I’m rattling on in my own brain when I need to focus on the tray of necklaces spread out before me. It’s like Alex walked into this store, told an associate who he is and what he wants, and the next thing I know, they’re giving us the absolute best treatment. Bringing us drinks and making sure we’re comfortable. Offering me a glimpse of all the many, many Chanel bags they have hidden behind the black paneled walls.

  “I don’t need a necklace,” I tell Alex after the associate leaves us alone for a minute. No doubt she’s off to find me something else to ooh and ahh over. I trail my fingers over the ones in front of me, lingering on the simpler ones.

  “You don’t like the pearls?” He points at one, his long fingers stroking along the length of the necklace, and I want to squirm in my chair. Didn’t realize looking at Chanel jewelry could be such an erotic experience.

  “They might be too—much? Too big. Not really my style.” I point at the one necklace on the tray that’s a simple chain with the iconic interlocking Cs as a small pendant. “I like that one.”

  “I could tell.” I glance up, surprised he would say that, surprised even more that he’s paying attention. I wasn’t even sure what I might like at first, but I discovered I prefer something subtle. “I’ve watched you since we walked into the store, and noticed that you’re drawn to the simpler designs.”

  He’s right. Is it wrong that I like that he’s paying attention to me? Maybe. Probably. I shouldn’t want that.

  Yet I do.

  “I don’t like large jewelry,” I tell him.

  “I’ve never seen you wear large jewelry.”

  “You haven’t seen me much, though, you have to admit,” I say, teasing him.

  “You should get a bag,” he says, changing the subject. I was looking at them earlier, but they’re soooooo expensive. Ridiculously so. At least for my modest budget. “A black one. They’re classic. My mother has told me so about a million times.”

  I find it cute that his mother talks Chanel with him. “I love them, but no way can I afford one.”

  “I can.” He rests his hand over mine, his touch like a shock to my system. “Whatever you want, you should get.”

  His fingers gently rub across my knuckles, making it hard for me to concentrate. “I don’t want anything,” I say, my voice shaky.

  Alex leans in closer, his head near mine. “We all want something. I’m sure there’s plenty here you could want.”

  Our faces are so close. Kissing distance close. I’m taken back to when he was fourteen and kissed me for the first time. He touched my face, his fingers gentle, his gaze locked on my lips. It had felt very romantic I remembered, straight out of a movie or a book, but maybe that was my preteen self romanticizing the moment.

  “I’m not going to spend thousands of your dollars just because I find something I like,” I admit.

  “You’re getting something. That’s the entire reason we’re here. If I have to pick it out, I will. But you’re definitely going to be walking out of this store with a giant bag. Maybe two,” he warns, the look on his face determined. As if he’s made it his life mission to ensure I’m buying something from Chanel.

  We look at more jewelry until I’m overwhelmed and I walk away to check out the bags again. I find a classic flap bag—black lambskin, gold hardware—and it takes my breath away, no joke. I don’t need it, but I love it, and Alex makes sure it’s set aside so he can purchase it for me.

  I feel like a fairy princess and he’s my retail savior prince. The associate brings out a tray of wallets, and I choose a pale pink one. Completely frivolous and it doesn’t quite match my new bag, but I don’t care.

  I’m completely caught up in the fun of it.

  “Mr. Wilder wanted me to show this necklace to you,” the associate says once we’re in the jewelry section. Yet again. My eyes are droopy and my head is fuzzy, like I can’t concentrate. I’m starting to get tired. Jet lag, I suppose. That nine-hour time difference is still an absolute killer.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” I tell her when I see the necklace she’s laid out before me. It’s a long silver chain, with rhinestone camellia flowers, two on each side and one in the middle. Not too large or gaudy. And camellias were Coco’s favorite flower. “May I try it on?”

  She offers the necklace to me and I slip it on, going over to the mirror on the nearby counter so I can examine it. It’s simply beautiful, and the necklace looks perfect against my black sweater. The lights above make the camellias sparkle. “I love it.”

  “He insists that it’s yours.” The associate is beaming, her arms behind her back and hands clutched as she studies me. “He is quite a romantic, don’t you think?”

  Maybe he is. I’m not sure. “He definitely is,” I tell her with a smile and an enthusiastic nod. “And very generous.”

  I come back over to where she’s standing and remove the necklace, returning it to her. “Your ring, it is gorgeous,” she tells me, grabbing hold of my left hand so she can examine the diamond more closely. The store lights make the ring extra sparkly too. “Such a lovely diamond. Not too large, which I like. When are you going to be married?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure.” Nervous laughter escapes me and I clamp my lips shut. “We only just got engaged.”

  Ain’t that the truth.

  “Congratulations.” Her smile never falls. I wonder if her face muscles ever get tired. “Is this a celebratory trip to Paris?”

  “He’s here on business, and I was lucky enough to come along.”

  “Lucky you indeed,” the woman murmurs. “I’ll just start wrapping everything up.”

  Another associate brings me a glass of champagne and I take it, draining half the glass in one swallow, and of course that sets my already fuzzy head to spinning. We’ve been here for what feels like hours and it’s far past lunchtime, so I’m starving. And tired. Overwhelmed. Alex is getting me a bag, a wallet and a necklace. I can’t even wrap my mind around how much this could all cost.

  And I’m not even his real fiancée. Why is he bothering to spend this much money on me? Does he feel like he owes me since I agreed to accompany him on this trip? Being in Paris is payment enough. I don’t need any of this stuff. I even tried to be a good person and turn down his offer, but he won’t let me.

  I can’t find Alex either. I start wandering around the store with my glass of champagne clasped between my fingers, smiling at all the associates, full on grinning at the burly security guards in their black suits and menacing expressions. They don’t smile back and I’m disappointed.

  I wonder if they’re that menacing at home.

  By the time I finally spot Alex, I see he’s in a room off to the side with a woman sitting behind a desk. His wallet is out, and he hands the woman his credit card, which tells me he’s paying for my purchases.

  I switch directions, not wanting him to see me. Not wanting to see the total price for everything he purchased for me.

  It’s better that I don’t know.

  After a few more minutes of waiting, the associate who helped me is coming my way, two giant white shopping bags in her hands. I take them from her, both of us thanking each other, and then I spot Alex making his way toward us, his lips curled in the faintest smile.

  “Ready to go?” he asks after thanking the associate for all of her help.

  “Yes.” I hold the bags up. “Please tell me you didn’t get me something extra.”

  “I didn’t get you something extra.” The innocent look on his face is telling me he’s probably lying, but I’m too tired to argue with him.

  “Are you wanting to go somewhere else?” I ask once we exit the store.

  “No. I’d rather go back to the hotel.” He winces, as if he’s prepared for me to lose my shit on him. This man is so incredibly generous with both his time and money, and he thinks I’m going to kick my feet and demand to shop more? Makes me wonder about the women he’s dated in his past. “I hope you’re okay with that?”

  “I’m tired and I’m starving, so as long as I can get something to eat, I’ll be fine.” I hold up my bags. “Thank you. It means a lot, that you bought all of this for me. You didn’t have to.”

  “That’s why I wanted to. Because you kept telling me you didn’t want any of it. Enjoy it. That’s what I plan on doing.”

  I don’t ask him what he means by that particular statement as we head back to the hotel, which is a short walk. Alex takes one of the bags for me, telling me to hold onto the handle tightly because thieves are known to pluck shopping bags from high-end stores right from people’s fingers. His warning makes me cautious as I grip the handle extra tight, my attention on high alert as I scan the street, the people walking past, the cars driving by slowly.

  It’s enough to give a person full blown paranoia if you’re not careful.

  By the time we’re back in the lobby of the Ritz, I’m even more tired. And hungrier. We take the tiny elevator to our floor, the hallway leading to our room seeming extra long, and by the time Alex is finally opening the door, I’m pushing past him into the suite, dumping my bag on a nearby chair as I make my way to the bedroom, throwing myself onto the bed.

  “I’m so exhausted,” I say into the pillow, wrapping my arms around it and snuggling in. This mattress is like a cloud, I swear.

  “Take a nap,” Alex calls from the sitting room. I can hear the rustle of the bags as he sets the one he carried next to mine on the chair.

  I should probably go out there and look through my recent purchases, but the thought of getting off this bed is unappealing. So I remain where I’m at. “But I’m hungry, too.”

  “I’ll call room service.”

  “You will?” I sound so hopeful. It’s nice not having to do everything on your own all the time. I mean, I have friends and we take care of each other so much. I guess I really mean it’s nice to have a man take care of you. To pamper you. Make sure you’re fed and well rested and yeah, go ahead and get that fancy Chanel bag if you want it, babe. It’s yours.

  Not that I need a man to make my designer purchases or to live a fulfilling life, for that matter. To be spoiled like this is something I’ve never really experienced before. Private jets to Paris, staying at a fancy suite at the Ritz, a shopping spree at Chanel. This is all a total fantasy for me.

  One I’m afraid I won’t want to wake up from, even though I’ll have to.

  “What do you want to eat?” Alex enters the bedroom, the room service menu clutched in one hand.

  “I don’t know,” I say sleepily, closing my eyes. My stomach growls, and I hope he didn’t hear it. “Pick something out for me.”

  “Like what?” He sounds amused, which is better than irritated, so whew.

  “I don’t know. I’m not that picky. Choose whatever you want. I’ll eat it.” It seems like my voice is fading away, like I’m getting farther and farther away from Alex, and that makes no sense. But the way I’m feeling right now is something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. It’s like I’m present, yet I’m not.

  A few minutes pass. Or maybe it was only a few seconds. But the next thing I know, someone is telling me to move over a little, and then he’s pulling the covers over me. It’s Alex. I can tell it’s him because I can smell his cologne and I reach for him, eyes still closed, head fuzzy like a cloud, my fingers locking around his wrist. He must’ve shed the jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, as I’m touching his skin. He’s warm and the underside of his wrist is smooth, though I can feel the hairs on his forearm.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, pressing my fingers into his skin. “For everything.”

  He says nothing at first, and I wonder if I surprised him by touching him. I wonder what he’s thinking. I’d like to get inside his head and try and figure him out, but then again, that would take away the mystery that is Alexander Wilder, and I don’t want to do that.

  Not yet.

  “You’re welcome,” he finally says, after I’ve already released my hold on him and the blankets are covering me. I nestle my head into the soft pillow and I swear I feel his fingers in my hair, his touch gentle.

  Like it never happened at all.

  I wake up two hours later to discover Alex fell asleep too, or so he told me. He woke up before me too, and has already called room service.

  “I called the order in about twenty minutes ago. They should be here any moment,” he tells me after I ask what happened.

  He’s in the sitting room, working on his laptop when I shuffle in. I fell asleep in my clothes and my hair is all mussed up from the pillow. I’m guessing my mascara is smeared and there are probably wrinkles in my cheek from the pillowcase (embroidered with my initials, don’t forget!) so I must look an absolute wreck.

  Oh well. He’s gonna fake marry this someday, so he better get used to it.

  “Good.” I flop into one of the velvet chairs, wishing it were softer. I should’ve flopped onto the couch, where Alex is sitting. It’s definitely softer. More floppable. “I’m still starving.”

  I wonder what he’s ordered for me. Though I really don’t care, I’m that hungry.

  “Do you feel better now that you’ve slept a little bit?” He keeps his eyes glued to the laptop screen, his fingers resting against the keyboard.

  “Somewhat.” I watch him as he reads something, trying to remember where my phone is. I mean, I know it’s somewhere. But here we are in Paris, and yes we’re jetlagged and we need naps and stuff, but damn it, he should be outside on the balcony watching the traffic and staring at the gorgeous Vendome column while he works. That thing is iconic, yet we’re holed up in the suite.

  At least I have an excuse. I just woke up. Plus, it’s the most gorgeous suite on the planet, so there’s that.

  “Are you working?” I ask.

  He doesn’t bother looking up from the screen. “Yes.”

  “How long did you sleep?”

  “Not very long.”

  From the looks of him, I don’t think he slept at all. “What time is dinner tonight?”

  “We’re meeting at Le Grand Colbert at eight.”

  Thank God we’re getting room service to hold me over until then. “Have you ever been there?”

  “No, but I hear the food is good.” His phone rings and he glances at the screen, grimacing when he sees who the caller is. “I have to take this.” He rises to his feet, answering the call as he strides out onto the terrace, pulling the glass doors shut behind him.

  With a sigh I go to the bedroom, remembering that my phone is in my bag. I grab it, then settle in on the couch, checking my emails and answering a couple of work ones from Iris before I start idly scrolling through social media. I see photos of my friends out and about, and my heart pangs with missing them. Sarah even shares an old photo with an arrow above my head, and the caption Missing this one like crazy, and seeing that one makes me even sadder.

  Here I am in one of the most Instagrammed cities of the world, and I haven’t taken very many photos yet. I had the perfect opportunity too, while hanging out at Chanel.

  I decide to take my Chanel shopping bags and set them on top of the intricate coffee table, shifting them this way and that until I think they’re at the perfect angle. I take a few shots, then upload them to my Instagram story, but I make sure only my friends can see it. I don’t want to look like I’m bragging.

  I caption the first photo with: Look where I went!

  And the second photo with: OMG he bought me so much!

  I add a bunch of cute Parisian-themed GIFs because Instagram has such great ones, and wait for their responses. It’s past five here, which means it’s past eight in the morning back at home and I’m sure a few of them are just waking up. Stella’s already up and at it since she works the obscenely early shift.

  There’s a knock at the door and I hear a faint voice call, “Room service,” so I rush to answer it, trying to hold the door open for the employee rolling the table in, but I just get in the way so I move as fast as I can to the balcony to tell Alex our food is here. He should probably be the one to sign for it, right?

  As I open the doors, I can hear Alex talking. Clear as day.

  “I told you I’ll do whatever it takes to convince them we’re the right company to own their hotel. I don’t know how many times I have to say that.”

  Pausing, I wait, not wanting to interrupt him, but not wanting to eavesdrop either.

  “Louis’s the one you want me to impress? Great, he hates us,” Alex says, sounding grumpy.

  Hearing him say that makes me grumpy too, because I know it’s true. Well, Louis doesn’t hate us, but I’m sure he thinks we’re beneath him.

  Correction, he thinks I’m beneath him. The jerk.

  “I took her to Chanel and bought her a few things so she’d fit in with tonight’s crowd.” He pauses, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He’s talking about me when I shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation. I glance over my shoulder to see the man setting up our table, and he looks up, our gazes meeting.

  “Let me get him inside,” I whisper to the employee before I step fully out onto the balcony, ready to tell Alex what’s going on.

  “She’s got this. I promise. I have all the faith in the world in her.”

  Those words make my heart swell, and at that very moment, Alex turns so that he’s facing me. His eyes grow wide when he spots me, and he mumbles into his phone, “I have to go,” and ends the call before the other person can say a word.

  I assume that other person is his father.

  “Room service is here,” I tell him, trying to sound easy breezy, like I didn’t hear a word he said while on the phone.

  “Great.” He smiles, but it’s grim. “I’m hungry.”

  “I think he wants you to sign for it.”

  “You can sign for anything you want here. Just charge it to the room.” He moves past me, entering the suite and I follow after him, watching as he’s perfectly charming to the hotel employee, nodding with approval as the man shows him our food beneath the silver domes.