Paris and the Prince: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (Royal Weddings Book 1) Read Free Page B

was used to a challenge. She could handle this. Paris straightened her shoulders and tried to ignore the early evening chill in the air.
    The problem was… she was used to handling things in English. She didn't recognize anything, couldn’t read anything, and the urge to break down in tears was becoming pretty overwhelming. Paris had already tried three hotels, but all of them said—in what little French she understood—that they were full.
    She wasn’t sure if her credit card would have had enough to cover a night in this swanky part of town anyway, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to spend the night sleeping in the street.
    Paris was just about to turn around and try to retrace her steps back to the chapel to see if the guard might still be there—he had seemed friendly enough—when two huge men stepped out of the shadows sneering at her.
    “You zeem to be lost, mademoiselle. ” One of the men gave her a not-so-reassuring grin.
    “We can, per-haps, ’elp you…”
    Her stomach dropped straight down to her feet. Danger was danger in any language.
    The croque-monsieur she’d had for lunch hadn’t been sitting well with her, and now there was a decent chance she was going to be sick all over herself.
    This was how she was going to die, she was sure of it.
    She did a quick mental assessment of her options.
    Fight? Two against one wasn’t good odds—and who knew what type of weapons they had.
    Flight? The large frame of both men seemed to take up the whole alleyway. There wasn’t much of a chance she could squeeze past them, even if she was inclined to try.
    Freeze? That’s probably what they would expect…
    The men ambled toward her, with dangerous confidence, leering at her and saying things in French that she didn't understand. She didn’t have to understand a word though to understand their intent, and Paris knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty outcome for her—that much she understood.
    She backed up as far as she could into the alley until she hit the grimy wall behind her, hoping she might be able to use it as leverage if the men came too close to her. One of the men had his hand in his pocket, and her mind started spinning over every scenario, every possibility for what he could be about to pull out.
    She only had one option left.
    Paris had no idea where the courage came from, but she knew she was rapidly running out of other options.
    She opened her mouth and started screaming.
    And she just couldn't stop.
    The taller of the two men covered his ears, and started yelling at her in French and running toward her. But her survival instinct was manifesting in hysterical screaming flailing, and while, logically, she knew this might not do her any good in the long run, she also knew it might be her only shot.
    Her mama’s voice rang in her memory. Sometimes you have to just out-crazy the crazy, honey.
    Paris made grunting noises and jumped up and down, flinging her limbs from side to side. Her voice wouldn't quiet down.
    If she was going to go down, she was going to go down screaming. And screaming. Until even her ears started to ring with the sound of her own voice.
    When Paris saw the man reach back into his pocket and pull out a switchblade, she wasn’t sure if she should stop her screaming and flailing, or redouble her efforts. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight, that much was certain.
    Suddenly, a large shadow loomed over the men and seemed to fill the alleyway. The shorter man with the switchblade suddenly flew forward to the ground, landing on the pavement with a violent thud, his face hitting the stones with a sickening crack .
    The taller man spun around, screaming in French as the man on the ground groaned and gurgled in pain. Paris was far enough in the alley that she couldn't quite make out what was going on, but all at once the taller man was on the ground too, a splatter of blood following him through the air. Time passed in slow motion as both of the men scrambled to their