A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,51

making it a shining beacon of luxury. From the impressive crystal star at the very top, to the chains of really-able-to-tinkle bells that skirted the lower branches, it was a vision of exuberance.

‘You wish me to locate Monsieur Durand?’ Antoine asked in loud tones.

‘Sshh!’ Ethan hissed, looking over his shoulder to the hotel entrance. Why was he cowering in one of his own hotels thinking his adversary was going to sneak up on him and strike him down with fancy speech? ‘No,’ he told Antoine. ‘I do not want you to find him. Is he… here?’

Antoine shook his head. ‘No. He left this morning. After breakfast.’

‘Where did he go?’ He shouldn’t be asking but desperate times…

‘I do not know.’

‘Antoine,’ Ethan said, looking at the man and seeing the wavering expression on his face. ‘How long have we known each other?’

Antoine stood a little resolutely. ‘Is this related to the dates on my employment contract?’

‘Antoine!’

‘Yes, Monsieur Bouchard.’

‘You must know where he is. You asked me if I wanted you to locate him.’

‘I did not say I could.’

‘Am I not your superior?’

‘If you wish to discipline me we will need to have a meeting and I will be entitled to have someone present from my union.’

God! What was this? He couldn’t seem to get a simple answer from his own staff members anymore. Had Louis bribed Antoine to keep quiet about his whereabouts? That would be just like Louis, already throwing his weight and money around and trying to take over a business he had never cared about before. Louis would have seen the potential to make money and not seen the love and energy his sister had breathed into the brand. Ethan went to answer Antoine, but his attention was drawn to a small boy loitering near the revolving door. The boy’s head was covered in a black beanie hat that was way too big for him and he was wearing jeans with holes – and not the designer meant-to-be-there kind of rips. Over his top half was a very thin and aged sports jacket. However, it was the expression the boy was wearing that stood out to Ethan. He could feel that expression. It dug into his soul, bringing back the sharpest of uncomfortable memories. He watched as the boy inched towards the Christmas tree. Ethan knew that slide-cum-walk. The boy was trying to be invisible, blend in somehow, even though everything about him was only sticking out.

‘Monsieur Bouchard? I said, we need to deal with the health and safety aspects of the ice rink before we allow members of the public on it. At present we just have Jean and Jacqueline performing routines from a traditional Nutcracker suite, Sleeping Beauty and, for the children, a number Mickey Mouse skated to in Disney on Ice. Although one person has said the head of Jean’s outfit looks more like the evil twin of a character called “Cat Noir”. I have no idea who Cat Noir is, but we should look into making the face of the costume more joyous.’

Ethan watched as the boy reached out towards the branches of the tree, hiding a little behind two guests who were perusing a gastronomic guide to the city.

‘Stop! You!’

Ethan jumped at Antoine’s tone and for a second he was blindsided as his concierge leapt out from behind the desk, pacing across the floor.

‘Do not think about touching the tree!’ Antoine ordered.

He was snarling at the boy now and had all but scared off the couple reading about restaurants who were walking quickly towards the door. Ethan moved towards the scene.

‘You are not staying here,’ Antoine continued. ‘I have not seen you before… hey! Wait!’

Before Antoine could say anything else, the boy grabbed at the tree, then span a hundred and eighty degrees, swivelling towards the exit with all the panache of a seasoned free runner.

‘Stop! Thief! He has taken something from the tree!’ Antoine yelled.

Ethan didn’t waste any time. As the hem of the boy’s jacket whipped through the non-revolving door, he followed, shooting from the hotel’s entrance lobby and out onto the street. The boy was quick, but Ethan tracked him, running to his left and skirting around a group of pedestrians who had their mobile phones trained on a street artist dressed as a snowman, painted head to boots in glittering white and silver spray.

‘Wait! Stop!’ Ethan called as the boy continued to sprint ahead. The boy’s desperate pace was sending him off course, causing him to knock into people, completely