The morning air in Paris was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and faint perfume from passing street vendors. Lila adjusted her scarf as she walked beside Lucas, who pointed out hidden corners of the city: a narrow cobblestone alley, a tiny café tucked behind blooming wisteria, and a quiet square where painters displayed canvases in the early light.
Her friends lagged behind, distracted by the colorful storefronts and the excitement of exploring a foreign city. Lila felt a freedom she rarely experienced at home. Her laughter came easily, flowing with the rhythm of the streets, the click of shoes on stone, and the soft chatter of locals beginning their day.
Lucas glanced at her, smiling warmly. "You really have to see this," he said, gesturing to a small park where sunlight filtered through towering plane trees, scattering patterns on the cobblestones. "Not many people know about it. It's… peaceful. Perfect for a quiet moment."
Lila's chest swelled with appreciation. "It is beautiful. You know the city so well."
"I grew up here," he admitted. "I like showing it to people who notice the little things."
She glanced around, taking in the flutter of birds in the trees, the delicate flowers spilling from window boxes, and the faint sparkle of a fountain at the center of the park. She let herself breathe in the peace, feeling an unfamiliar lightness in her chest.
Behind her, though, a shadow followed silently.
Ethan.
His gaze never left her. He watched as she laughed, as she tilted her head in curiosity at a street artist painting the Seine, as she reached for Lucas's shoulder in friendly encouragement. Every motion, every smile, every gesture was cataloged in his mind, possessive and hungry.
When she looked back, catching his dark eyes from across the square, heat prickled her skin. She wanted to ignore it, wanted to lose herself in the city, but the pull of him—the shadow of his presence—was impossible.
"You've got a lot of attention today," he murmured when he fell beside her, voice low enough that only she could hear.
She stiffened. "I'm allowed to make friends, Ethan."
"I know," he said, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But I also know you're mine. Every laugh, every glance, every little moment… mine."
Her pulse quickened. She wanted to argue, to push back, but a flutter of warmth betrayed her. She couldn't help the way her chest tightened at his words, the way her stomach twisted in anticipation and fear.
Lucas was oblivious to the storm brewing beside Lila. He pointed to a small bridge over a canal, the water reflecting the morning sun like liquid gold. "This is my favorite spot to think," he said. "It's quiet here. You can see the city without the chaos of tourists."
Lila smiled softly. "It really is perfect."
Ethan stepped closer, brushing against her side as he leaned slightly toward her. "I see it too," he murmured, voice low and possessive. "But you'll never notice it the same way with him beside you."
Her stomach fluttered. She hated that he had that effect on her. She hated that she wanted it.
As they continued their walk, the streets opened into a small square lined with cafés. Waiters polished glasses on the terrace tables while the scent of coffee and pastries wafted through the air. Lila's friends called her over, laughing and chatting, but she lingered a moment longer with Ethan and Lucas.
Lucas nudged her playfully. "You're quiet today. Dreaming of the next place to see?"
"I… just soaking it all in," she replied, distracted by the intensity in Ethan's gaze.
Ethan's hand brushed hers—not quite touching, but close enough that the air between them crackled. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The message was clear: she was his, even when she smiled at someone else.
Later, they arrived at a park overlooking the city. Flowers of every color painted the paths, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine and roses. Swings swayed lightly in the wind, and children's laughter echoed in the distance. Lila took a deep breath, letting the beauty of the city and nature sink into her.
Lucas handed her a small sketch he had made earlier—a simple drawing of the bridge over the canal. "I wanted you to have a memory," he said.
Lila looked at it, touched. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
Ethan leaned closer, voice husky. "You belong in more than sketches, Lila. You belong to me."
Her cheeks flamed, heart hammering. She wanted to protest, wanted to argue, but the truth she couldn't speak yet settled in her chest: she was already falling. Slowly. Terribly.
The sun began to set, painting the sky in fiery oranges and soft purples. The city shimmered in gold and violet, the Seine reflecting the evening light. Lila's friends gathered for photos, laughing and teasing.
Ethan's arm brushed hers, and for a fleeting moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. She felt the pull again—the dangerous, thrilling, possessive pull that made her heart ache and flutter at once.
She glanced at Lucas, friendly and warm, then back at Ethan, dark and possessive. Her pulse thrummed in her veins.
And for the first time, she admitted it quietly to herself: she was falling.
Not yet ready to say it, not yet ready to surrender… but she couldn't deny it.
The streets of Paris, the glow of the sunset, the flowers, the fountains—all of it blurred into the backdrop for a heart she no longer controlled entirely.
And Ethan Cole was smiling, satisfied, knowing she was his in every way that mattered… even if she didn't yet see it.