A World Away (A New Adult Romance Novel) (6 page)

“I have not had the chance to yet, no.”

“Ah good. In that case, meet me at the RER station on Saturday, why do we not meet at 9 o’clock, and I will show you the Sun King’s palace, hands down the most beautiful and extravagant home in the world.”

“I’d like that
,” I replied, and as I walked along the streets back to my apartment, I didn’t really understand the giddy, warm happy feeling travelling through my body. Was I falling for Jacques? Already? Surely not. I had more sense than that. This had to just be hormones, going wild because I was near a man for a while.

Still, I couldn’t deny the warmth I felt as I crawled into bed that night.
Jacques was a good person. I felt like I could trust him. I trusted him with my secret, the story of my early life. I actually found myself looking forward to seeing him again on Saturday.

Sure enough on Saturday morning I met Jacques at the RER station, and we rode to Versailles, having to change trains once. It was a long trip,
the ride taking nearly an hour, but despite the commute neither of us found a lack of things to talk about.

“How did you get started into photography?”
I asked, curious as to his work. Jacques smiled and looked out the window for a moment, obviously lost in thought, before he answered me.

“It was about twelve
years ago. Just around when the world was starting to make the switch from film to digital cameras. As a child my mother had bought me a camera, a 35mm one that I held in my hand. It had no focus, only one shutter speed, but it was my favourite toy. In high school I bought myself a Pentax ME Super with money I earned working on weekends at the local
boulangerie
. With it I entered a competition, a contest to discover the next big fashion photographer. I did not win, no, but the
editeur
of the magazine holding the competition called me and offered me a job. From there, the rest is, as you say, history.”

“That’s amazing. So you always knew you wanted to be a photographer?”

“Yes. It is in my blood. It is in my veins, and has been since I was only a little boy. I could not imagine myself doing anything else.
La photographie,
it is my life.”

Just then, our train pulled into Versailles station. A short ten minute walk later and we were
at the palace. I’m pretty sure I just stared at the elaborate gate for at least a minute when we got to the front. I don’t know how long I stood there gaping, but eventually Jacques gently touched my elbow. I couldn’t believe something so simple as a gate leading into the palace could be so elaborate, so beautiful.

“Come, Sophie, it is even more magical once we go inside.”

The lineup was already getting pretty long, but it moved swiftly, and ten minutes later, after having our bags X-rayed like we were in an airport, we were starting along, audio guides in hand. The next two hours were among the most marvelous of my life. I took out my phone and took pictures in every room.

Versailles was unlike anything I had ever seen in my life. For one thing, the palace itself was enormous.
It was at least hundreds of feet long in every direction, and looked like three stories high. It had to be hundreds of thousands of square feet, and that wasn’t even including the grounds we entered. Us tourists were only allowed access to certain parts of the palace, and the parts we saw were incredible, to think that we only saw but a fraction of the full building was unbelievable.

Everything was gilded with gold.
I hadn’t seen so much gold in my entire life. The ceilings were painted with the most exquisite paintings, the walls covered in wallpaper that would be considered beautiful nowadays, let alone four hundred years ago.

Every time I stepped into a new room I found myself even more amazed than before.
Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and the enormous, elaborate windows gave me a view onto the gardens, which spread as far as the eye could see.

Jacques had been right: this building was unlike anything else I had ever seen. There could be no building on the planet that compared to the pure eloquence, the richness of this building. It was built by the King Louis XIV of France, the Sun King, built as a gigantic display of the wealth and power of the French monarch.
The palace was so immense, so extravagant that I could only imagine the pure awe foreign dignitaries must have experienced upon arrival to this place hundreds of years ago. Hell, I walked around with my jaw on the floor now, over three hundred years after the palace was originally built.

The opulence, the pure amount of gold and money that must have been involved was mind boggling to me.
Giant statues representing the ancestors of the French monarchy lined a hallway, one room was filled with portraits of Napoleon’s generals, rooms were kept as they would have been back when the palace was lived in, with luxurious beds and waiting rooms for the King and the Queen. I couldn’t believe it.

When we finally stepped outside, I felt like I was in a foreign land compared to the palace.
Never had I been somewhere which had blown me away like the palace.

“Shall we walk through the park?”
Jacques asked, and I nodded. We walked along together in silence. It was winter, so there were no flowers in bloom, but still I could tell that the garden was exquisite. We spent a while in the Orangerie, with a giant fountain as the centrepiece. But as I looked at the gushing water at the center, imagining what life must have been like here for Marie Antoinette, something caught my eye.

It was a man, on the other side of the fountain.
He was watching me, and the instant I noticed him my breath caught in my throat. I had never seen a man like him before in my life. His hair was black, jet black, short and scruffy. He had that “just got out of bed in the morning” look, but his hair was still short enough that he could pull it off without looking like a hobo. His eyes were black, and as he stared at me, although he was at least twenty feet away from me, it felt like he was looking directly into my soul. When he noticed me looking at him, he smiled. Dimples formed in his cheeks, dimples that made my heart melt.

Why the hell was I reacting like this? This was the second time since coming to France that I’d felt attracted to a man. But this one, this man, this was different. I had never felt like this before about
anyone
. Electricity coursed through my veins as I looked at him, my blood felt like it was on fire. I didn’t want to look away. I tried to smile back at him, but I was frozen to the spot, entranced by the man’s absolutely perfect face.

Suddenly, I heard Jacque’s voice behind me,
and I jumped.

“Oh, I am sorry Sophie, I did not mean to interrupt your dreaming,
I simply thought we should visit Marie Antoinette’s Trianon.”

“I didn’t realize there was even more to see!” I exclaimed, shocked. Surely we had seen it all?
I turned around to get one final glimpse at the man who had elicited such a strange reaction from me so quickly, but when I looked back to the other side of the fountain, he was gone. I wondered who the man was, then tried to put him out of my head. He would remain a beautiful stranger, forever.

As
we headed down the path to the Trianon, I marvelled at the enormous size of Versailles. I knew I was talking about it too much, but it was so big I couldn’t help myself. I needed to express my absolute disbelief that a place like this existed.

“It is a photographer’s dream, Versailles. What I would not give to have a day with a model in the palace, it would be incredible
,” Jacques told me. “It is such a large place, I am very pleased that the
république
decided to open it to the public.”

“Absolutely.
I understand why everyone says it is a must to visit to anyone who goes to Paris.”

As we entered the
Trianon area, we began by passing through a “small” house which had belonged to Marie Antoinette, where she often spent her time. I say small, but in reality it was larger than any house I’d ever been in. Three stories tall, with the lower level having a full kitchen where servants would make the Queen food and bring it up to her. I even got to see the toilet where the Queen did her business!

We passed through the rooms together, and as we went back through the house, I glimpsed into the kitchen from an adjoining room. Imagine my surprise when, standing in front of the oven, was the same stranger from earlier that day.
We locked eyes, and I didn’t know what to do when Jacques came up behind me. The stranger immediately turned around and left.

“Is everything alright?”
Jacques asked in his caring fashion.

“Yes, fine. I was just thinking about the servants who must have dedicated their lives to cooking for the Queen
,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell Jacques about the sexy stranger for obvious reasons. But was he following us? I threw the thought from my head. He couldn’t be. Surely he was just another tourist from somewhere, who happened to be at the same sights around the same time as we were.
Stop being crazy
I told myself.

But when I saw the man again on the path a third time,
I started to think it was more than a coincidence. Almost more worrying, however, was the reaction of my body every time I saw him. My breath would get caught in my throat, my pulse would quicken and I could feel my chest heaving up and down underneath my coat. Why was I reacting like this to a complete stranger? It was like he cast a spell on me. I could feel a tingle down below whenever I saw him. I couldn’t deny those feelings, but why was I having them? I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand my body. I tried to force the feelings aside. After all, the man was a total stranger. I had no idea who he was, there was no reason for me to be acting like this.

Suddenly
, Jacques’ phone rang.

“
Bonjour? Oui, une urgence vous dites?”

I could understand enough French
by now to know that there had been an emergency. Jacques hung up the phone and gave me an apologetic look.

“I must be a terrible host and head back to the city.
I’m afraid my mother has had an emergency and is in the hospital.”

“Oh my God, is she going to be alright?”
I asked, concerned.

“Yes, she fell from a ladder and broke her leg.
She will be fine, but I do need to go and see her. I must apologize for leaving you here alone.”

“No, no apology necessary. I completely understand. Would you like me to join you on the trip back to the city?”

“Of course not, you are at Versailles, you must enjoy Versailles. Please, do not ruin your day on account of me.” Jacques handed me a business card. “If ever you want to see more of Paris, please do call me.”

“Thanks, Jacques. Best wishes
to your mother,” I told him as he left. I suddenly found myself standing alone in the middle of Versailles.

I kept walking, following the trail, spotting some buildings up ahead.
I went that way and what I found absolutely amazed me. It was as though I’d stepped back in time hundreds of years. There were at least half a dozen buildings, all done in an old style, as though this was a miniature village. People weren’t allowed inside the buildings, but we could wander through the yards. Wonderfully kept hedges decorated the sides of the buildings, and a small river wandered through the area, with beautiful white swans swimming noiselessly across.

There was a dairy,
some houses, a mill, and a number of other buildings. I found out that Marie Antoinette had a whole miniature village constructed here, a village which was kept up and which she visited. I literally couldn’t believe this existed. I felt like I was really in the 18
th
century, and to my even greater shock, as I went further along the path there was a barn, complete with a number of farm animals living in the area.

I pet one of the donkeys and a goat, smiling to myself.
This wasn’t exactly what I had imagined when I learned that I was going to a palace today, but I couldn’t possibly have enjoyed myself more. This was the perfect ending to a great day.

All of a sudden, I felt someone coming up next to me. I turned around to look, as he was closer than most strangers came, especially since we were almost alone in this section, and I gasped.
It was
him.
The stranger from earlier. Somehow he was even more intoxicating up close. My pulse quickened, and it wasn’t from fear. No, I recognized this sensation, and it was desire. I wanted this man, and I’d never so much as spoken a word to him before. My panties were getting hot and moist, and I had no idea why.

He was so close to me, he was electrifying. I could practically smell him, his manly, musky scent.
My head began to spin as my senses were overtaken completely. Adrenaline rushed through me, my legs felt weak. I grabbed the wooden fence separating us from the animals just to make sure I didn’t fall over.

When the stranger spoke,
it was like he was taking me with his voice. He had a strong French accent, that perfect, sexy accent. The way he emphasized the wrong parts of words, the way he pronounced the letters differently, it drove me absolutely insane. It was like with every word his tongue was slipping into me itself.

“Hello, I apologize for interrupting you like this. My name is Philippe
Vaillancourt, and I could not help but notice you with Jacques Laflamme.”

I didn’t really know how to react.
How did this guy know Jacques? Why didn’t Jacques say hi to him? Maybe Jacques didn’t know him, maybe this Philippe was simply a fan of his photography. What I did know was that I wanted him to keep talking. Every time he spoke tingles ran through my body. I reacted to Philippe like I had with no other man before in my life.

“Yes, yes, I was with Jacques.”

“Please, what is your name?”

“I’m Sophie. Sophie Burnett
,” I replied.
Way to obey all those lessons about stranger danger and just tell him your name right off the bat
I scolded myself, but it was too late. Something about Philippe drove me insane, it made me answer him straight away.