They lingered for a moment, the distant lights of the Eiffel Tower flickering like the promise of something more between them, then continued their walk through the Parisian streets. Instead of opting for a fancy, over-the-top Michelin-starred restaurant, they found a small, unassuming spot tucked away in a quiet corner. It was the kind of place you could easily miss if you weren't paying attention, but the aromas wafting from the kitchen were inviting and comforting.
The restaurant had a homely, authentic charm, the kind of place where locals gathered for hearty meals, laughter, and shared stories. The food was simple but rich with flavor—freshly baked bread, steaming bowls of stew, and plates of roasted meats and vegetables. It wasn't fancy, but it felt right.
Tristan, usually accustomed to high-end cuisine, seemed completely at ease, enjoying every bite of the rustic meal. He caught Summer's gaze as they shared a dish of charcuterie, their fingers brushing as they reached for the same slice of cheese. They laughed at their little moment of clumsiness, their conversation flowing effortlessly, filled with playful jabs, shared stories, and subtle confessions.
"I never thought I'd see the day," Summer teased, popping a piece of bread into her mouth. "Trish, the wealthy CEO, eating at a local dive and loving it."
Tristan grinned, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I'll have you know, I appreciate good food no matter where it comes from."
"Even street food?" she raised an eyebrow, teasing him further.
He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Even street food. But only if you're sharing it with me."
Summer felt a warmth spread through her chest, the simple joy of the moment anchoring her to him in a way she hadn't expected. For the first time in a long time, she felt completely at ease—no demands, no expectations, just two people enjoying each other's company.
After dinner, they decided to walk back to the hotel, the cool evening breeze wrapping around them as they wandered through the city streets. Their fingers intertwined naturally as they strolled, the rhythm of their steps syncing as if they had been doing this for years. The city buzzed around them, but all Summer could focus on was the feel of Tristan's hand in hers, the occasional brush of his arm against hers, and the quiet comfort of their closeness.
But just as they were nearing the hotel, Tristan's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "Sorry, Sam," he said, his tone apologetic. "I have to take this—it's important."
Summer smiled, waving him off. "Go ahead. I'll wait for you."
He stepped aside, walking a few feet away as he answered the call. His voice was low, a professional tone replacing the warmth that had filled their conversations throughout the day. Summer watched him for a moment, a soft smile on her face, before turning her attention to the nearby street, her thoughts still dancing with the memories of their date.
But as Tristan finished his call and returned to where he had left her, he paused, scanning the area. Summer was gone.
His heart skipped a beat as he looked around, his eyes searching for her. The spot where she had been standing was empty. No sign of her.
"Sam?" Tristan called out, his voice edged with confusion. He walked a few steps, glancing up and down the street, but there was no trace of her.
A sense of unease settled over him. How could she just vanish? One moment, she was there, and now she was nowhere to be seen.
His mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Where could she have gone? Did something happen?
"Sam!" he called out again, a hint of urgency creeping into his voice.
But the night remained silent, the city around him oblivious to the fact that Summer—his Sam—was missing.
And just like that, the perfect day they had shared was overshadowed by the sudden, unsettling realization that Sam was gone.
"Sam?" he called out, his voice uncertain, praying she'd just wandered off somewhere nearby.
He scanned the area, his eyes darting between the clusters of tourists, their laughter echoing in the night. Couples were still taking pictures under the Eiffel Tower, completely oblivious to his sudden dread. Tristan walked around in circles, hands running through his hair. The more he searched, the more his heart raced.
There were no signs of her.
"Where the hell is she?" Tristan mumbled under his breath, trying to force his mind into logical thought. His stomach twisted. A cold sweat dripped down his back. He checked his phone, hoping she might have sent a text, but there was nothing.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself and scan his surroundings more carefully. As his gaze swept across the cobbled street, something caught his attention. Blood.
A small splatter of crimson marred the pristine street, just a few feet away from where Summer had been. His heart hammered in his chest.
"Sam…" Tristan whispered, his throat tightening. His hands trembled, but he forced himself to stay calm.
Pulling out his phone, he called Alex.
"I need you to send reinforcements. Now. I'm searching for an address, but I need them here in 20 minutes max. I'll send it to you soon." He didn't wait for Alex's response as he hung up the call with great urgency. He didn't want to waste even a second fearing it can delay in finding Sam's whereabouts.
He wasn't going to wait around for the authorities. He wasn't going to risk anything that could lead to wasting precious time while someone he cared for was missing.
He opened a private app on his phone—a tool he only used in emergencies. His fingers worked with speed as he hacked into a local network, using his custom tracking program to locate Summer's phone signal. A few moments later, an address pinged back, located not too far from his current location. His eyes narrowed.
"You better be okay, Sam."