“I’m in character, Eva. Don’t ruin it for me.”
“Dare I ask who you’re playing?”
“A 1920s Parisian who is trying to win the affection of the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.”
She throws her head back and laughs uninhibitedly. I can’t help but join her.
Matis is waiting for us when we get downstairs. “Mr. Bertini. Miss Harlow. Your car is here. Follow me.”
The car takes us directly to the restaurant, though Eva might think it’s a pit stop at a landmark.
I get out of the car first and offer her my hand.
She smiles up at the Eiffel Tower in awe. “Wow. It’s beautiful.”
I glance down at my watch. “Just wait until dusk in about an hour. It’ll be even better. Though where we are going might make that difficult to see.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Let’s go. I’ll show you.”
I usher her closer to the tower. Her neck cranes to keep looking at its height. At the south end of the tower, we walk up the stairs, and I open the door.
We are greeted by friendly staff. “Good evening. Name, please.”
“Roman Bertini.”
The girl’s eyes widen at my name. I’m paying to make sure we get the service Eva deserves. I’m sure the staff has been told to treat us like royalty.
“Right this way, Mr. Bertini.”
We ride the elevator in the southern pillar up to the second-floor restaurant in the Eiffel Tower.
“There’s a restaurant inside of here?” Eva whispers as she links our hands together.
“There is. Care to spend the evening with me in the heart of Paris?”
She looks at me, eyes wide in disbelief. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just stares at me like she might be seeing me in a new light.
Her features soften as her mouth curves into a smile. “You set all of this up?”
I offer a small shrug, suddenly slightly self-conscious, like my heart is being exposed without my permission.
“I seriously underestimated you,” she says as we step off the elevator.
That makes me smile. As terrifying as it all is, I like that she doesn’t just see me as a grumpy billionaire without a romantic bone in his body.
The hostess escorts us to a corner of the restaurant, where there is a table tucked away from everyone else, right by the window. I pull a seat out for Eva, then take my own seat across from her.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” our hostess informs us, then leaves us alone.
Eva looks out the window, the steel of the tower surrounding us. I let her take it all in.
“Wow,” she breathes. “Thank you for this. It’s incredible.”
Two hours go by, and it feels like five minutes. We’ve eaten seven courses, laughed, drunk wine, and watched the sun go down over Paris.
We walk out onto the viewing deck together. The wind hits the moment we step out, sharp and restless. It tugs at her hair and cuts through my jacket with the kind of chill only height can deliver.