Novelas y relatos de Mrs Harris Goes To Paris

Harris said. “I did just want to borrow Gretchen for a couple of moments,” Christian said, playing up the charm factor. He winked at Mrs. Harris. “I'd be more than happy to have a portrait, or maybe a poster, sent over to your house for the inconvenience.” “There's no inconvenience at all,” Mrs. Harris said, the traitor. She was practically shooing me out of the massage room. I stalked out into the reception area, careful to close the door behind me. “What the hell was that?” I snapped. “You can't just show up at my work and-”

"You two, take turns guarding this door. Two shifts. One at the door, one at the end of the corridor. No one passes without direct authorization from Mr. Daniel. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir." Mr. Harris gave a satisfied nod. He glanced once more at Alina's door. Then he turned and walked out of the corridor toward the lower floor. There was one more matter to be taken care of. Mrs. Helen. Mr. Harris walked toward the staff area at the back of the mansion. He found Mrs. Helen just stepping out of the changing room. She had already swapped her uniform for her personal clothes. Ready to go home after her shift ended. "Mrs. Helen," Mr. Harris called.

The news arrived without knocking, slipping into an otherwise ordinary day. Harry was standing by his office window when Diego—his current business partner—mentioned it in passing, as if it were information that required no emphasis. “James Walker is in Paris,” he said. “With his wife and son.” Harry didn’t turn around. He only felt something shift inside his chest—not an explosion, but a slow movement, like old furniture finally being rearranged. Paris. The word settled, then quietly opened doors he had kept tightly shut.

That night, they flew out—Zara in all black, Alec beside her in sleek grey, the two of them a walking power couple carved from shadows and ambition. Paris greeted them with rain. But Zara didn’t pause. She stormed through the Marissa Hart flagship store, dodging photographers, and demanded a meeting. To her surprise, she was let in. Marissa met her on the top floor, overlooking the Seine, sipping wine like she hadn’t just declared war on a legacy. “Zara,” she smiled. “Chérie, you should’ve called.” “I don’t call snakes.” “Ouch.” Marissa pouted. “And here I was thinking we’d become family soon.”

Gavin grunted causing Paris to really look at him. “Oh, you’re Presley’s daddy and you must be her mom,” Paris was immediately on her feet and moving to get closer to Scarlett. “You and I should talk sweetheart. You are beautiful.” Gavin turned to Presley with raised eyebrows, and she shrugged. Paris was older than Presley but younger than her parents however it seemed Paris was not opposed to an older woman as she ogled Scarlett openly. Paris was well and truly on the hunt in Nice.

Rachel replied and said with a nod even though the maids can’t see her. Just as the maids left, Harris’s phone started ringing again. He glanced at the screen and saw that it was his mother. So he picked the call and answered, “Hi Mum.” “Hello, son,” Genevieve’s voice came through the phone, as she continued . “I called earlier but you didn’t pick.” Harris raised his eyebrows as he remembered that his phone actually rang when he was sleeping, so he gave a light cough and replied to her, “Sorry mum, I was still sleeping.”

In the beginning, James Harris and the rest of the Harris family thought I was just in a mood, but it did not take long for them to sense that something was off. Calvin Harris, the youngest son of the family, was the first to make a scene. He was initially thrilled when his micromanaging mother took off. However, his joy turned to dismay at the school carnival when his father forgot to tell the babysitter to bake cookies, and he ended up with generic cookies instead of the homemade bear-shaped ones his mother used to bake.

Elyse kissed her passionately and raced to the kitchen to go grab the croissants. I smiled at her pettiness. "I wish you all the best." Madame Desideria said as she kissed me lovingly. "Thank you so much ma'am." I said with a smile. "So tell me when are you leaving for Paris?" "Next week, ma. I'm getting my stuff ready plus we already have our flight booked." I said. "That's good then." "The croissant is making its grand entrance." Elyse announced as she came in with the plate of the delicacies.

] I ignored it and called my private advisor at my Swiss bank. "Mrs. Moretti, a pleasure." "I need to convert all the funds in my account into cash and portable assets. Within the day." Two days left. I met Maria for a final goodbye. She was my only real friend. "Alessia, you look... unwell," Maria said, her eyes full of concern. "I'm leaving Chicago," I said, getting straight to the point. "For a business trip?" "For good." Maria paused for a moment, then simply nodded. "I see. Do you need my help?"

Harris quickly ambled towards Jules's room and knocked on her door. "Mrs.Scott, can I come in?" "Come in," Jules answered from inside the room. Harris walked into the room, taking a quick glance around, before tilting his gaze to his stepmother, who sat on the bed, wearing a black hoodie with black shorts, while chatting with someone on the phone. "Mrs.Scott, can I talk to you for a second?" Harris inquired, taking slow strides towards her. "Of course, you can," Jules replied, giving him a curious look. Harris and Jules has never really spent time together, so she wondered, what he wanted to talk about.