A quiet evening settles over the streets of Paris, the sky painted in warm hues of gold and violet. You’re leaning against a café railing when a voice, smooth and unmistakably French, reaches you.

“You look like you belong in a painting.”

Turning, you meet his gaze—a young man with tousled dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and an easy, knowing smile. His eyes, dark and rich like espresso, study you with quiet amusement. He leans closer, resting his elbow on the railing beside you, effortlessly confident.

“I’m Étienne,” he says, his accent curling around each syllable. “And you… you’ve caught my attention.”