A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,31

There had been no reply. Was it so hard to respond? He couldn’t help feeling, after his last meeting with Silvie, that mother and son were both working to catch him by surprise. It was as if they wanted to find him or the hotels lacking somehow.

‘Please!’ Noel directed, red-faced and a little sweaty despite the winter temperatures that swept in every time someone opened the door. ‘You are not listening to me.’ He stepped towards the two men who were currently trying to position a slightly too large Christmas tree. Despite Noel saying that going all-out Galeries Lafayette wouldn’t work for Perfect Paris, here they were with a spruce whose tallest branches were scratching the ornate ceiling. ‘The tree, it needs to be perfectly straight. Do you know what perfectly straight means?’

Surely it wasn’t too much to ask to know when Devil Durand was descending on his hotels? Or was the not telling the shape of things to come when Louis got himself back behind the boardroom table? Ethan swallowed, the taste of last night’s Calvados on his tongue.

‘Straight!’ Noel said again, putting his arms out like he was a 747 lining up with the runway. ‘Like… my teeth!’ He opened his mouth, gurning at the men, two rows of pearls in perfect white rows shining an example.

The door of the hotel opened and Milo, their head chauffeur entered, dodging the goings-on with the tree and heading into the bowels of the hotel. Ethan hurried forward to catch him.

‘Milo,’ he greeted.

‘Oh, Monsieur Bouchard, good morning.’ Milo straightened his hat as if he was about to be pulled up on his appearance.

‘Milo…’ Ethan stopped. He shouldn’t be asking this. He hated himself for asking it. ‘Do you… have you… been asked to collect Monsieur Durand from the airport?’ He swallowed, feeling a little like someone collecting covert information to sell on the dark web.

‘Yes,’ Milo responded immediately. ‘I went this morning. I dropped him at the hotel at a little after nine.’

Ethan felt the nervous tension drop away, replaced quickly by fear and a sheen of ice-cold perspiration on the back of his neck. ‘The hotel?’ he queried. ‘Not the house.’

‘No,’ Milo replied. The driver looked a little unsure now, almost as if he had made a mistake. ‘Madame Durand said… did I do the wrong thing?’

‘No,’ Ethan said quickly, his thoughts now speeding like the fastest TGV. ‘No, I…’ He tried to inject some professionalism into his demeanour. ‘I was expecting him here, that is all. Which hotel?’

‘The Tour Eiffel hotel,’ Milo replied. ‘Should I go to collect him? Bring him here?’

‘No, no, no, it is fine. Fine.’ It wasn’t fine. There were no Christmas decorations at the Tour Eiffel hotel yet. He had been convinced Silvie and Louis would visit the flagship branch here at Opera first. It wasn’t like Louis was a tourist who needed a view of the tower to make his Paris trip complete. But was he actually staying at the hotel? And, if that was the case, could Ethan get Noel to arrange for the temporary ice rink and other festive touches to instead go to the other Perfect Paris branch? His mind was conflicted. What should he do? Make a decision. You are in charge. Except he wasn’t in charge in his heart. Ferne had always led. She wouldn’t have left anything to the last minute. Everything would have been precisely planned out and actioned without encountering any hitch.

‘Can I do anything for you, Monsieur Bouchard?’ Milo asked.

The driver was looking at Ethan as if gauging what the right course of action was. He needed to immediately play this down. Because it was nothing. Ethan was going to ensure it was nothing. Louis was not going to come here and take over. Louis was all about chasing the money. He had never understood his sister the way Ethan had.

Ethan shook his head. ‘No, Milo, thank you. Everything is… perfect.’ Just like their brand. He nodded then, like he was decreeing it so and ended the conversation.

The second the driver was gone, Ethan skidded back across the tiles to Noel.

‘We need to move the tree,’ Ethan hissed.

‘What?’ Noel exclaimed, eyes bulging, sweat running down his nose.

‘The tree,’ Ethan said again. ‘It needs to go to the Tour Eiffel hotel. Now.’

‘But…’ Noel began.

‘You said it was not straight,’ Ethan remarked, trying not to give out all the harried he was feeling. ‘We can… get it moved.’ He smiled at the delivery men who looked less