“Call her back and tell her to FedEx them to me at Le Meurice and I’ll sign them.”
“Will do. Luigi Luciani called as well, I told him you were on vacation.”
“Thank you, Rebecca…and please, no more interruptions except for Sydney and Rio.”
“Okay.”
Luigi Luciani was the chairman of a national foundation trying to restore the morals and awareness of social injustice to future executives. He had approached Paolo after reading the article in Time magazine about his philanthropic efforts. A year later, after months of negotiations, Paolo finally agreed to do a speaking tour at area colleges. So far, Dominique had lined up Yale, Harvard, Columbia, Providence College, and Princeton. Paolo would speak about the declining economic morality of corporate America.
Rebecca appeared in the doorway with Paolo’s jacket, passport, tickets, itinerary, and the Federal Express package. Paolo finished his phone call with Rio. “Okay, I will…I love you, Rio.” He hung up the phone and looked at Rebecca. “The limo is here?”
“Yes, the driver took your luggage to the car. The car is in front of the building. The driver’s name is Sam.”
“Excellent. You know how to reach me if there are any problems.” He stood and walked over to Rebecca, who handed him his jacket and papers. As he put on the jacket, he said, “Thanks for the concern, Rebecca.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in three weeks.”
“Be careful and have a great time.”
“I most certainly will.” He left the office.
CHAPTER 60
Love has no boundaries, it is ever-consuming
It will always be the love
I have for you
SYDNEY AND PAOLO held hands as they boarded the Air France airbus. The flight attendant directed the couple to their first-class seats. The flight time to Paris was seven hours and twenty minutes; they would arrive at nine o’clock in the morning.
After the aircraft reached cruise altitude, they enjoyed a light dinner, and nestled into their wide-berth seats. They shared a kiss, whispered goodnight, and slept through the evening. Sydney awoke first as the sun rose over the Atlantic. The blue sky glistened and the overcast clouds below reflected the yellow and orange of the sun. She turned and buried her head on Paolo’s shoulder and soon fell back asleep.
“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. DeLaurentis, we will be landing soon. Can you kindly put your seats in the upright position?”
“Of course,” Paolo replied.
Sydney said, “Of course, but we’re not married.”
“Oh, I am so sorry! Please forgive me.”
“It’s okay,” Sydney said.
Embarrassed, the flight attendant walked up the aisle as she checked the seat belts and seat positions of the other passengers.
“Mr. and Mrs. DeLaurentis sounds nice,” Paolo said.
Sydney made no comment. She pointed out the window, “Look, Paolo! Paris! The Eiffel Tower.”
Paolo leaned over and peered out the window. “It’s a beautiful city,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Paolo, thank you so much for taking me to Paris.” She kissed him and held his hand.
“Happy birthday, Sydney Hill.”
As the aircraft taxied toward the gate, the flight attendant spoke. “Welcome to Paris. On behalf of your Air France flight crew, we would like to thank you for flying with us today. The weather is sunny, and the temperature on this first day of spring is currently fifteen degrees Celsius. We hope you enjoy your stay in Paris, the City of Lights. Again, thank you for flying Air France.”
Paolo and Sydney stood in the aisle, stretched their legs, and exited the aircraft. Sydney walked ahead of Paolo. After they cleared customs, an older man approached them. Paolo recognized him and held out his hand. “Jean Paul.” The two had met at a party at the Belle Etoile in celebration of the rescue of Arnaud’s daughter, Emily.
“Mr. DeLaurentis, welcome back to Paris. Arnaud gives you his best. He regrets he will not be able to meet with you. You are not to worry, monsieur, Arnaud arranged everything for you. I am at your disposal. I shall take you to Le Meurice.”
“Why, thank you, Jean Paul. It’s good to see you again. This is Sydney Hill.” Paolo placed the emphasis on Sydney’s last name.
“Hello, Jean Paul. Please call me Sydney.”
“Bonjour, Madame Hill…I mean Sydney…the car is right this way.” They walked across the terminal, Paolo on one side of Jean Paul and Sydney on the other.
“It’s been awhile, Mr. DeLaurentis; I didn’t know if you’d still remember me.”
“How could I forget you, Jean Paul?” Paolo placed a hand on his arm, “and it’s Paolo.”
“You are so kind, Paolo.”
The three walked out into the beautiful Paris spring air. Paolo took a deep breath. “Fresh air, at last.” Sydney and Paolo entered the black Mercedes sedan.
The French countryside whisked by as they drove to the City of Lights. Water from a recent rain lay in puddles on the brown ground. The farmers were ready to toil their fertile lands. It was early spring—the trees were beginning to bud and the flowers were starting to bloom. The forty-minute ride was quiet as Jean Paul segued to the city streets.
The sights of Paris began to come into view—the Opera Garnier on their left, the Eiffel Tower across the Seine. Paolo touched Sydney’s thigh. “Look!”
Sydney had her eyes closed. “What? What?”
Paolo pointed, excited. “Sydney, Paris.”
The car turned right on the Rue de Rivoli. Jean Paul said, “Monsieur Paolo, we will arrive shortly at the hotel.”
“Thank you, Jean Paul.”
“The Eiffel Tower,” Paolo pointed. They were parallel to the Seine.
“What a beautiful sight!” Sydney moved closer to him. “I’m sorry about what happened on the airplane.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last name thing.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Let’s just have a good time, okay?” Deep within, Paolo hurt like hell.
“Excellent.” Sydney leaned over, grabbed his hand, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Madame, the Louvre is ahead to your left.” Sydney scooted across the seat to get a glimpse. Paolo kissed her neck as she leaned over him to get a better view.
“Stop.” Sydney giggled as she shrugged her neck.
The Le Meurice Hotel, located opposite the Tuileries Gardens, was built in 1835 and renowned for its excellent service and accommodations. It was one of the most luxurious hotels on the Rue de Rivoli. The Seine and the Louvre were both within walking distance.
Sydney gasped at the sight. “Paolo, I feel like we’re in a Monet painting.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
The sedan pulled up to the front of the hotel. Before Jean Paul could park the car, attendants on either side opened the passenger doors.
“Monsieur DeLaurentis and Madame Hill, welcome to the Meurice,” the bell captain said in flawless English.
Jean Paul exited the car and opened the trunk.
“Please, allow us to take care of the bags,” the bell captain said. “Right this way, Monsieur. We will take you to your suite, no need to check in. Mr. Arnaud arranged everything for you.”
“Thank you so much.” Paolo walked around the back of the car and approached Jean Paul, while Sydney walked into the lobby with the door attendant. “Jean Paul, thank you for picking us up at the airport.” Paolo extended his hand. He placed a one hundred euro note in the palm of Jean Paul’s hand.
“No, Paolo. I cannot accept this. Arnaud would be upset.”
“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Paolo said with a smile. “Take your wife out to dinner.”
Jean Paul took the money.
“Merci, Paolo, merci, and Madame Hill… yes… Paolo, she is beautiful and in the city of love—my Paris.” He said this with a smile that spoke of the love Paolo had for her.
“I’ll call you if we need you. As it s
tands, you will pick us up here in three days?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, Jean Paul, have an excellent day.”
“You as well, Monsieur. Merci.” He held up his hand with the one hundred euros. “Merci, Paolo.”
“Merci, Jean Paul.”
Paolo entered the hotel. The lobby was decorated in Louis XVI furniture. Paolo walked across the gray-and-white marble floor. He saw Sydney in the distance, reading a plaque on the wall. Guests dotted the atrium. They stared at Paolo as he moved toward Sydney.
He overheard the quiet whispers, “Who is he? He looks so familiar.”
“I have no idea, now stop staring.”
“He’s so familiar…I know him from somewhere,” a woman said to her husband.
The husband ignored her; he looked more at the beauty of the woman reading the plaque.
Paolo wrapped his arms around Sydney’s waist and embraced her tightly. “What are you reading?” he whispered in her ear.
“The history of the hotel,” she said, continuing to gaze at the plaque. “Did you know it was originally founded in Calais in 1771, for rich British aristocrats on their way to Paris after crossing the Straits of Dover?”
“No, I can’t say I knew.” He kissed her ear.
“Stop it.” She continued, “This man, Charles-Augustin Meurice, housed the travelers in his coaching inn in Calais, while he arranged for their transportation to Paris. He realized the travelers would be tired from their thirty-six-hour journey. In 1871, he decided to open another hotel, this time in Paris, naming it the Meurice. The hotel has been in this location since 1835.”
“Wow, that’s interesting,” Paolo said, not caring, more interested in making love than in the history of the opulent hotel. She pulled free of his grip, turned, and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“What?” he said. “It is the City of Love.”
“Men,” she rolled her eyes.
Paolo laughed.
“Right this way,” the bellman said.
They held hands as they walked to the elevator.
CHAPTER 61
The wind echoes in my mind
The thought of you, the love I have for you—will it ever end?
I stand here on the cliff of time, the cool salt-water breeze striking my face
The reality of love, the despair of love, breaking my heart in two
THE COUPLE WALKED across the marbled lobby floor of Le Meurice past the main elevators.
“Where are we going?”
“Your surprise awaits, my lady. Follow the bellman,” Paolo said in a mischievous voice.
The bellman escorted them to another elevator; he swiped the credit card key through the reader. The gold doors slid open to reveal a Charles X loveseat upholstered in a deep royal red. Sydney and Paolo leaned their hips against the sidewall rail, their images reflected in the mirrored doors opposite them.
Sydney wrapped her hands around the nape of Paolo’s neck and kissed him gently and passionately. She whispered into his ear, “Thank you, Paolo, for this wonderful birthday present.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
The bellman smiled as the doors opened to the seventh floor. Paolo and Sydney turned toward the front of the elevator and Sydney gasped in awe.
The Belle Etoile suite was considered one of the most spectacular hotel suites in the world. The 2,250-square-foot suite had two private entrances. Clearly the suite’s most distinctive feature was its private 3,200-square-foot landscaped terrace. The terrace provided a 360-degree view of Paris.
“Monsieur DeLaurentis, if you follow me, I shall give you a tour of the Belle Etoile.”
“That won’t be necessary I’m familiar with the suite.” Paolo handed the bellman a twenty-euro note. “Thank you. Is our luggage in the master bedroom?”
“Oui. Enjoy your stay. Merci, Monsieur.”
“Merci.” Paolo watched the elevator door close. He turned around to find Sydney was gone. Paolo walked through the gallery into the living room. The French doors opened wide to the terrace, a soft breeze drifted through the room. Paolo stood in the doorway and admired Sydney as she gazed at the city, her body outlined in the sun and the city of Paris in the background. He was captivated by her beauty.
Why do I love her so much? A smile crossed his face.
“So, what do you think? Did I do okay?”
“I think you did better than okay, this is unbelievable. Oh my God, Paolo. Look!” Excited, Sydney began to point out the historic sights of Paris. “Over here, the Eiffel Tower. Over there, the Louvre. Notre Dame, the Musee d’Orsay, the Arc de Triomphe…did you do okay? Holy shit, you did better than okay.” Sydney threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. “Thank you, thank you.” She looked up into his eyes and kissed him. Their passions aroused, they walked to the master bedroom and made love, then silently fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Paolo awoke. Sydney lay sleeping. He put on a pair of pants and a shirt and went out on the terrace. He absorbed the sight: the blue sky sprinkled with white puffy clouds, padded wooden lounge chairs interspersed with potted green plants. The sun cast its shadow on the late afternoon. The noises of the city below drifted on the warm spring air. Paolo sat quietly, immersed in the ambiance of the Parisian skyline.
Sydney found her way to the terrace. Barefoot, she wore one of Paolo’s button-down shirts; her bare thighs glistened in the Paris sunlight. She stood before him as he sat on the lounge chair. He grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him. The palms of his hands lay on her silky thighs. Sydney pulled his head into her chest and hugged him. She lifted his head, clasped his face and looked into his eyes. “This is so unbelievable, Paolo. Thank you.” She leaned down and kissed him.
Paolo grabbed her backside and looked up at her. “I hope this made you happy.”
“I’m extremely happy, extremely happy.”
“I’m glad. Now help me up.”
Sydney reached for his arms. He stood and embraced her, then grabbed her backside. “I love your ass,” he said as he squeezed her.
She grabbed him as well. “I love your ass, too.”
“Thank you. How about a glass of wine? Then I’ll tell you part of the story about how I first found out about this hotel and the infamous Arnaud.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go get the glasses.”
“Okay. I’ll get the wine. White okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
Paolo came back with a bottle of Château Lafitte Chardonnay. Sydney picked up two fine crystal goblets and asked, “Paolo, since you’ve been here before, can you give me a tour?”
“Sure, I’ll give you the ninety-nine-cent tour.” He opened the bottle and poured the delicate Chardonnay. He lifted the glass by its stem. “To you and me, may we always be together.”
Sydney replied, “To Paris.”
Not the answer Paolo wanted to hear. The glasses chimed as they lightly touched.
They walked through the suite and visited the living room first, with its early nineteenth-century Charles X style furniture. The inlaid mosaic with intricate wood patterns spoke of an era of extravagance and opulence. The kitchen, outfitted for a culinary chef, had all the utensils necessary to cook a gourmet meal fit for a king. After visiting the second bedroom, they went into the gallery.
“Do you think these paintings are real?” Sydney asked.
Hung on the walls were Monet’s Poppies Blooming, Renoir’s Girl with a Hoop and Van Gogh’s The Old Mill. Strategically placed lights highlighted the vivid colors of the art.
“I don’t think so.”
“They appear to be authentic.” Sydney ran her hand across the painting.
“I’ll ask Arnaud.”
“Why?”
“Because this is his suite, he lives here during the off-season, so he says. The reality, he visits once a month.”
“Very interesting, it must be quite expensive.”
“Extremely, and he can afford it,” Paol
o replied. “Come on, let’s go to the master bedroom.”
“Is that all you think about, sex?”
“No, you have to see the view, then we can think about sex,” he laughed.
They entered through the double doors of the master suite. It featured a super-king-size bed off to the right, with a loveseat at its base. Full-length drapes covered the window.
“Sit here.” Paolo pointed to the couch. “I’ll open the drapes.”
The only thing amiss was the music of a prelude. Paolo opened the curtains and the stage of Paris came into view. Multicolored roofs blanketed the city. In the distance was the Palais Garnier and Sacré-Coeur, the Catholic Basilica. Sydney walked toward the bank of windows, saying, “This is absolutely beautiful.”
The two stood side by side in awe as they gazed out on the city of Paris.
“I’m sure you saw the marbled bathroom with the Jacuzzi,” Paolo said.
“Yes, it is beautiful.”
“The view from the Jacuzzi is breathtaking; can I interest you in a bath?”
“Why not? Will you tell me the story of Arnaud?”
“Oui, mon ami, but first, I shall go get the wine.”
Paolo pointed to a thermostat on the wall outside of the bathroom. “If you turn the heat on, the floor will heat up. So your little baby feet won’t be so cold,” he said as if speaking to a little child.
“Oh, you won’t warm me up?”
“I most certainly will,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
She pulled back. “Why don’t you go get the wine, I’ll fill the Jacuzzi. How hot do you want it?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Paolo returned with wine bottle in hand. Sydney’s clothes lay neatly on the bathroom floor. The lights dimmed, the room was illuminated by light from the windows filtering through the semi-opaque shades. Sydney was already in the Jacuzzi, the water up to her neck. Her naked body glistened in the bubbling tub.
“Hi, handsome. Care to join me?” Sydney said seductively.
“Absolutely.” Without another word, clothes and all, Paolo entered the Jacuzzi with a splash.
Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1) Page 27