#Chapter4

PARIS: THE FIRST MEET-02

JOY

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Julia’s voice pulled my attention toward her. I had been zoning out since the last twenty minutes of our conversation and when caught, I just nodded. But this time, Julia asked, “Are you, in any way, worried about the company inheritance?”

I couldn’t lie now. Julia knew me better than that. She was Dad’s assistant and giving her intuitions way was only going to prove a problem for me though.

I shook my head, raking my hand through my hair. “I’m just worried about the project. It seemed too easy. Development projects are based on trust, Julia, and Dad seemed to have hurried on his decision to work with this set of investors.”

“I tried to talk to Mr Gale but he just seemed off. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” She sighed. “With the rising competitors, he fears staying behind. But yes, I agree with you. These investors seemed shady as fuck. I mean, who offers billions of dollars for a project this small.”

“We will not be taking any more amount than the one written in our contract.”

I could hear the enthusiasm building in my own voice but I knew it was not real. I worried about Dad’s company and Dad, of course. But I was more worried about my dreams that were drifting away because I was too busy pleasing Dad.

“We won’t.” Julia nodded and looked at her golden-coloured wristwatch. “Shit, I’m getting late.”

“Where are you going?”

She got down the barstool and adjusted her dress over her knees. “I have a meeting.”

“Meeting?” I frowned. I had thought all the meetings for the project were over and I could at least rest a day before I left back for New York. “Am I not supposed to accompany you?”

Julia shook her head. “It’s more of a personal...meeting.”

By the smile on her lips, I could understand what she meant and nodded. “Then, I’ll see you back at the hotel. Have a nice night.” I grinned.

Her cheeks turned red and she said, “Thank you. Tomorrow we’ll go for a tour. I know some great places.” Pressing her hand on my shoulder, she hovered up the stairs and out of the bar.

I felt a lot lighter with Julia gone. I didn’t particularly hate her presence or her efforts at pleasing me but the fact that she reported everything back to Dad, claiming it was for my sake, disturbed me. Dad was already upset at me for sending my resumes to the publishing houses. On top of that, he was beyond pissed at my brother, Mason, for sneaking out of our home to pursue his passion as a travel journalist, which according to Dad was a waste of valuable time.

Seeing the glass in my hand empty, I ordered another. My muscles were already loosening and the sound of the bass was making my head throb.

"Les Ville de l'amour," a raspy voice called from behind.

I turned to glance, coming to face the brawny man with hair dark as anthracite and aluminium eyes that had me going speechless almost instantly. I didn't know an eye colour like that existed and he, most certainly, had the most beautiful pair I’d seen. He had a clean shaved face, his jaw sharp and nose pointed.

He was the man with the grand entrance, I remembered. People looked at him as if he was a big shot, maybe because of his God-like looks. I couldn't help but laugh at them at that time but now seeing him up this close, I could get what all the fuss was about.

"Beg your pardon?" For the first time, I was embarrassed at my negligence over brushing my lingual skills.

"The city of love,” He said. What brings you here to this big city alone?"

His British accent was very appealing but it also reminded me of someone who used to be very close to me...someone who’d only given me painful memories to bear. I shook my head, trying not to let the befoul thoughts of my past ruin my mood.

"Who says I'm alone?" I asked, yelling back at him, my voice barely audible over the booming sound of the bass.

"I saw your friend leave a few minutes ago." He smirked, his tone confident.

"Quite observant, aren't you?" I mocked, suspiciously raising a brow at him before gulping the remaining drink and slamming the empty glass on the bar. I was way too drunk to be warming up to a hot stranger like him. "I better get going."

I was ready to leave and handed my credit card to the bartender. The loud music with the insane beat hadn't bothered me all this time as much as this man’s presence was. He was insanely handsome not to mention those silvery eyes and the mischievous smirk on his lips. He even had perfect, kissable lips.

"Well, I'm alone too. My friend got a tad busy." He shot an embarrassing glance, pointing at the sitting area.

I twisted my head toward a guy by the corner lounge, laughing and charming his way with two girls. Even his friend was handsome, like some sort of movie actor. Both of them. Who on earth were these people?

"Gross,” I snorted. “I don’t think you want anything less than what he does..." I smacked myself at the back of my mind, realizing I was yet again talking to myself.

Since childhood, I'd had this weird habit of speaking to myself whenever I was excited, sad or anxious, which she was all the time. Some people got annoyed and some even thought that it was creepy but...who the fuck cared?

I sighed. "Well, you can be a trafficker, a kidnapper"—I pouted—"or a murderer."

His jaw twitching and eyes widening and I couldn’t help but hold my laughter that was almost at the tip of my throat.

"Bollocks, I need to add these adjectives to my vocabulary too.” He laughed it off. “You better run for the hills right now, miss."

Everything about him was perfect—his aura and presence along with his accent, his physique that looked as if he were straight out of the television commercial, and his grey eyes that were beyond compare. All of these made him look unreal. Even his lips were pink and firm. I couldn’t stop imagining what his lips would feel against mine.

Am I that drunk? I asked myself. But, hey, a girl can fantasize, right?

But I reminded myself: men like him only looked good from a distance.

"Well. You are way too handsome to be real."

He smirked. "Does it bother you?"

It bothered me in ways I couldn’t explain and he had no idea to what extent. I didn't intend on staying. I had to run before it was too late but my mind had eventually stopped working and before I knew it, I voiced, "Well, if you're not a kidnapper and since I am leaving in two days, I guess I can stay."

"So what's your name?"

"I don't give my name to strangers." It was definitely the alcohol talking, not me.

"Is that so?" I bobbed my head to which he puckered his face. "Then let's go past the stage of strangers."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I've got a better idea. Let's remain strangers and see where the night takes us."

He remained quiet for a while, furrowing his brows while his gaze shuffled between me and his friend sitting by the lounges. Then he finally added, "It is fine by me."

"Then pick a name. Any name."

"Vince," he said as quickly as the words left my mouth.

"Vince...” I repeated after him. I couldn’t tell if it was his real name or not but it sounded melodious on my lips. I gulped. “That's a nice name. I'm Joy."

"Your name suits you."

"It's the emotion I've been feeling today."

"I believe that."

“You do?” I raised a brow to which he smiled.

“It’s just the smile you’re giving.”

“What about it?”

There was a change in his expressions and his gaze softened toward me. He leaned into my ears, my entire body stiffening with it. He whispered, “Well, that is what brought me here...to you.”