Paris Daillencourt Is About To Crumble の小説・ストーリー

But I found you. My phone buzzed. Camille. I frowned. She rarely called during the day. We mostly texted. "Camille? What's wrong?" Her voice was tight. Panicked. "Dad, check the news. Now." I grabbed the remote on my desk and turned on the small TV in the corner of my office. The channel was already set to the news. A reporter stood outside a building I recognized. Police cars lined the street. Yellow tape blocked the entrance. "Breaking news this morning: the body of Henri Delacroix, a prominent board member of the Moreau Foundation, has been discovered at his office. Police are investigating the scene. Early reports suggest—”

Because if she looked briefly to the right at Pareios, she remembered hundreds of reasons why it had to be the City of Love, if her path led her here right now. Evrill drove the car deep into the center and then stopped in front of a private building in the La Villette district. The streets, bathed in the light of the bronze-gold setting sun, were quiet. It seemed to be a residential area, but the children had been called home at the time when it was getting dark earlier and earlier at the end of September. Aurelia could smell the fall as she climbed out of the car onto the beech-lined street.

He grabbed her hand and started walking, making her confused. "Where are you taking-----" "To buy you a dress." He turned around and answered her with a wink, making her blush like a fool. ___________ The ride arrived at Rue des Rosiers, in the Le Marais District. It was a narrow street lying in one of Paris’s oldest and most vibrant districts. The street was full of tiny bakeries, falafel stands, vintage shops, and hidden courtyards. There was so much street food; people were lined up for falafel, laughter bouncing off the stone walls.

"So I'll see you tomorrow then." Jane's apartment was located in the 9th arrondissement although Daniel had forgotten the street her house belonged to,he chose to enjoy himself to the fullest at the beauty of her home exterior with hopes of getting intrigued by the interior itself. His heard so much about the beauty of Parisian homes and He couldn't help but take few clicks of the building before entering.

His silence said what he didn’t trust the walls of the car to hold. Through the window, the city lights of Paris blurred past, Henri’s car always at the lead, his men closing every exit behind us. For once, Dante wasn’t the predator with the biggest teeth. He hated it. Henri’s headquarters rose like a fortress in the heart of Paris, iron gates, armed guards, and stone walls that seemed older than any of us. We were ushered inside, through marble-floored corridors and into a vast conference hall where a long polished table gleamed beneath a chandelier.

Quietly, visibly, like something finally deflating. I turn and walk down the corridor and out into the grey Paris afternoon and I don't look back and my hands are completely steady and my mind is running very fast and very cold on one single question. What did Vincent know about Fontaine Groupe, and when did he know it?

An acknowledgment that we existed in the same world and were, for now, managing it without destroying each other. “Tuesday,” he said. “Six o’clock,” I confirmed. He nodded once, like a contract neither of us needed to sign anymore. Then he walked with Chloe into the building. The door closed. I stood on the pavement in the grey Verlaine afternoon. The city did what Verlaine always did—it moved, it rushed, it performed itself like it had somewhere urgent to be. The boutiques on Rue de la Paix still had my name in their windows. Somewhere across the river, the museum spire stood against the sky with my mark pressed into its cornerstone. The Renaud family’s shadow infrastructure was being proce

Here's the address, Brambila estate, 7th arrondissement, Paris. Hope to see you soon and congratulations once again'

Ivy Somewhere in Paris. Diane's father, Edward, tossed his phone to her. She grabbed it before it could hit her. She lifted her face and had a questioning look on. "What crime have you committed now? How dare you, Diane? How can you mess with Dillon Long of all people?" Her father barked. The woman who messed with Dillon at the restaurant was Diane, the only daughter of one of the prestigious families in Paris. Edward woke up to the news that his company's shares had begun to plummet. After a thorough investigation, he found out Dillon was behind it all.