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.
“I really do. I was just afraid it was too expensive. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage. I could be happy with something a lot smaller.”
“Well, I wouldn’t.” She told him all about it then, and the many high-tech features it had, which he liked. And they didn’t need to do any work. Everything had been done. “I want you to buy it. It sounds perfect, and I trust your judgment and your taste. I’ll call them tomorrow.” He wanted a quick closing, and was planning to pay for it in cash, which was how he did everything. He could have the money wired into the owner’s account immediately. He didn’t want to wait months for a slow closing. “Do they have any technical reports on it, to prove that all the work was done?”
“The realtor says they do.” She couldn’t believe how simple he made it all seem, despite the expense.
“I’ll take care of all the details. You can start planning how you want to decorate it. Unless you want a decorator.” He had used one for the house in London, but Natasha thought it would be more fun to do it herself, since this was her “project,” and Vladimir was willing to let her.
“I don’t know what to say to you. It’s so beautiful, Vladimir, I love it. When can you come to see it?”
“I’ll meet you in Paris on Friday. I have to go to Moscow the next day, for a week or two. You could stay in Paris if you want to, and get started on the decorating.” Natasha was thrilled at how much fun this was going to be. He had had all his homes before she joined him. This was the first home she was going to decorate for them.
She lay awake that night, thinking about it, and all the things she had to do. She finally fell asleep at four A.M., and the one thing she knew was that she was the luckiest woman in the world, and Vladimir was the most generous man. For all the risks that she took being with him, like the scare in Sardinia in June, and the isolated life she lived, they seemed like small sacrifices in the face of his generosity to her, and the golden life he shared with her. She had nothing to complain about, for all the comfort and security he gave her, she knew she had been blessed the day she met him. Her life with him seemed perfect to her. Compared to the orphanage and the factories, and the terrible people she had known who had been unkind to her, and the mother who had abandoned her, being with Vladimir was an incredible gift. She was grateful for it every day. And now they had a beautiful apartment in Paris. She was a very, very lucky girl. Of that, she was absolutely sure.
Chapter 7