by Mandy Baggot
‘I’ll be OK,’ she answered. ‘I’ve been through much worse.’
‘I can call a doctor,’ Ethan said. She looked pale, her skin in contrast to the brown waves of her hair. She was a little shorter than his five feet ten, lean, but not too skinny. Pretty.
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I don’t need a doctor. I… probably just need a cup of tea and some of the cakes I held off from.’ She took another deep breath, closing her eyes for a second. She opened them again.
‘Are you certain?’ he asked. She had the most beguiling eyes. A mix of not-quite-blue-yet-not-quite-green. ‘I can easily call someone.’
‘I think you would be better off taking care of your penguin.’
Ethan glanced down at the carrier. Pepe had his beak sticking out of the gate, half a sardine in its mouth. Was this a madness brought on by all his insecurities relating to the hotel? Should he take the penguin back to where it belonged and stop with the childish desperation?
‘I should get back,’ the woman said, about to turn away.
‘Wait,’ Ethan said, reaching out and catching her arm. ‘I…’
He found himself rendered a little speechless when she turned back to face him. She really wasn’t pretty. Pretty did not cover it at all. She was uniquely stunning and he couldn’t quite quantify it. All he knew for now was her eyes definitely had something to do with it…
‘Let me,’ Ethan began, his voice a little broken. ‘Um… let me, as an apology, suggest some places for you to visit while you are in Paris.’ He couldn’t stop looking at her. ‘ You are visiting, yes?’ What was he saying? Had he lost all his brain cells the moment inspiration had whispered ‘penguin’.
‘Yes, but…’ the woman began, obviously about to tell him there were countless guidebooks available to purchase, plus the internet.
‘Places that are… not on the tourist trail.’ He smiled. ‘Hidden Paris.’
‘I don’t know…’
‘Where do you stay?’
‘I’m at the Perfect Paris hotel.’ She smiled a little then. ‘I know. Straightaway a tourist cliché.’
She was staying at one of his hotels… and she hated the name of his brand. Disappointment wrapped around him like gift paper and the tightest of bows. He quickly regrouped. ‘Allow me to leave a map in reception for you. Places to see. Restaurants to try. The sights you should not miss. A thank you for helping me with Pepe.’
She smiled and Ethan felt its warmth sink through his skin and into his bones. This wasn’t normal. This was completely unsettling.
‘OK,’ she replied.
‘OK,’ he parroted. Stupide. He cleared his throat. ‘So, your name? To leave the map for your attention?’ He was eagerly waiting to find out exactly what this enchanting woman was called.
‘Oh… um… Keeley,’ she answered. ‘My name’s Keeley.’
‘Ethan,’ he replied, holding out his hand. ‘Enchanté.’
She placed her fingers in his and gave his hand a firm shake. It wasn’t the skin-on-skin contact that rocked him, it was again the meeting of their gaze. He found his heart caught somewhere between stopping and pounding out the national anthem.
‘It’s nice to meet you,’ she responded. Then she dipped her head to the animal carrier. ‘And you, Pepe.’
He wanted to offer to walk with her. To say he was going to the hotel himself. But something was holding him back. Perhaps his subconscious reminding him that caring about anyone wasn’t on his agenda…
‘I’d better get back,’ the woman told him. ‘Bye.’
Ethan watched her turn away, walking with still a little fragility back towards the hotel.
‘Au revoir,’ he whispered. But the sentence was lost in the air.
Sixteen
L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Tour Eiffel, Paris
Keeley’s ribs were on fire, but she wasn’t going to give in to the pain on the street in front of the whole world, a penguin and a gorgeous guy who already wanted to put her in front of a doctor. Still, the throbbing sensation in her torso, was taking her mind away from the irritation that she obviously wasn’t going to meet with Silvie today.
This day! She just needed to sit down for a bit, in the warmth of the restaurant and see if she could make herself feel better with scones and tea. She took a deep breath and willed her legs into further action.
‘Oh! Keeley! Come and sit down! Come and meet Louis!’
It was Rach up and out of her seat, waving like she was the lone party sending off a packed-out cruise ship. And who was Louis?
Steeling herself for more movement, Keeley offered a weak smile and made her way across the restaurant and back to the table. When she got there a tall, fair-haired man got to his feet and extended his hand. He looked immediately familiar.
‘Louis,’ he said. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you… again.’
His accent was a cross between French and American and it was then Keeley fully recognised him. ‘You’re the man who helped with the revolving door earlier.’
‘Yes!’ Rach said, all wide eyes and excited. ‘Our real-life French hero.’
‘Believe it or not,’ Louis said, ‘you are not the first people to become trapped in that door. And I suspect, sadly, you will not be the last.’
Keeley tentatively sat down and preceded to try and find the position that eased rather than made things worse. ‘You have been here before?’
‘Yes,’ Louis answered. ‘My sister is… that is, she was, working here.’ He picked up his cup of tea. ‘I am visiting family.’
‘From America,’ Rach added, sending Keeley some sort of conspiratorial wink like ‘America’ had a whole double-meaning that could involve squirty cream.
‘Are you OK?’ Louis asked. He was looking at her rather intently and Keeley wondered whether she might have ripped her new coat or that she might have something hanging from her like the orange peel Ethan had had in his hair from the Pepe pursuit…
‘Yes, I—’
‘Shit! Keels!’ Rach exclaimed, leaping from her seat. ‘Your nose is bleeding!’
Keeley put a finger to her nose then drew it away, a thin bright red trickle on the pad. ‘Oh… I…’
Rach practically vaulted a chair to get to her, swiping up serviettes from the afternoon tea and pressing them to Keeley’s nose like she was trying to stop a dam from bursting. It wasn’t the blood flow she could feel now, it was the weight of dozens of gazes resting on her and her drama.
‘Shall I get someone?’ Louis asked, standing and hovering like he was at a complete loss as to what to do. Not quite so heroic when confronted with bleeding rather than the mechanics of entry and exit apparently.
‘Yes,’ Rach responded.
‘No!’ Keeley retorted immediately. ‘It’s a nosebleed. I… might have knocked it when I…’ She stopped talking then. It was quite hard to talk when your nose was being clamped with Kleenex and you were using only your mouth to breath. And she couldn’t possibly admit that she had got injured running after a penguin. The only doctor they would be calling for then would be a psychiatrist.
‘Is this because you’re not taking your tablets?’ Rach whispered, eyes a little frightened.
‘I am taking my tablets,’ Keeley answered. ‘Forever. Just at a reduced dosage.’
‘But could it be…’
Keeley shook her head. ‘No, Rach. It’s just a nosebleed.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’ She shrugged off Rach’s attentions, putting her own hand to the wad of tissue and easing herself back into the chair.
‘I should make a move,’ Louis announced, looking at his watch. ‘If you are sure that I cannot do anything and that everything is OK.’
‘Oh, do you have to go?’ Rach asked, finally moving her attention from Keeley. ‘You haven’t even had a cake and there’s plenty.’
‘The cakes are excellent here,’ Louis responded. ‘World-renowned.’ He smiled at them both. ‘I am sure I will see you again. I am here for a few weeks.�
�� He waved a hand. ‘À bientôt.’
‘I’ll try not to get trapped in any doors again,’ Rach began. ‘But if I do…’
Louis smiled and left the table, heading in the direction of the lobby. Rach’s attention seemed to go with him and Keeley just watched her friend while she attempted to thwart the bleeding.
‘He was nice,’ Rach said with a sigh.
‘You think he’s hot,’ Keeley replied, her h’s coming out as d’s, her nostrils still held closed.
‘Don’t you?’
No, she didn’t. She could see that Louis was an attractive man but he wasn’t attractive to her. Unlike Ethan. Even that name was sexy. Not quintessentially French, perhaps, but sexy all the same. She shivered then, probably in reaction to the blood loss…
‘Where did you go?’ Rach asked, suddenly cramming an éclair in her mouth.
‘I told you,’ Keeley said. ‘For some fresh air.’ She swallowed. She might have had a little cry if she hadn’t had her feet taken from under her right outside the entrance. It only went to prove that she was hanging a lot on this connection with Silvie Durand, maybe more than she should. Why was finding out about Ferne feeling almost crucial? Should it be?
‘Listen, we both need to chill,’ Rach said through her mouthful of pastry and cream. ‘We’ve had a big day and we’re train-lagged. Your woman probably thought she’d give us a treat with this tea and let you settle in before she meets you. I’m sure she’ll make contact tomorrow.’
Keeley nodded. What else could she do? She was the visitor here. What happened next was up to Silvie.
‘Have a cake,’ Rach urged. ‘And a sandwich. And tell me what my best outfit will be for loitering around a hotel looking romance-ready.’
‘The elf costume,’ Keeley said, finally feeling able to take the tissue away from her nose. ‘Or, if we’re testing your “looking for a long-term boyfriend” theory, maybe your pyjamas.’
‘Did you see they’re setting up some kind of Christmas-themed ice rink in the bar area?’
Keeley shook her head. Her body had been aching so much when she got back inside she hadn’t really seen anything.
‘Antonie was there and another guy who looks like a slightly chubbier version of him. They were both being all stiff and French and telling children not to touch anything.’
Keeley tried to stifle a yawn. She was tired. She hadn’t been sleeping that well lately and she had been taking out her frustrations with Lizzie’s overprotectiveness at the gym, maybe deliberately pushing things too hard.
‘Listen, Keels, you can tell me if there’s anything wrong, you know, with your health.’ Rach had leaned forward now, her sleeve dropping into the jam pot.
‘You said I wasn’t allowed to mention my kidney,’ Keeley reminded.
‘Out loud,’ Rach said. ‘In company. You know, as a meet-and-greet.’
Keeley smiled and picked up a delicious-looking egg sandwich from the silver platter. ‘I’m fine, honestly. Nothing to see here.’ Except a little part of her was wondering if there would be a map for hidden Paris waiting for her at reception later…
Seventeen
L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Opera District, Paris
It was morning. A cold frost had coated the streets of Paris overnight, but, despite the plummeting temperatures, a bright blue cloudless sky spelled wintry sunshine to come.
Ethan had skipped into the restaurant half an hour ago and was delighted to see the festiveness coming together in the flagship hotel. There were wreaths of blue and silver flowers hanging from every available space that wasn’t taken up by their traditional artwork, there were ornate posies of icy branches and royal blue pearls in small glass vases on every table and there was a decorated tree in reception, thankfully slightly smaller than the one he had removed to the Tour Eiffel hotel.
Sitting at a table for four, he took a sip of his black coffee almost giddy with excitement. He was back in control. Thanks to a penguin. Laughing quietly to himself, he replayed in his mind the video he had filmed of the chaos ensuing after Louis had found Pepe in his bedroom last night. He supposed some might think it juvenile to pay one of the maids to let the animal in, then capture Louis’s distress for Ethan’s personal viewing pleasure but… it felt good. Whatever scheme Louis and Silvie had cooked up between them with regard to the hotels, it would not hurt to have his nemesis feeling wrong-footed from the outset. And, Ethan would get to see just how out-of-sorts Louis was this morning, as Silvie had arranged this breakfast get-together.
‘Bonjour, Monsieur Bouchard.’
Ethan looked up from his croissant and coffee and smiled at Noel.
‘Bonjour, Noel. It is a beautiful day to be alive, non?’
Noel looked a little confused as if he was trying to decide if Ethan’s words were a sarcastic prelude to an official warning.
Ethan laughed. ‘What is wrong? This hotel is looking great! The Tour Eiffel hotel is looking great! The others all have plans to implement this week…’
‘You are too full of cheer,’ Noel admitted. ‘It makes me uneasy.’
‘Well, my friend,’ Ethan said, raising his coffee cup in the air, ‘perhaps it is something for you to get used to. I intend to fully embrace the season this year and that is to begin with smiles on the faces of all Perfect Paris employees. But, as with every good business, the management shall take the lead.’ Ethan cleared his throat, then, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket, he smiled wide, holding it then elongating it until he felt like he was impersonating The Joker.
‘If you were not my boss, I would tell you that that was terrifying,’ Noel replied, deadpan.
‘You can tell me,’ Ethan said, taking a drink of his coffee. ‘I will take it only as a compliment.’ He watched Noel wrap another brightly coloured scarf around his neck and fasten his coat as if he was leaving. ‘What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?’
‘That is why I am here. To tell you I have been drawn away on other business this morning.’
Drawn away on other business? ‘What?’ Ethan asked. ‘Drawn away by who?’
‘Madame Durand. She has VIP guests staying at Tour Eiffel she wants me to take on a tour today.’
Ethan felt the first turn in his good humour. He was the manager. What his staff did – particularly his right-hand man – was down to him, not Silvie. And who were these VIP guests? Could it be someone they were bringing in to replace him. A hotel manager out of the family who would be only too willing to obey Louis’s orders? Ferne had never wanted the hotels to be without family management overseeing the core of the chain. Yet again, his best friend’s ethos was being challenged now she was out of the picture.
‘Was there something you needed me to do?’ Noel asked.
‘I wanted to go through the accounts with you.’ Ethan hadn’t exactly planned for that, but it would be a good idea to get Noel’s take on where they could be saving a little more or spending a little less.
‘Well, I told Madame Durand, quite politely, how much I had on my list of things to achieve today, but she was insistent that I do this instead. Very insistent, in fact,’ Noel elaborated.
The coffee on Ethan’s tongue felt completely bitter now. Again, it felt like he was being played.
‘I should go,’ Noel said. ‘You can call me if you require anything urgent, but I would prefer it if you did not. Sometimes I can completely lose my flow on a tour when that happens and if these guests are important to the hotel then…’
‘You go,’ Ethan replied, more than a little put out. ‘I will ring the accountant if I need to.’ He watched Noel leave the restaurant and then pushed his croissant away from him. His appetite was completely lost.
He didn’t have long to mope however as Silvie and Louis were being greeted by the maître d’ at the door. He sat a little taller in his chair and tried to resurrect some of the simple triumph he had felt after watching the video of Pepe. His two guests were walking swiftly. There were no smiles on their faces. Ethan quickly got to
his feet, not liking the feel of this approach.
‘Bonjour, Silvie. Bonjour, Louis. Welcome back to Paris!’ Ethan stuck his hand out to Ferne’s brother.
‘Sit down, Ethan,’ Silvie ordered.
He hesitated, wondering whether to obey or not. He remained standing but retracted his arm now the handshake wasn’t forthcoming.
‘Is something wrong?’ Ethan asked. It was then, as the words left his mouth that he took a better look at Louis. The man’s complexion was covered in harsh red welts, his eyes glazed, one of them a little closed like he had done a few rounds with Anthony Joshua. What had happened to him?
‘Of course there is something wrong!’ Silvie snapped. ‘Look at Louis.’
Ethan didn’t want to look at Louis. He’d rather Louis was where he should be – on the other side of a very large body of water. He carried on with his visual inspection though, his brain desperately attempting to come up with something to say that would sound concerned and completely innocent. Because this – whatever it was – couldn’t be because of a penguin, could it?
‘Mon Dieu! Pickpockets are getting more and more violent these days,’ Ethan said in sober tones. ‘Did they get away with anything?’
‘Ethan, this is not—’ Silvie started.
‘No,’ Louis interrupted, his face a picture of fury. ‘They did not get away with anything. Nor will they while I am here.’
The man couldn’t have been clearer. Louis knew what he had done. Ethan couldn’t explain the state of the guy’s face, but Louis knew that the penguin arriving in his suite had been down to him. Ethan continued quickly. ‘We thought about putting notices up to warn the customers but you do not want to scare people. Customers in fear of having their valuables taken are not customers who will linger and relax over the cocktail menu.’
‘This is an allergic reaction,’ Silvie said, finally sinking into a dining chair as if the weight of the world was hanging from the beaded pearls at her neck. ‘A severe allergic reaction.’
‘Oh?’ Ethan exclaimed in his best slightly surprised voice. He didn’t want to ham it up too much. He settled for ‘faintly astonished’ rather than ‘reaction to a shock pregnancy’.
