Read Online Paris Was The Place I Met My Billionaire Lover (My Sweet Billionaire Love Story Series) by Kiera Zane - Free Book Online
Authors: Kiera Zane
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circumstances for such a thing to happen, which would have been acceptable?”
Harrison took a moment to consider, staring off into the imagined distance of his fractured reasoning. “Well, she could have... I mean, if she’d just ... “ Harrison drew and discarded mental card after mental card, each image inspiring the same ire, the same frustration. “She... I mean, there are times when...”
“There are times when you have to learn to let go,” Sabrina said, “times that aren’t ours to choose. And this is one of those times.”
“Okay, I’m not saying I’m perfect,” Harrison said with a nod, “that I’ve got nothing to learn. But I’ve still got plenty to teach that kid! What she’s doing is reckless and dangerous -- ”
“And that’s a part of youth, a part of life.” Sabrina adjusted the collar of his robe. “Anyway, what she’s doing is defying you, and that’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“No, Sabrina,” Harrison said, noting the snap of his own voice and also the inappropriateness of its direction and of its inspiration. “I mean, I’m not so crazy about that, I’ll admit, but it’s not what’s really bothering me. It’s... I’m upset because... she... and I... she...”
Harrison stood, dumbfounded, the lucrative lawyer stumped by his wise wife. She kissed him on the cheek and said, “She’ll call back, and she’ll come back.”
“And when she does, we’re gonna come to an understanding.”
“No,” Sabrina said, a loving correction, “when she does all of this will get settled in its own way and in its own time.”
Harrison’s confused expression turned from the swirl of imagined horrors to the plain and simple beauty that stood before him, smiling, calming him; bringing him back from the shores of distant, unknown lands to the comfort of his own home, heart and hearth.
He said, “How did I ever get so lucky to find you?”
Sabrina smiled and kissed him. “I can’t imagine. But since we’re both here...” She kissed him again, and he kissed her back; two souls singing an old, loving tune in their own distinct harmonies.
That night, they sang for hours.
* * *
Monet’s Gardens at Giverny were like the living incarnations of Monet’s great paintings; which of course, they were. Caitlyn stepped as if into a surreal environment of a painting come to life; water lilies seemed to burst up out from the dark, glassy pond surfaces that only magnified the blue of the skies in its reflection.
“It’s breathtaking,” Caitlyn said, the thick perfume of flowers drifting up her nostrils to intoxicate her. “I’ve loved the paintings, naturally -- ”
“That is the only way to truly enjoy them,” Julien interjected.
“But to see it all up close, in person, it’s just... amazing. I can see why Monet was so inspired.”
“It is natural beauty almost too great to improve upon,” Julien said, eyes scanning the thick, lush flora around them. “And that is the genius of art, to find a way to improve upon the masterpieces of God himself.”
“Yet you don’t think to preserve such pieces is worthy of my life?”
“Not your life, no. Your life should bring forth masterpieces anew, works that others will adore and admire and care for.”
Caitlyn tilted her head, her own eyes casting a long and longing look over the great inspirational garden surrounding her. “That’d be great, but isn’t the age of the great artist really past? Like the age of the prophecy?”
Julien nodded with a knowing smile. “They are quite similar, despite their seeming opposition. It takes insight to understand that, Caitlyn, wisdom you possess and dare not ignore or cast aside. And that may not produce paintings, Caitlyn, or tunes or popular films...” Julien sneered into a distant dissatisfaction, turning his attention quickly back to Caitlyn.
“What greatness you may bring forth upon this world is unseen and
Harrison took a moment to consider, staring off into the imagined distance of his fractured reasoning. “Well, she could have... I mean, if she’d just ... “ Harrison drew and discarded mental card after mental card, each image inspiring the same ire, the same frustration. “She... I mean, there are times when...”
“There are times when you have to learn to let go,” Sabrina said, “times that aren’t ours to choose. And this is one of those times.”
“Okay, I’m not saying I’m perfect,” Harrison said with a nod, “that I’ve got nothing to learn. But I’ve still got plenty to teach that kid! What she’s doing is reckless and dangerous -- ”
“And that’s a part of youth, a part of life.” Sabrina adjusted the collar of his robe. “Anyway, what she’s doing is defying you, and that’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“No, Sabrina,” Harrison said, noting the snap of his own voice and also the inappropriateness of its direction and of its inspiration. “I mean, I’m not so crazy about that, I’ll admit, but it’s not what’s really bothering me. It’s... I’m upset because... she... and I... she...”
Harrison stood, dumbfounded, the lucrative lawyer stumped by his wise wife. She kissed him on the cheek and said, “She’ll call back, and she’ll come back.”
“And when she does, we’re gonna come to an understanding.”
“No,” Sabrina said, a loving correction, “when she does all of this will get settled in its own way and in its own time.”
Harrison’s confused expression turned from the swirl of imagined horrors to the plain and simple beauty that stood before him, smiling, calming him; bringing him back from the shores of distant, unknown lands to the comfort of his own home, heart and hearth.
He said, “How did I ever get so lucky to find you?”
Sabrina smiled and kissed him. “I can’t imagine. But since we’re both here...” She kissed him again, and he kissed her back; two souls singing an old, loving tune in their own distinct harmonies.
That night, they sang for hours.
* * *
Monet’s Gardens at Giverny were like the living incarnations of Monet’s great paintings; which of course, they were. Caitlyn stepped as if into a surreal environment of a painting come to life; water lilies seemed to burst up out from the dark, glassy pond surfaces that only magnified the blue of the skies in its reflection.
“It’s breathtaking,” Caitlyn said, the thick perfume of flowers drifting up her nostrils to intoxicate her. “I’ve loved the paintings, naturally -- ”
“That is the only way to truly enjoy them,” Julien interjected.
“But to see it all up close, in person, it’s just... amazing. I can see why Monet was so inspired.”
“It is natural beauty almost too great to improve upon,” Julien said, eyes scanning the thick, lush flora around them. “And that is the genius of art, to find a way to improve upon the masterpieces of God himself.”
“Yet you don’t think to preserve such pieces is worthy of my life?”
“Not your life, no. Your life should bring forth masterpieces anew, works that others will adore and admire and care for.”
Caitlyn tilted her head, her own eyes casting a long and longing look over the great inspirational garden surrounding her. “That’d be great, but isn’t the age of the great artist really past? Like the age of the prophecy?”
Julien nodded with a knowing smile. “They are quite similar, despite their seeming opposition. It takes insight to understand that, Caitlyn, wisdom you possess and dare not ignore or cast aside. And that may not produce paintings, Caitlyn, or tunes or popular films...” Julien sneered into a distant dissatisfaction, turning his attention quickly back to Caitlyn.
“What greatness you may bring forth upon this world is unseen and
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