The Art Of Seduction. Katherine O' Neal
would lose this miraculous opportunity, this answer to her prayer for help that night on the bridge. And she would kill any chance of keeping the only man she’d ever met who she knew could fill the empty space in her soul.
Mason…or Amy?
An impossible choice.
But…What if she could do it? Take the risk and seize it all. The thought gave her a tingling sensation of daring.
She walked past a Mediterranean-looking building and crossed to the middle of the plaza made by the four corners of the Tower’s base to stand directly beneath it. She’d never been so close to it before. From a distance, there was no way to appreciate the massive scale of it. She looked up and felt it soaring above her, the tallest structure on Earth. The naysayers had all declared that it would never stand, that the forceful winds of the Île-de-France would send it toppling to the ground before it could be finished. But here it was, flying in the face of their ridicule, a symbol that anything that could be imagined could be accomplished.
Tomorrow, England’s Prince of Wales would officially inaugurate the monument and would be granted the honor of being the first to ride the elevator to the top. Crowds would gather to celebrate the occasion. A grandstand had been built where speeches would be made and the royal party would enter the elevator.
But tonight, the Tower was hers alone.
Darkness was descending. Mason was looking all around her, marveling at the network of iron girders, at the grace and beauty of the crisscrossing ribs, when her gaze came to rest on the stairway that zigzagged its way from the north base of the Tower just behind the grandstand all the way up to the first level. Seized by an impulse, she walked to the base and found that the stairwell was unblocked. She stood there a moment, pondering it. Do I dare?
She stepped to the opening and looked up. It was growing darker and she couldn’t see very well, but it didn’t look especially intimidating. Why not go up and have a look?
She began to climb the metal stairway, her heels making a hollow, clanging sound. It was a steep incline, but scaling the Montmartre butte every day for five years had made her legs strong, and she effortlessly climbed higher…higher…back and forth as the staircase shifted direction at regular intervals.
Finally, she emerged on the first observation level. It was deserted. She was amazed that she’d made it this far. Was there no one to rush out and arrest her for trespassing?
She stepped to the rail and looked out on the view of the Champ de Mars below her and the dome of Les Invalides to her left. It was completely dark now and stars were beginning to sparkle in the sky. She felt positively wicked being here. Then the thought hit her.
Could I go even higher?
She looked around until she saw the entrance to the next level of stairs. This was a narrower spiral staircase that wound almost straight up. Feeling even more wicked, she began to ascend the staircase. Higher, higher, higher…She was breathing hard now, but it was strangely fulfilling. She lost all track of time, until finally she emerged on the second observation level. She went to the rail and beheld the same view, but from this height, it was even more spectacular. She’d never seen anything more stunning. The gaslights had come on, and Paris was spread out below her in its nocturnal magnificence.
It suddenly struck her just how much she loved this city. Twenty years before, it had been in ruins from the disastrous Franco-Prussian War and the civil strife that had followed it. But it had risen from the ashes to once again become the first city of the world. This fair was the showcase of that resurrection, and this spectacular tower was its symbol. Tears of pride came to her eyes as she thought of it. She was filled with a surge of appreciation, power, and possibility.
Why not go all the way? To hell with the Prince of Wales. Who better to be the first to scale the Tower than someone like me?
Once again, Mason began to climb. The stairs grew steeper, narrower. She lost herself in the rhythm of her footsteps clanging on the metal. Up…up…into the very sky. Panting now. Climbing, climbing, climbing. Her calves began to ache, but she didn’t care. A cold wind began to hit her, but she found it bracing. The sensation was almost sexual. She couldn’t stop herself now if she wanted to. Higher, higher, higher…
Until the stairs ended. She was at the summit: 919 feet high, 1, 665 steps!
She leaned against the rail, trying to catch her breath, which was burning her lungs. It was pitch-black around her, but the lights of the city formed a carpet at her feet. Looking down on it gave her a swell of exhilaration.
Truly, anything was possible.
“Young woman!” A male voice behind her startled her. She whirled to find a bearded man holding a lamp. He’d just come out of the small enclosure at the pinnacle. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Caught up in her sense of accomplishment, she said, “I might ask the same of you.”
“I’m Gustave Eiffel, and I built this tower you are trespassing upon. And who, may I ask, are you?”
Who was she?
Time to decide.
Holding out her hand to him, she said, “My name is Amy.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.