Reborn Heiress: Married To My Ex-Husband's Rival
Chapter 82 Dinner At The Eiffel Tower

Chapter 82: Chapter 82 Dinner At The Eiffel Tower

Jasmine adjusted her earrings in the mirror for the fourth time. "Do I look like someone who belongs at the Eiffel Tower or someone who got lost looking for a bakery?"

Kingsley, still wrestling with the tie he swore he knew how to tie ten minutes ago, glanced over. "You look like a goddess. I look like a man being strangled by formalwear."

"YouTube tutorial not working?" she asked, smirking.

"Oh, it’s working fine. I’m just at war with my neck." He sighed softly when he finally got it right. Maybe his mood had something to do with the text Gabriel had sent him.

{You’re in Paris. You really should come over to see what I found}~~

If it was five years ago, he would have stormed Gabriel’s condo immediately after he stepped foot in Paris. But lately, the only thing in his head was Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine!

Clearing his reputation wasn’t on his agenda too much. Knowing what went down that day wasn’t his priority at the moment.

Five minutes, three threats to the tie, and one minor wardrobe malfunction later, they finally left the hotel room. Kingsley held the door open with a dramatic flourish.

"To the Eiffel Tower!" he declared calmly. His mood was finally back up. All thoughts of Gabriel had been shifted to the back of his head. He just wanted to enjoy the night.

"To carbs and questionable French pronunciations," Jasmine added, high-fiving him as they walked to the elevator. They looked like any other day-cute and normal couple.

The elevator arrived and opened to reveal an older couple already inside, standing in silence. Jasmine gave a polite nod as she entered. Kingsley, however, decided to whisper, far too loudly, "Do you think we’ll get snails?"

Jasmine’s eyes widened. "Kingsley. Shh. You’re going to scare them. Or worse—offend the escargot."

Kingsley winked. "I hear they’re sensitive."

Down in the lobby, Kingsley tipped the doorman so he could get them a cab because apparently, Kingsley sent all of his aids back to LA. He just wanted it to be just him and Jasmine doing normal stuff. The doorman tried to hail a cab. Unfortunately, the Parisian traffic had other ideas.

After ten minutes, Jasmine folded her arms. "At this point, we might as well walk. We’re only—what?—half an hour away on foot?" She creased a brow.

Kingsley checked his phone. "Thirty-five minutes. Forty if we walk like tourists."

"We are tourists." Jasmine scoffed loudly, already making her way towards the Tower.

"Then let’s walk like confident ones!"

"It’s going to be a long walk," Jasmine grumbled.

They set off, him leading with a wildly inaccurate sense of direction, and her trying not to sprain an ankle in heels.

Gratefully, they didn’t need to walk that far before they saw a cab. They quickly boarded the cab. Kingsley made a mental note not to make such mistakes like telling his driver to leave, again.

The black town car pulled up in front of the Eiffel Tower. The city shimmered in its evening glow—romantic and just pretentious enough for Kingsley to check his watch and suppress an eye-roll.

One moment he was loving it and the next, his mood was starting to get sour. His mood swings come like cramps. Dramatic and unexpected.

Kingsley stepped out first, dressed in a charcoal suit. He extended a hand to Jasmine without a word, the gesture effortless and habitual. She took it, heels clicking onto the pavement.

"Do you think I’m overdressed for just a simple dinner at the Eiffel Tower??" Jasmine asked in genuine concern.

"They’ll be too busy judging your pronunciation," he said evenly, offering the faintest flicker of a smile. The kind of smile that said, ’I find you amusing, but I will never say it out loud in public.’

Jasmine grinned up at him. "And they say romance is dead."

Kingsley let out a chuckle but didn’t say a word.

The maître d’ greeted Kingsley with all the warmth reserved for recognizable power. "Monsieur Elm, welcome. We’ve been expecting you." The French accent getting in on her way.

Kingsley inclined his head in a way that managed to look mildly bored. "Thank you."

As they were led toward the elevator that would take them to the restaurant situated high in the tower, Jasmine leaned in.

"Don’t take this the wrong way, but you walk like someone who owns a satellite."

"I do."

Jasmine blinked. "Seriously?"

He didn’t answer. A smug smile filled his lips. Jasmine immediately knew he was messing with her.

Jasmine stared out the glass wall, wide-eyed, while Kingsley stood beside her like he had done this a hundred times—which, to be fair, he might have.

"You’re not even going to look?" she asked.

"I’ve seen it," he said calmly. "Besides, you’re more entertaining."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you just flirt with me or insult me? Because I’m only prepared for one."

"I’ll let you decide which," he replied, adjusting his cufflinks like he hadn’t just delivered the smoothest line in Paris.

They stepped into the restaurant which was filled with soft lighting and a quiet hum.

Kingsley whispered. "Noticed the difference between this place and that sushi spot??"

Jasmine could hardly suppress her laugh. "You must have been pained."

" ’Pained’ is an understatement."

Kingsley pulled out a chair and Jasmine muttered a faint ’thank you’. Then kingsley took his seat with so much ease. He didn’t look around, didn’t marvel. He simply belonged there, in the kind of effortless way people only achieve after a lifetime of being in control.

Jasmine, watching him over the menu, whispered, "Do you ever get flustered? Like, ever?"

He didn’t look up. "I think I do."

"You didn’t even pause."

He looked at her now, one brow raised. "That was the pause."

She laughed, loud enough to turn one or two heads. "You’re ridiculous."

"And yet you’re still here."

"That’s because I was promised wine and a view," she said. Then, softer. "But mostly the company."

For the first time all evening, Kingsley smiled—not the polite, closed-lip corporate smile. A real one. The kind that softened his whole face, even if it’s just for a second.

The waiter arrived to take their order, and Jasmine nearly mispronounced every item on the menu. Kingsley didn’t correct her. He just handed back the menus and murmured something flawless in French. The waiter nodded and disappeared.

"What did you say?" Jasmine asked.

"That we’ll trust the chef." Kingsley placed his phone on the table calmly.

Jasmine leaned back. "So mysterious. So dominant. So... expensive.."

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.