Page 12 of The CEO's Obsession

"Harper? Are you alright?" Mason's voice carries a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I'm just...processing," I manage, aware of Ben's eyes on me. "It's a lot to take in."

"I understand," Mason says, his voice softening. "But trust me, this is an incredible opportunity. The Galerie d'Art Moderne is one of the most prestigious in Paris. Their curator saw your portfolio and was impressed. This could be your big break."

I close my eyes, trying to imagine my paintings hanging in a Parisian gallery. It seems surreal, like something out of a dream. "How long would we be there?"

"A week," Mason replies. "Enough time for the opening, some networking events, and a bit of sightseeing. I've already arranged for a suite at the Ritz."

The Ritz. Of course. I glance around my tiny, paint-splattered apartment, feeling the stark contrast between my world and Mason's. "I...I don't know what to say."

"Say yes," Mason urges, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Say you'll come to Paris with me and show the art world what you're capable of."

I catch Ben's eye, seeing a mix of emotions play across his face. Concern, pride, and something else I can't quite name. Itake a deep breath, feeling like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. "Okay," I hear myself say. "Yes. I'll go."

"Excellent," Mason says, and I can practically hear his satisfied smile through the phone. "I'll have a car pick you up tomorrow morning at 9. Pack for a week, and don't worry about bringing any formal wear. I'll take care of that in Paris."

As I hang up the phone, my head spinning, I turn to Ben. He's standing there, holding a set of new brushes, his expression unreadable.

"So," he says, attempting a smile. "Paris, huh?"

I nod, still in shock. "Yeah. Paris."

CHAPTER

SIX

Mason

I watchHarper step out of the town car, her oversized sweatshirt swallowing her petite frame. She looks beautiful, even in her comfy travel clothes. My heart races as she approaches, her eyes widening at the sight of the private jet behind me.

"Wow," she breathes. "This is...a lot."

I can't help but smirk. "Only the best for you, Harper."

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile. "You know, normal people just book a commercial flight."

"I'm not normal people," I reply, reaching for her bag. Our fingers brush, and electricity crackles between us.

Harper pulls back quickly, clearing her throat. "I can carry my own bag, thanks."

I let her, knowing when to pick my battles. As we board the jet, I notice her hesitation. "First time flying private?"

She nods, sinking into a plush leather seat. "First time flying, period."

My protective instincts flare. I want to wrap her in my arms, keep her safe. Instead, I settle for buckling her seatbelt, ignoring her protests.

"It'll be fine," I assure her. "I'll be right here."

The engines roar to life, and Harper grips the armrests. I place my hand over hers, surprised when she doesn't pull away.

As we take off, I study her profile. I’m too damn excited to be whisking this girl off to Paris.

A whole week alone with her.

As we reach cruising altitude, Harper's death grip on the armrest loosens. She turns to me, a mix of excitement and lingering nerves in her eyes.

"So, um, what exactly does one do on a private jet?" she asks.

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