Free Second Chance by Danielle Steel

enough of them for one day.
    “No, it's a water theme,” Fiona told him, but once again, when they arrived, he was completely bowled over by what they had done to an ordinary swimming pool. There was a Lucite dance floor placed over the pool, with huge exotic fish swimming under it, and girls painted to look like fish in brilliant hues with stripes of gold wearing only body paint and nothing else as they wandered through the crowd. And men in tiny gold bikinis with incredible bodies served food and drinks. The techno music was deafening as people danced and writhed on the Lucite floor. The entire party was decorated to look as though it were underwater. They served sushi and exotic seafood, and every supermodel in Paris was there, along with movie stars, photographers, socialites, aristocracy and royalty, exquisite people, and the elite of the fashion world. And again everyone knew Fiona and greeted her. It was an incredible evening, but John was grateful when they left in less than an hour. Fiona had done her duty and was satisfied to leave, as they both leaned back against the seat in the limousine, relieved to have escaped the noise.
    “My God, that was quite a scene,” he said, unable to find words to comment on it. He was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland, or as though he had overdosed on LSD at lunch. He couldn't imagine spending a week doing this twice a year, but she seemed to thrive on it, and be unperturbed by the frenzy and turmoil. She smiled peacefully at him as they drove back to the Ritz under an incredibly beautiful Paris night sky.
    “The other parties this week won't be as exotic as this. Dior goes all out.” She knew they had spent three million dollars on the party they'd just left and much more on the show they'd seen that afternoon. The other houses were more circumspect, both in their budgets and their themes. This was quite an introduction for him, and as they approached the Place Vendôme, Fiona asked the driver to stop and turned to John. “Do you want to walk for a few minutes, or are you too tired?” She liked walking in Paris before she went home to bed, but it had been a long day for both of them, and jet lag was finally catching up with her.
    “I'd like that,” he said quietly, as she dismissed the car for the night, and they strolled slowly down the rue Castiglione to the Place Vendôme. Suddenly they felt like real people in a real world in the most beautiful city on the planet, and he was grateful for the exercise and the air. It seemed to restore some normalcy to the night after all the exotic things they'd experienced and seen. “I was beginning to feel like I was on drugs,” he admitted, as they walked into the square, and stopped to look in shop windows. He felt almost normal again, just tired.
    “Have you had enough of it?” Fiona asked, curious about the extent of his tolerance for her milieu.
    “Not yet. I'm fascinated, although today will be hard to top. I'm going to be disappointed, I think, if the other shows are anything less.”
    “Not less, just more restrained. You might enjoy them more. They're not as much sensory overload as Dior. That's their stock-in-trade.”
    “And yours?” he asked, as he tucked her hand in his arm and they walked on.
    “Maybe. I like the beautiful and the exotic, interesting people with talent and creative spirits. I think I've gotten spoiled. Sometimes I'm not sure what normal is anymore. This is all normal to me. I forget sometimes that other people lead simpler lives.”
    “You're going to be very bored if you leave all this one day, Fiona. Or maybe it will give you something exciting to write about.” But even after knowing her for such a short time, he could not imagine her doing anything other than what she was, with a flock of adoring minions revolving around her. It was heady air she breathed, and in the midst of it all, she was the queen bee, as powerful as any queen. He imagined it made it hard for her to ally with