Chapter 355: Broken French...

Golden sunlight streamed through the towering French windows of Domaine des Roses, illuminating the sprawling rose gardens and pale limestone terraces beyond.

Naomi descended the grand staircase in one of Luca’s oversized navy silk robes, the hem brushing against her legs with every step. Her eyes wandered across the elegant interior, taking in the marble floors, ornate railings, and elaborate decorations that seemed to belong in a palace rather than a private residence.

’This place is even more impressive than his villa in San Fierro!’

She had barely been awake for an hour, but her curiosity had already gotten the better of her. There was simply too much to explore.

Her first discovery was the indoor swimming pool, where azure water shimmered beneath a glass conservatory roof. Marble statues stood elegantly around its perimeter, interspersed with luxurious loungers and neatly arranged potted plants. Beyond the glass, the Parisian skyline emerged through the lingering morning mist.

Naomi stopped at the entrance, her mouth falling open slightly.

"Incredible..." she whispered. ’He really bought a place like this just like that?’

She could hardly imagine how much a property of this size would cost, and Luca had treated the entire thing as though buying a mansion in France were no more complicated than ordering lunch.

Still marveling at her surroundings, she continued exploring until a rich, buttery aroma caught her attention.

Breakfast!

Following the scent, she found herself in an elegant salon illuminated by crystal chandeliers. A French chef dressed in an immaculate white uniform was arranging freshly baked pastries on a silver serving tray, their golden surfaces glistening beneath the warm light.

Naomi hesitated at the entrance.

During their flight, she had spent a considerable amount of time memorizing a few basic French phrases. She had even practiced her pronunciation, determined to make a good impression when they arrived.

Now that she finally had the opportunity, she wasn’t about to waste it.

After straightening Luca’s robe, she approached the chef with an expression of absolute determination.

"Bonjour, Monsieur. Je voudrais... un pain au chocolat, s’il vous pla?t. Et... une café petit? Avec du lait chaud?"

The words came out slowly, accompanied by a few questionable pronunciations. By the time she finished, even she wasn’t entirely sure what she had ordered.

The chef, however, responded with a warm smile and a polite bow.

"Good morning, Madame. Your French is charming, but there’s no need to trouble yourself. We have freshly baked chocolate croissants, brioche, and freshly squeezed blood orange juice. Would you prefer your espresso with oat milk or cream?"

A strangled snort interrupted them.

Naomi turned toward the doorway.

Luca stood there in dark trousers and an open-collared linen shirt, holding a porcelain mug of black coffee. The grin spreading across his face made it painfully obvious that he had heard every word.

"’Une café petit’?" he repeated, struggling to keep a straight face. "You spent twelve hours memorizing French, only to order a tiny coffee in three different languages."

Naomi felt heat rush straight to her cheeks.

"You jerk!"

She kicked off one of her fluffy white slippers and sent it flying toward him.

Luca caught it with one hand without spilling a drop of his coffee.

"I was trying to be cultured!" she protested, stamping her bare foot against the floor. "You’re supposed to encourage your wife, not laugh at her!"

"I am encouraging you."

His grin suggested otherwise.

Walking over, he crouched in front of her and slipped the slipper back onto her foot before straightening up and handing her a glass of chilled blood orange juice.

"I admire your courage."

Naomi snatched the glass from him and shot him a glare. Unfortunately, the corners of her mouth kept threatening to curl upward, ruining the effect.

She hated how easily he could get a reaction out of her.

Luca, apparently satisfied with his work, pulled out a chair beside her and prepared to sit down. Before he could, however, his encrypted phone vibrated against the linen tablecloth.

He glanced at the screen.

The caller ID displayed a verified European satellite tag, accompanied by a familiar name.

George Vanderbilt.

Luca accepted the call and activated the speaker.

"Good morning, Boss. I trust your arrival at Domaine des Roses went smoothly?"

"Everything’s quiet and comfortable. Good work, George."

He picked up a croissant, broke it in half, and offered a piece to Naomi. She accepted it without looking away from her breakfast, already reaching for another pastry with her free hand.

"I’m glad to hear that," George continued. "I’m calling to give you the quarterly maritime briefing. Our European shipping routes and automated container terminals in Le Havre and Rotterdam are operating at full capacity. Quarterly logistics revenue has reached a record high, increasing by twenty-two percent."

Naomi’s chewing slowed.

She glanced at Luca, who was listening with the same relaxed expression he had worn throughout breakfast. He took a sip of coffee as though the conversation concerned nothing more important than the weather.

George continued after a brief pause.

"There’s also the Paris Fashion & Heritage Charity Gala at the Grand Palais next week. Several major European industrialists and conglomerate leaders will be attending. We’ve already reserved the premier corporate box. Will you be visiting our European headquarters or attending the gala?"

Naomi lowered her pastry.

Of course, she knew Luca wasn’t an ordinary wealthy man. She had known that from the beginning, and the scale of his businesses had never been a secret between them.

His shipping operations alone spanned multiple countries, and his business associates included some of Europe’s most influential people. A single phone call was enough to remind her that his responsibilities extended far beyond anything she could imagine.

A small uncertainty crept into her thoughts.

’Does this mean our vacation will be shorter than I expected?’

She had been looking forward to exploring Paris with him, enjoying the sights, visiting charming little cafés, and making memories without having to worry about anything else.

But perhaps that was too much to ask of a man who ran an empire.

Before she could dwell on the thought, Luca answered.

"Not this time, George. The shipping operations are in your hands, and I trust you to handle them."

His gaze briefly shifted toward Naomi before he leaned back in his chair.

"I’m on vacation with my wife. Unless an oil tanker suddenly crashes into the Eiffel Tower, don’t bother me with board meetings."

For a moment, there was silence on the other end.

Then George let out a restrained chuckle.

"Understood, Boss. My apologies for disturbing your breakfast. My regards to Madam. The European network will remain on standby."

"Good. Enjoy your morning, George."

Luca ended the call and placed his phone beside his coffee.

Just like that, the conversation was over.

Naomi stared at him.

George Vanderbilt was responsible for overseeing an enormous maritime operation, and the man had just delivered a briefing about record-breaking revenue and major business opportunities. Yet Luca had dismissed the entire matter in a matter of seconds because he wanted to enjoy his vacation with her.

He hadn’t even hesitated.

A warmth spread through her chest, and before she could talk herself out of it, she pushed back her chair and walked around to stand behind him.

Then she wrapped both arms around his waist.

Luca paused, looking down at her hands resting against his stomach. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he covered them with one of his own.

"What’s this? A thank-you hug for not making you practice French?"

Naomi opened her mouth to reply, but Luca turned in his chair and drew her closer before she could utter a word.

Then he kissed her.

Naomi leaned into him, her fingers curling into the front of his linen shirt as the lingering sweetness of blood orange juice passed between them.

Luca kissed her slowly, savoring the moment rather than rushing.

When he finally pulled back, she stared at him for a moment, her cheeks flushed and her breathing slightly uneven. Her amber eyes held a warmth that made it difficult for him to resist kissing her again.

Judging by the satisfied smile on his face, he had no intention of resisting for long.

His thumb brushed gently along her jaw, lingering against her flushed cheek.

"I don’t stand a chance against you," she murmured.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. The silk robe draped around her shoulders had slipped slightly, but she made no effort to adjust it. Nor did she spare a glance at the tourist map lying forgotten on the breakfast table.

’I’ve always wondered what it’s like making love in Paris.’

Luca’s smile widened.

He rose from his chair, slipped an arm beneath her knees, and lifted her effortlessly into his embrace.

Naomi let out a startled gasp before instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. A moment later, her surprise gave way to a soft smile as she settled against him, her fingers finding their way into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"What about breakfast?" she asked.

The question might have sounded convincing if her eyes hadn’t kept drifting toward his lips.

Luca chuckled, carrying her out of the salon and toward the grand staircase. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the marble beneath his feet as he ascended toward the master suite.

"Breakfast can wait," he murmured, lowering his head to brush a kiss beneath her ear.

Naomi shivered and tightened her arms around him, earning another amused smile.

"The crêpes aren’t going anywhere," he continued. "Besides, my wife has my undivided attention right now."

She buried her burning face against his collarbone, unable to suppress a breathy laugh.

"You’re impossible," she whispered.

The playful remark did little to hide her smile. She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes, and whatever teasing response Luca might have prepared disappeared when she leaned forward and kissed him again.

By the time they reached the master suite, neither of them had given breakfast another thought.

Luca carried her through the doorway, and the bedroom doors clicked shut behind them.