Longing For The Beach Billionaire Daddy
Chapter 242

*Shelby*

The wheels of our private jet skidding to a stop jarred me back to reality. I had been lost in thought for the last hour or so, excited for this new adventure with Michael and our babies. I didn’t get to travel internationally before I meth im, and I always thought about how lucky my children would be growing up experiencing everything the world has to offer.

The pilot announced, “Welcome to France, Astor family. Please enjoy your stay.”

We laboriously loaded our babies into their car seats and bundled them up for the walk down the jetway stairs. We stepped onto the tarmac, and my eyes widened as I took in the sight of a long black stretch limousine waiting for us. Michael had a goofy grin plastered on his face as he walked toward it.

“The limo is a little over the top, don’t you think?” I asked, internally laughing at how ridiculous my husband’s tastes were.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and led us to the car. “C’est la vie, mon amour,” he said with a smirk. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it in style.”

As I settled into the plush leather seat, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by the opulence of the interior. The smell of fine leather and expensive cologne filled my nose, and beside me sat a silver ice bucket with an unopened bottle of champagne resting in it. Through the window, Parisian streets sparkled with life and energy, stretching out beneath us like a vibrant tapestry.

Michael leaned in to whisper in my ear, “I have a surprise for you, my love.” I looked at him, intrigued.

The limo drove us to a beautiful private home that Michael had rented in the center of Paris. The building had a classic French façade, and the balcony looked out over an outdoor courtyard bustling with Parisians enjoying their evenings. We stepped out of the car, and I took it all in, captivated by its beauty. I could already imagine drinking pastis at one of the sidewalk cafes and people-watching for hours on end.

“I wanted you to experience everything that French city living has to offer, so we have this house for the next week,” Michael explained.

My heart swelled with love for my husband. He always knew how to surprise me and make me feel special. We walked hand in hand through the entrance and stepped inside the house. My breath was taken away yet again.

The interior was tastefully decorated with antiques and pastel colors. It was romantic, charming, and felt like home.

“You did all of this for me?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

Michael grinned and pulled me in for a k**s. “Of course, my love. You deserve the world.”

He led me up the spiraling staircase, adorned with a scarlet runner, to the master bedroom where soft light flickered from lanterns perched on the windowsills. The room smelled of lavender and roses, and I couldn’t help but feel like a character in one of those fairytale romance novels I used to read when I was younger.

Rose petals were scattered across the bedspread, arranged artfully in a heart shape. Candles in a variety of colors burned in glass jars and cast soft shadows against the walls. We got our young ones settled into their beds before we collapsed onto the mattress cuddled up together, cocooned by warmth and exhaustion from our travels.

The next morning, we awoke to the bright sun beaming through the lace curtains. We quickly changed and fed the twins before bundling them in their strollers, eager to explore the city of Paris.

As we stepped out into the streets, it was like stepping into a postcard. Locals bustled about the cobbled streets, chatting merrily while carrying baguettes and cheese from nearby shops. We made our way through the city, mesmerized by what seemed like a normal day in Paris.

We came across a small café tucked away in a narrow alleyway. The outdoor seating area had brightly colored umbrellas and tables scattered around like chess pieces, ready to accommodate the day’s diners. The street was lined with carriages and shoppers pouring from the shops onto the sidewalks. Michael and I settled into the morning breeze while our children babbled excitedly about all of their discoveries.

The cafe served up a generous spread of traditional French breakfast items, including freshly-baked croissants that melted in your mouth, ripe summer fruits that exploded with flavor, and hot coffee that was full of richness.

The babies were allowed to have a larger variety of table food now that they were over six months old. Michael and I enjoyed watching them learn about new tastes and textures as they tried the croissants filled with chocolate hazelnut spread, the juicy berries, and the creamy yogurt. As we sat in the sunshine eating our breakfast, I felt content in knowing that I was exactly where I wanted to be–surrounded by love and living life.

After a delicious breakfast, we began to move through the city, visiting the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, and then exploring The Jardin du Luxembourg. It was nice to see all of the things I’d missed on our first trip before the babies were born.

We ambled along the tree-lined paths, inhaling the mingling scents of spring flowers and newly mown grass. The carefully manicured lawns rolled on for acres before tapering off into formal gardens with statues depicting classical scenes, all surrounded by a high stone wall. In this classic setting stood an enormous fountain with accompanying lion sculptures.

We strolled from one area to another in awe of its beauty, pausing to admire some of the fountains that decorated every corner. The children were amazed by the abundance of animals they encountered along their way–squirrels scurrying about, ducks quacking in little ponds, and even a peacock strutting its feathers around an old stone bridge.

Eventually, we stopped by one of the large ponds near the center of the garden for lunch. Several outdoor restaurants were serving up classic French food at reasonable prices. Michael and I ordered steak tartare with baguettes and a bottle of red wine while our little ones happily munched on fresh fruit slices and mini éclairs from a nearby bakery stall.

As we enjoyed our al fresco lunch overlooking Les Tuileries Gardens next door, Parisians went about their day, seemingly not as impressed by the beauty that surrounded them at every turn as us tourists.

When we arrived back at the home Michael had rented for us, my husband asked, “Would you like to try and grab dinner alone tonight?”

I hesitated, wondering who on Earth would watch the twins.

Seeing the trepidation in my eyes, he said, “There’s an incredible nanny service that comes highly recommended by a few people from back home.”

Reluctantly, I answered, “I guess, but I’d like to meet the nanny first to make sure her vibes aren’t creepy.”

“I’ll make the call, gorgeous,” Michael said before walking onto the balcony to arrange a meeting with the nanny.

Two hours later, the nanny arrived, and we hit it off wonderfully. Mrs. Dubois had soft, silvery blonde hair that framed a kind face and sparkling blue eyes. She moved with effortless grace, her smile radiating warmth and joy that put children at ease. Her sixteen years of experience were backed by glowing references from former employers who raved about her ability to form relationships with kids and create an interactive learning environment. The babies were soon fast asleep in her arms as she rocked them gently back and forth, singing sweet lullabies in her native language.

Done meeting with the nanny, Michael carefully buttoned his white shirt around his muscular frame and tucked it into his tailored black trousers. I ran my hands over the soft black fabric of my dress, feeling the way it clung to my figure and revealing glimpses of skin through the slits running up both sides.

Michael presented me with a delicate diamond necklace, its many facets catching the light and reflecting a rainbow of colors in the white room.

“Michael, you didn’t have to buy this,” I said as tears filled my eyes. It was surreal to have a husband that wanted to spoil me every day of my life. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to it.

“Nonsense, you need something more beautiful than Paris to adorn your neck while we walk through the city.” He grabbed my cheeks and kissed me softly. “You’re the most stunning, selfless woman I’ve ever met. I won’t apologize for showing my appreciation.”

We entered the living room to replace Mrs. Dubois beaming with joy, cuddling Thomas and Amelia in her arms. We moved close and kissed the babies on their cheeks before turning to leave the room arm-in-arm for dinner.

On the way to our destination, we took in all of the wonderful sights and sounds of Paris–the smell of croissants baking in boulangeries, the sound of hushed conversations floating through open windows, the lights from horse-drawn carriages gleaming against the night sky. Everywhere I looked, there were couples strolling arm in arm or families laughing and taking pictures. I felt so blessed to be part of this beautiful city and was filled with a sense of gratitude.

The charming restaurant Michael had picked out was cozy, yet sophisticated. The décor featured exposed beams on the ceiling painted in blue and white stripes that complemented the soft tones used throughout the rest of the restaurant.

A fire crackled near a corner table giving off a warm glow that illuminated everything around us as we took our seats. We shared an exquisite multiple-course meal that included several dishes, such as foie gras terrine, ratatouille niçoise, profiteroles au chocolat, and a fresh kiwi sorbet for dessert.

As dinner came to an end, we decided to stop at one more place before heading home–Notre Dame Cathedral. It was hard to believe that all this had almost been lost to a fire, much like our home. The beauty that was left of the original building was still stunning, even though we still couldn’t go inside.

When we were done exploring the building’s exterior, Michael hailed a horse-drawn carriage to take us home. We stepped into the wooden cab feeling like royalty. Quilts were draped over us for warmth against the cool evening air, and the horses trotted calmly along the cobblestone streets. The landscape around us emerged from shadows as the night sky opened up above revealing an infinite blanket of stars.

“Michael, this is the most amazing evening we’ve ever had. I feel like a movie star,” I exclaimed, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

“I agree. It doesn’t feel real, does it?” he pondered, staring up at the sky.

As we reached our house, Michael stepped down onto the sidewalk and extended his hand out for mine. Holding each other close, we continued on foot up to our charming home under those twinkling stars above.