Bonsoir,” Cat added, to the receptionist behind the desk. It was important in France, to say hello. She sensed Christian chuckling at her from behind.
“ Bonsoir, Madame, Monsieur,” the receptionist said. He was as smooth as the staff at Cat’s previous hotel had been friendly. Everything was different, a different world to her little hotel near the Opera. The prestigious hotel was of international standards. It probably didn’t matter if she didn’t observe the social niceties that she had come to love about France. The staff were trying to impress her, not the other way around.
“ My personal assistant booked your best suite,” Christian said, leaning forward so that he could see the receptionist’s computer screen.
“ Oui, Monsieur.”
“ Oh, and send a bottle of champagne up to the room. On ice,” he added, taking the room keys and handing one to Cat.
“ Don’t know if they drink champagne cold in this damned country,” Christian said, sotto voce, to Cat. “You can never be sure.”
“ Christian,” Cat laughed. “France is the only country that makes champagne you know.”
“ Still.”
They rose up in the gilded lift to the second to top floor.
“Now, honey this’ll be a surprise.”
“ Oh! My goodness!” Cat wandered through the exquisite sitting room, to the window. “The Eiffel tower, the bridges, all lit up. Look at the palaces along the edge of the river!”
Christian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “See those little boats down there?”
Cat nodded. She gazed at the riverboats; decorated with lights that seemed to float above them, like miniature cruise ships.
“ Well, I’ve booked one, the whole thing. For a candlelit dinner. Just us.”
“ Just us?” For a mad moment, Cat almost felt like Marthe de Florian. Is this what the men in her life used to do for her? How many cruises down the Seine had she been on in her time? Cat shook the thought away. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He turned her around to look at him, cupped her face in his hands. “Yes. Yes, I did. Because you are the most special thing in my life, and I need to show that to you, Cat.”
“ Well then.” Cat hugged him. “What can a girl say?”
Everything wonderful that had ever been written about the city was true. There was definitely something about Paris, and a luxury hotel in the first arrondissement? It was hard to beat.
Cat soaked in a warm bubble bath for half an hour, washing layers of dust off her body. The apartment’s fine grit seemed to have infiltrated through her clothes, which lay in a heap on the floor, now. She would have to get them all dry-cleaned. In fact, as much as she hated modern clothes, a couple more pairs of tough jeans would be just what she needed to finish off the work in the apartment next week.
Now, she gazed at the slip of a dress Christian had brought across from New York. It was brand new, of course, and minimalist black , again. But, tonight, even that didn’t bother Cat. She was in seventh heaven, and she had more than enough vintage in Marthe’s apartment to keep her content for the rest of her life, even though she was going to give it all back to Loic.
Christian said that Morgan and Tasha had helped him choose the new dress for Cat. They were missing her, he said. Cat had laughed this off. She doubted it. But it was so kind of him to say so.
She rested a hand on the marble edge of the bath. If only … well. If only she had told Christian the truth about why she had really come to Paris. In some ways, though, it would be exciting to tell Christian all about it here. She couldn’t wait to share it with him. But how would he react to the fact that she had told him she was coming to Paris for work?
It would hardly do to tell him that she had been embarrassed about her family, and unsure what Monsieur Lapointe’s letter could possibly mean. So, she would have to say that she hadn’t wanted to worry him on his parent
“ Bonsoir, Madame, Monsieur,” the receptionist said. He was as smooth as the staff at Cat’s previous hotel had been friendly. Everything was different, a different world to her little hotel near the Opera. The prestigious hotel was of international standards. It probably didn’t matter if she didn’t observe the social niceties that she had come to love about France. The staff were trying to impress her, not the other way around.
“ My personal assistant booked your best suite,” Christian said, leaning forward so that he could see the receptionist’s computer screen.
“ Oui, Monsieur.”
“ Oh, and send a bottle of champagne up to the room. On ice,” he added, taking the room keys and handing one to Cat.
“ Don’t know if they drink champagne cold in this damned country,” Christian said, sotto voce, to Cat. “You can never be sure.”
“ Christian,” Cat laughed. “France is the only country that makes champagne you know.”
“ Still.”
They rose up in the gilded lift to the second to top floor.
“Now, honey this’ll be a surprise.”
“ Oh! My goodness!” Cat wandered through the exquisite sitting room, to the window. “The Eiffel tower, the bridges, all lit up. Look at the palaces along the edge of the river!”
Christian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “See those little boats down there?”
Cat nodded. She gazed at the riverboats; decorated with lights that seemed to float above them, like miniature cruise ships.
“ Well, I’ve booked one, the whole thing. For a candlelit dinner. Just us.”
“ Just us?” For a mad moment, Cat almost felt like Marthe de Florian. Is this what the men in her life used to do for her? How many cruises down the Seine had she been on in her time? Cat shook the thought away. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He turned her around to look at him, cupped her face in his hands. “Yes. Yes, I did. Because you are the most special thing in my life, and I need to show that to you, Cat.”
“ Well then.” Cat hugged him. “What can a girl say?”
Everything wonderful that had ever been written about the city was true. There was definitely something about Paris, and a luxury hotel in the first arrondissement? It was hard to beat.
Cat soaked in a warm bubble bath for half an hour, washing layers of dust off her body. The apartment’s fine grit seemed to have infiltrated through her clothes, which lay in a heap on the floor, now. She would have to get them all dry-cleaned. In fact, as much as she hated modern clothes, a couple more pairs of tough jeans would be just what she needed to finish off the work in the apartment next week.
Now, she gazed at the slip of a dress Christian had brought across from New York. It was brand new, of course, and minimalist black , again. But, tonight, even that didn’t bother Cat. She was in seventh heaven, and she had more than enough vintage in Marthe’s apartment to keep her content for the rest of her life, even though she was going to give it all back to Loic.
Christian said that Morgan and Tasha had helped him choose the new dress for Cat. They were missing her, he said. Cat had laughed this off. She doubted it. But it was so kind of him to say so.
She rested a hand on the marble edge of the bath. If only … well. If only she had told Christian the truth about why she had really come to Paris. In some ways, though, it would be exciting to tell Christian all about it here. She couldn’t wait to share it with him. But how would he react to the fact that she had told him she was coming to Paris for work?
It would hardly do to tell him that she had been embarrassed about her family, and unsure what Monsieur Lapointe’s letter could possibly mean. So, she would have to say that she hadn’t wanted to worry him on his parent
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