Paris Was The Place I Met My Billionaire Lover (My Sweet Billionaire Love Story Series) by Kiera Zane
Authors: Kiera Zane
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so bothered by all this?
Maybe I just don’t know how to be happy , Caitlyn began to consider. Maybe the fact that I wasn’t happy back home had more to do with me than it did home itself; my family or Los Angeles or whatever home means. Now that I’m here, living the adventure of a lifetime, my mind can’t stay and enjoy it; instead it seeks out displeasure, dissatisfaction, discontent. Will I ever find what I’m looking for, or will I ever even discover what that is, exactly? Or will I spend the rest of my life just looking and wondering, lost.
Caitlyn had even then been wandering around the museum, finally looking up to find herself face-to-face with one of the most famous statues of all time, Rodin's Thinker . This masculine figure sat crouched, chin resting on his fist, face staring out into an unending sea of questions. The mysteries of life were impenetrable to him, a puzzle of intricate and unfathomable complexity.
If he can’t figure these things out, Caitlyn had to wonder, what chance have I got?
Because I’m not made of stone, Caitlyn boldly reminded herself. I’m not some dead thing in museum; a statue or some dead artist or even a curator. I’m Caitlyn Elizabeth Haliwell, a smart and capable woman, ready and willing to take on the challenges that an adult must face. This is my life; I will figure out how I am going to live it.
I just hope that, by the time I do, it isn’t too late.
Chapter Six: Homeward Bound?
The next day, Julien took Caitlyn outside the confines of Paris to neighboring Versailles, just ten miles from the French capital. The seat of French power until 1879 the hunting lodge-turned-palace has long been and remains a symbol of that nation’s aristocracy and the pinnacle of 18th century artistic and architectural achievement.
“The home of Marie-Antoinette,” Julien said, “another of history’s great young beauties.”
“Quite unhappy, as I recall learning; forced into a marriage of convenience with a flaccid, disinterested husband.”
“Such will never be your fate, Caitlyn,” Julien said with a wry grin. “I will end my life the day my manhood fails you.”
Caitlyn chuckled, despite her own inner emptiness, growing by the inch to consume her entirely; like a cancer on her soul.
“Can you imagine her here, among all this fabulous wealth,” Caitlyn said, gazing at the gold trim on the marble walls, the fabulous paintings, furniture and fixtures. “All the while, the French Revolution is brewing, preparing to consume her. What must she have been thinking? Let them eat cake indeed.”
“Something she never actually said,” Julien said. “That particular line has been attributed to a certain Duchess of Tuscany in 1760, almost thirty years before Marie-Antoinette would have said it. Marie-Antoinette did say Le theme est quete , which means the theme is quest . Many suspect that an English speaker may have overheard this and spread the legend, because phonetically, the French phrase and the English phrase are very much alike.”
Caitlyn gave it some thought. “The theme is quest,” she said, thinking about her own life, her own journey, her own theme and her own quest. “Interesting.”
The rest of the day, young Marie-Antoinette filled Caitlyn’s imagination. Not her infamous execution at such a young age, but rather the way she lived; brash and flip, spoiled and lost in a fantasy of riches, adventures, romances, intrigues and parties. That’s not me, Caitlyn knew right away, that’s nothing like the person I want to become.
Yet the striking similarities between herself and that bygone French queen were harder and harder to ignore. How am I any different from her? Caitlyn had to ask herself. Here I am, lost in a world of romance and history, turning my back on the uglier facts of reality so that I can indulge myself in these pleasures, these adventures. And where are they going to lead me? Where did they
Maybe I just don’t know how to be happy , Caitlyn began to consider. Maybe the fact that I wasn’t happy back home had more to do with me than it did home itself; my family or Los Angeles or whatever home means. Now that I’m here, living the adventure of a lifetime, my mind can’t stay and enjoy it; instead it seeks out displeasure, dissatisfaction, discontent. Will I ever find what I’m looking for, or will I ever even discover what that is, exactly? Or will I spend the rest of my life just looking and wondering, lost.
Caitlyn had even then been wandering around the museum, finally looking up to find herself face-to-face with one of the most famous statues of all time, Rodin's Thinker . This masculine figure sat crouched, chin resting on his fist, face staring out into an unending sea of questions. The mysteries of life were impenetrable to him, a puzzle of intricate and unfathomable complexity.
If he can’t figure these things out, Caitlyn had to wonder, what chance have I got?
Because I’m not made of stone, Caitlyn boldly reminded herself. I’m not some dead thing in museum; a statue or some dead artist or even a curator. I’m Caitlyn Elizabeth Haliwell, a smart and capable woman, ready and willing to take on the challenges that an adult must face. This is my life; I will figure out how I am going to live it.
I just hope that, by the time I do, it isn’t too late.
Chapter Six: Homeward Bound?
The next day, Julien took Caitlyn outside the confines of Paris to neighboring Versailles, just ten miles from the French capital. The seat of French power until 1879 the hunting lodge-turned-palace has long been and remains a symbol of that nation’s aristocracy and the pinnacle of 18th century artistic and architectural achievement.
“The home of Marie-Antoinette,” Julien said, “another of history’s great young beauties.”
“Quite unhappy, as I recall learning; forced into a marriage of convenience with a flaccid, disinterested husband.”
“Such will never be your fate, Caitlyn,” Julien said with a wry grin. “I will end my life the day my manhood fails you.”
Caitlyn chuckled, despite her own inner emptiness, growing by the inch to consume her entirely; like a cancer on her soul.
“Can you imagine her here, among all this fabulous wealth,” Caitlyn said, gazing at the gold trim on the marble walls, the fabulous paintings, furniture and fixtures. “All the while, the French Revolution is brewing, preparing to consume her. What must she have been thinking? Let them eat cake indeed.”
“Something she never actually said,” Julien said. “That particular line has been attributed to a certain Duchess of Tuscany in 1760, almost thirty years before Marie-Antoinette would have said it. Marie-Antoinette did say Le theme est quete , which means the theme is quest . Many suspect that an English speaker may have overheard this and spread the legend, because phonetically, the French phrase and the English phrase are very much alike.”
Caitlyn gave it some thought. “The theme is quest,” she said, thinking about her own life, her own journey, her own theme and her own quest. “Interesting.”
The rest of the day, young Marie-Antoinette filled Caitlyn’s imagination. Not her infamous execution at such a young age, but rather the way she lived; brash and flip, spoiled and lost in a fantasy of riches, adventures, romances, intrigues and parties. That’s not me, Caitlyn knew right away, that’s nothing like the person I want to become.
Yet the striking similarities between herself and that bygone French queen were harder and harder to ignore. How am I any different from her? Caitlyn had to ask herself. Here I am, lost in a world of romance and history, turning my back on the uglier facts of reality so that I can indulge myself in these pleasures, these adventures. And where are they going to lead me? Where did they
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