The Perfect Stranger

Chapter Three

We flew to Paris on a private jet; small, luxury and fast. We were picked up by a chauffeur in a black SUV and he drove us to the Laestrom's vacation home. The flight had been interesting; Alexzander and I had begun playing a new game with each other. Instead of talking, we had started staring at the other until caught; looking away embarrassed for a few seconds. We were both obviously interested in each other but I wasn't sure I was ready to be romantic with him yet. I'm sure each time we made eye contact my face flamed, turning an awful shade of red I could never hide.

"This is your parent's house?" I asked him, breaking the silence as we sat in the back of the car together.

He shook his head. "I bought this when I turned 16. It's ours," he replied, looking out the window.

I raised my eyebrows. Ours. I had a vacation home in France. "Is it close to the Tower?" I asked him.

"Yes," he replied. "You can see it from the back of the flat. It's a penthouse on top of an apartment complex. It overlooks the river and has gorgeous big windows. It's beautiful."

"I can't wait to see it," I said, practically bouncing in my seat. Alexzander looked over at me and smiled fondly.

"You seem cheerful," He turned to look out the window again.

I shrugged. "I am." We rounded a corner, and suddenly the Arc De Triomphe came into view on Alexzander's side. I nearly slammed him into the window as I got closer to peer out. He laughed. "Sofia, we are going to see it up close!"

"Sorry," I said blushing. I moved back into my seat and continued peering out the window. Alexzander moved to the middle seat, looking out my side of the windows and gently used one of his hands to guide mine, making my finger point. He guided it on the window pane until suddenly I was pointing at the Eiffel Tower. He was behind me, his body pressing lightly into my back; he squeezed my hand and let go. He moved back into his seat and instead of looking at the Tower, I turned around and looked at him, heart pounding.

About a minute later, the car stopped in front of a building. The driver got out and opened my door, Alexzander, following behind me. We walked to the front doors of the apartment building, he grabbed the door for me and I walked inside.

I followed him to the front desk where he waved quickly at someone in an office before leading me to an elevator.

"This is the only elevator that leads to the Penthouse, so don't take the other one." He pointed across the room, where another elevator sat. He pulled his wallet out, found a small card and scanned it over something to activate the elevator. The doors opened and we rode up.

I gasped. "Where are the bags?" I asked, wide-eyed, just realizing we had forgotten them in the car. Alexzander chuckled.

"The driver will bring them. Don't worry." He shook his head.

The doors dinged open to a small hallway, with one door. He typed in a code on the keypad, making sure I was watching so I would know it too. He opened the door for me, and I gasped again when I walked inside.

"Did you do this all yourself? Or did you hire a designer?"

He scowled at me. "Why do you think I hired a designer?"

I laughed and asked again. "Did you?"

"I did."

His apartment looked like a spread from a magazine, complete with the white fur rug and sleek furniture. He had a few paintings on his walls, some potted plants, and magazines spread just right on his coffee table. It was so obvious that someone else had designed it; Alexzander did not seem like an interior decorator.