Paris wasn't his favorite city.

Too romantic.

Too full of illusions.

His steps led him to Saint-Germain. The rain had just let up. The city lights reflected off the wet pavement.

He saw a small sign that read Noir Étoile.

The bar was warm. Classic jazz music flowed softly, filling the air like a whisper of nostalgia. At least for a moment, he could forget about his father, who always saw him as a means of inheriting the family legacy. About his older brother, Alexander, who was more politically savvy within the family. About the pressure to marry for the sake of the company's image of stability.

Ethan sat at the bar, ordering a whiskey. Neat.

Accidentally overheard a conversation between a woman who had borrowed a charger because her phone died and the bartender.

With no other intention just interested, he took his charger from his leather jacket pocket and held it out on the table beside his glass.

"Use mine."

Their eyes met for the first time. The woman sat not far from him, wearing a brown leather jacket over a short dress and long boots. Her hair fell softly over her shoulders. Her back was straight, but there was an undisguised tension.