Surrender

Maybe it was the diamonds, but I felt different than when we flew in a few days ago.

I thought about telling him how I had sailed through Eloise’s questions. About how excited I was to start living in the apartment as Kate, his wife. That I was secretly trying to work through a contact high from his job.

“Come on. We need to celebrate over lunch.” He released my wrists and tugged my hand into his. “This is a big day. This is huge for us.”

“We are in the land of champagne,” I pointed out, trailing him through our new flat.

“We are. How many bottles should we order?”

I laughed as he pulled the door behind us. “Two?”

We stepped onto the carriage of the elevator. I loved the scrolling ironwork on the doors. They closed quietly.

“I don’t want to get you too drunk.” He squeezed my fingers.

“Why not? Aren’t we going to spend today like we usually spend Sundays? I thought we could order more room service and I could read and you could do the crossword.”

“Like we used to do on your balcony?”

I nodded as the carriage landed with a gentle thud on the first level. It emptied us into a marble foyer. On one side were mailboxes and the other a waiting area. Next to us was the door that opened into the courtyard. I wanted to see it up close before we left the building.

“Since I have to work tomorrow, I wanted to take you to Louvre. We can do crosswords another day. Let’s explore the city. Do something completely nerdy. Something you would love.”

I stopped before I reached the fountain in the center of the shrubbery.

“You think I’m a nerd?”

His laugh echoed off the stone walls and bounced around us. “You know you’re a nerd.”

“Fine. Only one bottle of champagne. And then you can show me the most amazing art in the world, if you insist,” I teased.

He slung his arm around my shoulder as he led me through the glass doors into the lobby of our new home.

“I insist.”

Chapter Five

Once Vaughn had finalized the paperwork and paid for his new purchase, it took a week for us to move into the flat and another for it to be furnished so that we could function. Our king-size bed was crucial, but the area rug wasn’t.

I was on week three as a Parisian and could almost qualify our flat as ready. Ready for what, was the question. I felt as if I were preparing for something critical, but I had no idea what it was.

There were certain things we needed immediately, and certain things I had time to piece together, like the two extra guestrooms. I still wasn’t sure what our time table was in Paris, but I had to assume we were going to stay a while. When I asked, Vaughn assured me I needed to decorate all the rooms.

“How do you want your office to look?” I had asked.

“You know me, Em. You know what I like. I need to be able to work in it. That’s all.”

I scrunched my nose. I wanted more than that. I wanted to know if we were going to entertain members of Blackwing. I wanted to know if he would have meetings with other contractors in his office. Did I need to prepare for his boss? Did he need a conference table or a bar? What did his work entail? It was enough to make me tug on the ends of my hair.

Finally, I selected navy and deep hues of wine for his office. It was dark. Intriguing. But overall, I thought it looked masculine and stylish. I was proud of the pieces I had chosen and the leather accents.

I had unlimited access to his accounts. Plastic was a part of my life again. My cards now read Kate Birch. He said I could decorate however I wanted. His only request was that he wanted it to be perfect. Whatever that meant. Every time I thought about complaining about my task, I stopped. Outfitting the flat did give me something to do while he worked.

As stupid as I felt some days, leafing through fabric samples and examining wood detail on table legs, it made the time pass. It ticked off the seconds until he was home again. There was a surprising sense of accomplishment when I pulled a room together. Even he commented on how I made it seem effortless. We were both surprised.

For three weeks, I kept the same routine. I ordered coffee at the bakery directly across the street from the flat. It was convenient and quaint. My favorite thing was that they made American coffee for me. For that, I threw extra money in the jar each week.

“Bon jour, Kate.” The baker smiled at me when I walked inside.