Read Online SAFEHOUSE (A BWWM BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE) by Mia Caldwell - Free Book Online

architecture
was a truly unique experience. The café itself was still clinging to scraps of
originality from the old building, probably put up in the mid to late
eighteenth century. I brushed my hand along the outside wall, feeling the
gritty texture of the stone work. It almost felt fragile even though I knew it
wasn’t, given its standing against time.

 
    Even though I didn’t see him I knew Julien was watching me, trying to
make sense of me probably. Here I was this silly American girl trying to fit in
among everyone else, but still petting the walls as if I had never been outside
of a barn. Then again… I truly didn’t care what others thought of me anymore.
After my life was pretty much taken away for me, I figured there was no point
to that.

 
    Julien ordered us his favorite roast of coffee, ordering it in the
most fluid and beautiful French I had ever heard. Okay, so all French sounds
the same pretty much, but coming out of Julien’s mouth… it was almost like art.
It moved something inside of me.

 
    Or maybe a few things , I thought,
trying not to blush.

 
    Julien handed me the coffee, and I could already smell the intense
aroma wafting in the air. It smelled so good, I was surprised I didn’t start
drooling. I wasn’t that much of a coffee fan, but this just smelled
otherworldly. I took a tiny sip, braving the heat to test it out. It was bold,
very rich, not at all like the regular dark roast that I was used to getting
back home. I closed my eyes and took another small sip, licking my lips
afterward.

 
    When I looked up I saw Julien’s smug face, practically saying ‘I told
you so.’ I rolled my eyes, glad to take another long draw from the drink.

 
    He found us an open table outside in the front, underneath a large
maroon umbrella that read ‘ Nata Lisboa, ’
in large, fancy lettering. I eyed the small brown paper bag he placed in the
middle the table, wondering about its contents. I had totally forgotten to grab
anything to eat, so of course by now I was starving.

 
    “What’s in the bag?”

 
    He held his finger up, tsking me and my impatience. “We’ll get to that
in a moment. First, what do you think of the coffee?”

 
    As if to make my point, I took a long drink from the toasty warm cup
in my hand, giving him a thumbs up. “I haven’t been all over the world, so I
don’t know any better . . . but it’s pretty damn good.”

 
    He chuckled, nodding along with me and taking a sip of his own cup.
“It is pretty damn good, isn’t it?”

 
    We sat there for a few minutes, drinking more of the coffee and
people-watching. Julien looked so at ease here, around other people. Even
though I was with him and I had already told myself that I should feel safer in
his presence, it was hard for me to feel as comfortable as he was.

 
    Julien reached for the bag on the table, slowly opening it, his eyes
on me.

 
    I pouted. “Are you trying to openly tease me or something? What’s in
the bag?”

 
    He wiggled his eyebrows at me, slowly pulling out something inside.
“Why, it’s only the most delicious croissants you’ll have ever tasted.” He
almost sounded like one of those guys you see on infomercials trying to sell
you a weird heat-less oven.

 
    “I’m not sure how delicious a croissant could really get, but what the
heck, I’ll try it. You were pretty on point about the coffee,” I admitted,
taking the small piece of baked bread from him.

 
    I bit into it cautiously, surprised to see that it was actually pretty
good. Usually bland foods like plain bread did nothing for me, but the
croissant had a slight, buttery taste behind it. Not like the large waxy kinds
I had tasted over the years back at the hotel. This was fresh-made.

 
    “See? I am never wrong about the food. You’ll learn that,” Julien
said, making me laugh around the food in my mouth.

 
    We finished off the croissants, and began the short walk around the
town. He noticed my