Chapter 26
Elena
I glanced up and found him across the terrace, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on me. When our gazes met, his face broke into that easy, unguarded smile that had first caught my attention, and I felt my own lips curve in response despite the knot in my stomach. He was so different from Étienne—so open, so uncomplicated, so refreshingly normal.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur. I smiled at the right moments, accepted compliments, and tried to focus on the elaborate table settings around me—the Rococo silver candelabras, the Diptyque candles filling the air with roses and blackcurrant, the Louis XVI chairs with their gilded frames, the white-gloved waiters moving like ghosts between tables. Isabelle had orchestrated every detail with military precision, and I had to admire her skill even as the sheer scale of it all felt overwhelming.
My phone kept buzzing and each time I glanced down, I felt that warm flutter in my chest that pushed back against the hollow ache. Another message from Maxime, something that made my lips curve despite myself. The warmth felt uncomplicated, easy, like sunshine after rain. Like maybe I could actually have something normal for once in my life.
When people finally began drifting away from the tables, I seized my chance and slipped toward the bamboo grove at the back of the garden. My heels clicked against the stone path and I had to resist the urge to break into a run, to get away from all those watchful eyes and knowing smiles. The path wound through landscaping until it opened onto a small hexagonal pavilion, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
Chloé was already there, perched on a stone bench with her phone, face lit by the blue glow. She looked up as I approached and grinned.
"There you are. I was wondering when you'd escape. These things are deadly boring if you're not sixty and obsessed with stock portfolios."
I sank down beside her with a grateful sigh, immediately kicking off my heels and flexing my aching toes. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who knows you." Chloé tilted her head, studying me with that particular intensity she reserved for when she thought she'd figured something out. "Although you look absolutely stunning. Very mysterious Eastern European princess. Maxime couldn't take his eyes off you."
Heat crept into my cheeks and I ducked my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face. Chloé's grin widened.
"Oh my God, you're blushing. You've been smiling like an idiot all evening. Totally thinking about him right now, aren't you?"
"Shut up," I muttered, but there was no heat in it. My phone buzzed again before I could say anything else. You in the bamboo grove? Coming to find you.
Chloé leaned over to peek at my screen and laughed. "Oh, you two are disgustingly cute. You've been together what, a week? And you're already at the 'can't stand to be apart for five minutes' stage?"
"It's not like that," I said, unconvincing even to myself. I twisted the phone in my hands, watching the screen light up and fade. "He's just... really sweet. Thoughtful. He makes me feel—"
"Like you're the center of his universe?" Chloé supplied, teasing but kind. "Like he sees you and not just the gymnastics prodigy or the Beaumont ward or any of the other labels people try to stick on you?"
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight. "Yes. Exactly." I swallowed hard, blinking against the unexpected sting in my eyes. "God, that sounds so stupid when you say it out loud."
"It doesn't sound stupid at all." Chloé bumped my shoulder with hers, her voice softening. "You deserve someone who looks at you like that. Like you hung the moon." She paused, more serious. "You really like him, don't you? This isn't just some rebound thing?"
"I really like him," I said, and realized it was true even as my chest did that complicated squeeze-and-flutter thing again. Maxime made me feel safe in a way that had nothing to do with protection or guardianship or complicated obligations. With him I could just be Elena—not the girl who had to be perfect, not the ward who had to be grateful. Just me. "He makes me feel like I'm worth cherishing. Not because of what I can do but just because I'm me."
My voice cracked slightly on the last word and I had to look away, blinking hard. Chloé's smile softened into something genuine and warm.
"Then I'm happy for you. Really. You've been wound so tight since Paris, like you were afraid to exist without permission. It's nice to see you glowing."
My phone buzzed—Found you—and I looked up to see Maxime's silhouette at the pavilion entrance, backlit by the garden lights. My heart did that stupid fluttery thing and when he smiled I felt myself smiling back, wide and genuine and a little bit giddy.
"I'll give you two privacy," Chloé said, already gathering her clutch. She winked at Maxime as she passed. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which doesn't rule out much."
Maxime laughed and crossed to where I sat. He didn't ask before sitting beside me, didn't hesitate before reaching for my hand and lacing our fingers together. The touch sent pleasant warmth up my arm—different from the electric shock when Étienne accidentally brushed against me, but nice. Comfortable, easy, uncomplicated.
"You looked beautiful tonight," he said, thumb tracing circles on my hand in a way that made my skin tingle. "I mean, you always do, but tonight... I couldn't stop staring. Pretty sure my mother noticed."
I thought of Corinne's assessment—like a work of art—and felt a flutter of anxiety tighten my chest. My fingers twitched in his grip. "Is that good or bad?"
"Good," Maxime said firmly, squeezing my hand. "She's just protective. She'll come around." He shifted closer, shoulder pressing against mine, and I caught the scent of his cologne mixed with wine. "I told her this afternoon I really like you. That we're happy. That she needs to stop looking for problems."
His voice dropped lower, more intimate, and when I turned to look at him his eyes held that soft warmth that made my chest feel both tight and expansive at once. "Besides," he continued, "I have a surprise for you. Something I've been planning all week."
"A surprise?" My pulse quickened despite myself, a mix of anticipation and that familiar low-level anxiety that always came with unexpected things. "What kind of surprise?"
"The good kind." His grin turned playful, boyish in a way that made him look younger than twenty-three. "But you'll have to wait fifteen minutes. Meet me by the lake, okay? There's a small dock past the willow trees—you can't miss it."
"Maxime—"
"Fifteen minutes," he repeated, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles that sent pleasant shivers down my spine. "Trust me. You're going to love it."
He stood, still holding my hand until the last possible moment, fingers sliding away slowly like he was reluctant to break contact. Then he was walking back toward the garden lights, throwing one last smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows between the hedges.
I sat there in the pavilion, alone again, my hand still tingling where his lips had touched and my heart doing complicated things in my chest.