Sydney had seen many exotic locales in her life, but none of them compared to Paris at twilight. She breathed in the early evening air as she stood on the balcony of her room at the hotel, a stiff breeze tossing strands of her chestnut hair across her face.
The view hadn't changed in one month. Sydney smiled at the sight of the Eiffel Tower, the lights seeming to twinkle and shimmer against the deep purple sky. Hugging herself tightly, she rubbed her arms as a chill settled over her. It was beautiful but cold, and Sydney had endured it as long as she could. Turning to go back inside, she took one last look before closing the balcony doors.
Standing by the queen size bed, Sydney looked around the room, reacquainting herself with the rich decor. The lush carpet, modern yet sophisticated furnishings, a plush goose-down comforter over Egyptian cotton bed sheets and the softest pillows upon which Sydney had ever laid her head.
Sydney's favorite part of the room, however, wasn't in the room itself but through a set of double doors just beyond the quaint sitting area. She smiled to herself and walked around the bed, shedding her denim jacket and tossing it over a chair as she passed by. Reaching the doors, she grasped the brass lever handles and turned.
As she entered the bathroom, Sydney flipped on the light and smiled. Her eyes swept over every surface from the white marble floor to the white marble counter tops and finally stopping at the large tub in the corner, its ornate brass fixtures gleaming beneath the overhead lights.
Sydney walked slowly to the tub and trailed a finger along the porcelain rim, her hand stopping when she reached the decorative brass dish that held a clear plastic bottle filled with a pearlescent purple liquid. Curling her fingers around the bottle, Sydney read the label to herself before unscrewing the cap. The fragrance of lavender made her sigh contentedly. She returned the bottle to the dish and then reached for the spigots, turning them both until the water temperature was exactly as she wanted it.
Turning from the tub, Sydney began to undress, first kicking off her shoes and then unbuttoning her shirt. Sliding it from her shoulders, she turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the expansive mirror. Her eyes immediately went to the reflection of a scar, an unsightly white hash mark that crossed her right arm, following the curve of her shoulder. Sydney touched it briefly, her fingertips gentle on the tender skin as she met her own eyes in the mirror, losing herself in thought.
The sound of the water tumbling out of the spigot and splashing into itself brought her back around and she continued to undress, dropping her jeans where she stood and tossing aside her bra and panties. Stepping away from her clothes, Sydney grabbed the bubble bath and turned the bottle over beneath the spray of water, watching as the bubbles began to gather on the water's surface. Satisfied that she had more than enough, she stepped into the tub.
Sydney audibly sighed as she sank into the hot water, the bubbles cushioning and caressing her as she slid beneath the surface. She hadn't bothered tying back her hair; it floated away from her as rested her head against the edge of the tub, her body hidden by clouds of white, aromatic foam.
Sydney didn't know how long she rested there, her eyes closed, the silence a comfort to her. She ran the hot water at least twice more, warming the bath. After a time, she opened her eyes to see that most of the foam had disappeared and the water had a milky white slick upon its surface, the remnants of bubbles long ago dissolved.
While considering whether or not to get out of the bath, the decision was made for her as a loud knock sounded on the hotel room door. Sydney stood up quickly, pulled the plug from the drain and stepped out of the tub, reaching for one of the fluffy white bathrobes that hung nearby.
Sydney slipped into the warm robe and tied the sash as she made her way to the door, her bare feet silent on the plush rug. Reaching the door, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened it as far as the chain lock would allow.
Peeking around the door, Sydney smiled.
"Hi."
Julian Sark, dressed sharply in black, tilted his head to the side as his lips curled into a grin. "Hi," he said. In one hand he held a bottle of wine. The other hand gently cradled two wine glasses. "May I come in?"
Sydney nodded and closed the door so she could release the chain lock. Before doing so, she rested her forehead against the door, sighing deeply. She was suddenly feeling very unsure of herself, of him, of everything.
A gentle tapping brought her to her senses and she quickly unlocked and reopened the door. "Sorry," she smiled again, swallowing against the tightness in her throat as she stepped aside to let him in.
Sark slowly entered, his ethereal blue eyes soaking in the sight of her before he turned and walked across the room. He stopped at the small table by the bed and set down the wine and glasses as Sydney closed the door and crossed the room to the balcony doors.
"I trust you like the room," Sark spoke, slipping his hands into his pockets.
"It's gorgeous," Sydney said, turning from the windows. She took a deep breath, let it out. "Sark, thank you for the gifts. The bath salts, the plane ticket, this room," she paused, searching his face. "You didn't have to go to all of this trouble. It certainly wasn't part of the bargain."
Sark's brow furrowed. "Bargain?" He frowned, taking steps toward her. "This doesn't have anything to do with our bargain."
Sydney swallowed hard. "I have information for you," she said. "And I was hoping... " Her voice wavered. "I was hoping you'd know something about my Dad."
Sark came to her side, a hand extended to her. She looked at it, at him, blinking fast as hot tears stung her eyes.
"I'm waiting to hear from a contact of mine," Sark said, watching her carefully. "I know how important it is to you to find your father," he slipped his hand into hers. "But we both know that's not why you've come."
Sydney tried to turn away from him, using her free hand to pull back the curtain on the French doors. Her eyes scanned the Paris skyline as her mind tumbled through what was right, what was wrong, what felt right and ultimately what could not be denied.
Sark edged closer to her, his body against hers. When he spoke, she could smell peppermint on his breath.
"I think of what happened between us as a happy accident," he brought a hand to her cheek, turned her face to his own. "Sydney, love, I'd like to believe you think of it that way, too."
Sydney sighed as a tear escaped, slipping down her cheek. It was a relief to her when Sark kissed her, their lips meeting with sudden urgency. Her hands could not remain idle; she slipped one around his body and nestled the other in the hair at the back of his head, her fingertips resting among his unruly curls.
Breathless as they parted, Sark smiled. "How long do we have?" He asked, reaching for her, pulling her closer.
Sydney grasped the lapels of his suit coat. "A couple of days," she replied, easing the garment off of his shoulders.
"Well, then," Sark kissed her again. "We shouldn't waste a moment," his lips moved along her jaw, down her neck and then across her collar bone as he slipped a hand under her robe, exposing her bare shoulder. He inhaled deeply, a low moan in his throat. "Oh, how I have missed the fragrance of your skin."