“Yep, that’s what the prize package said.”
“What’s the restaurant called again? Maybe I ran across it on TV. My mom loves those international cooking shows.”
“The Third Level.”
“Hmm, never heard of it.” I reached for the phone in my purse to look this restaurant up.
But Mick took my hand in his before I could. “Let it be a surprise, okay?”
My heart let out a little sigh at his request. Seriously, was it even possible to deny this amazing man anything?
“Okay, fine,” I agreed.
But “let it be a surprise” turned out to be an understatement.
My chin nearly hit the floor when the car let us out in front of the Eiffel Tower.
“I told you I’d make yesterday’s dinner up to you,” Mick said with a grin.
Yes, he did.
After a ride in two brightly colored hydraulic elevators with exposed wheelworks, I discovered “The Third Level” was actually the third observation platform at the top of the tower.
People came from all over the world to see Paris from the tower’s highest observation deck, but tonight it had been closed off to the public.
A table set for two awaited us, with the most stunning view of Paris in the background.
CHAPTER18
Mick
The lookon Kayla’s face, when I sat down across from her at the private observation deck table, was worth everything I’d had to do over the past twenty-four hours to make this special dinner happen on such short notice. Including the one, I knew my agent, Gerald, would be none-to-happy about.
An FC Greenwich player could not get a private table set up on the Eiffel Tower’s most popular observation deck. But as a future member of the AS Paris Triomphe, the city was mine to do with as I pleased.
“Are you serious?” Kayla asked as soon as the maître d' who had seated us disappeared behind the enclosed observation deck’s wood-and-glass doors. “You can’t be serious.”
“I told you, I don’t kid,” I answered.
“I know, but this is…” She suddenly reached across the table and grabbed my hand. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t cry, love,” I said, reversing the hold and enclosing her hand in both of mine. “You deserve it.”
But Kayla shook her head. “Not after I got on you last night about not coming to the Eiffel Tower with me. I mean, you were planning to surprise me with this prize package gift all along? Mick, I feel horrible.”
So did I.
I’d been throwing money at her all day in one way or another, yet it was doing nothing to assuage my guilt over continuing to lie to her. In fact, the more money I spent, the worse it became.
But I was going to tell her after this dinner, so…
I distracted meself with picking out a bottle of wine, which we drank slowly as we made our way through several courses. Throughout dinner, I pretended to be just like her, a middle-classer enjoying a luxury sweepstakes experience in Paris… until we finished up the dessert course.
After the waiter delivered ourcafés, I knew the time had come to tell her.
“Kayla, look….”
“Yeah, I know, can you believe it?” she answered, turning away from me before I could finish.
