He nodded. “Give me the location and I’ll carry out the necessary orders.”
“Oh.” Shocked, I blinked. “I was going to buy the tickets online and—”
“You’re not to spend your own money.” He pulled out his phone and spoke in French.
I stood there, not sure if he’d finished the conversation or not. I got ready to walk off, and he hung up.
“Everything is in place.” Louis checked his watch. “We’ll have you both there in two hours. They know the location. Men are heading to the location.”
“Wow. Thanks a lot.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Anything else?”
“It’s. . .probably a stupid question.”
He gave me an odd smile. “I get stupid questions all day.”
“Do you think Jean-Pierre would like a fair? Or would it be. . .boring to him?”
Louis considered the questions for a quiet minute and then looked at me. “I believe Jean-Pierre would enjoy any place as long as he’s with you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
His face went back to neutral. “I usually am. However, the gaming booths will get his attention, especially if it’s swinging a weapon at something.”
“It’s medieval.” I shrugged. “They should have some ax throwing or something.”
“Then, he should love this fair.” He shrugged. “I’d say no to cotton candy for Jean-Pierre, but a definite yes on funnel cakes.”
“Noted.”
“He’ll like the surprise.”
“Good. I’ll just go to the kitchen and see if I can make us something.”
“No.” Louis typed something into his phone. “The chef will be by to get your plans for the meal. Jean-Pierre only wants your hands on him or the instrument.”
“O-kay.”
“Do you want to bring something else on this date?”
“Um. What else could I bring?”
“You have many resources at your disposal, Mrs. Eden. We could have a helicopter take you.”
“Oh wow. I’ll just stick with the limo for now. Thanks so much.”
Louis nodded, sat back down, and turned on his game.
“Okay. I’ll be ready in two hours.” I backed away and left, feeling like I should’ve curtsied or something.
What the hell am I going to tell the chef to make? I’ll have to google romantic picnic items. Maybe we can do a medieval theme.
It took a while to research, but I came up with a fun menu. The chef arrived minutes later. I gave him my ideas and his eyes brightened with excitement. His response made me hopeful about the date. Whenever the person cooking was upbeat, the food would at least be awesome.
As the day continued, I found that Louis engineered the surprise with pure perfection. I spotted staff packing boxes and picnic baskets. Others carried them out of the penthouse.
The chef had me do a quick tasting of the menu. Garlic bread with tomato bisque. Roasted chicken stuffed inside of a pastry made into a castle. Sweet buttered corn and herb-basted potatoes. The chef had gone above and beyond. Everything had been to my liking.
I walked back from the kitchen and passed several of Jean-Pierre’s security. Louis pointed to a large blueprint on the wall. I checked the image and recognized it as the fair’s layout.
Oh wow. They’re really taking this seriously.
At the time of the date, the limo and I waited in front of the building.
Jean-Pierre arrived in a town car with Rafael by his side. When he left the car, he came over to me in shock. “What’s going on?”
“I planned a surprise for our lunch today.”
He remained quiet as his gaze drank me in.
Fuck. Maybe, I should’ve called Shalimar about this. Hope you don’t mind, Jean-Pierre. I’m not sure, if this is a girlfriend experience thing or not. Maybe you just want me to give you a blow job. . .but girlfriends do other things too. . .
He curved that delicious mouth into a smile. “I love surprises.”
“Awesome.” I let out a long breath.
“A surprise?” Rafael noticed the chef and her staff rushing along to another van. “I want to come. Where are we going?”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “I guess you would like it too. Louis and a bunch of others will be coming along.”
“Very funny, Rafael.” Jean-Pierre frowned. “Why don’t you handle our current situation.”
“I can handle this and come later.” Rafael chuckled and walked off. “You’re so selfish with her time, Jean-Pierre.”
He ignored him and took in my clothes, following the way my dark blue jeans hung to my hips and the way my simple white shirt clung to my breasts.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“I am.”
I rubbed my hands together and opened the limo door for him.
Jean-Pierre shook his head. “No. You can plan the lunch, but you can’t open the door.”
Feeling wicked, I shrugged at him. “I’ve just opened the door. You have to get inside or it’s rude.”
He stalked my way, picked me up, and carried me inside of the limo.
Laughing, I whispered, “This works too.”
The door shut behind us.
We left.
An excitement clung to Jean-Pierre as the limo traveled through the streets. Like a kid, he gazed out the window and yelled out possible guesses. I doubted he’d been surprised much. Jean-Pierre seemed like a man that knew what was going on at every moment of the day.