Page 111 of Arianna

“Magnifique.” The guy claps and then proceeds to paint us while civilians and even paparazzi become aware of exactly who the handsome man is. I wondered when people would start catching up, but unlike in the States, the paparazzi and civilians here are much nicer, respecting his space and not treating him like a piece of meat.

They stare at him as if he is God’s gift to humankind, to my utter annoyance, and snap pictures of him but from a distance. It is nothing like the chaos back home.

Home.

Never had one of those before.

An hour later, Sebastian gives the young artist a large sum of money before thanking him for his work and time. “You don’t tip me that much for my services, you bastard.” Benjamin blurts out with narrowed eyes, but mirth is written all over his face, letting me know that he is not serious at all.

“I let you live when most times all I want to do is throw you off a bridge. That should be enough for you.” Sebastian mumbles, and at the same time as he gets up from his seat and buttons his suit.

Benjamin whispers so Ella cannot hear him but loud enough for her father to hear. “Asshole.”

“Nuisance.” I cannot help it. I laugh aloud. Not only because of the ridiculousness of these two grown men fighting like small children but also because of the caricature of us.

“What is so amusing?” Sebastian stares at me with a small grin on his face.

I hand him the caricature portrait and wait for him to see it.

“Oh fuck.” Benjamin laughs louder, now attracting the attention of everyone around us. “Looking good, boss.”

Sebastian is not amused by the artist's vision of him. There is a cute portrait of us sitting in the cafe Ella in her stroller, looking adorable as ever with the cartoon effect. Me right next to her, looking pretty and, well… normal. But then there's Sebastian hovering over us with a scowl on his face, making him look like the Grinch who stole Christmas. I guess the artist was being funny, or that is the vibe that radiated off the big surly grump.

Either way, I think he looks handsome.

I always do.

Oh, and the artist even sneaked Benjamin into the portrait, protecting us from a distance. The image of the four of us, I will treasure it forever and keep it safely tucked in my memory for however long this all lasts.

“Where to now?” Benjamin grabs Ella’s stroller making her giggle while making silly faces at her and tapping her nose.

Sebastian smiles at that, then moves to stare at me. “Where to, darling?”

Not feeling shy whatsoever, I tell him what I have been dying to do since I arrived in this couture city. I want to visit the pulse of Paris’ design and fashion. The fashion district is studded with flagship shops from classic designers like Versace, Hermes, and Saint Laurent but also houses of resolute fashion, trendy boutiques, and concept stores.

Sebastian shakes his head at me while I grin up at him and make it happen. We find ourselves walking the street while people stare at us. I take countless pictures of not only us but the designer stores as well.

The designer diva in me is in fashion heaven right now.

My fashionista twin, Ella, behaves like a lady enjoying the trips and even pointing at things which then her father, of course, purchases for her.

When we’re almost to the last store, I stop dead, causing them to stop behind me as well. I turn around, giving the couture famous store my back.

“Que se passe-t-il?” Sebastian speaks first. What is the matter?

“English, please.” Benjamin looks worriedly at me.

“I think I’ve had enough.” I lie through my teeth.

“There's one more store. Are you sure you don’t want to go in?” Benjamin asks while Sebastian stares right through me as if he is trying to decipher all my secrets.

“Nope.” I take hold of Ella’s stroller and turn around the way we came.

I don’t tell them that the last store belongs to Andrea Nicolasi and her mother. Shame courses through me when I think of what I did to a dead woman. I might have had my issues with her daughter, but spilling someone else's secrets was uncalled for.

Besides that, the petty side of me does not like Andrea’s designs.

Her mother’s? Yes. But hers?

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