Page 4 of Boarding Pass (Hearts Without Borders #1)

Chapter four

My heart isn’t just pounding—it’s tap dancing, leaping, spinning in ways both ridiculous and undeniable.

I can’t remember a time where I felt…this on edge.

It’s not just excitement; it’s like the second you step onto a tightrope, high above the city, knowing something extraordinary is waiting on the other side. Though, to be fair, I haven’t walked on any tightropes lately.

Or ever .

The night door man Lucien’s face lights up as we approach the doors of Cheval Blanc .

“ Mademoiselle Dumond”, he greets me warmly, his French accent rich and familiar. “ Bon retour, avez-vous passé une bonne soirée? ”

“ Bonsoir, Lucien. Oui, une très belle soirée, merci”. I smile, catching Miles’s confusion as his eyes ping-pong between us. Clearly, he doesn’t speak French.

Cheval Blanc has been my Parisian retreat for years.

I’ve spent countless nights here during Fashion Week, photoshoots, and other visits to my favorite city.

It’s renowned for impeccable service. Every member of the staff remembers your name, your favorite table, even your preferred vintage of wine.

Miles slows, his gaze sweeping over the lobby.

The patterned stone floors gleam under the light, the towering contemporary Eiffel Tower sculpture commands attention, and the golden screens shimmer like something out of an interior designer’s dream.

“I can’t get over how incredible this place is,” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself .

“It’s my favorite hotel in the world.” I rock back on my heels giddily. “It’s my home base every time I’m in Paris. I take it this is your first time staying here?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m used to pretty utilitarian hotels. I could get used to the fancy things, though.” He looks a little uncomfortable, like he’s not positive where the evening is going to take us.

I hesitate slightly but start toward the front desk. “Should we see about a bottle of wine, or are you tired?”

“I could drink more wine. I was hoping we could hang out for a while.“ A huge smile spreads across his face as we approach the hotel clerk.

“Mademoiselle Dumond, toujours un plaisir ,“ she says before turning to Miles and switching to English. “And Monsieur Stojanovi?, welcome back to Cheval Blanc. How may we assist you this evening?”

Miles leans closer to me, raising an eyebrow. “Do they know every guest by name?”

“Only the important ones,” I tease.

“Important, huh?” He turns back to the concierge. “We were wondering if there’s somewhere we could sit and have a nightcap?”

Her expression softens apologetically. “Regretfully, our bars and restaurants have closed for the evening. However, we would be delighted to send a bottle of champagne and some light bites to the rooftop terrace. The view is particularly stunning tonight.”

Miles looks at me and quirks an eyebrow.

“Sounds perfect. Merci .’ I nod toward the elevator. “Should we go up?’

The terrace is breathtaking. Paris stretches out before us, a glittering sea of light and shadow. The Eiffel Tower glows like a beacon, its reflection sparkles in the Seine below. When the champagne and hors d’oeuvres arrive, Miles pours us each a glass, handing one to me with a little flourish.

“To tactical spills.” He raises his glass.

“To shared hotels,” I counter, beaming as our glasses clink.

We sink into the plush chairs. The champagne is crisp and bright on my tongue. At just past midnight, it’s quiet except for the distant hum of the city. Our conversation continues to flow as easily as the bubbly.

“So, have you always been this lucky?” I gesture to the view with my champagne glass. It’s been such a surreal evening.

Miles blushes slightly. “Hardly. A city this glamorous is usually my sister’s scene, not mine. I’ve spent most of my life in Seattle. Work, the occasional snowboard trip, rinse, repeat.”

“So…Seattle,” I echo. “I forgot to mention I was there once for a shoot. Beautiful town. Very…moody.”

He nods. “It is. But I’ve always dreamed about traveling for pleasure, you know? Seeing the world when I’m not in some big conference hall at a gaming convention. I’ve never had the time before.”

“And now?” I tilt my head, intrigued.

“Now,” he smirks, “I’m here, on a rooftop in Paris, drinking champagne with a beautiful, intelligent, witty woman who has excellent taste in hotels.”

I throw my head back and laugh. God. This guy. I’ve never had such an effortless conversation in my life.

“What about you? Have you always lived in New York?” He leans back and turns toward me.

“Mostly.” I curl my legs under me and face him. “I do travel a lot for work—Europe, Asia, a little bit of everywhere. New York is home, though. For now.”

“For now?” His eyes catch mine and hold.

I hesitate, but don’t look away. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m too rooted there. My career’s there, my brownstone’s there… I’ve always dreamed about doing something different, though. Traveling. Maybe st arting a travel and photography blog. I also want a family, and I’m not getting any younger.”

“It’s not unrealistic.” Miles shakes his head. “Scary. But not unrealistic.”

There’s something in his voice—earnest, certain—that makes me believe him.

As the night deepens, our conversation drifts into stories about the past, the little details shaping who we are today.

“It’s funny.” Miles relaxes back. “My twin sister, Shay, is my biggest inspiration. She’s been through so much—living with epilepsy, figuring out how to live on her terms—and now, with Austin, it’s like she’s found this perfect balance.

They’ve got their whole world together which is—different for me.

I need to figure out who I am outside of being Austin’s business partner or Shay’s brother.

” He glances at me, his expression sincere and unguarded.

“I guess I’m a cliche. I’m in Paris to find myself. ”

I suck in a breath as his words sink in.

“I get it. I thought Mark and I were building a life together. Looking back, I was the only one trying.” I hesitate, then add, “He never supported my work. Treated it like a phase. And I let him, because I wanted the family, the future I’d imagined.

Then one night, before we were supposed to move into a new place, he ended it.

Said we weren’t happy anymore.” I glance at the skyline, then back at Miles.

“He wasn’t wrong. And now I’m here, trying to figure out who I am on my own. ”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The weight of our confessions hang in the air.

Then Miles leans forward slightly, his voice low but certain. “Sounds like you’re already doing it.”

“As are you.” I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

The champagne is almost gone, we’re both a bit drunk and I’m caught in a dilemma. I want to spend the night with Miles. Does he feel how I do?

Meeting you feels like a movie.“ I look out at the Eiffel Tower after I say the words. Truthfully? I’m too out of practice to take charge.

Miles leans toward me, his movement unhurried, as if he’s giving this moment space to breathe. “The best movie.”

I glance at him, wondering if this is what it feels like to find exactly what you didn’t know you were looking for.

When his lips meet mine, it’s like the world tilts on its axis. Our kiss is warm and electric. Soft with a quiet intensity.

I’m breathless.

In a moment that categorically rewrites everything before it.