EVERY MORNING JUST before Molly left to work at the Louvre, she stared at the little blue box in her purse. And every morning, she refused to open it. As she walked around the cobblestone streets of Paris, she felt the box burn a hole in her purse. Until she had any symptoms, she wouldn’t worry, she told herself. She was fine—no vomiting, no dizziness, no lack of energy.
There were moments where she almost caved and ripped the box open, but she calmed herself. She wasn’t going to base her worries on what a warlock told her he ‘sensed’ three weeks ago.
Molly led a group of tourists back to the front lobby, trying to wear that winning smile as her Kate Spades dug into her heels. She didn’t need to even look at her ankle to know they cut the skin deep.
Just as they moved along, Molly stopped in front of the statue, Venus de Milo. Its marble structure, missing its arms, stood proud in the center of the hallway.
“This statue is a personal favorite of mine,” Molly began, smiling as she turned to face the group of followers. “This graceful statue of a goddess has intrigued and fascinated since its discovery on the island of Melos in 1820. No one is sure who this goddess represents. Most believe her to be Aphrodite, who was often portrayed half-naked. The Marquis de Rivière presented it to Louis XVIII, who donated it to the Louvre the following year.”
She walked around the statue while the tourists listened on, enchanted by the statue as much as Molly. Molly’s curator heart sung at the chance to be so close to history and to tell a group of people about the rare piece.
“This goddess is shrouded in mystery, her attitude a persistent enigma. The missing pieces of marble and absence of attributes made the restoration and identification of the statue difficult.” She hummed to herself. “The goddess of love broken in time.”
A silence settled upon them, and Molly stared at the statue’s smooth discolored marble, the impassive expression on the unknown goddess.
“Scholars actually believe it to be the sea goddess Amphitrite, who was venerated on Milo,” one guy who refused to take off his sunglasses piped up. A few of his fellow travelers laughed. Molly fought against rolling her eyes. Everything she said, he had to mention his two cents. Always trying to out do her.
“Very true,” Molly said with a pinched smile, but a stare that told the guy to back down. “But they also have argued it’s more likely to be Aphrodite.”
He wrinkled his nose and the sunglasses shifted further up his nose. These rich college boys always challenged her, or older couples who loved to correct her, only for her to correct them.
Molly continued the end of the tour, and once they reached the entrance, she turned to face the group.
“I hope you enjoyed the tour. You are more than welcome to walk at your own leisure through the rest of the museum, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me,” Molly told the group, a mix of retired couples and twenty-somethings still hung over from the night before.
A few couples thanked her and asked for directions to the washrooms. As soon as they wandered off, Molly turned and walked toward the café. She leaned against the chair and glanced down at her heels. Dry blood caked her Achilles heels and she cringed.
“That looks painful,” Tessa said, dressed in a similar A-line black dress with a white blouse underneath, the cuffs peeking out at the end of her long black sleeves and black high heels.
“I thought I broke these in,” Molly groaned and stood back up. She’d have to live in them the rest of the day.
“How’d your last tour go?” Tessa asked, fixing a fallen strand and pushing it behind her ear. Tessa, from Norway, the closest coworker she had met. All the other students she knew, but not very well. They worked hard and played hard, but Molly didn’t feel the need to go out after working from seven in the morning to eleven at night. She wanted her bed—so badly.
“It was all right, but I can’t wait to just have a hot shower and go to bed.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Tessa said, jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand, the one that held her elegant engagement ring, a constant reminder of the man miles away. The man who called her the middle of the night and ignited an aching flutter between her legs and her chest. “One night. We only have less than a week left here and all you’ve done is work and sightsee. You have to experience the nightlife.”
Molly’s lips twisted into a frown. When she thought of going out and drinking, she thought of Stella and Tina. When she thought of Tina, she felt Tina’s last breath against her chest.
Stella called every single day, just to speak, and Molly let her ramble on about every single detail of her life. It was the moments Stella cried that Molly found it hard to breathe.
Molly facetimed September and told her of the rich baked goods and Notre Dame’s beautiful architecture.
Tensley called a few times and each time he did, she so badly wanted to tell him what she had been holding inside her chest.
I love you.
Instead, she smiled into the phone and hoped he heard how much she loved him in her voice.
Molly looked at the emptying halls of the museum, the last few tourists ambling through, and back at Tessa’s begging brown eyes. “Okay, but only for an hour.”
Tessa squealed. “Yes! Let me go tell the others.”
Molly nodded as she watched her walk down the hallway. She knew she’d kill her feet by the end of the night now.
With a deep sigh, Molly made her last rounds, reminding tourists the museum was soon closing. Each night before they closed, Molly took the time to appreciate the paintings surrounding her. How lucky she was to work in a museum that held famous, timeless artwork.
As Molly walked down the hallway, she saw a few of her coworkers talking, along with Tessa.
Tessa’s eyes lit up. “Molly, come here! We’re about to head out.”
Molly smiled but ignored the leering from one of their coworkers Christopher. He’d been trying to flirt the entire time she’d been here—and when she didn’t return his attention, he grew more aggressive. He was attractive, but she wasn’t the least bit interested in him, and she had made it clear from the very start. Tessa said Molly had bruised his ego.
She’d do more than bruise his ego if he didn’t back off.
“Ready to head out?” Christopher asked, his arm brushing hers when they began to walk to the entrance.
“Yup,” Molly deadpanned, making distance between them.
“Buy you a beer?” His hand brushed the small of her back and she shuddered.
“No thank you,” Molly said, speeding up and away from him.
Molly sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. One hour, and then you can climb into your warm bed.
“Miss Darling?” a familiar security guard said, his heavy gray brows lowering over his dark eyes.
“Yes?”
“You have a guest waiting in the foyer,” he said and gestured with a thumb behind him.
Molly frowned. She knew no one else in Paris but the staff.
She picked up her pace, ignoring the others further behind, and turned the corner.
It hit her all at once.
Her heart knotted inside her chest, and she sucked in air fast, halting mid-step.
His jet black hair that curled around the nape of his thick neck, his pressed Armani suit that molded to the sculpted muscles like the marble statues she saw every day at the Louvre, and when he half-turned his head at her footsteps, his profile, the sharp features of a god of war and beauty came into view. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t process anything.
He was a man of steel and iron and darkness. Lightning had sculpted his severe yet soft features into a perfect balance. The harshness of his jaw and nose competed with his soft looking lips, the only part of him tender, human, vulnerable, but it was his eyes that were vicious and wild and so brilliant, her lungs burned at the intensity of them.
Dark, hooded eyes finally found hers, scorching heat crossed her paralyzed limbs and a terrifying tingle ran up her spine.
God, she wanted to touch him, her fingers aching.
He’s like a woman’s wet dream on crack.
“Molly,” he said lowly, so lowly she felt it deep within her belly, fluttering with want.
She suddenly couldn’t stand still. Watching him, so far away, she wanted to smother him with kisses, push him back against the wall and to show him how much she missed him.
It wasn’t affectionate how she imagined when she saw him after three weeks—it was primal—a primal throb inside of her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Her hands trembled and she fisted them, terrified if she reached out and touched him she would never be able to let go.
She hadn’t had a reaction like this to anyone ever in her entire life, not even Tensley before this, and now all she wanted to do was lick him from his sharp jaw to his naval, or maybe even lower.
Oh god.
Her hormones were all over the map.
She needed cold air, she needed fucking ice to cool her burning flesh, and all she had done was stare at him. He hadn’t said anything remotely sexual but her goddamn name.
“What are you doing here?” she managed to say, her voice turning panicky.
Those dark ruthless brows of his dropped over his brooding eyes. “You don’t look happy to see me.” His tone held neutrality, but she heard the hurt. Dammit, Molly.
She violently shook her head. “I’m just—shocked.”
Shocked—terrified at her own body’s reaction. She was so happy to see him, but she couldn’t grip her intense craving for him.
She wanted to mark him—devour him, ravish and conquer—claim him as hers.
A foot of distance stood between them and her feet ached to cross it, but the unstable desire stirring inside of her so intensely unsettled her.
And now Tensley thought she didn’t want to see him.
That couldn’t be further from the truth, but she couldn’t go near him or she knew she’d lose control.
Tensley looked her over slowly, returning to her flushed features. “Are you all right?”
“Molly?” Molly turned at the sound of clicking footsteps and saw her coworkers. Tessa’s eyes bulged at the appearance of Tensley. “Uh, hi?”
“Tessa,” Molly began her mouth dry, “this is my boyfriend, Tensley.” At his name, Molly’s gaze dragged back to the god in front of her. She eyed his bulging biceps, straining in his fitted suit, and she wanted to bite him through it.
You’re too horny.
“Fiancé,” Tensley’s whisky smooth voice corrected, and he finally closed the distance, his large hand sliding across her waist to pull her in.
Molly swallowed thickly as her body shuddered at his closeness. His addictive scent—sweat, leather, a pinch of peppermint. Energy zapped through her, and she knew he felt it when his fingers dug into her flesh.
“Aw, and you surprised her!” Tessa squealed, and then her eyes widened again.
“You guys need to come out with us to the bar!”
“Yeah, come with us,” Christopher said, and Molly didn’t miss the way he measured Tensley’s tall frame. He outstretched his hand to Tensley. “Name’s Christopher. Watched after your girl.”
Tensley’s features didn’t shift, but Molly felt the anger stir within his muscles. What surprised her was when Tensley took Christopher’s hand—large and strong and capable compared to Christopher’s—and squeezed.
She imagined he wanted to break a bone or two, but Tensley let go.
“She can watch after herself,” Tensley hummed, and Molly glanced up, terrified to meet his hungry eyes so she settled on his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I was planning on something more private.”
Yes, yes, yes!
“Oh, that’s fine,” Tessa said, waving it off. “You two have fun in the city of loveeeee.” She giggled and tugged at Christopher’s sleeve, vanishing down the steep steps.
“Let’s go,” Tensley whispered into her hair and caught her wrist, pulling her behind him.
Her hands clenched, her heart pounded, and she tried not to think of tearing his clothes off.
Control yourself.
“Where are we going?” Her voice came out thick and shaky, and Tensley’s eyes met hers for a single moment. A moment far too long.
“Dinner,” he said, his own voice husky.
She wanted him so badly, and with even deep breaths, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it through dinner.
Don’t crave the beast.
She had lasted three weeks without him—how hard could a dinner be?
Un-freakin-bearable, she soon found out.