The smell of crisp florals filled your nose as you walked into the fashion house. After a rich brunch of a mocha and fresh croissant, the light scent is a relief. Perhaps indulging in sweets and shopping therapy wasn't the most responsible, but neither was running off to Paris without telling a soul.

Your finger still felt oddly light, though the engagement ring was only there a few months. He'd insisted that it was his bachelor party and that she didn't mean anything, but... well, throwing the diamond in his face felt like the only logical decision at the time.

You took a deep breath, telling yourself that it was behind you. After getting a refund for the horrendously expensive wedding dress your fiancé had insisted on, you had enough for a flight to France and a month or so of a nice hotel. Until you had a better plan, you were eating and shopping your way through the city of light.

So, here you were, in the fashion house of elusive designer, Mathéo Euterpe. A man of great renown, he had little desire for the public, secluding himself in his studio. Still, you could see the man in every inch of this place; the beautiful garments made with such expertise. Unused to French culture, you were unaware the shop closed for lunchtime, and found yourself browsing still when the shop locked their doors, too engrossed to notice it clear out.

"Jilliana, did the lavender satin come in yet?"

The voice sounded from across the fashion house, and though similar to the french accents you had heard, it had an extra lilt to it. When you see the beautiful man it belongs to, you stop dead in your tracks, meeting his light blue eyes.

Mathéo was exhausted, trying to rekindle his creative spark, and was shocked to see a customer in his shop. Maybe he really did need better security. But those thoughts flee his mind when he meets your gaze, a slight gasp leaving him.

"Oh mon."

The French words left his lips without a thought; he could feel it, deep in his chest... you were the muse he had been searching for.