Bring Me Back B.a. Paris Novels & Stories

She replied and I smiled. "Paris. My baby, Paris." THE END

“Did it not destroy your information?” “I backed up the program I wrote,” I say. “I just downloaded it now. I only need a few more seconds – ” The program loads, and a G****e map of France appears, just like I programmed. There is a blinking dot right beside Paris. Grant. “Fuck yeah,” I say, relieved. JP, Dominique, and Marcel all crowd behind me. I zoom in to see exactly where he is. The dot is somewhere northwest of Paris – Pierrefitte-sur-Seine, whatever the hell that is.

I stared into it, absorbing each brush stroke and imagining myself sitting at a dock along the Seine. “And I find you looking at that picture again,” a voice said from behind me. I spun startled to see Bastian leaning against the door frame. He was still wearing a full button-up dress shirt and slacks, but at least the top button on the shirt was undone. His eyes, blue-gray and fathomless were fixed on me. I smiled, glancing back at the painting. “There's something about it that makes me think of Paris.” He nodded thoughtfully before walking over and pointing to the painting further down the wall. “That one reminds me more of Paris. Yours makes me think of Cannes.”

City D was always bustling with a lot of people walking side by side and filled with heavy traffic. However, today, the traffic seemed to be much heavier for there were many cars loudly honking as walking people filled the city. Even the swooshing of the wind and the leaves that danced along with it were moving about busily. It was already June, indicating the start of summer, the hottest season of the year. On this day, there was a certain transparent soul wandering about on the street. Who was this soul?

The swaying and traveling of the wind in the air became even more fierce as the breeze intensified with the cold. It embraces my whole body, but even though it is changing and not the same as before, the smell I inhale through my nose remains fresh and natural-scented. It still gives me serenity and calmness at this moment and henceforth. "New gal." Less than a second later I looked at the speaker. It's Paris. He pouts and can't look directly at me. When I looked behind him, his companions were gone. Where are they?

Something more bitter than that. "Is Callum Voss trying to back out of our deal?" Elise looked straight at her husband. "Regretting agreeing to my terms?" "That's not—" Right at that moment, the phone on the table rang. Elise could see the screen from where she stood. One name lit up brightly on it. *Vivienne.* Callum glanced at his phone. His hand moved to pick it up. But Elise's voice came first. "It's fine if you want to back out of our agreement from last night."

Marcus. I hesitated before answering. His voice always carried that calm confidence, the kind that made complicated things sound possible. “Evelyn,” he said warmly when I picked up. “Did you look at the Paris files I sent?” “I did.” I sank into the velvet chair by the window, kicking off my slippers. Central Park stretched below, a green sea in the middle of concrete and glass. “It’s… incredible, Marcus. The hôtel particulier in Le Marais. The client wants a complete reimagining—modern French with West African influences. It’s exactly the kind of project I used to dream about.”

POV: Red The Paris air hit different than I expected, crisp with a bite that carried the scent of rain and something warm baking a few doors down. I kept my pace steady, shoulders loose, chin up, playing the part of a woman who had nowhere in particular to be. Just another Thursday. Just another girl with a shopping bag from some boutique on the Rue Saint-Honoré, silk scarf folded inside like it mattered, like it was the whole reason I'd walked out of that hotel.

I told her, “Just think of me as your sister. Just ask if you need anything at all.” Yet, this was the thanks I got. “Mrs. Rogue?” First to notice me, Ivy barely hid the panic in her eyes and snapped her back upright. Taylor recoiled his arm and rose to his feet, his smile stiff. “You’re here as well, Abby.” I set the basket on the desk and turned to Ivy. “Oh, Ivy. I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you here to consult Taylor?” “Uh… Y-Yes… I can’t seem to get this one question right.”

It was just… how I felt. “Aaron?” Kim called, bringing me back to earth, and I blinked once, then again, as if trying to reboot my senses. “Answer me. Why are you in Paris, in Trocadéro, in a fucking fashion show? This is not your scene, so you can’t begin to spew those lies about finding business opportunities.”