2.
As I stood there, in the small waiting room of the Le Bourget, the smallest airport near Paris, serving mostly business jets like mine, I couldn't help but think the standard teenage thought that goes, with small variations, like this: Life's not fair. I wasn't kidding about hating Paris. I know, I know, it is supposed to be the most romantic city of the world, and all that shebang, but I couldn't help it. I hated it ever since I was a baby. I guess it was too…pretentious, and I was always a fan of the subtle. And while Paris has been described with a lot of detail, not once the word 'subtle' has been used.
"Miss, would you care to follow me?" a voice with a thick English accent said behind my back.
I turned around and saw a prim and elegant butler, about fifty years old, donning the straightest posture I have ever seen. His entire being was composed and together, something that only tradition can give.
Reluctantly, I followed the butler to a black limo, waiting for me at the front door. He wanted to open it for me but I stopped him:
"It's ok, I got it."
He gave me a small nod, and said:
"As you wish miss."
I sighted. Here we go.
After almost an hour long ride, the limo finally stopped if front of the most beautiful building I have ever seen. Actually no, scratch that. It was the most beautiful chateau I have ever seen. Eighteenth century architecture, the forest trees peeking in the horizon and the dulcet tones of the water coloring the tranquil air… I almost forgot that I was in France, that my dad shipped me for some unknown reason, that moments ago I was really pissed on the entire world…And of course, just when I started enjoying myself, someone had to burst my shiny bubble and bring me back to reality.
"Well, well, well….Who do we have here? If it isn't the infamous Nika Richardson? I thought you swore never to put foot on my property ever again!"
I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. That voice! It was like every single person in my life decided to play Nemesis for one day.
"Sebastian. What a pleasure to see you again." I managed to say without my voice escalating to a roar.
I turned around, and sure, there he was, surrounded by sunlight, looking all hot and macho, while I was bleary eyed, tired and with no trace of make-up on my face. Great.
He studied me for a couple of moments and I tried my best not to give into any of my impulses. Oh, and there were so many of them! First, to punch him. Second, to kiss him. Well, that makes two. The others were just combinations.
"Welcome to Chateau Barbizon, my most recent purchase. 9 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms, located 50km from Paris and south of the forest of Fontainebleau, has stables and a swimming pool." He paused for a second and then added in a mischievous tone: "Anything a girl can dream of."
Leave it to Sebastian to ruin a perfect moment.
"Thanks, but I am not interested just how big your insecurities have gotten over the past year. Show me my room, and do me a favor: leave me alone!"
Sebastian made a tsking noise.
"My-my! Is that a way to treat your ex-boyfriend?"
Yeah, that's right. My dad arranged for me to spend my entire summer with my ex. Like I said, it was a stroke of genius.
"You know what Sebastian?"
"What?" he answered in a voice that dared me to start an argument.
"Show me my room."
Whatever it was that he was expecting me to say, clearly it wasn't that. Props to me for acting like the mature, sophisticated and calculated young woman I aspire to be. When I am not fuming with rage over the fact that I have to spend an entire summer with my ex.
"Your room Miss." The butler held the door and let me enter in a beautiful room, decorated just like the boudoir of Marie-Antoinette. Yet, despite that, I would have preferred spider-webs and rats, because no matter how beautiful the room was, it was still an incarceration cell. A gorgeous one, but still a restraint.
"I'll leave you to unpack. I am on line number 3, in case you need something."
He was already at the door when I called him back.
"I don't exactly know your name, Mister…."
"Gerald. You can call me Gerald, Miss." He said with a warm smile. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything." And with that said he gently closed the door, leaving me and my thoughts alone, in the cold beauty of the room.
Now, I had to admit, Sebastian must have put a lot of thought on where to place me. The room was on the east side of the house, so I could catch the early sun that Sebastian knew I loved so much. It also had a magnificent view of the Marne, and he knew how much I loved the water. There was also a clear view of the main entrance, a favor to my obsessiveness with knowing who was coming and leaving. Under further inspection, I realized that even the colors in the room were the ones that I liked: shades of beige, green and yellow. But I really started freaking out when I noticed that the furniture was arranged just the way I liked it, aka, just like the furniture in my own house.
It looked like he remembered every single detail of my room! If I didn't know Sebastian, I would have said that this person was on the Looney wagon, and nothing less than that.
'Creepy to the max, huh Sebastian?" I muttered to myself as I was unpacking my suitcase
"And here I thought you might like a familiar setting." His mocking voice said behind me.
Apparently he was not going to leave me alone until we had some sort of conversation. Very well. After all, I was over Sebastian Nottingham, and there was nothing keeping me from a civilized discussion with him.
"It is very nice that you put so much thought into this entire ordeal. I really appreciate it."
He raised his brow at me, clearly not buying it.
"What? You can raise your brows however much you want. The only thing you are going to get out of it is wrinkles."
"Witty as usual. But I didn't come here to argue. After all, we are adults and we can be polite around each other."
Look at him, so concerned about etiquette. It looked like I was going to have to work on my manners after all.
"Fine. What was that you wanted to tell me? That I am not allowed to leave the grounds of your property? Or that if I really want to leave, there should always be someone accompanying me? Or my personal favorite: always inform you about my movements? Thank you very much, but my dad already got it covered."
He stood there quiet for a minute, and when he spoke again, his voice was like melted chocolate: moist and delicious.
"Nika, there is no reason for you to be bitter about this situation. I am sure you will find it rather pleasing. I mean, you get to spend an entire summer in a French chateau! What can be better than that?"
I looked at him, with this tentative smile on his face, waiting for his voice to do the magic. I guess it was a good thing I dated the guy for a year. I knew all his little tricks. This particular one meant that he was trying really hard to hide something. And he forgot that I kind of had immunity against the powers of his charm. After all, you are left with only so many illusions about a guy after you take him on a job in a burlesque bar with you.
"Sebastian, how long have you known me?"
"One year, eleven months and 3 days." He answered without missing a beat.
Wow! I was impressed. And I felt like I was a character in one of those teen novels where the guy was all sensitive and considerate, while the girl was…not.
"You precision is admirable, Sebastian. So, in the year, eleven months and three days that you've known me, you didn't figure out that I am better at spotting lies than a freaking polygraph?"
"Look, it's not…"
"Yes it is! Come one, give me some credit! You really think that I would buy this whole 'cultural vacation' thing? Or 'you might have a chance to work on you manners'? You and my dad are trying really hard to hide something. I mean, look at you, going all chocolate-voice on me! If that's not a sure give away, I don't know what is!"
Ok, I'll admit, I was expecting him to crack and beg for forgiveness. He was always a little bit of a push-over when it came to me. But it looked like he's gotten an immunity of his own, because the only thing he did was turn around and leave. That's right! And he didn't even smash the door! Well, that was probably because smashing an eighteenth century door was just…barbaric. And Sebastian was not a barbarian. Quite the contrary.
