Chapter 357: Magnifique!

It was well past two in the afternoon before Luca and Naomi finally showed any interest in rejoining the civilized world.

Their morning had thoroughly derailed their sightseeing plans, leaving the bedroom in disarray and Naomi in no particular hurry to leave the comfort of their bed. Luca, however, eventually coaxed her out of her post-intimacy haze with a suggestion that immediately earned him a disbelieving stare.

"Get dressed, wife. We’re going shopping."

Naomi, still wrapped in a bathrobe with a faint blush lingering across her cheeks, looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

"Shopping? Luca, I packed three entire suitcases! Half the clothes I bought back home still have their tags on!"

"Those are American clothes," he replied calmly. "You’re in Paris now. If you don’t bring home some authentic French fashion, how will your livestream chat know your husband is spoiling you properly?"

Naomi puffed out her cheeks, preparing to argue, but the temptation was undeniable. After all, Paris was the fashion capital of the world. It would be a shame to leave without indulging a little.

Of course, that was only Luca’s excuse for her benefit.

’My influence runs deep in San Fierro and New Orleans, but France is unfamiliar territory. Right now, I’m just another wealthy tourist with a nice villa. I might as well trigger a few system rewards and establish some local connections while I’m here.’

An hour later, their black Maybach glided toward the gilded luxury arcades near Place Vend?me.

The moment they entered a prestigious shopping complex housing exclusive Hermès and Dior salons, a sharply dressed Frenchman approached them. Monsieur Laurent, the head sales director, wore an immaculate suit and a neatly trimmed pencil mustache. His trained eyes swept over the young couple, assessing them in seconds.

Young. Foreign. Almost certainly wealthy.

His posture immediately straightened into a welcoming bow.

"Bonjour, Monsieur, Madame. Welcome to Paris. Please, allow me to escort you to our private salon."

Before Naomi could properly examine the displays, Laurent had ushered them into a luxurious VIP suite decorated with velvet furnishings and polished marble. He promptly ordered vintage Dom Pérignon and offered them the best seats.

His smile was professional, but his thoughts were considerably less refined.

’Young couples are always entertaining. He wants to impress her, she’ll pretend everything is too expensive, and eventually his pride will do the rest. I can practically smell a fifty-thousand-euro commission.’

He was still preparing to pour their champagne when a startled voice rang out from the entrance.

"Wait... is that Naomi?!"

A young French woman stood frozen beside her German boyfriend, staring at Naomi with wide eyes.

"Oh my God, it really is you! You’re that streamer from the summer showcase!"

Naomi blinked in surprise before recognition dawned on her.

Earlier that summer, she’d participated in a week-long promotional event in Paris. During an exhibition match, she’d casually joined the action and proceeded to dismantle a top-tier esports squad with a smile on her face. The clip had spread across European social media, earning millions of views and making her an overnight sensation among young gamers.

Her ears turned pink, but her professional instincts quickly took over.

"Yes, that’s me. It’s lovely to meet you!"

She set down her champagne, posed for a couple of selfies, and exchanged pleasantries in fluent, melodic English. Within moments, the two fans were grinning from ear to ear.

Luca watched from the velvet sofa, sipping his champagne with an amused smile.

Once the delighted fans had been escorted out, Laurent returned with renewed enthusiasm, apparently even more convinced that his afternoon was about to become extraordinarily profitable.

"Madame, you have exquisite taste. Allow me to introduce our latest autumn collection."

For the next forty minutes, Naomi became the center of an elaborate fashion show.

She tried on a beautifully tailored double-faced cashmere trench coat that complemented her slender figure, followed by delicate silk scarves and supple calfskin boots crafted by generations of Parisian artisans. Every new outfit seemed to bring another enthusiastic compliment from Laurent.

"Magnifique! Absolutely stunning!"

Standing before a three-way mirror, Naomi turned from side to side, admiring the way the coat fitted her shoulders. She was clearly enchanted by the collection until she happened to notice the price tag tucked discreetly inside its lapel.

Her smile faltered.

Twelve thousand euros.

For a coat.

She was still trying to process that figure when Laurent presented a limited-edition platinum watch adorned with Colombian emeralds and diamonds. Under the salon’s crystal chandeliers, the gemstones sparkled like tiny stars.

Naomi glanced at the price.

Two hundred and sixty thousand dollars.

Her fingers nearly fumbled the velvet tray.

"No. Absolutely not."

She hurriedly pushed it back toward Laurent before grabbing Luca’s sleeve.

"Luca, the clothes are beautiful, but this watch is ridiculous! Do you realize how much it costs? That’s the price of a luxury apartment in Ashford! We’re putting it back."

Laurent’s smile stiffened.

’Mon Dieu! She’s actually refusing it! Young man, where is your pride? Your girlfriend is practically begging you to spend less money, and you’re going to listen to her?’

Luca glanced at Naomi’s horrified expression and chuckled.

Rather than answer, he took her hand and gently ran his thumb across her knuckles before turning her wrist toward the watch.

"It suits you," he said. "Besides, emerald has always been your color."

"But, Luca..."

He was already reaching into his coat pocket.

A sleek black Centurion card appeared between his fingers. He placed it on the glass table and looked at Laurent.

"Leave the watch on her wrist. Pack the coats, the boots, and every silk scarf she tried on. I also want two bespoke leather travel trunks with our monograms. Put everything on the same bill."

Laurent stared at the card as though he’d just witnessed a miracle.

"M-Monsieur, with the watch, couture, footwear, and custom trunks, the total comes to four hundred and eighty thousand dollars."

Luca raised an eyebrow.

"Did I stutter?"

"Of course not, Monsieur! I’ll have everything arranged immediately!"

Laurent snatched up the card and hurried toward the payment terminal with a level of urgency that suggested the entire transaction might vanish if he moved too slowly.

Naomi covered her face with both hands.

"You’re impossible. Completely, hopelessly impossible."

Luca merely smiled.

A crisp chime sounded inside his mind.

[Ding!]

[Host has successfully spent $480,000 on Naomi Monroe!]

[Critical Hit Triggered!]

[System Reward: 65% Controlling Stake in L’étoile Luxury Group, including premier European fashion houses, supply chains, and prime Paris commercial real estate!]

Luca’s smile deepened as he slipped his card back into his wallet.

’Nearly half a million dollars, and I now control sixty-five percent of a major luxury conglomerate in France. The system certainly knows how to reward a man for spoiling his wife.’

He glanced at Naomi, his lucky charm, who was still staring at the emerald watch as though it might suddenly explode.

"I’m going to need an armed guard just to wear this thing outside," she muttered.

Luca laughed and drew her closer.

’If anyone in Paris decides to throw their weight around, I’ll have more than money to answer them with. I can buy the entire street if I feel like it.’

Ten minutes later, Laurent emerged with four uniformed assistants carrying the pristine monogrammed trunks. His earlier composure had given way to barely concealed excitement, and he bowed so deeply that his mustache nearly brushed his chest.

"Merci mille fois, Monsieur Hale, Madame! It has been an absolute honor serving you!"

With a commission large enough to make the rest of his quarter considerably more comfortable, Laurent had every reason to be grateful.

Luca slipped an arm around Naomi’s waist and led her outside into the crisp Parisian air. Their Maybach was already waiting at the curb, its polished black exterior reflecting the elegant buildings surrounding Place Vend?me.

The chauffeur stepped forward to open the door.

Then a deafening screech shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

Burning rubber echoed across the square as a metallic-purple Lamborghini Aventador whipped around the corner, its customized exhaust roaring like an enraged beast. The supercar tore past pedestrians before slamming to a halt directly in the VIP valet lane, blocking the Maybach and forcing everyone nearby to turn and stare.

Its arrival was anything but subtle.

Whoever sat behind the wheel clearly expected the entire square to make way for them.