Only for You

12: Breakfast in Paris

The city lights flashed by as Zac and Fatima cruised down the empty, moonlit streets, the hum of the car filling the silence between them. Fatima was scrolling through her Instagram feed, aimlessly flicking through posts, but she glanced up when she felt his gaze on her.

"Are you hungry?" Zac asked, his eyes briefly flicking from the road to her.

Fatima looked over, raising a brow. "Yeah," she replied, intrigued.

Zac nodded, making a quick turn down a side street. "What are you in the mood for?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of mischief in his smile.

She tilted her head, eyeing him. "Anything... why?"

"No reason," he said, smirking as he pulled his phone out, typing something quickly. "I was thinking maybe croissants," he added, shrugging nonchalantly.

Fatima shrugged, smiling a little. "Croissants sound good." She turned her attention back to her phone, assuming he'd pull up to a late-night bakery or diner.

As they hit a red light, Zac set his phone down in his lap, waiting patiently, but there was a glint in his eye she couldn't quite read. Once the light changed, he started driving again, the cityscape falling behind them as they ventured toward quieter streets.

Then, after a brief silence, he spoke again. "Do you have your passport?"

She looked up, confused. "Yeah... why?"

He gave her a quick, teasing glance. "You up for a little trip?"

"Zachary," she said in a warning tone, though a curious smile tugged at her lips.

"To eat, obviously," he chuckled, throwing her a playful smirk.

"Sure," she scoffed, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes, but she couldn't deny the excitement creeping in.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to a private airport. Fatima's brows furrowed as she looked out the window at the sleek, dimly lit runway. "Why are we here?" she asked, looking back at him, but he just kept that calm, confident smile.

"Croissants, right?" he asked, coming to a stop near a row of private jets.

"Yeah..." she trailed off, staring at him in utter confusion.

He got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her. She stepped out, the crisp night air brushing against her skin as she looked up—and froze. There, parked on the runway, was a matte black and gold private jet with Zachary Taylor painted on the side.

"Come on." He nodded toward the jet, his eyes gleaming under the night sky.

Fatima hesitated, her gaze shifting between him and the jet. "I don't have any clothes," she murmured, glancing down at her dress.

"That can be fixed," he said, extending a hand toward her.

With a mixture of hesitation and excitement, she slipped her hand into his, letting him lead her to the jet. Once they boarded, she was handed a glass of champagne by the flight attendant. "Thank you," Fatima murmured, taking a sip as she tried to wrap her mind around this surreal night.

Just then, a silk pajama set was offered to her. She took it, shaking her head with a small laugh. "Thank you," she said softly, feeling the thrill of the moment fully sink in as Zac watched her, a content smile on his face.

As they settled into their seats, the luxurious interior of the jet seemed to gleam under the soft lighting, casting a warm glow that felt almost dreamlike. Fatima glanced out the window, watching the runway lights flicker beneath them as the jet prepared for takeoff, and she shook her head slightly, unable to believe what was happening. Zac had barely settled into his seat before he turned to her, his face lit up with excitement.