Chapter 78

The hotel Chantel had booked for us was a five-star masterpiece, sitting right on the shores of Lake Geneva. The marble-floored lobby gleamed under crystal chandeliers, and the air smelled faintly of fresh flowers and polished wood.

As we approached the reception desk, the concierge greeted us warmly. “Bienvenue, Monsieur Moreau. We’ve been expecting you.”

Monique glanced at me, impressed. “You have a reputation, apparently.”

I chuckled. “I travel here often enough.”

As the staff completed our check-in, I noticed one of the receptionists—a woman in her mid-thirties—giving us a subtle smirk. Her gaze flickered between me and Monique, her expression saying everything she didn’t verbalize.

Monique caught it too. She didn’t react, simply thanking the receptionist politely before taking the key card.

As we stepped into the elevator, she turned to me with a smirk. “Did you see that?”

I blinked. “See what?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “The way that woman looked at us.”

I frowned, still clueless. “What about it?”

Monique rolled her eyes affectionately. “She thinks I’m your trophy girlfriend.”

It took me a second, then I groaned. “Mon amour—”

She laughed. “John, it’s fine. It’s just something we’re going to have to get used to. Some people will always see the age difference first.”

I sighed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It’s ridiculous.”

She smiled softly. “It doesn’t matter what people think. What matters is what we have.”

I kissed her forehead. “You’re right. As always.”

She grinned. “Glad you’re finally learning that.”

When we entered the suite, Monique froze, her mouth falling open.

The spacious living area was decorated in soft, elegant tones, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Lake Geneva. A large balcony overlooked the water, and the bedroom featured a king-sized bed covered in plush, luxurious bedding.

“Mon Dieu,” she whispered, stepping inside and twirling around. “This is incredible.”

She ran to the window, pressing her hands against the glass. “John, look at this view!”

I chuckled, setting our bags down. “I suspect Chantel booked this for you. I usually don’t get a suite that is as large. I’m glad she decided to spoil you”

Monique darted from room to room, inspecting every detail—the marble bathroom, the walk-in closet, the private dining area.

Then she turned to me, her expression shifting from excitement to realization. “John ... you’re rich, aren’t you?”

I sighed, scratching the back of my head. “I suppose so.”

She frowned slightly. “I never really thought about it before.”

I gestured for her to sit with me on the couch. “Because I don’t flaunt it. Yes, I have money. But it didn’t help when Anne got sick. It didn’t stop me from losing her. It doesn’t bring happiness on its own.”

She listened intently, her fingers lacing through mine.

“I get my happiness from my work, from providing for my employees, from giving back. And now ... I get happiness from you.”

Her eyes welled with emotion. “John...”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “I never cared about any of that. You’ve always just been you—my neighbor, my mentor, my—” She broke off, wiping her eyes.

I pulled her into my arms. “I know, mon amour. That’s why I love you.”

She buried her face in my chest. “It’s a lot to take in.”

I kissed the top of her head. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She exhaled, then looked up at me, her smile returning. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”

I pressed my forehead against hers, my heart full.

As the warmth of the suite settled around us, Monique stretched with a satisfied sigh. “As much as I adore this place, we really need a shower,” she teased, running a hand through her hair. “We’ve been travelling all morning, and I feel ... in need of a refresh.”