Page 36 of Madam Alana

Christophe and I were both silent as we dropped off Celineand then went back to our hotel. He removed his dress shirt and undershirt andtossed them in a chair in the corner before walking into the closet. I droppedmy clothing where I stood, grabbed his T-shirt, and slipped it over my head.His rich, earthy scent instantly eased my sorrow as I crawled into bed.

The tears came before he could finish turning out thelights. In the dark of night, he slipped in beside me and tugged my bodyagainst his furnace-like warmth. I tucked my face to his chest and cried ariver, the loss of Celine in my day-to-day life breaking my heart in half. It’dbecome all too real the second we dropped her off as I’d hugged her for thetenth time, not wanting to let her go, but knowing I had no choice.

So, I cried.

And cried.

I cried for so long, I fell asleep within the safety andprotection of my husband’s arms.

Would Celine have the same?

I’d never know.

Chapter 13

HomeSweet Home

The plane ride was long and uneventful. I was gratefulChristophe left me to my tumultuous thoughts as I wasn’t exactly good company.My mind was at war with the fact that I’d left behind everything that had matteredto me.

That everything being Celine.

She was headed with Darren to Los Angeles. A few years ago,Christophe had installed a sculpture he’d created specifically for Darren’smansion. That sculpture had cost millions of dollars. How one piece of art couldbe so costly was beyond my comprehension. I’d need to see the thingin order toform my own opinion. That was one benefit ofheading to France. Seeing my husband’s art. I believed it would give me anotherlook into what made Christophe who he was. His parents, their deep love for oneanother, and how they’d cared for him must have had a great deal to do with hiskind nature and sparkling personality.

Once we exited the plane in Paris, we entered a limo thattook us through what Christophe called the 7th arrondissement, which I gatheredwas a specific area of Paris. I’m pretty sure my nose was glued to the window.I knew Paris was known as the City of Love, but this was exceptional. Thebuildings weren’t reaching for the sky the way they did in New York City oreven Las Vegas. All of them were no more than a few stories tall.

Christophe explained that Parisians preferred to see theskyline and not muck up their landscape with buildings. There were rules abouthow high a building could reach, which I found fascinating. Every new streetwas aspretty asthe one before, if not even better.Paris looked as though it had been created for a movie set and yet peoplewalked the streets like normal, carrying shopping bags, parking cars, pushingstrollers, and walking dogs.

“You see that there?” Christophe pointed out the window atan old, gothic-looking church. “That’s Notre Dame. It’s been there for overeight hundred years.”

“You lie!” I gasped, staring at the enormous building thathad intricate carvings and uniquely shaped spires poking out the top. Therewere lines of people surrounding the building taking photos and slowly movingone at a time through its large double doors.

“Non,moncoeur,I tell the truth. I will take you there if you’d like,” he offered.

I nodded avidly. “I would like. I want to see anything.Everything,”I breathed, my eyes now spanning a river that ran parallel to the road. “Andthis river?”

“The Seine. A lot of famous artists have painted the river.We’ll take a dinner tour down it soon.”

“I would love that,” I babbled, pointing out the manyobelisks and gold-painted structures. Christophe explained the ones he knew tome and promised we’d walk the Seine sometime in the future so we could take itall in.

“My new home city is more stunning than I ever thought itcould be,” I blurted, sounding childlike even to my own ears.

He grinned, took my hand, and squeezed it. “This pleases me,Alana.”

I beamed back at him while continuing to ask questions aboutwhat I saw until the driver finally stopped at a black gate that opened inward.We traveled up a loose gravel driveway and stopped on a circular drive with afountain in the center that sprayed water in delicate arcs in five directions.

“Home sweet home!” Christophe clapped joyously. “Come, come,monamour.”

My love.

It was the first time he’d ever used thatparticularendearment. Excitement flooded my nerve endings making them tingle whilemy belly clenched with anticipation.

“Merci, Christo.” I smiled, taking the hand heoffered to help me out of the limo.

The home was massive. It could have been a small museum backin New York.

“This is where you live?” I gasped, my free hand going to mythroat as I stared at the incredible estate. Green lawns surrounded the fronthalf of the home which met up with tall trees pressed close together, which Iassumed was to add privacy.

“This is wherewelive,cheri.”He tucked my hand to his elbow and led me up the front stairs. When we got tothe door, he looped an arm around my back and the other behind my knees andlifted me until I was in a princess hold.

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