𝘾𝙀𝙊. - 𝘾𝙀𝙊 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

23.

━━━ 

Paris welcomes us more than he ever did.

I was silent.

I did not spare him a single utter. 

No word left my lips since I re-entered that Jet, and although a part of me so dearly wishes to speak to him as causally we used to, yet another part of me finds it too excruciating to even meet those silver-blue eyes. 

I would sleep the short time away in a well-needed power nap, soon to arrive within the chilly, yet bearable air of Paris.

The time would be kept as still and silent as it has been for the past few days, and I question how he has been taking it. He is vague; he keeps his emotions close to his chest like he's playing cards, and I wish he understood that I didn't even know I was involved in the game.

Maybe this is a self-created construct he's developed within his competitive work style. 

I don't know.

Even so, I want no part of it. The emotional turmoil doesn't help when communication is necessary between him and me as boss and worker. 

Maybe he simply doesn't understand that, or doesn't entertain the idea enough to find it worth bringing into our real-life situation.

Even so, he simply sat with a cigar in between his gloved fingers, and sat unmoved during the car ride from the airport, all the way across the Parisian streets towards our next designated hotel.

I would find the hotel to be, as I expected, just as expensive as the last. 

Of course, this is casual to him.

But to me, the culture shock within his lifestyle never ceases to slam me straight in the face. 

It's always simply, 

so much.

So much money into furniture, clothing and appearances, to hold a face and physique of how one wants to display themselves. 

And sometimes I wonder, if he were stripped of the luxuries of his disposable income, back to the man he was before he built his financial empire upwards, what type of man he would be today.

How he would speak to me.

Act. 

Because I am well aware of how Mr Dosteovsky drove himself to such a powerful status, and it's always been a significant factor to business students across the country that he is a self-made man among lavishly-born businessmen and women. 

He could've quite easily become a completely different person if he so very gently deviated from his path. 

But because he's here today, in a tailored suit and in a room across from me, within a hotel just as expensive as the next, I doubt he ever considers the matter.

━━━ 

My hotel room would hold a slightly cozier touch than my first one. 

A fireplace would crackle gently amongst the sitting space before my large bed, and sheer, white curtains to overlay the wood-trimmed windows. 

My sheets would smell fresh, washed with an underlying floral tone, the carpet a soft, cream hue, plush against my feet to capture a home-like feel.

Yet, as I would open two, of what I assumed to be closet doors, I would be welcomed with a built-in wine rack, lined with bottles upon bottles of alcohol to stare back at me.