I hold my passport tight in my hand, feeling like it’s my lifeline. It’s my chance to finally see the world. I only got it in the mail this morning, and afterwards I was practically running out the front door almost forgetting to say my goodbyes. Not that there was even anyone to say goodbye to besides Larsa. She’s been my nanny and caregiver my entire life, but she’s more of a mom to me than my own mother. She kissed me on both cheeks before reluctantly letting me go with tears in her eyes.

Both my parents are workaholics. They try to find time for me, but they always seem to love their jobs more. The own a law practice together, and I’m pretty sure I was a mistake late in life—one they thought for a moment they might want or could handle, but it turned out their money handled me for them.

I never went without though. I went to the best all-girls private boarding school in the States and had a trust fund that would never leave me lacking my heart’s desire. My parents want me to use it for college and maybe even become a lawyer like them. I’ve heard them say it many times over dinner—when they could manage to make it home in time for one. That was the natural plan for things, but they never asked me what I wanted to do. My parents talked at me, not to me.

Being like them was the furthest thing from what I wanted. Something about college scared me. I was always worried that maybe I’d get wrapped up in it and end up like them. I didn’t want to be a workaholic, but in all honesty, I don’t know what I want to do with my life. The one thing I know is I want some freedom. I want to see the world outside of my parents’ home and the walls of my school.

I want to see the places I’ve read about in history class. Meet boys and have love stories like the ones I’ve read in romance novels. The only outside world I know is from books or movies. We never traveled when I was growing up, and this is finally my chance.

I bite my lip as I look up at the departures screen to see what flights there are and where they are going. When I see one heading to Paris in four hours, my heart does a little leap. It’s the city of love.

I make my way to the counter and buy a ticket that costs a small fortune. The lady directs me to where I need to go next since I don’t have to check any bags. I only packed my backpack because I didn’t take much with me. I wanted to be able to get around as easily as possible. I have a checklist of places all over the world I want to go, and I know I can’t lug around a million things if I want to do that.

I wait in line to get through security, my excitement growing with each second. This is really happening. I’m going to Paris. I can’t believe it.

“Hey,” I hear someone say from behind me. I turn to see a boy who looks a few years older than me. He’s cute with short blond hair and blue eyes. He’s smiling at me, and I see a small dimple in his cheek.

“Hi,” I say back, feeling a little awkward.

“Where you headed?” he asks, glancing at the ticket in my hand.

“Paris.” I can hear the dreamy sigh in my voice. The millions of love stories I’ve read about this city dance through my head.

“Me too.” He gives me a little wink. I feel myself blush, not used to this kind of attention and feeling even more awkward.

“Next!” is barked at me, making me jump.

I turn back and see the line has moved and I’m up next. I rush up to the security box, handing the man my passport and ticket. He takes them from me and looks down at them.

The man looks intimidating. His head is shaved and the white shirt he’s wearing is stretched tight against his body. It shows off the muscles that could take almost anyone in a fight. Tattoos run down his arms, and I see them move with every flex of his hands. He puts my ticket and passport down, and I watch as he puts a finger to his ear. It’s then I see a small earpiece. I think he’s listening to someone. His eyes shoot up to me and stare for a moment. His cold eyes bore into me, and then they snap away.

He stands. “You need to come with me,” he tells me, picking up my passport and plane ticket.

I stand there shocked. Did I do something wrong? I glance back to the blond guy, whose eyebrows are raised as he watches what’s happening. I feel a little panic set in.

“I-I…” I stumble over my words, trying to think. “Is something wrong?”

“Ma’am, like I said, you need to come with me.” He reaches out to grab my arm, but stops suddenly right before his hand lands on me. He pauses for a moment. “This way.” He retracts the hand that was going to grab me and points in the direction he wants me to go.

I pause for a second but then decide to follow him. What choice do I have? His chest says Security on it and so does the badge he’s wearing. I’ve been taught to follow the law my entire life, and if this is the one thing standing between me and Paris, then I will follow him.

He uses a keycard to open a side door that leads down a long hallway. I follow him, staying silent as I watch him from behind. When we reach the end of the hall, we get to another door. He opens it, ushering me in. The only things in the room are a metal table and two metal chairs.

“Have a seat,” he tells me. I slip my backpack off and sit down.

He leans down and picks up my bag. I want to demand he give it back, but he’s striding from the room before I can say anything. The door shuts behind him, and I hear a lock click into place. Suddenly I’m alone and I have no idea what’s happening.

Maybe I should have listened to Larsa this morning and not left. She said I was too young, too naïve about the world. Maybe she was right, because I have no idea what’s happening right now.

Time ticks by as I wait and wait.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the door opens. Only it’s not the man from before who greets me. I thought the man who brought me here was intimidating, but this guy takes it to a whole new level. I feel the breath leave my lungs at the size of him.

Dark, intense eyes meet mine as he steps into the small room, making it seem even smaller. He shuts the door behind him, and the click of the lock echoes in the empty space. He takes a step toward me. He has to be over a foot taller than my five foot three. He’s enormous. His hair is dark and cut short, military style. His black button-up shirt makes it look like his muscles want to escape from it. Big, beefy arms pull tight against the material, and I’m surprised it doesn’t rip when he moves them. He screams Special Forces or something badass, and I feel my heartbeat pick up.

What is going on here? “Who was the boy behind you in line?” he asks. His voice is deep and holds an edge to it. I look at him in confusion.

“Who?” I hear the small tremble in my voice. His eyes narrow on me as he takes a step closer.

“The boy you were taking to in line.” He grits it out.

I stare up at him as he looms over me in my chair. He reaches out and grasps a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “He had blond hair,” he adds, not letting go of mine.

“I don’t know him,” I admit as it clicks who he’s talking about. Maybe all this is about him.

He drops my hair but keeps his eyes trained on me, making me squirm in my chair and I have to look away. His eye are too intense to hold. I feel his finger come to my chin as he softly guides me to look back at him.

He strokes my chin gently before he grips it in a firm possessive hold. “Good, because you’re about to get to know me.”