The Camp (Chateau 2)

“I live at the edge of Bois de Boulogne.”

She turned back to me. “I’m sorry…what is that?”

“It’s a park. It once belonged to the royal family, but Emperor Napoleon made it public in 1852. It’s ten minutes away from the Eiffel Tower.”

Her eyes filled with a slight look of excitement. “Can you see the tower from one of your windows?”

I turned my eyes back to the road. “Yes.”

She turned back to the window and relaxed. “That’s nice…” She got comfortable and closed her eyes, her arms crossing over her body like she was cold from AC. “I can’t wait to see it.”

When I glanced at her, her eyes were closed, and there were bumps on her arms.

I turned down the air and turned on some music so she wouldn’t have to listen to the engine roar every time I accelerated.

Twelve

Napoleon

It was technically an apartment, but it felt more like a small estate. I enjoyed solitude at my estate in the countryside, but I also enjoyed the hustle of the city, the nearby bars, the brilliant view of the Eiffel Tower over the large pond right outside the front of my property.

I thought she would like it…which was another reason I decided to stay here.

I drove slowly down the road around the pond and approached the apartment.

Her eyes opened when the car slowed down. She blinked a few times before she sat up and looked at the landscape around her. The perimeter of the pond was lit with subtle lights, and white Christmas lights were wrapped around the surrounding trees even though the holidays were long gone. The tower stood in the distance, and she stared at it like it was a beacon of hope.

I opened my private gate remotely then pulled into my driveway where my garage was. There were buildings down the line, my neighbors having the same view that I did. Every morning, the residents left their homes and jogged around the park before walking to work in the heart of the city.

Her expression told me everything. “Oh my god…this place is beautiful.”

I closed the garage behind us, and then we stepped into the elevator. The ground floor had no access, to make it impossible for robbers to get inside. I hit the code, and we rose to the entry level of my apartment.

When the doors opened, she stepped inside and looked around, seeing the grand entryway, the intricate moldings on the wall, the flecks of gold across the ceilings, the Parisian style windows and the hardwood floors. She immediately went to the window and looked outside, gazing over the pond and to the tower nearby.

I stopped and stared at her back, seeing the way she appreciated the city that had been so cruel to her. She worshiped it like it was her home, when she was really a long-term tourist. Her previous life had been permanently taken away from her, but the love in her heart was unstoppable.

I moved farther into the house. There was a sitting area on this level that I never used, along with guest bedrooms that were also never used.

When she heard me walk away, she followed me. “This place is…gorgeous.” She looked at the lights that extended from the walls and lit up the artwork above. Her fingers moved to the intricate gold leaves that were embedded in the wall. Then she examined the traditional Parisian furniture, the Turkish rug, the ancient statues.

Most of the women I brought here didn’t extend a single compliment, like they were trying to impress me by not being impressed. “This is your room.” I opened one of the guest bedrooms, which had a view of the park and the tower. There was a pile of clothes for her on the bed to wear during her stay.

She looked at the open window for a moment before she looked at the clothes. “How did these get here?”

“My property manager.”

“What’s a property manager?”

“Someone who manages all my homes and prepares them for my arrival on a whim’s notice.” I turned away and walked back into the sitting area and to the stairs. It’d been a long day. I was tired and hungry.

She came after me. “Where are you—”

“This is how this is going to work. I’ve armed the place with an alarm, so if you try to leave, I’ll know. You won’t get far, and when I get to you, I’ll drown you in that pond right outside. Got it?”

Her expression immediately fell in disappointment. “I told you I wouldn’t run—”

“That means nothing to me.”

She stilled at my hostility.

“There’s food in the kitchen. Help yourself.” I turned to the stairs.

“What about you?”

“I have a kitchen up here.” I moved halfway up the stairs and turned back around. “Don’t come up here. It’s off-limits.”

“What if I need something?”

“You’re on your own.” I moved the rest of the way and made it to the third floor. The lights were already on because my manager had readied it for me, and since I was starving, I immediately went to the fridge and pulled out the dinner prepared for me. I scarfed it down because I was so hungry, washing it down with a vintage bottle of wine, and then I showered and went straight to bed.