Of course, this mix-up isn’t your fault, he paused, then added with a hint of that earlier smile. Though, I’m curious how you managed to get through private aviation security and onto my plane. Elena felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I was so tired. I just finished a night shift and I’ve barely slept. I saw people gathered at a gate and just followed.
And no one stopped you or asked for identification. Someone called me Miss Jenkins. I tried to correct them, but everything happened so fast.
Damien shook his head, looking almost impressed. Well, Miss Morris, it seems you’ve accidentally infiltrated a security system that costs millions to maintain. For the first time since boarding the plane, Elena laughed.
It was a small, tired laugh, but it broke some of the tension. The flight attendant appeared with a tray of food that made Elena realize how hungry she was. As Damien motioned for her to help herself, she cautiously took a sandwich that looked fancier than any food she’d eaten in months.
So, Damien said, watching her with those intense eyes. Tell me about being a nurse. Elena wasn’t sure why, but she started talking.
Maybe it was the exhaustion or the absurdity of the situation or the fact that Damien Carter was actually listening, really listening, in a way that made her feel like her words mattered. She told him about her long shifts, about the patients she’d helped save, and the ones she couldn’t. She told him about struggling to pay Tommy’s college application, fees while keeping up with the mortgage their parents had left behind.
In turn, Damien shared small pieces of himself. He ran a technology company. He traveled frequently.
He’d lost someone close to him recently, his business partner and best friend, though he didn’t elaborate on how. Is that why you’re going to Paris? Elena asked. To get away? Damien looked, surprised by her insight.
Perhaps, though I’m not sure there’s anywhere far enough, hours passed, and Elena felt herself drifting off to sleep in the comfortable seat. She fought to keep her eyes open, worried about what might happen if she let her guard down. You should rest, Damien said, noticing her struggle.
We still have several hours before we land. I can’t just fall asleep on a stranger’s private jet, Elena protested weakly. I think we’ve moved past being strangers, Damien replied.
Besides, I promised to be a perfect gentleman. There was something in his voice that made Elena believe him. Despite all logical reasons not to, she trusted him.
Just a short nap, she conceded, her eyelids already feeling too heavy to keep open. She drifted off to sleep. Elena had the strange thought that maybe, just maybe, getting on the wrong plane wasn’t the worst mistake she’d ever made.
When Elena woke up, the world outside the plane window had changed. Soft blankets of clouds floated beneath them, tinged pink and orange by the setting sun. For a moment, she forgot where she was, and then it all came rushing back.
She straightened in her seat, embarrassed to find that a blanket had been placed over her while she slept. Damien was sitting across from her, working on a sleek laptop. Welcome back, he said without looking up.
You’ve been asleep for almost six hours. Six hours? Elena couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that long, uninterrupted. You clearly needed it, Damien replied, finally closing his laptop.
We’ll be landing in Paris in about an hour. Reality crashed down on Elena again. I need to call my brother, and Megan.
They must be worried sick. Damien handed her a phone. International service.
Take all the time you need. Elena dialed Tommy’s number first, relieved when he answered right away. Elena, where are you? Megan called, looking for you hours ago.
Tommy. You’re not going to believe this, Elena said, glancing at Damien, who had diplomatically moved to give her some privacy. I got on the wrong plane.
The wrong plane? What does that even mean? It means I’m currently on my way to Paris, France. The silence on the other end lasted so long that Elena thought they’d been disconnected. Tommy, are you there? You’re… in Paris.
My sister, who hasn’t taken a day off in two years, is in Paris. Almost in Paris, Elena corrected. It was an… accident.
I’m coming right back. An accident? How do you accidentally go to Paris, Elena sighed? It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I get back.
Are you okay until then? Is Aunt Carol treating you all right? I’m 18, Elena, not eight. I’m fine. But you… you’re really in Paris.
That’s… actually kind of cool. It’s not cool. It’s a disaster, Elena insisted, though a small part of her couldn’t help but agree with her brother.
Who are you with? Tommy asked, suddenly sounding suspicious. Elena lowered her voice. The owner of the plane, his name is Damien Carter.
Wait, the Damien Carter? The tech genius? The billionaire? What? No, just a businessman named Damien. Look, I have to go. I’ll call you when I land, okay? After hanging up with Tommy, Elena called Megan, who was far less understanding.
After confirming that Elena was safe, Megan berated her for ruining their weekend plans, before eventually laughing at the absurdity of it all. Only you, Elena, Megan said. Only you could work a double shift and then accidentally end up on a private jet to Paris.
When Elena finally handed the phone back to Damien, she felt slightly calmer. Thank you. Everything okay at home? He asked.
Yes, just a lot of explaining to do. Elena paused, then added, My brother seems to think he knows who you are. He… called you a tech genius and a billionaire.
Something flickered across Damien’s face. Discomfort, maybe. I own a successful technology company, he said carefully.
Your brother might have read about it. Before Elena could ask more questions, the plane began its descent, and the lights of Paris appeared below them, countless twinkling stars spreading. Out in every direction.
It’s beautiful, Elena whispered, pressing her face against the window. It is, Damien agreed, but when she turned, he wasn’t looking at the city lights. He was looking at her.
The private jet touched down smoothly at Charles. De Gaulle Airport. Elena felt her heart racing as the reality of being in Paris, actually in Paris, began to sink in.
This wasn’t supposed to happen to people like her. People who worked double shifts and clipped coupons and worried about making rent. We’ll be… escorted through a private terminal, Damien explained as the plane taxied to a stop.
No customs lines. Elena clutched her backpack nervously. Is that even legal? Damien’s lips curved into a small smile.
Perfectly. Just one of the perks of private travel. A sleek black car was waiting for them on the tarmac.
The driver, a middle-aged Frenchman named Michel, greeted Damien with familiar respect and Elena with curious glances. To the hotel, sir? Michel asked as he held the car door open. Yes, please, Damien replied, then turned to Elena.
Unless you’d prefer to go straight to the airport for a return flight? Elena hesitated. The sensible thing would be to turn around. Immediately.
To go home to Tommy and her job and her responsibilities. But the lights of Paris glowed in the distance, and something inside her rebelled at the thought of leaving, without seeing anything of the city she’d dreamed about visiting since she was a little girl. Maybe? Maybe I could stay just for the… night? The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
My next shift isn’t until Monday evening. Surprise flickered across Damien’s face, followed by something that looked suspiciously like pleasure. The hotel has plenty of rooms.
You’d have your own space, of course. I couldn’t let you pay for… Elena. Damien cut her off gently.
You’re here because of a mix-up that wasn’t your fault. Let me at least make sure you’re comfortable before you go back. Too tired to argue and too tempted to refuse, Elena nodded.
Thank you. The car glided through the streets of nighttime Paris, and Elena found herself pressing her face against the window like a child. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, and elegant buildings lined the wide boulevards.
It’s even more beautiful than I imagined, she whispered. When was the last time you traveled, Damien asked, watching her reaction with interest. A trip to Canada during nursing school.
Six years ago. Elena turned to look at him. I’m guessing… You travel all the time? Too much, he admitted.
It lost its magic a long time ago. That’s sad, Elena said simply. Damien looked at her thoughtfully.
Maybe it is. The hotel was unlike anything Elena had ever seen. The lobby gleamed with marble and crystal chandeliers, and the staff seemed to materialize out of nowhere to… Assist them.
Mr. Carter, welcome back to La Royale, the manager greeted them. We’ve prepared the presidential suite as requested. Thank you, Jean-Paul.
We’ll also need a separate room for Ms. Morris. Jean-Paul barely blinked at the change in plans. Of course, sir, we have a lovely junior suite available on the same floor.
Elena followed in a daze as they were escorted to an elevator with gold-plated doors. Her room, a junior suite that… Was bigger than her entire apartment back home. Featured a balcony with a view of the Eiffel Tower, and a bathroom with a tub she could practically swim in.