The sun was setting beyond the rooftops of Montmartre, casting long orange streaks over the Seine. The day had been long — another press event, another round of smiles and gentle touches they had mastered for the cameras. But behind the scenes, things were beginning to fray, in ways neither of them wanted to admit.
They sat in the backseat of the sleek black car that had been trailing them all day. Silence hung heavy, save for the hum of the engine and the distant murmur of Paris beyond the tinted windows.
Aurélie glanced at Elio from the corner of her eye. He was staring out the window, jaw tense. For once, he wasn't trying to make her laugh. She missed it more than she cared to admit.
"You're quiet," Aurélie said finally, her voice low.
Elio blinked, then turned his head. "Sorry. Just… thinking."
"About?"
He gave a half shrug. "About whether this is still just a game to you."
The question hit harder than it should have. Aurélie shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, arms tightening around herself. "It's not a game. You know that."
"But you still keep me out, Aurélie," Elio said. His tone wasn't accusing — it was worse. It was tired. "You let me in when the cameras are on, and the moment they're gone, you vanish again."
She didn't respond immediately. The truth was, he wasn't wrong. She had drawn her lines early, and she had every intention of keeping them intact.
"I don't want to complicate things," Aurélie murmured.
Elio leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You think they're not already complicated?"
Their eyes met. For a second, the distance between them felt too wide for such a small car.
The driver cleared his throat, snapping them both out of the moment.
"We're almost there," the man said politely, glancing through the rearview mirror.
They pulled up in front of Le Pavillon, the high-rise apartment Elio was temporarily staying in while his main residence was under renovation. Paparazzi still loitered across the street, though fewer now that the sun had dipped behind the horizon.
"I'll walk you in," Elio offered.
"No need," Aurélie replied quickly. "I'll take a cab."
"Don't be ridiculous. It's late."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already stepping out. He rounded the car and opened her door without waiting for permission. She sighed and followed.
The lobby was grand and empty, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Once inside the private elevator, silence returned — more uneasy now.
As the doors slid shut, Elio spoke again. "You're scared of getting close to me."
She didn't answer. He wasn't wrong, again.
He continued, voice lower. "And I get it. You think if you let me in, you'll lose control. But that's not how this works."
"It's not about control, Elio."
"Then what is it?"
Aurélie pressed the button for the rooftop terrace — the one spot where they could talk without walls listening. "Let's get some air."
He nodded, surprised but grateful.
The rooftop was quiet, Paris stretching below them in golden lights and endless beauty. The Eiffel Tower shimmered in the distance, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat. The breeze was gentle, just enough to stir Aurélie's curls as she leaned against the railing.
"I didn't grow up with people who stayed," she said at last. "People left. Or they changed. And promises? They were always broken."
Elio stood beside her, watching the city instead of her. "I didn't grow up with that either. But I decided a long time ago, I'd be the one who doesn't run."
Aurélie let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You don't even know me, Elio."
Elio turned to face her fully. "I want to. And not just because of the contract."
Her heart thudded. "Then you'll be disappointed. I'm not someone worth staying for."
"Don't say that." His voice was sharp, more than she expected. "That's not your choice to make. Not for me."
A long silence followed. The city lights blinked below like fireflies.
Finally, Aurélie broke the quiet. "Do you regret signing the contract?"
Elio looked at her, unwavering. "Not for a second."
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
He took a step closer, just one. Close enough to feel his presence, not close enough to touch.
"I won't push you," he said. "But I won't pretend I don't care anymore either."
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing back into the elevator.
Aurélie stood alone on the rooftop, her heart a storm of things she couldn't name. She had built her life on control, on planning every outcome — and now, for the first time in years, she had no idea what to do next.
Below her, the Eiffel Tower continued to glow. Steady. Constant.
Nothing like her heart.