I give him a long look, wondering if he’s just saying things. “Is that what you would do? I mean, for real?”
He leans forward, glancing around like a spy. “Want to know a secret? I’m doing it right now.”
“No way! Somebody wants your money?” He doesn’t seem poor or anything, and he’s dressed in designer clothes, but…
He laughs. “My situation is a little more complicated.”
“Are you winning?”
“I’m getting there.” He smiles. “But I’ll win in the end.”
His eyes gleam with confidence. And why wouldn’t he radiate self-assurance? He’s good looking and seems smart and well off.
Meanwhile, I can’t even make my own mother believe me.
“Well, that’s great for you,” I say. “But like you said, you aren’t in my situation.”
“Don’t be so down on yourself. Look, if you don’t respect yourself enough to fight for what’s yours, everyone’ll just walk all over you. The first time asserting yourself is the hardest. But it gets easier.”
I think about that while finishing my hot chocolate.Maybe I didn’t fight that hard.Even though I was boiling over with anger, I have to admit that I’m still concerned with fitting in. With having Mom look at me like she loves me.
He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he nurses his drink. When I’m done, I stand up. “Thanks for the hot chocolate. I think I need to get back.” I start to shrug off the coat, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Keep it. Let me walk to your place.”
“I know how to get there. And it’s freezing out. I don’t want you to catch cold or something.”
He nods and gestures at a uniformed concierge who’s walking by. He instructs him to bring a car. “The hotel will drive you home. I can’t let a kid like you wander around Paris at night, especially when you don’t even speak the language.”
I feel a little guilty for lying about my French. “Maybe you should take a car to your place too,” I say.
“I’m actually here to see a friend, so…”
“Oh.”
The concierge returns, saying the car’s ready.
“Thank you,” I say to the man, extending a hand.
He shakes it, his palm shockingly hot against mine, then frowns. “Your hand’s icy.”
“It’ll warm up after a hot shower. Anyway, since I’m taking the car…” I try again to give the coat back, but he waves me off.
“You’re still cold. You need it more than me.”
“But—”
He’s already walking away to the elevator bank.
The concierge clears his throat. “Mademoiselle?”
I sigh, then let him lead me to the car. I tell the driver where to go, and he navigates the slushy road expertly. I should send the coat back, I tell myself, but then I realize I have no idea what the man’s name is. I shake my head. I can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself, either. He probably thinks I’m a complete brat.Ugh.
It’s too late to turn back now because I wouldn’t even know what to say. I ask the driver if he saw the man who waved me goodbye in the lobby, but no luck.
Soon I’m back in front of the hotel Mom picked out for the trip. I walk inside. The staff don’t stop me, like they know I’m a guest who has every right to be here.
I take the elevator to the top floor, where our suite is. I tighten the coat around myself like armor and keep my chin high as I step into the suite.
