Experiencing Paris with Lucy was better than viewing it from a conference room while a PowerPoint on deep-sea polymetallic nodule extraction played in the background. Had he ever noticed the stone mascarons—carved grotesque faces—on the older buildings? Or that when you stood in Notre Dame’s parvis it was le point zéro for measuring all distance in France? Lucy had snapped a shot of her feet standing on the embedded marker disk. She even enjoyed the catacombs.
“Whoever thought a tour of skulls would be a moneymaker,” Lucy said as they wandered the morbid labyrinth in the chilly depths beneath the city, “was a genius.”
“Right? I should look into investing in this.”
“According to the internet, you and your family already own the world.”
Those ridiculous articles! Always focusing on dollar signs and never the people behind the fortune. There was a reason his parents had secluded him from the public eye when he was young. Conor had learned how to protect his privacy—but at the price of never making real connections with people.
But he’d reached a place in his life where he wanted more. A life beyond dodging paparazzi, beyond merely being satisfied with his friends fixing him up on dates with women who never seemed to understand his need for calm, for a normal life. For something meaningful. And then Lucy had appeared.
“We don’t quite own the world,” he offered. “Close, but don’t hold that against me. A measure of my wallet will tell you nothing about the man.”
“I like Conor Gavin. He’s very charming. Handsome. And he knows exactly when to hold my hand.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I’ve led a charmed life. But I’ve never been good at relating to people. If you have money, people tend to see that before anything else. I’ve been taught to avoid trusting others.”
“Same. Growing up, I always had to take care of myself. Trust comes…not so easily to me. But you and I…”
“I know.” He gave her a confirming glance, because what she hadn’t said was that trust between them already seemed possible. “There’s something easy between us. It’s nice.”
“Agreed.”
“But didn’t you have family you could trust?”
“Of course, but my parents worked long hours. I was a latchkey kid. Learned to make my own meals, take care of myself. I think it translates to my freelance influencer lifestyle. I do alone very well.”
Conor sighed. She echoed his heart, but not his desires. “Yeah, alone. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
She turned her phone—a constant prop—toward him.
Conor put up his palm. “Please, no photos, Lucy. I value my privacy.”
“Oh.” She tucked the phone behind her back. “I can do that. Or not do that. You must have to guard your privacy carefully. And my life is all about the photo op.” A sad moue softened her face in the dim light. “We’re quite opposite in that way.”
“But similar in most others. We both aspire to…not be alone.” Or at least, he hoped…
When Lucy turned a corner to stacks of ancient skulls leering at her, she plunged against him, gripping his shoulders in fear. Her heartbeat rapped against his. When she smiled at him, realizing that her reaction was silly, she relaxed in his arms.
“I got you,” he said. Could he hold her forever? The gift of her closeness was irresistible to him. He didn’t feel as though he had to be anything other than himself around her. Not the hard-nosed CEO or even a dashing man-about-town that media and others expected of him. “It’s just the two of us. No walking dead.”
As they stood before a heart made out of skulls, he dared to touch the corner of her mouth. So soft. Exquisitely silken. Her lips parted as she averted her eyes shyly from his.
Conor bowed closer.
Lucy tilted her head.
Their lips were almost touching when a group of giggling teenagers rounded the corner, and they sprang apart.
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