The private island, the life of luxury with the woman I loved?
Paige tucked her arm through mine and stepped closer to avoid a jut of bone. The taut muscles of her forearm pressed against mine, a testament to the fact she hadn’t given up her training in the wake of Zahur. She wanted to be able to protect herself and the people around her, I knew. And I realized I didn’t want the island, or at least, not now. Neither Paige or I could give up our work. There were so many sex traffickers, so many women who needed her. I wanted a life with Paige, a family, but we could do that in Philly. The danger kept us on our toes, kept us close. I kissed her on the top of her head, trying to impress just how much I loved her and loved the idea of spending our lives together. She just smiled up at me and made a joke about French prostitutes having some exciting opportunities down here that almost made me collapse laughing.
When the time finally came, I pulled out the suit I’d lain aside for tonight and a dress for Paige.
She raised her eyebrow at me. “You’re picking out my clothes now?”
“Just for tonight.” I smiled. “Please?”
“The puppy-dog eyes are mean.” She pecked my lips. “But fine. Scram.”
I took my suit and changed in the living room with a laugh, then paced for the long minutes until she emerged. I stopped dead as my breath caught.
She looked stunning. The rich green made her hair shine like fire, the glittering fabric cupped every inch of her body. She looked like a dream I’d had ages ago. I blinked a few times and held out my arm.
“Ready?”
She took it. “As I’m going to be.”
CHAPTER 53
PAIGE
Isat across from Tom in an empty, stunning restaurant in the middle of the Eiffel Tower with my head spinning like the three sips of wine I’d had with the appetizer were enough to make me drunk. He’d really rented out the Eiffel Tower. And not one floor, the whole thing. We’d ridden an empty elevator, the two-Michelin-star chef kept coming out to tell us why he’d selected particular dishes based on the information Tom had given him about our preferences, and I couldn’t hear anything but the soft classical music over the speakers. It felt like a dream.
Tom took my hand. “So?”
“So what?” I asked.
“Was the surprise worth it?” He grinned.
I looked over his suit, a forest green that brought out his eyes, worn without a tie. His dark curls tumbled into his face. I’d never seen him look so perfectly put together and so casual. He looked…well, he looked exactly like the man I’d fallen in love with. Nothing like the one who’d scared me so badly all those months ago in Cairo.
“I get the feeling the night’s not done yet,” I replied.
He laughed.
The chef walked out with one plate, as opposed to the two he’d brought through every other course of the meal, and set it down in the middle of our table. “The gentleman said the lady had a preference for salted caramel, so I present, to end your meal, a salted caramel mille-feuille with roasted strawberries.”
