CHAPTER 4

The Perfect Weekend—Or Is It?

Paris was a dream.

Golden leaves floated lazily from the trees lining the Seine, carried by the cool autumn breeze. The scent of freshly baked croissants filled the air, mingling with the rich aroma of coffee drifting from nearby cafés. Cobblestone streets glistened from an early morning drizzle, and in the distance, the Eiffel Tower shimmered under the soft afternoon sun.

It was everything I had imagined. Everything I had wanted.

So why did something feel… wrong?

Alex had planned this trip flawlessly. A private jet, a luxury suite at one of the most exclusive hotels, and dinners at candlelit restaurants where the waiters seemed to know him by name. Every detail was carefully thought out, every moment wrapped in perfection.

He held my hand as we wandered through Montmartre, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He pulled me into a slow kiss beneath the glowing streetlights and whispered in my ear about how beautiful I looked and how he had never met anyone like me.

And yet, beneath all the romance, beneath the breathtaking gestures, I felt something else.

Distance.

A shadow in his eyes. A hesitation in his voice, quick but noticeable.

I ignored it. I wanted to believe this weekend was real. That this was how it was supposed to feel.

Then, just as the sun hung high in the sky, Alex pulled away.

We had just returned to the hotel after a long morning of exploring, my feet aching slightly from walking the endless Parisian streets. I collapsed onto the plush bed, stretching out with a content sigh.

Alex, on the other hand, seemed restless. He reached for his suit jacket, checking his watch.

I frowned. "Where are you going?"

He smiled, walking over and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Business, sweetheart. I won't be long."

There it was again. Business.

That word that he used so often. That excuse always seemed to mean more than what he was saying.

I forced a light laugh, hiding the twinge of disappointment. "I thought we were spending the whole day together?"

His lips twitched as if amused by my question. "I'll be back before you know it."

I studied him carefully. His tone was casual, his smile charming. But I saw the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides. The way his posture was just a little too stiff.

Something was off.

Still, I nodded, keeping my voice light. "I'll hold you to that."

He winked, then walked out the door.

And just like that, I was alone.

---

At first, I tried to convince myself it was fine.

This was Paris, after all. There was no reason I couldn't enjoy the afternoon on my own.

I wandered the streets, stopping at small boutiques and sipping espresso at a café near the Seine. The city was beautiful and alive with energy, yet an odd sense of loneliness settled over me.

This was supposed to be our trip.

Where had he gone? And why wouldn't he tell me anything?

I had been patient. I had let him keep his secrets, let him deflect my questions, let him pull me deeper into his world without ever giving me a full glimpse of it.

But as I stood on a quiet street, watching the Eiffel Tower glitter in the distance, I realized something.

I wasn't just falling for Alex Blackwood.

I was falling into something I didn't understand.

---

The hours passed.

No call. No text.

I checked my phone repeatedly, but the screen remained blank. The longer he was gone, the more uneasy I felt.

By the time I returned to the hotel, the sky had darkened. The suite was quiet, too quiet, the dim lights casting long shadows against the walls. I paced the room, my thoughts spinning in circles.

Then, just as I was about to grab my phone, the door opened.

Alex stepped inside, looking as composed as ever. His crisp white shirt was still neatly tucked, his dark suit perfectly in place. He might as well have walked in from a business meeting five minutes away, rather than disappearing for five hours.

I folded my arms. "You were gone for a long time."

He loosened his tie, meeting my gaze. "I told you I had business."

Something inside me twisted.

"No, Alex. You told me you wouldn't be long. That's not the same thing."

A flicker of something passed through his expression—frustration, maybe even guilt. But it was gone before I could read it fully.

He stepped closer, his voice softer. "Sophia, I didn't want to leave. I had to."

I searched his face, looking for something to hold onto. "Then tell me what's going on."

For a brief second, his guard slipped. I saw it—the hesitation, the weight of something he wasn't saying.

Then he exhaled, reaching for me. His hands slid around my waist, his touch warm and firm. "I don't want to waste this time arguing," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "Not when we have this."

I wanted to push him away. I wanted to demand answers.

But the way he touched me, the way his voice wrapped around me like silk—it was like he knew exactly how to make me forget.

And for that moment, I let him.

---

Later that night, as I lay in his arms, my body tangled with his beneath the sheets, I should have felt content. Safe.

But something about the way he held me felt… different.

Not possessive. Not passionate.

Protective.

As if he wasn't just holding me.

As if he was holding onto something he was afraid of losing.

I closed my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

I loved him. I knew that now.

But I was also starting to wonder if loving Alex Blackwood meant walking straight into something dangerous.

---

I woke up in the middle of the night.

The room was dark, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside.

Alex wasn't next to me.

I turned, my heart pounding, scanning the room. Then, through the dim light, I saw him—standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the skyline.

Something about the way he stood, the tension in his posture, sent a shiver down my spine.

"Alex?" My voice was quiet, groggy from sleep.

He didn't turn. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

I sat up, pulling the sheets around me. "Come back to bed."

He hesitated.

Then, finally, he walked over, slipping back under the covers, pulling me against him. But as I rested my head against his chest, I felt it again.

That distance.

That quiet storm brewing beneath his perfect surface.

And for the first time, I was afraid.

Not of Alex.

But of what I was starting to see in him.

A secret.

A lie.

A truth that could change everything.