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*Rose's POV*


It's been a week

A full week in Paris

Don't get me wrong. I understand that this is an amazing opportunity and France is truly beautiful, but I'm tired. I haven't been out of the hotel since the dinner the first night we arrived. 

Cole says it's for my protection. He says the problem was a bit bigger than he expected. I recognize his reasoning, nevertheless, it still sucks. 

It doesn't help that I've barely seen him. He slides into bed late at night and gets up before I'm awake. I'm trying to keep my feelings at bay. This is the lifestyle I chose and it comes with long nights. 

"I'm bored," I whine to Angel.

We were sitting out on the hotel balcony. Just listening to the people of Paris. It's cute how there's always music to be heard in the streets. Whether it's a struggling musician performing for tips or a corner cafe's drowned speakers. 

Paris is everything but quiet, yet it is peaceful. 

My coffee is running low and I've read this dumbass french dictionary two times already. May I mention that I'm still not fluent in French? 

"I want a tattoo," I stare into the busy scene below me. 

"What?" 

Angel laughs looking up from some romance novel she picked up at a local bookstore.

"Yeah, I'm getting a tattoo," I stand up. "You're welcome to come along, but I'm going," 

"Rose, this is so impulsive," She pauses, but soon stands up. "I love it!" 

"How are we gonna get past the guards in front of the door?" I ask grabbing my gun.

Two guards are stationed at the door. I can think of one way to get past them, but I'd prefer not to kill such nice people. 

Angel pauses, looking around the room. The thought of jumping off the balcony crossed my mind. We'll mark that as a last resort though. Her eyes stop on the escape ladder that was linked to the neighboring balcony. 

"Climb up the ladder and there should be an elevator or stairs on the roof. Then we'll be able to go to the lobby and head out." She states calmly.

I look at the ladder, then back at her.

"You first."


***


"I can't believe that fucking worked!" Angel laughs linking arms with me as we cruise the stone sidewalk. 

"That was amazing," I enthuse, "But how will we get back to the roof without people asking questions?"

"Around here, people don't really ask questions," She answers, "Chances are you might hear an answer that you don't like." 

I can see that

"This one right here," I gesture at a pretty stone shop with a yellow neon light sign displayed on the front reading Bonjour encased in a heart. 

"Why?" 

"It's cute and it looks touristy." 

The tattoo parlor smells of medical soap, a very unique smell. It's not bad. It's just different.

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