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Chapter 6
Last Updated:
2025-08-17 06:36:07
Latest chapter
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 8
Bella moved through the office as though the city had paused just for her. Every time she remembered Lyon, the hotel room, Alex’s nearness, the subtle weight of the hours she had spent beside him, her pulse quickened.She shook her head, straightened her files, and reminded herself: professional. Always professional. She was Alexander Moreau’s assistant. Nothing more.Yet the whispers hadn’t stopped. Colleagues glanced toward her desk, eyes darting between her and the office door as if waiting for sparks to fly. Bella ignored them, focusing instead on the weekly board meeting. Today, she presented a modern redesign proposal for a cultural center in Montmartre. Her voice was steady, precise, weaving history with innovation, practicality with art. When she finished, the room fell silent. Only the chairman’s thoughtful nod broke the quiet.“Well done, Mademoiselle Hart,” one board member murmured.“Brilliant,” another added.Bella caught Alex’s eye from across the room. The corner of his
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 7
Morning light brushed Paris with gold when Bella arrived at Charles de Gaulle, her overnight bag on one shoulder, laptop tucked neatly into its case. The life still felt unreal, jetting across France for high-profile projects, navigating hotel lobbies instead of her tiny studio apartment, and working beside a man whose presence bent rooms to his will.Alexander Moreau waited near the private terminal entrance, tall and composed in a charcoal suit that somehow remained flawless. His expression was unreadable precise, aristocratic, and famously cold, but Bella noticed cracks forming over months: a flash of warmth at the gala, a touch on her shoulder in the office, the jacket draped over her without a word.“Miss Hart,” he greeted, nodding. His voice was measured but softer than boardroom formalities demanded.“Mr. Moreau,” she replied, smoothing her blazer. “Ready to charm Lyon?”He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Lyon doesn’t need charm. It needs precision.”The sl
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 6
Morning sunlight slanted through the tall glass windows of the Moreau office, scattering golden streaks across the marble floors. Bella entered with her usual quiet grace, notebook and coffee in hand, but the air felt different, charged, expectant, as though the city itself held its breath.Whispers had not ceased since the gala. Colleagues lingered in hallways, their glances following her like shadows. The office hum, once ordinary, now carried a subtle tension. Even when she kept her head down, she felt the weight of eyes on her, guessing, questioning. She told herself it did not matter. She was Alexander Moreau’s assistant, nothing more. Yet her heart betrayed her, pounding each time his name brushed against her thoughts.Alexander was at his desk, posture perfect, suit immaculate. Yet Bella noticed a flicker in his eyes, a trace of distraction, fatigue, perhaps both. He barely looked up as she greeted him, simply gesturing toward a stack of files waiting for her attention.“We’ll
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 5
The morning after the gala, Bella lingered in front of her mirror longer than usual. Her hair, still faintly scented with the delicate roses of the evening, fell softly around her shoulders. She traced the curve of her cheek, remembered the shimmer of the chandeliers, the murmurs of the onlookers, and above all, the sharp, unreadable gleam in Alexander Moreau’s eyes.She shook herself, straightening her posture. It doesn’t matter. I am his assistant. Nothing more. The mantra repeated in her mind, yet the words rang hollow. Even as she sipped her coffee, the memory of Isabelle’s poised elegance and the subtle tension in Alexander’s movements gnawed at her.The streets of Paris below glittered with winter light, but the city’s beauty did nothing to calm her. Every step toward the office felt heavier than usual, each passing cab and pedestrian a reminder that life outside their carefully constructed walls went on, oblivious to the storm swirling quietly within the Moreau office.Inside,
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 4
The invitation arrived that morning, thick with embossed gold lettering, exuding the kind of opulence that made Bella feel simultaneously thrilled and out of place. Alexander Moreau tossed it onto her desk without ceremony, his tailored coat brushing the edge as if the extravagance of Parisian high society were no more consequential than a routine memo.“You’ll accompany me,” he said, voice clipped, leaving no room for negotiation.Bella blinked down at the card, tracing the gilded letters with her eyes. A gala at the Hôtel Le Meurice, an evening of champagne, chandeliers, and whispered elegance she had only glimpsed in magazines. She wanted to protest, to remind him she was his assistant, not a social companion, but the words lodged stubbornly in her throat. Alexander’s gaze held hers just long enough for her to know refusal was impossible.By evening, Bella stood before the mirror in her modest Paris apartment, smoothing the folds of a borrowed navy gown. The city below shimmered, e
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 3
The office at night was a different world.By day, Moreau International buzzed with energy, phones ringing, heels clicking, conversations bouncing from French to English across glass-walled conference rooms. But once the sun sank beyond the Paris skyline, silence descended. The city lights glittered below, the Seine shimmered in the distance, and the building became a fortress of shadows and reflections.Bella Carter was still at her desk at 9:47 p.m., her eyes gritty from staring at spreadsheets. A stack of investor reports loomed beside her, each one needing to be cross-checked before the morning. She stifled a yawn and pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose.She wasn’t usually the last to leave. But tonight, the workload was brutal, and her boss’s expectations ....well, they weren’t exactly forgiving.She typed one last figure into the spreadsheet and saved the file. That was when she noticed the light.Alexander Moreau’s office glowed faintly across the floor, a solit
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