Page 9 of Bossed By Three Billionaire Brothers

“You are not the first to notice the restorative powers of the French Mediterranean air.” Georges turned around as he spoke, walking backward as he led us toward a small parking lot where a handful of luxury vehicles were situated. “Ever since this region was populated thousands of years ago, people noticed that there was something in the air here that fills one with a certain vitality. You will feel ten years younger just walking around.”

Georges led us to a sleek, black luxury car long enough to have a cab area in back where two rows of seats faced one another. He loaded our bags into the trunk after opening the side doors for Sean and me.

Sean guided me into the car, placing his hand on the small of my back in such a way that chills ran up my spine, my pussy clenching at his touch. For a moment, despite the warm, sweet air that wrapped around me, there was nothing in the world but the two of us and his hand just above my ass.

I shook my head, coming back to the moment, the sound of Georges opening and closing the driver’s door snapping me out of my horny daze.

The cab of the car was sleek and almost futuristic, the seats dark and smooth enough to look like they were made of obsidian, with two screens on each side, and a bar bordered with soft, white light.

“Something to drink?” Sean asked as he reached for the bar. “A little early for my tastes, but I won’t judge.”

“You wouldn’t judge if your new au pair got sloshed on her way to the first day at work?” I spoke with a wry smile.

He laughed, pulling out a can of coconut La Croix. “OK, maybe I’d judge a little.”

“No booze. But one of those looks tasty.”

“You got it.”

He tossed me a can and I cracked it open, taking a sip.

“Alright!” Georges rolled down the partition as he spoke. “Now, the drive to the estate should take no longer than thirty minutes. If you wish, I can give you a brief introduction to the area as we go, or, if you like, I can keep my mouth shut and you can just relax.”

“I’d love to know about the area,” I said. “If you don’t mind, Sean.”

He nodded. “Georges knows his stuff, I’ll give him that.”

“So kind of you, Sean.” Georges grinned as he slipped on his designer shades. “On y va!”

He started the engine, the car growling to life as he pulled out of the spot and onto the road.

“Now,” Georges began as we drove among the rolling hills, “The first thing you need to know about this gorgeous little part of the Earth that I call home, is that there are two geographic features of importance. The first is, of course, the Mediterranean to the south. Believe me, you will be gettingvery acquainted with it from the estate. But in addition to the sea, there are the mountains. We are just below the Alps, and the famous rugged hillsides are the southern foothills of this range.”

He went on. I focused intensely, only breaking my attention to take in the sights of the charming little towns and villages through which we passed.

“The climate here…c’est parfait. It is warm and sunny, with mild winters and summers just hot enough to be interesting. The natural beauty of the region cannot be beat, and just a short time here will make you more than aware of just why the French Riviera, or theCote d’Azur, as we call it, is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world.”

We drove a bit more, passing through adorable little towns that looked like something out of another time. I wanted to visit them all, to sit on the patios of their cafes with an espresso and watch the world go by.

“Of course,le Cote d’Azuris not just natural beauty, though we have it in abundance. There is also the lifestyle here, the glamor and chic nature of the region. There are luxurious resorts, high-end boutiques, and the best food you will ever taste in your life. There are the beaches and nightlife and cultural events, anything and everything you could possibly want. Nice, Cannes, Monaco—all amazing cities worth your time. But if sleepy, seaside towns are more to your taste, I recommend Antibes, Saint-Tropez, and Menton.”

“What about the town where we’re staying?” I asked. “Louveciennes?”

“Ah, Louveciennes. Now, this town is not just any town; it is the town where none other than yours truly was born.”

“Which makes it the most important town in the world, you see,” Sean added with a grin.

“Correct!” Georges added. “Now you are getting it. But if you want to know other bits of interest about it, we can start with the name. French speaker or no, I am sure you have noticed that the town’s name is not French at all. Louveciennes is an Italian name and reflects the history of the place as having gone back and forth between the two nations over the centuries. When you see the town yourself, you will understand right away why it would be considered a place worth fighting over.”

We drove on, Georges explaining more of the finer points of the area, the road gently curving through the hilly terrain. After twenty minutes or so of driving, during which I spent just about the entire time practically drooling over the vista, we approached a region that dripped money. Huge estates jutted out of the sides of the hills, the water shimmering in the distance. There was no doubt that it was the place where the most well-to-do of the well-to-do called home.

“And there she is down there,” Georges said. “Louveciennes herself.”

I looked out the window, gasping at the sight down below. The view from the road looked out over a towering drop down, the sea endless in the distance. Down on the coast, a perfect view of a medium-sized village clustered around the edge of the land. Even from our height I could see the layout of the town, a half-circle-shaped place centered around a large plaza, dots of people filling the streets.

“This is amazing,” I said. “So beautiful it almost seems unreal.”

“Well, I would say get used to it,” Georges replied. “But I have spent nearly my entire life here and I still have not yet gotten used to it. I think such a thing is impossible in a place like this.”

---