Page 54 of Enthrall Secrets
I had to grip Danton’s arm so I wouldn’t trip because I was looking up so much.
We finally made it to the painting Danton wanted to show me, the Mona Lisa. Slowly nudging our way through the crowd, we managed to get close enough to view her properly. The portrait was smaller than I’d imagined it to be.
Still, she was quite enthralling.
We continued on, stopping now and again to admire a sculpture or take in the brilliance of a painting, some of which were enormous.
Danton knew so much about art and history and sculptures. I clung to him in awe, realizing he was a renaissance man. It seemed there was nothing he didn’t know something about. He was like a French Cameron in so many ways. He was kind and generous and brilliant and always willing to share everything he knew about the world.
We settled in the museum café and Danton ordered us two espressos and a croissant each. I had fun watching him people watch and then hearing him share his remarkable observations about the other diners, his wisdom all garnered from a glance, spoken with understanding.
We sat close so we could hold hands, and to those around us we must have appeared love struck. In between kisses, Danton fed me pieces of croissant.
He nurtured me so.
The car picked us up an hour later and we went on to Notre Dame Cathedral. We rested for a long while in one of the pews, listening to psalms sung by angelic choirboys, their singing ethereal as it echoed around us. I couldn’t break my gaze from the central stained glass window with its intricate design and vivid colors.
Our next stop was the Eiffel Tower.
The elevator ride to the top of the wrought iron lattice tower was exhilarating. We rose at a constant speed through the metal structure and the view of the city became more impressive the higher we went.
We swapped to a second elevator so we could go all the way to the top, and just like the first it creaked and rattled during its ascent, reminding us just how old the structure was. Danton whispered in my ear that it had been intended to be built in Barcelona, but in the end it had been too expensive for the government. He also told me that the engineer, Gustave Eiffel, had also contributed his knowledge to the design of the Statue of Liberty.
Stepping out of the elevator we made our way to the edge, which was guarded by crisscross fencing that was easy to see through. As I tried to fathom being this high, my breath caught at the spectacular panoramic view of an ancient city fused with modern, glorious architecture, a sprawling metropolis that went on forever.
Strong hands wrapped around my waist and Danton hugged me to him.
“Scarlet,” he began softly, “I want you to see how beautiful this world can be. I want you to be conscious and interact with architecture, the arts, with travel and the people you meet. Be the grandest adventurer for me.”
I spun round in his arms realizing what he was saying. He wanted to give me every part of himself and all he knew so that when he left me I’d survive. No, more than survive. I’d savor this world as much as he had.
He hugged me tighter. “Promise you’ll seize every opportunity.”
“I promise.”
Danton kissed me tenderly. “Let’s stop off in the café for a drink, yes?”
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and sipping hot tea and Danton shared memories of his childhood. He went on to tell me about his days studying at the Conservatoire de Paris, where he learned to play his beloved cello. I opened up to him about my own childhood in West Virginia, and then the move to Massachusetts, where I’d later met Cameron.
All the sadness that had gone before no longer stung as it once had. Danton had healed my pain and completed me in ways I only now understood.
I felt forever indebted to him.
Our limo picked us up just after 5:00 P.M. and we journeyed through the winding streets, onward to our next adventure.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of a large manor, the grandness of all that dark brick and the arched windows barely visible amongst a sweeping landscape of lush green grass and weeping willows.
Danton gave an order for the driver to return after midnight.
Our chauffeur agreed with a nod.
My thoughts swirled with guesses at what might lay ahead, and noticing his intense expression I wondered if this might be a family visit.
Hand-in-hand, we strolled up the pathway towards the property and I glanced at Danton to gauge his changing mood.
No, this place did not belong to a relative. It belonged to Mistress Delour, or at least she managed this house. She stood at the front door, that beautiful, chic dominatrix with her high cheekbones, looking so regal beneath the soft lighting. Her beauty was hypnotizing and impossible to forget. I remembered her from the car that had picked me up from the airport with Danton. She looked even more stunning now in a black leather bodice that was laced tight around her small waist, its elegant design pushing her breasts up into voluptuous curves.
She gestured for us to enter.
