A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,120

– the four almost dent-like marks at her centre and the other longer curved scars at one side of her body. Would he ask about them? And if he did ask, what would she say? In the end, this morning, while she was dressing again and wanting to leave before Jeanne awoke, Ethan had finally asked her about them and she had given him the only answer she was ready to at the moment.

‘He kissed my scars,’ Keeley told Rach, the memory of Ethan’s hot mouth tracing every line making her shiver all over again. ‘And this morning he asked me what had happened.’

Rach shifted forward on her seat. ‘What did you say?’

Keeley smiled. ‘I told him if he thought my scars were bad he should have seen the shark.’

Rach laughed.

Keeley knew she had to tell Ethan the truth. She also knew she wanted to tell him the truth. But telling him would mean talking about her weakened immunity, her probable need for further transplants and her shorter-than-average life expectancy. She just wanted to complete one perfect Paris night without any of those complications. That wasn’t a lot of ask for, was it?

‘What did he say to that?’ Rach asked her.

‘He said he was never going to go swimming with me,’ Keeley answered.

Fifty-Five

L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Opera District, Paris

Ethan had never felt so energised. Suddenly he felt he had become superhuman. Today he was the personification of organised and capable, the leader of the hotel he should have been when they went through the despair of losing Ferne. He placed a deep green velvet chair in the corner of the dining room, next to the fireplace he had got Jeanne to decorate with whimsical ornaments that looked like they might have come from the circus. Bright turquoise fir cones mingled with nickel bells and dancing fairies on strings, aged Santas on sleighs and red apples with silver centres reflected the flames flickering in the grate. An old-fashioned radio with big chunky buttons on the mantle was playing a festive soundtrack as Ethan worked, making tweaks, re-arranging, bringing in more pieces from the hotel’s garage.

‘What the hell is going on?’

It was Louis’s voice, audible from the dining area, even above the music, but definitely coming from reception. Ethan straightened the collar of his shirt as well as his demeanour and headed out of the room.

‘Antoine, why are there rabbits in the reception area?’ Louis boomed. ‘And why are guests touching them?’

Before his concierge could reply Ethan stepped up and stepped in. ‘Christmas, Louis, it is all about “birth” and “new life”. And it is also about children. The festive petting area is somewhere the kids staying here can share a hands-on experience with their family.’ Ethan smiled. ‘Happy family, Happy Christmas.’

‘This,’ Louis began, his cheeks turning so red Ethan wondered if the man might have an allergy to rabbits as well as penguins, ‘is a health and safety disaster waiting to happen! Animals! In a five-star hotel!’ Louis scoffed. ‘Is this a joke? Some sort of twisted payback about the animal shelter inheriting a share of the hotels?’

‘What?’ Antoine gasped. Ethan noticed his concierge was now wearing latex gloves.

It was Ethan’s turn to be angry now. He put a hand on Louis’s shoulder and moved him towards the small rabbit enclosure, but away from Antoine. ‘You cannot speak of private business matters in front of the staff. It is confidential and it unsettles them.’

Louis snorted. ‘So, now you are all about the business? Now, at the final hour, when you have been basically neglecting everything my sister built up and running the hotels into the ground for the past twelve months.’

‘That is not fair, Louis,’ Ethan said, narrowing his eyes. ‘You know how tough things have been for the whole tourist and travel industry.’

‘And I also know you have been spending your time frittering away my sister’s money while my mother has been trying to work out an exit plan from her involvement with the hotels without ruffling your feathers,’ Louis continued, pointing a finger in Ethan’s face. ‘I do not care for your feathers!’

Ethan bent over the small wooden fenced enclosure and plucked up a baby rabbit, holding it in his hands and smoothing his fingers over its fur. ‘You do not care for anything other than money,’ Ethan said, rubbing the space behind the rabbit’s ears. ‘That has always been your way. That is why you are nothing like your sister. You lack all of her joie de vivre and