Page 16 of The CEO's Obsession

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Mason

The momentwe step out of the private jet, Harper's eyes widen, drinking in the Parisian skyline. I can't help but smile, remembering my own first glimpse of the City of Light.

"It's real," she whispers, her fingers tightening around mine. "I've dreamed about this for so long, and now..."

I squeeze her hand. "Now you're here. And I intend to show you every inch of it."

We start at the Eiffel Tower, of course. I've arranged for a private tour, and as we ascend, I watch Harper's face. She presses against the glass, her breath fogging the window as she takes in the sprawling city below.

"Mason, it's...I don't even have words," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

I pull her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. "You don't need them. Just feel it."

From there, we weave through the narrow streets of Montmartre. Harper's artistic soul comes alive among the painters and street performers. She stops to chat with a wizenedold man creating intricate charcoal sketches, her eyes shining as they discuss technique.

We pause for lunch at a tiny café tucked away from the tourist crowds. Harper moans softly as she bites into a still-warm pain au chocolat, and the sound does things to me I can't quite explain.

"How did you find this place?" she asks, licking a stray bit of chocolate from her lips.

I smirk. "I have my ways."

The afternoon finds us strolling along the Seine, Harper's hand tucked into the crook of my arm. We cross the Pont des Arts, and I see her eyes linger on the remaining love locks.

As the sun begins to set, I lead her to my final surprise of the day. We enter the Louvre, now closed to the public, and I watch as realization dawns on her face.

"Mason, how did you...?"

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance even as my heart races at her reaction. "I may have made a few calls."

We wander the empty halls, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Harper moves from masterpiece to masterpiece, her fingers hovering just shy of touching the canvases. When we reach the Mona Lisa, she stands transfixed, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers, turning to face me. "For all of this. For showing me Paris."

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears that have spilled over. "No, Harper. Thank you. For reminding me what it's like to see the world with fresh eyes. For making me feel..."

I trail off, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion coursing through me. Harper's gaze locks with mine, her eyes searching. In this moment, surrounded by centuries of artistic genius, she is the only masterpiece I care about.

I lean in, my lips a breath away from hers. The air between us crackles with electricity. Just as I'm about to close the distance, a sharp noise echoes through the gallery. We both startle, turning towards the sound.

A security guard rounds the corner, his flashlight beam cutting through the dimness. "Monsieur Blackwood? You’ve got ten more minutes."

My jaw clenches. Of course something would interrupt this perfect moment. I look back at Harper, an apology already forming on my lips.

I nod curtly at the guard, then turn back to Harper. "Come on," I whisper, taking her hand. "I have one more surprise for you."

We slip out of the Louvre and into a waiting car. As we glide through the twilight-bathed streets, I can't help but watch Harper. Her face is illuminated by the passing streetlights, her eyes still wide with wonder.

"Where are we going now?" she asks, a mix of excitement and fatigue in her voice.

I smile, squeezing her hand. "You'll see."

The car pulls up to the Ritz Paris, its façade glowing golden in the evening light. Harper's mouth falls open as we step out onto the cobblestone drive.

"Mason, this is..."

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