PARISIAN HEARTS

Chapter 9

Isabelle stood by the river long after Adrien left. The cool night air brushed against her skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside her. She had been wrong about him. He wasn’t just some arrogant billionaire. There was more, much more, beneath that polished surface. But what?

The thoughts lingered as she walked back to her apartment. Sleep came in restless waves, filled with flashes of Adrien: his guarded eyes, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her.

The next morning, Isabelle awoke with a determination she hadn’t felt in a while. She threw herself into her art, splashing color across the canvas with fierce strokes. The emotions she’d been holding inside—curiosity, frustration, and the undeniable pull she felt toward Adrien—all poured into her work.

Hours passed before she stepped back to observe the painting. It was raw, a swirl of emotions she couldn’t yet name. And yet, it felt unfinished. Just like the connection between her and Adrien.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Marie.

Marie: Meet me at the café later? There’s someone I want you to meet!

Isabelle hesitated. She wasn’t sure she was ready for more socializing, especially when her mind was clouded with thoughts of Adrien. But Marie had been her anchor, and she needed to trust that this meeting would do her some good.

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By late afternoon, Isabelle found herself at a small, cozy café near the Seine. The place was warm and welcoming, with the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Marie waved from a corner table, a broad smile on her face.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” Marie teased as Isabelle sat down.

Isabelle offered a weak smile. “I’ve been painting.”

Marie’s grin widened. “That’s the Isabelle I know. I’m glad. I have someone I want you to meet—well, technically, you’ve already met.”

Isabelle blinked, confused, as Marie waved toward the entrance. Isabelle’s heart skipped a beat as Adrien walked in, his tall figure moving with an easy grace. He looked different today, less guarded, more approachable. But the moment his eyes met hers, the tension between them returned.

Marie’s smile widened. “I bumped into Adrien after the gallery last night. He mentioned your conversation, and I thought it would be nice for us to all meet in a more relaxed setting.”

Isabelle’s throat tightened. She didn’t know whether to thank Marie or strangle her for this surprise. Adrien’s gaze never wavered as he took the seat across from her, his expression unreadable.

“Isabelle,” Adrien greeted, his voice smooth. “It seems we keep meeting in unexpected places.”

Isabelle forced a smile, her pulse quickening. “Apparently so.”

Marie, ever the master of social interaction, quickly filled the awkward silence with small talk, though Isabelle barely registered the conversation. Her focus remained on Adrien, the way his fingers traced the rim of his coffee cup, the way his eyes occasionally flickered toward her with something unspoken behind them.

As the minutes ticked by, Isabelle felt the weight of the growing tension between them. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Adrien, could we talk for a moment? Alone?”

Marie’s eyes widened, but she nodded, taking the hint and excusing herself.