I timidly walked to my graveyard--oops My boss's room. "Sir??" I whispered not knowing what will happen when he will see me. "Bonjour, Ma Dame," he appeared so suddenly that I had to flinch a bit. "Hello to you too," I nervously answered but my nerves were still rushing here and there. "Remember me???" He leaned his back against the desk in middle of the room. I shook my head reluctantly and when he raised an eyebrow, I said," I am sorry sir. I didn't know that you were my boss. If I knew I would never call you an.." "Asshole," he completed my sentence. I mentally cursed myself for an asshole in our earlier incident. "Sir, I am extremely sorry for that and I guess that was a simple outcome as we first time met. I am not a native so I was a little bit nervous. I knew that book lady, forget it. It is a long story." He listened to me without interrupting and finally broke the awkward as hell silence. "Yes, I understood but don't you think it was a bit informal to stand this close to your boss." He gestured between us and I finally realized that we were too close to hear the heartbeats of our. Mine was speeding at an insane rate and his was steady. I jumped a bit further and hid my blushing reddened cheeks from him. But I saw him smiling through my corner eyes. "Sir if you have no more enquiries, can I go?" I asked confidently thinking that he wouldn't kill me for calling him an asshole, like men will be men. He walked steadily to his chair behind the desk and replied," You can but you have to go to a cafe this afternoon with me. Don't worry, It's work related." He clarified before I panicked. 

I walked out of his room tiredly and Madison ran up to me with her infamous smirk. "Soooo, Did you guys--" "No, Madison. And please just don't make this situation a joke." I glared at her with no visible expression. "Okay okay, don't get all hyped up. I am teasing." But our conversation didn't stay long as Madison got a call from juniors about some tech  problem. When she walked away, I also started to do my work.

Time flew. The sunny morning blended into dusky evening. Soft orange rays with a drop of purplelish pink of the sun hit my room's glasses as I stare at outside. My phone buzzed for some time still I didn't bother to pick it up. But again the buzzing came by and I finally took myself out from the trance of mine. "Sorry, mom. My phone was on silent." I clarified before my mother started to bicker. "I was scared that you weren't picking up my calls. How are you doing Dear? Are you eating well?" I again stared outside the glass at the beautiful scene and replied, "I am just missing guys." "Ooh, my poor baby, We miss you too but I called you to tell you something." I can clearly sensing her hesitating. I straightened my back against my chair and yes I was nervous at what she was going to say. "Your father had a little attack today morning at breakfast. He collapsed for a moment and the doctor said he had been stressing himself." "What?" I bellowed. "And you are telling this now? How is he now? Are you in hospital or not?" I obviously panicked and started to drown my mother with questions. "Sloane, baby ,calm down. He is all fine now. I told you he had just a little attack. No need to panic. He wanted to talk to you himself but I insisted him to take a rest first, now he is sleeping." "Mom, you scared me," I whined. "Fine, I will tell him to talk to you immediately when he gets up."

"Okay, you also take rest. And don't forget to call me when dad gets up." "Okay, my baby." "I love you Mom." My voice broke a bit and my mom noticed. "We love you more and don't think about it. We are fine. Bye, take care." "Bye mom." 

A knock bleed through the silent air. "Yes?" Mr. Romano came in steadily. "Sir, you in my room." "We had an arrangement, remember?" "I am so sorry sir. Actually my mom called me and it slipped out of my mind." "So are you ready to go?" He asked eyeing me and my desk. My desk was a little messy as I took a break long time ago. I followed his gaze to my desk and slightly winced. "Almost, sir." I said while mending my desk. Then I heard a chuckle, soft yet deep and husky in tone. After 5 minutes, I turned and said, "I am ready to go." We left the room silently while me following him. The eyes in the office room followed us to the exit. We stride straight to the elevator. The elevator finally came after a long wait. The doors opened and he being the gentle man signaled me to go first and after I entered and he walked in. The doors closed and I felt the world was shrinking. Only I thing I notice is HIM. The soft scent hits me, subtle yet undeniable. It's a French cologne—a blend of citrus and lavender, light and fresh, like the air after a rainstorm in the countryside. The hint of rose that follows lingers, soft and sweet, like a whispered promise. It's the kind of fragrance that wraps around you, not overpowering, but enough to make my heart race just a little. I can't help but inhale, drawn in by its warmth, like the embrace of a lover's touch. As he steps closer and our shoulders touched for a moment, the scent becomes richer, more intoxicating, a touch of vanilla and sandalwood making everything feel intimate, almost impossibly close. It's a fragrance that leaves a mark, not just on the skin, but in the air between us, stirring something I can't quite name something undeniably magnetic. I looked at him for a very long time and I somehow wished that the time would stop and elevator would also came to halt. 

He is a 32-year-old man, standing at 6'2" with a striking blend of British and French heritage. His sharp features carry the elegance of his prestigious French lineage, with high cheekbones and a well-defined jawline that hints at his aristocratic background. His skin is fair, with a subtle warmth to it, and his dark, wavy hair falls just above his collar, slightly tousled but always impeccably styled. His eyes are a captivating mix of hazel and green, their intensity softened by a hint of mystery.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" "You can. Is it work related?" "I guess so." I chuckled  awkwardly. "Are you also British?" I guess his face dropped a bit but he quickly regained his normal appearance. "Yes, my father was British." I didn't ask why he told 'was' because it's too personal. I guess his father genes have done it's works very well. Because his face is a striking combination of both cultures: high cheekbones and a strong jawline, a perfect balance between the angular British look and the more rounded, softer French features. He carries himself with a natural grace, a confident posture that hints at his heritage, perhaps with a slight yet elegant accent that weaves between English and French, depending on his mood or company.

Dressed in a smart, tailored coat, with a style that blends British crispness and French chic, he seems effortlessly fashionable. He exudes a calm, composed demeanor, but there's an undeniable spark of passion in his eyes something you might attribute to his French side. His voice, deep and melodic, carries the warmth of his two cultural backgrounds. The doors opened with a ping. We broke our little personal questions trance. We exited the building and a chill wind swept over us. The earlier beauty broke into a chilly evening. France's weather is unpredictable. We soon reached our desired cafe. the cafe was like cozy, welcoming space that feels like an escape from the hustle of everyday life. 

Soft, warm lighting fills the room, casting a golden glow that makes everything feel comfortable and intimate. The walls are lined with light pastel tones mint green, soft peach, and powder blue mixed with accents of whitewashed wood or exposed brick for that perfect blend of modern and vintage.

The furniture is a mix of mismatched chairs and tables, some made of reclaimed wood, others with delicate, ornate designs. The chairs might be upholstered in floral patterns or velvet cushions, offering both charm and comfort. There's a small nook with plush armchairs and a bookshelf full of well-loved novels, inviting guests to relax and lose themselves in a book.

The counter is made of light-colored marble, with rows of pastries displayed under glass domes flaky croissants, delicate macarons, and freshly baked scones. A chalkboard menu hangs above, written in elegant cursive, listing coffee options and handwritten specials in a quirky, yet elegant style. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle sweetness of vanilla and cinnamon.

Fresh plants, like hanging ivy or potted succulents, dot the space, adding a touch of greenery and life. Maybe there's even a small corner with a vintage record player, softly spinning vinyl, setting the perfect ambiance.

The cafe is adorned with little details: mismatched cups and saucers, vintage posters of Parisian scenes, and soft throw blankets draped over chairs. A wall with Polaroid photos of smiling customers adds a personal touch, showing that it's not just a cafe, but a community space full of memories. 

"Sir, where did you find this cafe? It's so heavenly" He smiled and pulled a chair for me beside the glass viewing the Eifel Tower. "It's a prestigious cafe and I have been coming here for like many years." We sat and immediately a waiter ran toward us. "Monsieur Romano, ça fait longtemps, qu'est-ce que vous aimeriez prendre, et cette magnifique femme est-elle votre petite amie ?"

"Mr. Romano, it's been a while, what would you like to have, and is this beautiful woman your girlfriend?"

I don't know but he smirked at something the waiter said. "Un thé noir, s'il vous plaît." "A black tea, please." He looked me and said in English., "What would like you have, chérie?" I didn't understand the last word but still I said, " An espresso." He looked at the waiter and told him what I wanted. The waiter ran to the kitchen. We got into a comfortable silence. 

Aiden's POV

She is just sitting but she looks so cute while doing that. As I watch her, I notice her radiant beauty immediately. Her hair, a rich shade of chestnut, falls in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the light with every movement. Her eyes, a deep hazel with flecks of gold, are striking, yet there's an inviting warmth in them that feels effortlessly American. They sparkle with a kind of genuine energy, a carefree quality that's different from the more reserved charm I am used to back home.

Her skin has a natural glow, sun-kissed in a way that suggests she's spent countless afternoons in the vibrant Chicago sun, yet it still carries that delicate softness he associates with someone who might have spent summers in the French countryside. She wore minimal makeup, letting her natural beauty speak for itself there's a subtlety about her, a sense of ease that makes her stand out in the crowd.

Her smile, wide and genuine, is one of her most captivating features. It's infectious, the kind that makes you feel like you're suddenly the most important person in the room. There's a certain boldness in the way she carries herself, her movements filled with confidence and grace, yet there's a vulnerability beneath it, like someone who's seen both the heights of city life and the tender quiet moments of the heart.

The way she dresses casual but always put together speaks to her personality, effortlessly chic, areflection of the American spirit with a touch of European flair. She could wear a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, yet somehow, it's as if she's made it a statement. There's an undeniable allure to her that is not overt, but captivating in its quiet self-assurance.

 This girl is a beautiful paradox. A lively, free-spirited soul with a touch of sophistication that would fit perfectly in Paris.

Our order came. I gasped when she happily moaned after tasting the espresso. It's just a coffee, right?

I insisted her to walk her to her apartment. She first rejected but eventually gave in. After reaching to her home safely, I called Xade. 

"Hello?" A moan and a groan came in together. "What the fuck are doing ,Xade?"

TO BE CONTINUED.......