“Yes, you did say that. But before you announced it at the top of your lungs whilst standing on a chair, you had the funniest, most joyous smile I’d seen in a long time. You kept giggling to yourself as you looked at a piece of paper.”
“It’s a cocktail napkin,” Dree said. Some of the silly insanity of that napkin crept back, and she smiled. Yeah, the napkin had told her to do that. She needed to check the napkin for what else she needed to do, but she needed to sleep with at least one guy tonight or else she would never get even halfway through the bucket list on that napkin before she left Paris.
“That’s better,” the man said, and his smile grew, too, and reached his eyes.
She had been amazed by his looks and his eyes in the club, but his smile was even more dazzling.
He lifted her chin with one finger, still smiling. “More.”
“More what?” Her eyelids felt heavy, and her lips seemed clumsy and swollen.
His voice dropped to a more seductive octave, and a hint of breathiness crept in. “More smile. Give me more.”
It was such a silly request that she laughed at him. The tequila that was still in her stomach was flowing into her blood. They called that crap liquid courage for a reason.
“That’s better. Now, let’s take you back to your hotel.” He steered her toward the street.
“Hotel?” But, wait. She was supposed to be in a bar, living an awesome life. That woman had told her to. “How did you know I’m a tourist?”
His chuckle was an explosion, like, “Hah!”
“No, seriously. How’d y’all know I’m not a worldly Parisienne?”
He glanced down at her. “Just a hunch. Come on, let’s get you a cab.”
She tried to follow him as he walked away, but her toes dragged because she was still dead-ass drunk. He caught her as she flopped forward and set her back on her feet. She said, “I could totally be a worldly Parisienne if I wanted to.”
“Of course, you could. What cab service did you use? Or maybe one of the ride-sharing ones?”
She told him, “I rode the subway here.”
“It’s late, and I don’t think you should take the Métro. I don’t trust you to get off at your stop.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Come. What taxi service should I call?”
“I can’t afford a taxi!” she blurted.
He stopped and frowned with confusion, peering at her, but then shook his head. “All right, then I’ll send for a taxi for you. It’ll take you back to your hotel.”
“I’m staying at a B and B, not a hotel.”
His shoulders drooped, and he closed his eyes. “So there isn’t a concierge who would help you up to your room?”
“No. It’s an apartment I rented by the night.”
His chin dropped, and he heaved a sigh. His phone was in his hand, and he tapped the screen a few times. “I’ll drop you off and make sure you’re inside all right. Come on. Let’s not dawdle. I’ve got places to go, or I should have places to go. What’s the address?”
She fished a slip of paper out of her clutch purse. “Here.”
He blinked at it. “That’s in Seine-Saint-Denis.”
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s what the ad said.”
He paused again, his lips tightening. “It’s far into the northeast districts. It’s probably better that I escort you, nevertheless.”
The sidewalk undulated under her feet, and she bobbled sideways. He caught her again. “Why? It seemed fine.”
“It’s unusual to see tourists there. I would be concerned that you might be taken advantage of or accosted.”
“Bah,” Dree said, her hand flailing around to show her disdain at his wussiness. He side-stepped as her forearm whizzed past his shoulder. “I live and work in the Alhambra district in Phoenix, dude. Nothing in Paris scares me. That B and B just kinda reminds me of home, but fancier.”
The man waved his phone in the air, and a black car cruised to a stop in front of them. “Right, then let’s get you locked up tight, shall we?”
“You don’t have to take me home,” she told him. The sidewalk still crested under her feet like fluffy ocean waves bobbing a small boat. “I don’t wanna go home. I haven’t accomplished anything on that napkin. That napkin is going to change my life. I’ma do everything on it, starting tonight. I’m going back in there to get a guy and bang his brains out tonight.”
Dree handed his coat back to him and stalked off, trying not to fall over because the sidewalk kept rolling like ocean waves when she walked.
Chapter Two
Worse Decision
Maxence
The voluptuous blonde staggered away from Maxence into the darkness, back toward the Buddha Bar. Her hourglass figure swayed in her scarlet dress as she minced along, a feast of feminine flesh that he had already been imagining sinking his fingers and teeth and dick into.
And then there were those fingernails. Just long enough, femininely oval, and a brilliant shade of red that matched that dress.
But he wouldn’t touch her.
She was too drunk, and he did not take advantage of women.
He didn’t need to.
Unfortunately, other men would, and eagerly.
Laughter and music from the Saturday night crowd in the bar followed the path of light leading from the open doors and spilled into the night as she neared the entrance.
Once she went in, he wouldn’t be able to rescue her again, not with all those men who would certainly take her up on her offer, even if she became unconscious in the meantime. There had been four empty shot glasses on her wooden tray, and he didn’t see anyone she’d shared them with. Half the guys in that bar wanted to fuck her and would be fine with rape if that’s all they could get.
The other half wanted to rob an American tourist.
A part of Maxence warned himself that he shouldn’t get involved with the blonde’s bad decisions. That little voice scolded him that the woman was clearly an adult and he should not interfere with her agency and her life choices. It reminded him that he’d interfered in a woman’s life only the day before, though that had been at her request, and then her mafioso husband had threatened to cut off Max’s head and feed it to the sharks.
He would help Simone again in a heartbeat, though. He did not regret that choice for even a moment.
But tonight, within minutes, this pretty and very drunk little woman in the red dress was going to be surrounded by leering predators, unless Maxence intervened.
He knew what those predatory men would do, given half a chance. He’d saved dozens of women from men just like them.
Indeed, over by the corner, a group of men had paused and were watching them.
They weren’t the types who would ordinarily be in the club, though. They appeared older, mid-thirties, and seemed to be moving oddly, like they had the weight of weapons under their coats.
Max should get in the car and leave now.
His heart raced, and the air hurt his chest.
Red, twinkling Christmas lights adorned the trees. A shop across the street had a Father Christmas in its window. Evergreen boughs looped around the streetlights, the café’s signs, and the wrought iron railing. Cars whizzed by on the street, their tires crunching on the asphalt. The Buddha Bar vented the smells of roasting meat, garlic, and ginger into the cold air.