After hanging up the phone, Felix Shaw's lips curved into a sinister smile, exuding an air of conspiracy fulfilled.
Mia Foster, that silly woman, thought he was back home. After a cold snort, Felix Shaw hailed a taxi and gave the address in English once inside.
Though now in a foreign land, Paris was anything but unfamiliar to him. Once, he had brought countless actresses here for Fashion Week.
...
On the cobblestone street, tourists strolled constantly, beside a gently flowing river, a pleasant breeze brushed against his face.
But Felix Shaw was in no mood to enjoy the view; his mind was consumed with retrieving the woman who was about to stray.
As faces of varied complexions passed by, Felix Shaw cursed that he only had one pair of eyes. If he had more, perhaps he'd find that woman sooner.
Unlike the leisurely tourists, Felix Shaw moved quickly, his peach blossom eyes scanning around, hurrying along the bluestone path by the riverside railing.
