Chapter 370 Spoiling Mrs. Windsor
As Oliver entered the premises, his eyebrows drew together in an expression of clear displeasure. The residence was scarcely larger than his own study.
Natalie did not have to speculate about what was going through Oliver’s mind. As she placed her handbag down, she said, "This apartment is considered quite satisfactory in this area. It was Emily's friend who helped me find it. Moreover, my schedule keeps me quite occupied, and I’m seldom here, making it perfectly adequate for my needs."
"Mrs. Windsor, aren’t you aware that you’re married to the chairman of RK Group?" Oliver leaned on the marble countertop, amusement briefly crossing his features. He was baffled by Natalie’s contentment with so little. She now possessed the means for more.
Natalie suggested Oliver take a look around while she went upstairs to change into more comfortable attire.
Oliver watched as Natalie went upstairs. He noticed an advantage of the apartment's layout.
The upstairs bedroom had glass partitions, and Natalie, having lived alone, had not seen the need to close the curtains. Thus, Oliver could watch clearly as she changed.
The skin hidden beneath her black dress appeared as smooth and soft as it had always been, like silk to the touch.
Oliver's interest was piqued, a surge of desire welling within him.
Natalie was unaware that Oliver was watching her. By the time she had finished dressing and was about to go downstairs, Oliver was already at the bedroom door.
"What...!" Natalie shouted.
Oliver moved quickly to encircle Natalie's slender waist, pressing her against the wall and kissing her fervently.
"Mrs. Windsor, the more time we spend apart, the more I find myself missing you," Oliver murmured into Natalie's neck.
Natalie felt her strength wane, her hands pushing against him feebly. "Oliver, why don’t we go for a walk?"
Oliver snapped back to a semblance of awareness, grasping Natalie's chin gently and peering into her eyes. "What did you call me?"
"Honey." Natalie was at a loss for words. She wondered why he placed so much emphasis on this particular endearment.
Only then did Oliver show a hint of satisfaction, albeit his attention seemed elsewhere as he dismissively asked, "What’s there to see outside?"
His expression made it clear he thought little of the suggestion.
Natalie glared at the man before her who was seemingly oblivious to the essence of romance. A single look did not suffice to quell her frustration, prompting her to raise her hand and tap him lightly, her tone a mixture of indignation and flirtation as she asked, "Well, are you coming or not?"
Natalie rarely showed this side of herself.
Oliver, who was on the verge of declining, agreed in the end. "Let's go."
The streets of Paris exuded romance, particularly during Fashion Week.
With his hand around Natalie's waist, Oliver wandered aimlessly. His typically cold expression turned to one of warmth when his gaze fell upon her.
Their striking appearance and demeanor drew the attention of passersby, including a photographer who eagerly asked if he might photograph them.
Oliver, typically averse to the camera, noticed the glimmer of excitement in Natalie's eyes and softened, asking her, "Would you like a photo?"
"What about you?" she asked, looking up at him.
A faint smile played on Oliver's lips. "If Mrs. Windsor wishes for a photo, then that's what we'll do."
Natalie's heart swelled with affection. She had come to understand Oliver's usual discomfort with photography; his willingness to participate was a gesture of his love for her. Aware that street photography often preserved anonymity, she saw no harm in it.
Natalie then requested a copy of the photos, to which the photographer happily agreed.
Their backdrop was the scenic Seine River, with the photographer capturing their moments along its banks. Despite being the subjects of his lens, Natalie and Oliver felt undisturbed, and the photographer's enthusiasm hinted at the quality of his work.
The resulting dozen photos were captivating: silhouettes against the Parisian backdrop, intimate glances by the riverside, and expressions of tender indulgence. Against the vibrant streets and the tranquil river, they stood out — ordinary in life, yet extraordinary through the lens.
Overwhelmed with joy, the photographer lavished praise upon Natalie, momentarily switching to his native French in his excitement, to which she graciously responded in kind.
"Wow! Madame, your talents are truly remarkable. Not only do you possess striking beauty, but your linguistic skills are impressive as well! You’re indeed an amazing woman," the photographer expressed, eager to talk further with Natalie. However, he quickly became aware of Oliver's frosty expression.
With a resigned shrug, he seemed to question Natalie through his expression: How did you find yourself with such a petty man?
In France, where romance and the appreciation of beauty are integral to the culture, their interaction was merely an innocent acknowledgment of Natalie's qualities.
Choosing to remain discreet, the photographer silently handed the photos to Natalie. As he departed, he offhandedly remarked, "You and your boyfriend seem to share a strong bond."
This comment hinted at his wonder at Natalie's tolerance for Oliver's domineering behavior.
Oliver responded coldly, "I’m her husband."
Natalie, amused by Oliver's insistence on such trivial matters, looked at the sky. She admired the photos quietly and smiled. Sensing Oliver's attention, she quickly withdrew her hand, not wanting to let him see the photos.
Oliver, intrigued, watched her closely.
Natalie firmly stated, "These were requested by me, for me."
Revealing these images to Oliver felt uncomfortably intimate, as though she was openly displaying their affection. She preferred to savor these moments alone, a secret trove of memories just for her.
Oliver chuckled, and he noticed a couple, two students, nearby. With this, he switched from an arm around her to clasping her hand, asking, "Where to next?"
Natalie said regretfully, “I want to visit the Notre Dame Cathedral, but it’s still under repair after a fire.”
“Are you religious?”
“No, I’m just interested in the architectural and historical significance. I visited once when I was young, but I didn’t go in.”
"Why didn't you go in?" Oliver asked. He could talk a lot when he was with Natalie.
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