Love By Design

Chapter 31

Packing for the weekend trip to Toussaint turned out to be moderately straightforward. I opted to travel light, given the short duration of our stay, bringing along only a medium-sized suitcase. August and I arrived in Cionne late in the evening and it was already 10 PM local time by the time we reached the hotel, well past the usual check-in hours.

The accommodation we’re staying at is The Royal Maisonette of Toussaint, although the term ‘maisonette’ hardly did justice to the lavishness of the establishment. It’s a grand building located in the capital city, drawing inspiration from French architecture. The hotel’s exterior boasts intricate mouldings, wrought-iron balconies and large windows. Stepping into the lobby, I’m greeted by an expansive area adorned with crystal chandeliers, marble floors and the most sumptuous seating arrangements– definitely velvet.

Having travelled straight after work, August is dressed in his signature attire: a navy suit with a black turtleneck and a pair of black oxford shoes.

“Master Vante, Mademoiselle Hartt.” The receptionist warmly greets us. “Welcome to The Royal Maisonette.”

I can only smile and nod in acknowledgement, still stunned by the extravagant design of the establishment.

“Laurent,” August regards him. “Bonsoir.”

“Delighted to see you always, monsieur.” Laurent tilts his head in greeting. “Your preferred suite has been prepared as per your request. All three rooms are accounted for.”

I’m too busy admiring the interior of the hotel to pay attention properly. It feels like stepping into a palace with its ornate columns, baroque carvings and gold accents.

“Do you require assistance with your luggage?” Laurent inquires.

August turns towards me in question and I politely decline with a shake of my head.

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer.”

“We’ll manage, merci.” August adds.

“D’accord.” Laurent nods. “Deux cartes-clés pour la suite présidentielle.”

August hands me a metallic gold card embossed with the letter P on it before gesturing towards my luggage.

“Pass me your suitcase.”

“My suitcase? What for—”

He doesn’t let me finish as he walks over to me and drops his weekender bag on top of my luggage, effortlessly wheeling our bags away from the reception area.

There’s a certain refinement to August’s movements as I follow him towards the lift. He operates almost like clockwork, tall and striding with a purpose as we manoeuvre around the hotel. It’s not until we’re both standing outside the door labelled ‘Presidential Suite’ in embossed writing on a golden plaque that I clear my throat, catching his attention.

“Where is my room?” I question, glancing behind me as I fail to spot any other door on the floor.

August glances down at me, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “In here.”

I look up at him. “We’re sharing the same suite?”

“Is that a problem?” He asks.

My mind blanks. “Is there, umm, more than one bed?”

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a faint smile. “There are three.”

He scans the room key, the double doors opening automatically and I gasp as I step inside.

The Presidential Suite is huge, probably the size of the entire first floor of our office back in London. If I thought the lobby was grand, it’s nothing compared to the sheer extravagance of the suite August and I will be staying in over the weekend.

“Trois chambres.” August comes up behind me, gesturing towards the smaller set of double doors inside the suite. “Take your pick.”

I’m too much in awe as I survey the interior design of the accommodation. Much like the lobby, it seamlessly blended French sophistication with art deco, a reflection of Toussaint’s culture and heritage, no doubt.

“Sorry, this is just…” I eye the exquisite decorations of the suite, the high ceilings and the crystal chandelier suspended in the centre of the room. “Wow.”

“It’s comfortable,” August replies with a shrug.

That’s what rich people say. I think to myself, walking towards the windows.

“What, no balcony?” I joke.

I peer out of the enormous glass windows intricately framed by detailed plasterwork. It’s already nighttime so the view outside is obscured but, from my research of the city, I can imagine the breathtaking scenery it boasts during the day.

“In your room,” He responds. “Whichever one you choose. Each bedroom has a balcony.”

“Of course it has.” I nod, disbelievingly.

It was beyond anything I could have imagined for a small Mediterranean island just off the southern coast of France. Lavish is definitely an understatement. Well-equipped with a kitchen, workspace and a living room, my mind still can’t fully grasp the fact that the suite contained three separate bedrooms– actual rooms within a room.

“Decided which one yet?” August inquires.

I notice his bags already placed in front of a set of double doors close to the entrance. Thinking he’s claimed that room for himself, I point to the farthest doors across the suite.

“I’ll take that room?”

He pauses for a moment, eyeing his suitcase and weekender bag by the double doors before moving.

“Alright.”

I watch as he strolls towards the room next to the one I’ve chosen, carrying his belongings into the space. He leaves his doors open as he settles inside and I’m mildly cognisant of how he beelines straight towards the bedside light, switching it on and then dimming it down.

“Should we only keep the lamps on?” I ask, eyeing the smaller lights scattered around the living room before gazing up at the chandelier above.

“What do you mean?” He calls out from his room.

“The lights,” I squint pointedly at the lighting fixture attached to the ceiling. “Isn’t the chandelier a bit too bright for you? Can we dim it down?”

Gazing up, I blink at the layers of crystal cascading down in tiers and clusters refracting off the multifaceted surfaces. The soft, ambient light diffusing through the glass created a warm glow as it hung suspended from golden, intricately designed metal arms.

“What?” He questions.

August emerges from his room, sans blazer and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

“Aren’t you sensitive to bright lights?” I turn towards him.

He looks a little perplexed, a knot forming between his eyebrows as he glances between me and the chandelier.

“Sorry, I just assumed…” I pause. “Your office is always dim. You’ve mentioned your eyes before… I thought…”

I trail off, suddenly feeling like I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“No, that’s right.” He nods, clearing his throat. “You just… caught me off guard. No one really comments on it.”

“Oh,” I blink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound insensitive by pointing it out.”

“You didn’t, it’s fine.” He shakes his head, meeting my gaze. “The light is adjustable.”

He points towards the entrance, my eyes following the direction to the digital control panel on the wall.

“Ah,” I nod.

Turning my attention back to August, I’m surprised to find him still standing by his door, watching me.

“So, tomorrow’s schedule,” He begins. “We have an 11 AM start at the museum. The foundry is a little overwhelming so the exhibitions should be a nice easy introduction to Toussaint before we actually visit the textile factories.”

“Sounds good,” I comment, giving him an awkward thumbs up.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

I shake my head.

“In case you do end up craving food, there’s room service so feel free to order from the menu.” He signals towards the kitchen. “The hotel also stocked up the pantry and the fridge so just grab whatever you like.”

I blink at the huge complimentary basket filled with fruits, chocolates and pastries of, what I’m assuming is, Toussaint’s homegrown produce and baked goods on the kitchen counter.

“I need to do work for Grayson,” He informs me, motioning towards his room. “I have a couple of calls I need to take tonight.”

“Got it,” I nod. “I’ll be sure to keep quiet.”

“Alright.” He gives me a quick onceover. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”