Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(34)

I looked to my right, where the green French countryside rolled by, the English Channel barely visible in the distance. After hours of seeing nothing but black sea and clouds beneath me, I was grateful for any change. "I thought I'd see more of the city,” I said, "but it’s still beautiful. When will we be able to see Paris?"

"Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to explore the city," the man to my left said. I turned to look at Felix Hardy, who’d gracefully switched seats with me. While flying Business Class certainly was better than flying in economy, my original seat didn't have a good view out of the window. The miniature cocoon did allow me to sleep on the flight, however, which was enjoyable. "The plane approaches from the wrong side for you to see from your seat. Just think of it as a chance to be surprised. Where would you like to go first? The Champ Elysees, Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, or maybe a river cruise along the Seine?"

"Perhaps our lady would like to see the Louvre?" said the man in front of me. Sticking his head over the top, Francois Hardy smiled down at me. "I know I would."

I rolled my eyes. "You just want to show off," I said with a small smile. In the past month, I'd come to find myself smiling more and more. It was easy with the two brothers, who had, at first, kidnapped me before I ended up volunteering to go with them. I was infatuated with them, and I loved it. It was a new and exciting experience.

Even the fact that it was both brothers who'd stolen my heart wasn't all that hard for me to accept. It was like they each filled a specific niche in my heart, and I filled a certain place in theirs. With Felix, I was the comforter, the one who allowed him to let down his guard a bit and show me the sensitive side underneath the cool, seemingly arrogant exterior. Meanwhile, with Francois, I felt like I was in a whirlwind of romance, buffeted around and loving every minute of it. If I had to draw comparisons to my main love of music, Felix was like playing Leonard Cohen while Francois was like playing Jim Steinman. Cohen isn't everyone's cup of tea, but there’s depth and meaning there that touches your soul. And it's not a proper Steinman song unless things get 'turned up to eleven' at least once, but there’s no lack of depth either. You can't say one is better than the other, it comes down to personal preference. The analogy fits the brothers perfectly. Thankfully, I happen to like both Cohen and Steinman.

Francois gave me a knowing smile and turned around. With the two brothers being some of the best thieves in the world, he earned the right to occasionally brag just a little bit. According to some of the seemingly tall tales that I'd gotten, walking into the Louvre would be more like walking into the world's greatest depository of replicas and knock-offs, the Hardy family holding a good portion of the originals.

Felix leaned over from his seat. “But seriously, after a night or two in Paris, I thought you might like to visit our family seat in the Rhone valley," he said with a smile. "And maybe enjoy some of the best wine in the world.”

"You own a vineyard?" I asked, my mouth falling open. "But I thought you said that you lived a restrained lifestyle."

Felix nodded. "We do. The house isn’t very large, and the vineyard doesn't produce much. It barely pays for itself on a yearly basis."

I shook my head in amazement and turned back towards the window. The countryside gave way to the outskirts of Paris and the greens receded into urban settings. Buildings began to whiz by underneath, and then we were in the airport complex, touching down on the runway.

Charles de Gaulle Airport is huge even compared to LAX. It took us nearly fifteen minutes just to taxi from the runway to the gate, and then once inside, I felt lost. The architecture was impressive and artistic, and actually, a little bit intimidating. It had that sense of imposing grandeur that was popular in the nineteen sixties, which if the in-flight magazine I'd read was correct, made sense. I wasn’t prepared for all of it, and would have felt more than a little freaked out if Francois hadn't reached over and taken my hand. "Don’t worry . . . I prefer to fly into Rome myself. De Gaulle is too crazy for my liking."

"Then why fly in here?" I asked, somewhat confused. "Other than convenience?"

"We never fly into the same airport we flew out of," he explained in a low voice. "It was one of the rules our father taught us and one that we still keep. Remember, this is Europe, moving between the different countries is fairly easy. Especially as French citizens, moving through the European Union is easy. And of course, Felix and I have passports from a few different countries."

I relaxed and held Francois's hand while Felix led us through the halls and to baggage check and immigration. I was nervous as I presented my new passport, which stated that I was Jordan Burrows, originally from Winnipeg, Canada. "It’ll help explain why you have a North American accent, as well as the fact your French is still quite atrocious," Felix explained when he had handed me the fake papers. "The French will assume you only got a few lessons in school and that it was from a Quebecois. Just be glad that we won’t be staying in Paris for a long time — they are the most arrogant of all the French when it comes to language."

"Passport please," the customs official said, shaking me from my memories. As French citizens, Felix and Francois were in another line, and I could feel my forehead dot in sweat as he examined my passport. I kept seeing in my mind him hitting a button, and two armed French policemen coming out to escort me away. What a way to begin my new life, being arrested the first time I tried to use my new identity.