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When did he find time to orchestrate this?
The bellboy drops the huge box on the bed.
“Merci,” I thank him.
He bows.
I grab my handbag, ready to tip the adorable Frenchman, when he waves a finger.
“Ce n’est pas nécessaire, madame. Monsieur Van Der Linden a tout prévu. Passez une bonne nuit, et bon séjour au Mandarin Oriental.”
Bryce has already tipped the bellhop. I’m sure Monsieur Van Der Linden has made it worth his while.
I thank the Frenchman, lock the door behind him, and lean against the closed door.
I know this escort thing is just a job to help me get out of my financial nightmare, but I couldn’t have asked for a better first client. No matter what’s in that box, Bryce has spent more time thinking of ways to bring me pleasure than any other men I’ve known so far.
I can’t stand the suspense any longer. I run to the bedroom. With impatient hands, I undo the big bow, and lift the lid off the box.
Oh.
My.
God.
This is beyond magnificent.
The label reads Carine Gilson Lingerie Couture Paris. Bryce bought me the sexiest orange nightgown with pink lace I’ve ever seen and I also find an assortment of superb Carine Gilson lingerie, each piece more beautiful than the other.
Bryce selected lace bras, sheer panties and garter belts in a variety of seductive colors. I pull out a few pieces to admire them and I can’t help but notice that Bryce bought far more sets than the number of days we’ll stay in Paris.
I’m just about to walk to the mirror when I notice a light green bag interlaced with the lingerie. When I glance at it a second time, I gasp when I read the name of one of the city’s best pastry shops—Ladurée Paris. When I open the little box, I can’t believe Bryce has included my favorite Parisian treats—macarons from Ladurée.
I’m excited and nervous at the thought Bryce is calling all the shots and I have no choice but to succumb to his will.
As I admire my brand-new nightgown in the mirror with a half-eaten macaron hanging from my mouth, the adjacent door to Bryce’s room slides open.
I noticed the door earlier, but I hesitated in being so bold as to make the first move.
He peeks his head in the room. I’m surprised to see him.
“Can I come in? Are you decent?” He comes in without waiting for an answer.
“I’m decent for now,” I say in a sultry voice. “I thought you had gone to bed?” I stick the macaron between my lips.
“I needed to go to my room to take a shower and get a few things sorted. I didn’t fly you all the way to Paris to spend the night alone in my bed. That would be foolish of me.” He walks towards me, leans down, and bites off the hanging macaron from my mouth. He chews it and says, “You got the little box.”
“Little? You call this massive box little?”
“Just a few things that will make me happy all week.”
“Right. I bet they will.”
“Let’s go to bed,” he says in a deep voice. “We need to be up in four hours.”
“I need to wash up. I’ll join you.”
With that, I run to the bathroom.
