by JA Low
“Oooh, that sounds great. Might have to be this week as we start production work next week and then filming the week after,” I explain to her.
“Okay, I’ll be in touch.” She kisses my cheek. “Your Spanish is perfect. Why are you hiding it?” she whispers in Spanish to me.
“People like to underestimate me, so I let them. You find out a lot more about someone’s true character when you do,” I reply back in Spanish.
Sebastien escorts me back out of the restaurant.
“I’m so sorry about Sabine,” he apologizes as he places his hands in his pockets.
“Not your fault,” I reply.
“Well…” He makes a face. “Sabine and I had a thing a really long time ago.”
“Oh, really?” I fake my surprise a little too obviously, which makes him laugh.
“She’s a jealous woman. I thought she might have gotten over me since I’ve been away, but…” he focuses his eyes on the ground before him, “… maybe seeing me again has brought up old feelings.”
“Was it serious between the two of you?” Must have been if she’s still jealous. A broken heart can do that to someone.
“How do I say this without looking like a jerk.” He chuckles. “She was a long-standing booty call.” He cringes as he says it.
“Sebastien…” I playfully hit his arm. “That’s terrible.” He holds his hands up to defend himself.
“I was in a bad place after my divorce, and she was there, and…” He keeps digging himself a bigger hole, and I give him a look. “I know, I’m the worst.”
“Have you hooked up with her recently? She might think your old relationship might be back on.” Remembering the conversation I eavesdropped on the other week, I wait for his reply.
“No.” He shakes his head fervently. “No. She has tried, but no.” The horrified look on his face tells me that he’s telling the truth.
“Not even a kiss?” I ask.
“No. I don’t want to lead her on,” he explains.
“You might need to have a chat with her then. Otherwise, she’s going to keep spilling drinks on people… namely, me.” I laugh.
“Urgh, I’m sorry,” he says again as we turn the corner to his apartment complex. “I heard Maya invited you out shopping this week. That’s great.”
“I like her. She’s so nice.”
“Maya is a tough one, but she seems to have taken a shine to you,” Sebastien tells me.
“She’s just lovely, and I’m excited to hang out again.”
We head into his building, he presses the brass button for the elevator, and then we ride up in silence.
As we enter, I shake my shirt and say, “I’m just going to have a quick shower.”
“Do you want to have a drink on the terrace?” Sebastien asks. “The view at nighttime is quite nice.”
“That sounds great.”
I quickly refresh myself and jump into my pajamas, which consists of shorts and a T-shirt, but I also put my bra back on. No one wants to be high beaming their co-star.
Walking out onto the terrace, the cool breeze runs over my freshly showered skin, instantly giving me goosebumps.
“Here.” He hands me some bubbles. “This is Cava,” he explains. “I grabbed a bottle earlier today while you were resting. It’s the type of grapes growing on the vines at the property.”
I take a tentative sip, and it tastes divine. “Might need a couple more bottles for… you know… research purposes,” I tell him, which makes him burst out laughing.
“Maybe we should ask production for a trip to France to their champagne region to research the competition,” he adds, then takes a sip of his wine.
“Do you think they would?” My eyes widen with the possibility. “Because I would love to go to France.”
“Let’s email them and see.” He takes out his phone and furiously types, then sends.
“Oh, I wonder what else we could ask for in the name of research?”
Sitting back against the oversized chair that’s on the terrace, we fall silent for a couple of moments, thinking about things.
“Maybe test chocolates in Switzerland,” I yell.
“Or truffle hunt in Italy.” Sebastien grins.
Not sure about that, but sure, let’s add Italy to the list.
“Hunt for antiques in Marrakesh,” I throw out.
“Good one.” Sebastien nods. “Shop for linens in Ireland.”
We go back and forth adding more and more ridiculous things to our lists until we have finished the bottle of Cava and are a little too giggly than we should be. I stifle a yawn as my eyes become heavier and heavier when finally, jet lag begins to hit home.
“I think I might be ready for bed.” Stretching out myself in the chair, Sebastien raises a brow. “Alone.” I give him a pointed glare, and we both burst out laughing again.
“Night, Quinn,” Sebastien calls from his chair.
“Night, Sebastien. And thanks for a brilliant first day.”
“Anytime.” He gives me a salute and continues drinking his wine.
I leave him on the terrace in the darkness and collapse into the most comfortable bed known to man.
26
Quinn
A couple of days after the restaurant, Maya has organized for us to catch up and go shopping. Her only request was to bring my passport. Random. But I’ve done as I am told.
“You ready for an adventure?” she asks, greeting me at Sebastien’s apartment.
“Of course.” Excitement and trepidation fill me.
“Please bring her back in one piece.” Sebastien walks out of his room, then he greets his cousin in the usual manner.
“Don’t wait up. I have the best day planned.” Maya smiles.
Oooh, I can’t wait to hear what we will be doing.
Sebastien’s eyes narrow on his cousin. “Please don’t do anything stupid,” he warns her. “The network won’t be happy if it makes front-page headlines.”
“I promise, Seb.” Maya playfully hits his chest. “I will look after Quinn.” Maya turns her attention to me. “Are you ready?”
I nod my head eagerly.
“Have fun,” Sebastien tells me as he kisses my cheek goodbye. As we disappear out of his apartment, I give him a small wave.
“Ignore my cousin, he likes to worry. I promise you are going to love my surprise,” Maya explains.
There is a black town car waiting for us on the street as we emerge from the apartment complex. We slide in and drive off through the ancient streets of Barcelona. We happily chat about nothing exciting until I look out the window and realize we’re at the airport. I look over at Maya and give her a questioning glance which she ignores.
The next thing I know, we are turning away from the main terminal area and down a side street, where there’s a heap of smaller aircraft, and we pull up next to one of them. A man dressed in a pilot’s uniform greets Maya, and they start talking about today’s route. Is she taking me on a scenic flight? The pilot then asks to see my passport which he double-checks, then he signs off on some paperwork and tells me that we’re going to Paris.
Paris? As in France?
“Maya?” I turn and question her.
“Surprise.” She gives me a wide smile.
“I thought you said we were going shopping?” As I follow her up the private plane’s small steps, I ask.
“We are… in Paris.” She grins. What on earth?
The private plane is lush with cream leather seats and mahogany wood paneling.
“We will be landing in Paris in a couple of hours,” the pilot tells us before disappearing into the cockpit. I take a seat against the buttery-soft leather seats and do up my seat belt with a sense of shock still fluttering over my body.
“You okay?” Maya asks, taking me in.
I nod my head slowly. “I just never thought I would be going to Paris today.”
“You’re okay that I did this?” Maya asks.
“Yes, of course.” Realizing my shock is makin
g her think this may not have been such a great idea, I continue, “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ve dreamed about going to Paris since I was a child. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever get there.” To reassure her, I smile widely.
Maya nods and smiles back at me.
“Um… who’s plane is this?” Looking around at the extravagant mode of transport, I wait for her to answer.
“Mine.” Maya grins.
Wait! What? Hers? As in, she owns this plane?
“I got it as part of my divorce settlement.”
She’s divorced?
“I’m sorry,” I reply, not really knowing what else to say.
Maya waves my concern away. “Don’t be. I was young and didn’t know any better. I’m so much happier now. Plus, I deserved it.” She pulls out a bottle of champagne from the mini-fridge and pours us each a glass.
“May I ask what happened?” Taking a sip of my drink, the bubbles tickle my nose as the plane makes its way up the runway.
“My ex played for FC Barcelona. He was a footballer, I think you say soccer player.” I nod my head in understanding. “We had been dating since high school.” This story is sounding familiar. “His star started to rise. His bank balance began to grow. The groupies went from normal people to models and celebrities, and well, that adoration from beautiful women is sometimes hard to resist.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Thankfully, I listened to my mama who told me I should invest my money separately for a rainy day and not spend it as if it will never end. Because you never know what might be around the corner.”
Wise words. Wish I had done the same. The only difference here is that I thought it was my money as I earned it.
“Alas, he screwed around on me one too many times, and I’d had enough. We never had a pre-nuptial agreement. His management didn’t want our divorce, but with it, all his indiscretions came to light. They were in the middle of negotiating his new deal with FC Barcelona, so he gave me half of everything and some assets, so it could be amicable.” This girl is kick-ass. “I heard from Sebastien that things were not so great for yours?”
Yeah, that’s putting it mildly.
“Nope. He blindsided me. Took everything we had built and put it all in his name.” Maya gasps. “My fault entirely. I didn’t read the fine print on the document he asked me to sign.”
“Oh, Quinn.” Maya feels my pain, I can see it by the look in her eyes. “Were you not able to fight it?”
I shake my head. “Legally, my lawyers said because the document was signed by me, there was no way to prove that I didn’t know what I was signing. It was a huge learning curve for me.”
“What an asshole,” Maya curses.
“Yep. Also, he told me we should break up moments before going into a meeting with the network executives where he talked about his solo ideas, etc., and I stupidly let him because at the time, I hadn’t had a chance to process what had just happened,” I explain. “I was completely and utterly blindsided.”
“That man is despicable.” Then Maya adds a long list of Spanish curse words.
“I was able to get some money out of our separation. Plus, the network is paying me well to do this show with Sebastien, so I have to be thankful for that.”
“But still, your life’s work gone because he’s a greedy fucker,” she states.
“I know, and maybe I’m stupid for not fighting it more.” I shrug my shoulders. “But I just… I felt so alone at the time.” The emotion of saying it out loud tightens around my throat.
“Well, screw him!” Maya tells me. “Here…” She takes out her cell. “Let’s take a selfie together. Show him that he chose the wrong girl.” We take the picture which makes me laugh, then she tags me in it. #livingmybestlife
I burst out laughing at her post.
“Darling, you are.” We raise our champagne glasses and cheers.
It feels like we have just left when we are touching down in Paris.
The captain holds out his hand for us as we descend the plane’s steps, and there’s a luxury car waiting for us on the tarmac. We jump in and head into the center of Paris.
My nose is glued to the tinted windows of the car as I watch the famous monuments pass by in wonderment.
Eventually, we pull out in front of a gorgeous stone building with the name Yvette Sanchez written in gold on the front.
“It’s Sebastien’s sister.” Maya smirks, and I raise an eyebrow. “Come on, she’s waiting for us.”
And with that, Maya links her arm with mine and walks me into the gorgeous boutique.
“You made it,” Yvette greets her cousin in Spanish, kissing her cheeks, then switches to English to greet me. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Quinn.” She gives me a wide smile then kisses me on each cheek.
Yvette’s beautiful with her long brunette hair, dark cocoa eyes, and tanned olive skin. She looks like she should be the person modeling the clothes, not making them.
“Thank you so much for having me. It’s such a surprise to be here.”
Yvette looks over at her cousin.
“I kind of highjacked her.” Maya shrugs her shoulders unapologetically.
We’re interrupted by one of the staff members coming out and handing us a fluted glass.
“Champagne and shopping go hand in hand.” Yvette grins.
We take a couple of selfies for our socials before we start the fun.
“Family and friends discount is available for you today,” Yvette whispers into my ear.
“I don’t know where to start,” I whisper back to her. “Everything is gorgeous.”
“Would you mind if I picked out a couple of items for you?” she asks.
“Of course not, I’d be honored,” I tell her.
“Take a seat by the dressing rooms, and I’ll be back.” I do as I’m told and take a seat on one of the beautiful blush velvet chairs outside the dressing room, which is covered in cream silk curtains. Everything about the boutique screams sophistication, class, and Europe. Honestly, I feel a little out of place.
A little while later, Yvette arrives back with a handful of dresses her assistants are carrying for her.
“Let’s get you set up, shall we?” As they pull back one of the silk curtains and hang the multitude of dresses for me, I feel like I’m in some kind of fairy tale or rom-com montage.
I’ve just gotten dressed into one of the most gorgeous evening gowns when my cell starts ringing. Reaching down into my bag, I pull it out.
Sebastien’s name flashes across the screen. I wonder what he wants? So, I answer his FaceTime call.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?” He looks panicked.
“Yeah, why?” Worry starts to creep into my mind.
“Because you’re in Paris!” His voice raises. “I can’t believe she did this. I knew my cousin was crazy, but this...” He’s pacing around his living room, then a slew of curse words follows.
“Sebastien,” I call out to him. “Sebastien,” I say his name again a little more clearly and precisely. “Look at me.” Finally gaining his attention, I give him my biggest smile. “I’m. In. Paris.” I start to jump up and down giddily on the spot.
Sebastien’s eyes dip down, then back up again to my face. I still and see my reflection on the cell’s screen. The dress Yvette gave me has a plunging neckline, and I’m large breasted, so when I jumped up, my girls did their own little dance as well.
“And you’re okay?” he questions me again.
“Yes, I am. I mean everything’s amazing… well, the tiniest bit I’ve seen so far, anyway.” The tension in his face subsides. “Now, what do you think of this dress?” I tilt my cell to show him and then give him a little bit of a wiggle for added measure to tease him. I notice he closes his eyes, shakes his head, and then bites his bottom lip. Not sure what that means.
“It’s nice,” he replies unenthusiastically.
“Just nice? Not sure your sister would like to hear you say that. We’re at her shop.” As I ta
ke a look in the mirror, my self-confidence begins to take a nosedive. Sebastien must see the disappointment on my face because he decides to be honest.
“You look beautiful, Quinn,” he tells me softly.
Oh, I can see it written on his face now that he’s telling the truth.
“It’s the first dress I have tried, but thanks.” Giving him a curtsy that he can’t see, he clears his throat, breaking whatever awkward spell had just fallen between us.
“Well, I’ll let you go then.” He gives me a small smile.
“Okay, I’ll see you when I get back home tonight.”
“Enjoy Paris, Quinn.”
And with that, he’s gone.
27
Quinn
After spending some time at Yvette’s gorgeous showroom, where I snagged a couple of evening and cocktail dresses, Maya then took me to the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, where we strolled along the enchanting street, browsing the designer boutiques of Armani, Prada, and Tom Ford. We continued on around the corner to the Rue Cambon, so we could see where Coco Chanel lived. Then we continued our shopping tour to the prestigious tree-lined street Avenue Montaigne, which is one of the most beautiful streets in Paris, where we browsed luxury shops such as Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Givenchy.
We stopped for baguettes and pastries, where I fell in love with buttery croissants and an array of decadent desserts that I had never seen before. We stopped for arbitrary Paris selfies along the Champs Elysée, under the Arc de Triomphe. and eventually on top of the Eiffel Tower.
We checked out the Louvre, where I saw the Mona Lisa, which was not as big as I thought she would be.
Maya explained the different artists like Picasso, Renoir, and Van Gough. I purchased a beret to wear, which had Maya shaking her head at me while I posed with it in front of a tower of baguettes.
We climbed the steps to Montmartre, Maya refusing to get the tram all the way to the top. She told me to think of it ‘as a French Stairmaster.’ The view from the top of the stairs once I had caught my breath was amazing, looking out over the rooftops of Paris, which looked exactly like it does in the movies. We moved on and explored the Sacré-Cœur Basilica. Honestly, it felt like I was living someone else’s life.
