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“You say she speaks five languages and you only speak four?” he says, and lifts his eyebrows to form a question.
“Yes, she’s been getting a lot of business in the past few years from German companies.”
“It makes sense for her to learn at least a few words of German to interact with her clients.”
She can seduce men in five languages. Not that she ever has to speak to accomplish that goal.
“Let’s head to our rooms,” he says.
To my relief, he doesn’t seem to want to know more about Ciara. “Okay.”
Once we step into the elevator, Bryce concludes the topic of my sister. “From your description, your sister sounds like quite the catch. I’m sure she turns heads when she walks into a room.” I know where this conversation is going, and I don’t like it one bit. “Good for Ciara, but you underestimate yourself, Amanda. You stop traffic. You’re simply not aware of it. As for your sister being the thin one… I happen to love your curves.”
His words stunned me.
Holy wow!
The elevator stops at a floor. The doors open, and a group of people step in.
Bryce stands by my side, but for the remainder of the ride, we don’t speak.
My brain is still attempting to process his words.
We arrive at our floor, and he guides me to our rooms.
“Here’s your keycard.”
I take it from him. “Thank you.”
“Our bags will be up soon. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call the front desk. The service here is impeccable. I’d suggest setting your alarm or getting a wakeup call for six-thirty. I’d like to meet for breakfast no later than quarter past seven to go over our day. It’s going to be a short night for both of us.” He’s already heading in the direction of his room.
I stand in the hallway for a few seconds, still staring at his closed door.
Something about the tone of his parting words makes me feel more and more like an escort for hire. It’s a strange feeling considering that’s what I signed up for.
This is business. He’s not your boyfriend.
I open my door, and the swankiest hotel room I’ve ever seen in my life greets me.
Wow!
I spend ten minutes walking around my room, jaw-dropped.
I peek outside, trying to catch a glimpse of the view I’ll discover in the morning.
In a few hours, I’ll be able to take in Paris in all of her glory.
There’s a knock at the door.
I rush to it.
A handsome young Frenchman drops off my luggage in my room. Before I can tip him, he leaves the room and returns with a large white box adorned with a huge purple bow.
“C’est de la part de l’hôtel?” I ask the bellhop if the hotel is offering me a welcome gift.
“Ah, Madame parle un français impeccable. Monsieur Van Der Linden m’a demandé de vous remettre cette boîte une fois que j’ai déposé vos bagages dans votre chambre.”
Translation: Bryce asked him to give me this box once I was in possession of my luggage.
