Chapter 1

"Gah damn!"

I couldn't help the shriek that jumped from of my mouth as soon as Ezra opened the suite door. It was the image and intimacy of a fairytale. The light airy blushing and distinct history in wooden ornamentation made me think I was spinning in the middle of a magazine. The fabrics were so clean and bright it would be criminal to mess up with my touch. There was a fireplace crafted with white marble beauty illuminated under the rising morning sun glowing from a terrace that opened and blessed us with a view of a garden. Everything was so surreal. It was divine.

In a hurry I took my shoes off and ran through the hall that opened to what looked like a living room with an antique chair and matching couch, a coffee table and desk for important work important people who could afford this had to do.

This suite has rooms. Rooms?! Plural!

Wildly, I hurried back to a smug Ezra and gasped in his face before I zoomed to the bathroom and exclaimed seeing the marble and gold, "His and hers sinks?! Look at this bathtub! A vanity? What?! Was that an echo? Did my voice just echo?"

I strolled out with enlarged eyes and shook my head at him. "This is–"

Truly, I was at a loss of words. I mean, I should have known that Ezra might sprinkle luxury would into the experience from the special transfer service from the airport to the hotel, but what?

I know Ezra got money but damn!

Looking at myself with an oversized hoodie, jeans and my lucky anchor socks, I didn't belong in a place so elegant. But Ezra seemed to think otherwise when I caught his flattened expression post my self-examination.

His face didn't twist the way it did when he inquired about my various irregularities in behavior. "Why do you look at your clothes like that?"

At first, I shrugged. He didn't move an inch. In fact, he didn't blink.

Giving him an answer, my voice was low enough to crack, "It's a lot."

"It's too much?" He asked, tilting his head back.

Shit. What surrounded us wasn't something to scoff at. This was insane luxury, or at least it was to me. What does he want me to tell him? I look like I crawled out of an undergrad, finals week k-hole. There's been so much going on that I've been trying less than usual. I wouldn't say I had great style to begin with, but it's not even about style. During our long flight, I've been struggling with my arrival a place I've dreamed of going. Who doesn't dream of going to France? I was sitting in first class, privately shuttled through the airport, and now in a world-class hotel. Yet, I don't know how to present myself to the world. I still don't know how, but I know it doesn't add up to what's in front of me.

I blinked hard in the hopes to hold back the wetness building in eyes. "Maybe for you this is more appropriate but–"

"But what?" His face finally wrinkled.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands before glancing around again. "Ezra, trust me, I like–love this."

"I know you do," he said firmly. "But why is it too much for you, Ada?"

Oh boy.

I squeezed my fists tight before approaching him. Holding his hands, I studied his glare and reassured him with caution, "Ezra, I don't want to start this trip with a fight, when I've barely heard you speak since we were on the plane. I promise, I LOVE it. I adore every square foot and I haven't even seen every inch of this place."

He raised his brows and said, "Ada Young, you deserve it. And I have just brought the most beautiful woman to Paris, and I want to give her everything she wants."

"I'm a simple woman, though," I said with a half smile. I don't deserve this.

He curled his mouth and ironed out the tension. "No, you're not."

He kissed my forehead, and suggested I contact my mother, Nico, and Faith of our arrival before he returned to our luggage to arrange them. Was he being dismissive? No, no. I have to stop this train of thought. Like I said, I didn't want to fight. Though, my heart sank more knowing I couldn't offer him the same task.

I moved by the terrace window admiring the sunshine over the garden. Enough of my sadness lifted from the stunning view and I could smile about it.  So far, Paris was just like I had imagined it might feel: a home away from home and I hadn't experienced a night yet. 

I finished sending all of my texts before Ezra wrapped his arms around me. His stubble scraped against my ear and cheek.

"I made promises of video calling people later," I warned him.

He pressed his finger on my phone screen and opened the photo app. Turning the camera on us, he took a few selfies. 

"I don't think we've taken selfies together before," I said with a smile but raised brows. "I thought you didn't like taking pictures?"

"I'm so happy you've come with me," he sighed. 

Looking into the screen, I saw more than a man tired from a long flight. I turned my head from the window and on him. He said he was happy, but I could see the worry in his eyes. I brushed the side of his face. I asked, "Are you scared?"

"Yes." He said quickly.

"Of what?"

My attention followed Ezra as he sat down on the king-sized bed. He took in a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair and confessed, "The closer you get to my life, the more I fight myself into not giving up."

"Still?" I asked furrowing my brows, and he nodded.

"But I'm here," I smiled and spread my arms. "In your homeland."

"And I've never been more afraid to lose you again," he said, shaking his head.

Suddenly, I stomped and shoved my fists to my hips. "What is ya family filled with murderers or somethin' ?"

Eyeing his expression, I saw my plan worked, sort of. He finally pulled air into his chest and looked away with a slight tug of his lips. 

"Are you hungry?" he murmured.

I was glad to hear the routine of the question, though that first class breakfast on the plane hit the spot! I shook my head and jumped past him and back-first on the bed like a starfish. I exhaled admiring the clean ceiling, "Are you?"

"No."

"Can we take a nap?"

"That was my next suggestion," he admitted, turning his eye on me.

I slapped both arms flush to my sides, and I rolled over on my face. I heard his amusement before I felt his warmth against me.

Turning my head, I confessed, "Sometimes being scared is good, Ezra."

He watched my mouth before he fixated on my eyes.

"I've been afraid most of my life, Ada," he whispered.

"So have I from a very different point of view. But that means you have most of your life to make changes. Just like the rest of us." I squeezed his hand. "And I hope you give yourself credit for that one day. You didn't have to apologize for who you were when you met me, but you did. And I didn't have to see you ever again, but I did. And now I'm here with you because I chose this, Ezra."

"I still fear that I'm forcing–"

"I promise you. You're not. My choices. All mine."

He smiled a little. Though, I could tell he struggled to believe me, as he should, because seconds of silence revealed that there was a part of me that went into autopilot when sensing his fear. All this time, he'd tell me how I wear my emotions on my face, but little did he realize how often he did the same.

"Ezra," I called.

"Hm?"

"You told me to contact my family, but have you contacted yours?"

His eyes fluttered before he averted them.

"Do they know you're home?"

Somehow, I was both surprised yet not surprised at all when he stuck out his lower lip and shook his head.