One Cruel Night

“I’ve seen him before in the park by our flat.”

Amy pursed her lips. “Did you meet Enzo’s friend, Alexandre? He’s hot, charming, and here right now.”

I glanced over at Alexandre and smiled halfheartedly. I didn’t know what it was about this other man. Maybe I did have a type, and men who wrote furiously in notebooks was it.

“Yeah, but…do you think…”

“Natalie,” Amy said, “no way.”

“What? No way what?”

“Absolutely not.”

I widened my eyes in confusion. “Why are you freaking out?”

“I know that kind of guy. You should stay far, far away from the likes of him. He has bad news written all over him.”

I laughed at Amy. “You haven’t even met him.”

“I don’t have to meet him. I can just tell. Trust me. You do not want to get tangled up with that.” Amy spread her arms out. “Especially when you have a buffet of hot Parisian artists.”

My eyes roamed the gorgeous stranger. What about him would make Amy tell me to run for the hills? He exuded a confidence that had clearly been bred into him. He wore high society like a second skin in a tailored black suit. His dark hair shone in the chandelier lighting, and the candles flickered against his sun-kissed skin. He had eyes like a hawk—observant, cunning, and wicked. Lips that were sensual and inviting. A body made to worship. He was exquisite. A work of art.

Amy touched her finger to my chin and forced me to look back at her. “Don’t even think about it, Nat.”

But I was thinking about it.

I was definitely thinking about it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I mused.

“Fine. It’s your funeral,” Amy said. “But just know that I warned you. I don’t want to have to say I told you so, but I will.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Amy waved her hand at me, telling me to run off and play. Even though she thought it was a horrible idea, she’d let me make my own bad choices.

But I should have taken her advice. I should have known that Amy was only looking out for me. She wouldn’t have warned me off of this mysterious stranger for no reason.

When he finally saw me, everything screeched to a halt. Amy’s advice fluttered out of my mind like a quick summer breeze. His attention made me feel as if I were trapped in a spider’s web. I could struggle to escape, but it would be pointless. The end result would always be the same.

Then, he smiled—a controlled, devious thing—and moved toward me.

I let the web cocoon me and prepared for his imminent arrival.

Chapter 2

It was his eyes that slayed me first.

Cerulean water on a cloudless day. A colorless diamond, bright and clear with just as many facets. Brimming with emotion and mischief and pure ego. A thousand novels could be penned from one look in those eyes and never hope to capture them.

“Hi,” I blurted out with all the couth of an elephant at a tea party.

The corners of his mouth turned up in something that wasn’t quite a smile. But it was certainly an invitation. My heart rattled in its cage, a bird desperate to escape its long-forged prison.

“Bonsoir,” he said. “You’re new here.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No. It’s just that I would have remembered you if I’d seen you before.”

A blush crept up my neck and settled into my cheeks. “Well, I remember you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “We’ve met before?”

I bit my lip and shook my head. I couldn’t believe I’d even said that. It was going to sound creepy that I’d seen him in the park. That I remembered him writing in his notebook. Most people only noticed as much as they needed to fill in the gaps. My brain didn’t work like that. Not when it might all end up in my next unfinished manuscript.

“Well, no,” I said hesitantly. “I recognized you from the park.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, you’re always writing so intently in your notebook,” I admitted.

It was the right thing to say. A real smile split his face. “That I am. Now, you leave me at a disadvantage.”

“How so?” I asked, nearly breathless as he stepped closer to me.

“You already know that I’m a slave to writing, and I know nothing about you.”

I swallowed. I should have felt uncertain about him and his cool charm, but I felt nothing of the sort. Amy’s warning felt like days ago, not minutes. And I was completely at ease with him. More than I was with any stranger I’d met previously.

“My name is Natalie,” I said, offering him my hand.

“Natalie.” He tasted my name like a fine wine.

Then, he took my hand in his, but instead of shaking, he brought it up to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. Goose bumps erupted on my skin.

“I’m Penn.”

I giggled. “Like what you write with.”