Novel & Cerita This Is Paris Book

Professionals have places to be, preparations to make, identities to construct. Outside, the Paris night is cold and smells like rain — that particular Parisian rain that seems to carry the weight of centuries, that feels less like weather and more like atmosphere. I walk three blocks before I allow myself to open the envelope, stepping under a streetlamp that casts a pool of yellow light onto the wet cobblestones. The photograph of Celeste Laurent is on top again — a second copy, slightly different angle, same expression of utterly unreadable composure.

CHAPTER 90: A NIGHT OUT IN PARIS VENUS: I was excited when we stepped out of the room, casually dressed and heading off to the club. Paris glowed like a dream, its lights glimmering off the Seine and dancing across every glossy window we passed. Maxine and I stepped out of the sleek black car, our hands entwined as we stood at the entrance of a stylish lounge located just off the Champs-Élysées. The night was crisp, alive with music and movement, and everything felt like a page torn straight out of a romance novel.

Evelyn pov Paris was a strange kind of beautiful. Cold but golden. Busy but hushed. It moved like it knew secrets I hadn’t earned yet. I stood at the open balcony of the hotel on Rue Saint-Honoré, the Eiffel Tower winking at me from a respectful distance. The scent of espresso and rain crept through the iron railing. Below, the city pulsed like it had its own heart. For the first time in months, I could hear myself breathe.

Chapter 8 Bastien Two Years Later Paris was alive at all hours of the night, but she was the quietest at four in the morning, when even the night owls couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. The line of SUVs pulled up outside the Louvre, close to the pyramid in the open square. Lights from the lampposts and the buildings were one of the reasons the city had been given its name, City of Light, and it was a name well earned.

I turned to find a young man with kind eyes and a name tag that read "Philippe." "Just browsing," I said. "This place is wonderful." "We think so. First time in Paris?" "How did you know?" He smiled. "You have that look. The one people get when they're falling in love with the city." "Is it that obvious?" "Completely. But it's charming. Too many people come to Paris and act like they've seen it all before. It's refreshing when someone appreciates it properly." I ended up buying three books, including a gorgeous photography collection of Parisian architecture. Philippe wrapped them carefully in brown paper tied with a string.

The vibe towards magic with every minute walked within the city shook me, and I fell in love with Paris. We walked into a small bookshop, the walls of which were completely clad with old books and prints from other centuries. Luc took me to meet the friend who owned it. She was a sweet old lady, with the name of Colette. She spoke no other language than French, so Luc had to do an interpreter's job in our conversation. Must be here, there, around the shelves of the lit. section for almost an hour, doing little but changing pleasantries back and forth ad nauseam.

Chapter 25 (Sophia's POV) Paris was beautiful in the morning. I'd forgotten that. Or perhaps I'd never properly noticed, every previous Paris trip had been consumed entirely by work, by collections, by the relentless forward momentum that had defined my life since I was twenty-two and Laurent Luxe was held together by determination and very little else. This morning I noticed. I stood on the hotel balcony with coffee and watched the city wake up slowly, the way cities that understood their own significance always did, unhurried and certain.

"Come on, now." They continued walking down the street until they got to an old bookstore. It was small and rustic, and old place that was hardly standing on its own now but it was Rosie's favourite in Paris. She could spend all day scanning the shelves or sitting outside on the little outdoor dining tables with a book in hand. Rosie sat down at one of the tables while Anthony walked across the street to get them some coffee. She opened a new book that had been propped underneath her arm, falling into whatever new universe this book would consume her into.

***Authors Note*** Hey my lovely readers, so we come to the end of those beautiful steamy short stories. The next stories are still age-gap books, but a little bit longer. Buckle up tight and enjoy every step of the way. XoXo!!! Book title: Do Me Dirty, Mr. CEO. PROLOGUE DAPHNE “I ’m moving to Paris.”

**Evelina’s POV** I could scarcely believe that I’d stepped into a luxurious hotel room in the heart of Paris. The walls were adorned with hand-painted murals depicting scenes from French history, each one more exquisite than the last. In one corner stood a velvet chaise lounge so deep and inviting, it seemed to whisper my name like a sinful secret waiting to be uncovered. A grand four poster bed dressed in finest Egyptian cotton linens beckoned to us from its position in front of those breathtaking windows offering glorious views that stretched on for miles; showcasing a full frontal view of the Eiffel tower twinkling against the indigo sky.