The Mistress(33)
“Don’t rush into it,” he advised her. “Find one that you really love. It will be fun to spend some time in Paris.”
Vladimir had the plane take her to Paris on Monday, so it would be back in London for him when he flew to Italy on Tuesday. And his secretary had booked their usual suite for her at the George V. She ordered room service that night, as she always did when she was there without him. And she was excited to get started with the realtor the next day. They were planning to see an apartment on Avenue Foch first, on the sunny side of the street, the realtor had told her. And there was another one farther up, but she said it might be dark.
When Natasha met her at the first address at ten o’clock the next morning, the apartment was disappointing. It was sunny but in poor condition, large and rambling, and needed a lot of work, although as the realtor pointed out, the ceilings were high, and the tall windows were lovely. But it was too old-fashioned and Natasha didn’t love it, and she liked the next one even less. And the apartment overlooking the Seine on the Left Bank was much too small, although it was lovely. But they were used to more space, and in spite of the view and balcony, it felt cramped.
She met with a different realtor after lunch, and the apartment in the eighth arrondissement was not right for them at all, and Vladimir would have hated it. They had told her about a listing at the Palais Royal too, which was considered highly desirable, but it was tiny, with one very small bedroom, a small bathroom, and no closets. And she was seeing the two apartments on Avenue Montaigne last, with a different realtor. It was a wide avenue where all the best shops were, Dior, Chanel, Prada, and a dozen others, and both apartments had supposedly been recently redone. One was a modern penthouse, and the other was a duplex in an older building. She was beginning to get discouraged before her last appointment. Nothing she had seen was even close to what they wanted, or to what she thought Vladimir would like, although he had told her to pick the one she wanted, but she wanted him to love it too, since he was paying for it.
When she met with the last realtor, the penthouse was pretty but very cold. Everything was either black granite or white marble, and she couldn’t imagine feeling cozy there. It was more of a showplace than a home. And she wanted something that felt warm.
And when they got to the last apartment, the moment the realtor opened the door, she knew she was home. It had been redone and restored, but nothing interfered with its original beauty. It had modern systems embedded invisibly throughout, for music and computers, even air conditioning, which was unusual in Paris, and it had beautiful boiseries and moldings, high ceilings, lovely French windows, and spectacular antique parquet floors. It looked like a smaller version of Versailles, and all she would have to do was find furniture for it, and have curtains made for every room. It had four bedrooms upstairs, a dressing room for each of them, a study for Vladimir, and a small sitting room off their bedroom. And downstairs a huge double living room, a large dining room, a modern kitchen, and a cozy den. And each room had a fireplace, even the bathrooms, which had been redone too. It was exactly the size he had wanted. At five hundred square meters, it felt more like a house than an apartment. And the apartment was beautiful. It came with four maids’ rooms on the top floor of the building, where they could put their bodyguards, when they brought them, which they didn’t always do. And she could have a maid sleep there, to take care of the apartment. It had everything she wanted. It was her dream apartment, and she nearly fainted when she heard the price. It had been standing empty for a year while it had been redone, and it now had a very high price. And she wondered what Vladimir would say when she told him. She had never bought an apartment before, although she knew he was planning to spend half a billion dollars on his new boat, which sounded unimaginable to her, and was even more than Princess Marina had cost.
She told the realtor she would call her, and went back to the hotel in a daze. She didn’t know what to say to Vladimir, if she should even tell him what they were asking for the apartment, or look for something else. She felt guilty having him spend that much money on a “project” for her, although he would live there too. But it would certainly be cheaper if they continued to stay at the hotel. He didn’t usually care how much he spent, but she felt a responsibility to him, since it wasn’t her money.
She waited to hear from him after his meetings, and was having room service for dinner when he called. She never went to restaurants without him. She didn’t like eating alone, and although he had never said so, she had the feeling that he wouldn’t like her going to restaurants on her own. She lived in a bubble he provided, where she felt secure.
“So how did it go today?” he asked her, after he told her his boat meetings had gone well.
“It was interesting. The first five apartments were very disappointing. Some of them were old and needed a lot of work. The penthouse on Avenue Montaigne was ice cold, everything was marble.” She hesitated for a beat then, and he knew her well.
“And the sixth?”
“Was unbelievably expensive. I don’t know if we should spend that much for an apartment.” She felt awkward talking to him about it.
“Did you love it?” he asked, sounding almost fatherly.
“Yes,” she admitted, feeling breathless. “It was gorgeous.” And feeling her stomach turn over, she told him the price. He laughed when she said it.
“My darling, that won’t pay for the dining room furniture they’re going to make for the new boat.” He was planning to spare nothing for his new yacht, which was going to be more of a ship than a boat, and the most luxurious vessel on the water. And he had told the interior designer he had hired that he wanted to order a sable bedspread for their bedroom. “Do you love that apartment?” he asked again.