Issues

III.VII

Let's fall way deeper into whatever we're calling it
Whatever we're falling into
Cause I don't really care about rules
I just really care about you

Setting: Mansion Paris 7th, Paris, France

Overlooking the beautiful Parisian landscape while absentmindedly playing with the silk robe set that Cristo had picked out for her at La Perla, Demi felt at peace. And she hadn't felt that way in a really long time. After her amazing party last night, they had taken a red eye to Paris and had nearly passed out from exhaustion as soon as they made it to his beautiful, yet modest, home. Demi was expecting a mansion that rivalled Versailles considering the fact that he was the son of the director of the house of Louis Vuitton, but he lived in a simple single-family home tucked in between other houses with only four bedrooms and four bathrooms. And even though it was much smaller compared to her house and the houses of nearly all of her friends and family, she really loved it because it felt like home, like he didn't have a bunch of empty space that was simply there for decoration. It felt like he used every part of the house and unlike his father's house in California, there were no maids or anything, which is why she was upstairs and he was downstairs getting breakfast for them.

The more she learned about Cristo and the more time that she spent with him, the more she realized that she didn't want to hold anything back. Or at least she would try not to. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to sit perched atop his antique writing desk as he sketched out designs for dresses that had been inspired by what he called her "corps parfait," she wanted to take walks with him around the Eiffel and eat crepes, she wanted to be with him all of the time and completely bear her heart and soul to him. And that scared her. It scared the hell out of her. But how was she ever supposed to move on and be serious about someone if she didn't do that? How was she supposed to find love again if she was so captivated by fear?

"Dejeuner, mademoiselle," Cristo dramatically said as he set a tray filled with croissants, fresh fruit, macaroons, and eggs down on the table in front of her. He had finished it off with a cup of tea with almond milk and three sugars, and some orange juice in a wine glass.

"I'm assuming dejeuner means breakfast?" Demi questioned as Cristo went back inside but came back out a few seconds later with a small bushel of red roses and the morning paper.

"Yes, it does. I'm going to have to teach you French if you're going to come out here more often," he said as he sat across from her and passed her the roses.

"I'm willing to learn, Mr. Ghesquiere," she giggled, setting the roses on the table before pulling her phone out.