The Paris Apartment Novels & Stories

CHAPTER FIVE AVA Paris swallowed me whole. The apartment was small. It was a one bedroom apartment with a kitchen the size of a closet, windows that looked out onto a narrow street in the Marais. But it was mine. Paid for by a man I barely knew, in a city where no one knew my name. For the first month, I barely left. I slept. I cried. I stared at walls and let the grief consume me in waves. Some days I couldn't move, other days I paced for hours, replaying every moment, every betrayal and every lie I'd been too blind to see.

The man looked me up and down as I shoved my hand against the security door just before it closed. "Don't play dumb with me! "This apartment was bought outright by Lydia Zaydn last week!" I jammed my fingers into the narrowing gap, the door biting down until my knuckles turned red. "To celebrate moving in, we even went shopping at Hermès yesterday! "This is the password Lydia gave me. Who are you supposed to be?" I shouted as I tried to squeeze inside, but the man was much stronger than I expected. No matter how hard I pushed, I could not get in.

Paris I stared up at the cracked stonework of the old apartment building, clutching the box in my hands so tightly my fingers hurt. I tried to breathe, but panic was rising in my throat like a tide. The edges of my vision started to blur. I stumbled back to my car and shoved the box into the backseat with the rest of my things while kids ran through the street nearby, screaming and laughing like the whole world was normal. Exactly thirty days ago, I came home from my shift at the café and found my roommate Maria sitting in the living room with her impossibly greasy boyfriend.

When the property manager calls me, I'm in the middle of picking out the curtains for my new home while sitting behind my desk. "Ms. Grant, the moving truck hired by your partner is stuck in the underground garage of the apartment. Do you need help dealing with this incident?" My hand, which is clutching the mouse, freezes at that moment. I haven't even received my keys to my new place. How can I possibly be moving my things there now? "But Matthew showed up with the permission slip that you signed and claimed the keys. Right now, he's carrying the bed into the master suite. "He told me that you've given him permission to let your relative, Ms. Rosalie Sullivan, and her child move into

I had gone back to sleep before I could think about it too much. The room they brought us to was on the top floor. I walked in ahead of Dominic and stopped in the middle of the sitting room and just stood there for a moment. It was enormous. All cream and beige and soft gold, the kind of colour palette that made everything look like it was being lit from inside. The sitting room alone was almost as large as the entire apartment I had shared with two roommates before everything changed. Floor to ceiling windows on one side, all of Paris spread out beyond them like someone had arranged the city specifically for this view. The Eiffel Tower was visible from where I was standing. I could see it w

“It doesn't. “ Max says, coldly, “We are here. “ He stops the car and gets off without answering. It's raining heavier now and as I get out of the car, he passes me his coat to cover myself with. I am soaking wet, he is too. We get into the building to an amazing apartment on the top floor. The tall French windows overlook the whole city. The living room is enormous and there are no walls in this part, just the tall windows, leading to a huge terrace. Max doesn’t have to turn the lights in the apartment on because the lights of the city are enough. This is the most beautiful view I’ve seen.

I asked, eyeing it suspiciously as I took it from him. “The keys to our apartment in Paris,” Alessandro answered. “Why are you giving it to me?” I wondered out loud. “We never had the chance to go for our honeymoon, so I booked an apartment for us in Paris for the whole week.” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I asked, my eyes wide in shock. “I’m not. Our plane leaves in an hour and your maids have helped you pack already,” Alessandro said. “I meant what I said and this is only day one.”

"They couldn't have, don't be scared, this taxi wasn't pre-booked." Amir’s wide eyes look into his. "They want me dead they do, god knows why, but they won't stop." They eye the taxi driver, hands gripping each other until their fingers grow numb. The car pulls up to the Paris apartment, nestled just in the outskirts of the city; one of Alexander’s properties. They get out quickly, heads down they make it inside, Amir fumbling with the keys until they fall into the hallways, bags, and weapons piling up.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Paris like the city existed solely for this apartment's viewing pleasure. And space. So much space. Rooms flowing into other rooms, all of it clean and perfect and utterly devoid of the warmth that made a place feel like home. "Ms. Mercier?" A man approached, mid-forties, elegant in a navy suit. He extended his hand with professional efficiency. "I'm Margot Blanc, the executive assistant. Thank you for coming." "Thank you for the opportunity." "Please, have a seat." He gestured to a seating area near the windows. "Can I get you water? Tea?"

I try to blink the feeling away and take a deep breath. Wait? They sent us to Paris without a portal? I look around the apartment and notice the teal colored accent pieces strategically placed around. No. They sent us to the Mavri Magea apartment, but there are windows now. It’s bright outside and a light breeze moves through the sheer curtains, making them gently flutter. “Windows?” I gasp. “There’s never been windows here before.”