hollywood billionaire

Chapter 579 Barbara's Daily Life in Paris
"Honestly, how are you feeling right now?"

Stepping out of the elevator and through the luxurious lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel George V, filled with vibrant orchids and classical sculptures, Barbara, holding Han Yi's hand, couldn't help but turn back and tease him.

Her gait was light and graceful, her spirits high, a stark contrast to the man beside her whose movements were noticeably stiff.

“I feel…” With each step Han Yi took, the muscles in his thighs and back were protesting intensely. “I might have misjudged the pain-relieving effect of adrenaline…”

“It’s more than just a misjudgment.” Barbara laughed heartily. “Where did that man who was so vigorous in the bathroom an hour ago go?”

"You have the nerve to say that." Han Yi gently squeezed her hand. "If someone hadn't looked so charming wrapped in a bath towel, I wouldn't have..."

"Oh, is it just that I look attractive wrapped in a towel?" Wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, Barbara wasn't afraid of being seen. She leaned close to her boyfriend's ear and breathed hot air. "I look attractive in anything. Oh, right, I still have four sets of lingerie I haven't shown you yet... If you want, we can go back and try them on for you one by one."

"Spare my life." Han Yi could only offer a helpless yet indulgent bitter smile. "This pain is like it's tearing me to pieces."

During that exhilarating morning training session, the mental stimulation from the memo and the sensory stimulation from Barbara allowed him to temporarily forget his physical fatigue. But now, as all the passion subsided, the belated muscle soreness was returning with overwhelming force, taking over every inch of his body once more.

Barbara chuckled and kissed him on the cheek: "Alright, alright, you gave up quickly... But seriously, are you okay now? Do you want to go back to your room and rest?"

"No need, I'm fine... I'll walk it off." Han Yi shook his head. "I still want to experience your Paris firsthand."

It goes without saying that the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons Hotel George V, which the two had booked, included breakfast. While the breakfast at George V may not be as famous as the Golden Palace breakfast at the Maurice Hotel across the street from the Tuileries Garden, which is endorsed by Alain Ducasse, its abundance and elegant dining environment remain an undisputed top-tier experience in Paris.

Enjoying breakfast under L'Orangerie's glass dome, accompanied by soft classical music, is an unforgettable experience. From freshly baked French pastries—croissants, chocolate bread, almond croissants—to freshly squeezed juices and champagne, from delicate French cold dishes to freshly cooked fried eggs, every item is exquisite.

But Barbara was clearly not interested in that.

Or rather, this goes against their travel plans for today.

“If you want to experience my Paris,” she said as she changed in the dressing room, “then don’t have breakfast at the hotel. That kind of luxury doesn’t belong to that Hungarian girl who stumbled into Paris.”

Han Yi, who didn't particularly like eating breakfast, readily agreed.

So at around 8:20, the two walked out of the hotel's revolving door hand in hand.

The Parisian morning in mid-December was chilly, but not biting. Han Yi wore a dark gray cashmere coat, while Barbara wore a camel-colored trench coat and a light-colored scarf. The two turned left and strolled leisurely along Avenue George V. Less than two hundred meters later, they arrived at one of the world's most famous avenues—the Champs-Élysées.

The Champs-Élysées at this moment is completely different from the bustling scene during the day.

At 8:30 a.m., Paris was just waking up. The luxury boutiques that were usually bustling with customers—Louis Vuitton, Cartier, Tiffany—were still closed, their windows displaying exquisite garments and jewelry, slumbering quietly in the still-dark light, like princesses awaiting a prince's kiss. The tall plane trees lining the streets had already shed most of their leaves, their golden and brown foliage carpeting the sidewalks, rustling softly in the breeze.

Tourists haven't yet taken over this place. The streets are sparsely populated, mostly with commuters rushing to work or locals just settling down for their first cup of coffee at a street-side café. The air is filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, mingled with the crisp chill of winter. The Arc de Triomphe in the distance appears and disappears in the mist, solemn and dignified. Occasionally, a few cars drive by, but there's none of the rush hour noise and congestion; everything seems calm and elegant.

In this fleeting moment of tranquility, there is a bustling spot that stands out from the crowd.

“Look.” Barbara pulled him and stopped in her tracks.

"That's it."

Han Yi followed her gaze.

It was a shop that wasn't large, but its decor was exquisite. The shop's name was written in gold letters on a pale green awning, and the window displayed colorful macarons, like delicate gems. Even from a distance, Han Yi could feel the elegant charm unique to French pastries.

Ladurie.

Ladurée.

This world-renowned chain dessert brand's flagship store in Paris was the breakfast destination Barbara chose for him.

"Welcome to my Paris, my first stop."

"You're eating something this greasy for breakfast?" Han Yi raised an eyebrow and asked.

"How could I possibly eat this for breakfast?" Barbara pouted. "I'm already a plus-size model, if I eat this, how am I supposed to make money?"

"Then why did you bring me here?"

“Because this is the first stop.” Barbara looked at him earnestly. “The first stop in the literal sense, the first restaurant I ate at in Paris, this is it.”

“My first trip to Paris was in 2009, also in winter, December… or November? Maybe January 2010, I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, I came to shoot Chanel’s 2010 Spring Beauty campaign. At that time, I had already accumulated enough experience and momentum in Asia, so I returned to Europe to seek more career development opportunities. My first job in Europe was shooting a spread for Italian Vogue, and my second job was with Chanel.”

"I was incredibly excited because... you know, it was Paris, every model's dream destination, every girl's dream destination. To me at the time, Budapest had nothing, while Paris had everything. There were beautiful houses, beautiful cars, beautiful clothes, and beautiful food. Macarons, these little and exquisite beauties, were the thing I most wanted to try when I came to Paris. After all, if you haven't eaten macarons here, how can you say you've been to Paris, right?"

While enthusiastically sharing her past with Han Yi, Barbara held his hand and led him through Ladurée's retail area toward the deepest counter.

The interior decor continues Ladurée's consistent style, with pale green walls, gold decorative lines, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and delicate small round tables and velvet chairs, while the air is filled with the aroma of butter, frosting, and coffee.

In the display case to the left of the cashier counter, all kinds of macarons are neatly arranged in the glass window, like a colorful little army—pink rose flavor, green pistachio flavor, brown chocolate flavor, purple violet flavor… each one exudes an enticing luster.

“Bonjour.” Barbara greeted the young female shop assistant in uniform behind the counter with a smile, then elegantly held up one index finger and said in French, “Un café chaud, s'il vous plat. Et un grand macaronà la pistache.”

The female shop assistant nodded politely, pressed a few buttons on the cash register, then looked up at Han Yi and asked in heavily accented French English, "And for you, monsieur?"

Han Yi hesitated for a moment.

His gaze swept over the colorful macarons, then fell on Barbara's expectant expression. To be honest, these incredibly sweet French desserts weren't his usual breakfast choice. If he had to choose, he'd prefer a latte with a simple croissant, or nothing at all.

But today is different.

Today is Barbara's Paris.

"Just like her," Han Yi said with a smile to the shop assistant.

Hearing this answer, Barbara's eyes crinkled, and she smiled exceptionally brightly. She knew very well that Han Yi had mentioned more than once that macarons were too sweet and excessively cloying for him.

More importantly, her boyfriend is extremely sensitive to bitterness. He can't eat chocolate because he can't taste anything other than its intense bitterness. He also needs milk and sugar in his coffee, otherwise he can hardly swallow it.

The reason he ordered the same things as her was entirely to experience her life. It was an attempt to step out of his comfort zone in order to enter her world.

"15.4 euros, thank you, cash or credit card?"

"Cash." Han Yi handed over twenty euros, then took the change and two cups of hot coffee, while Barbara was in charge of the half-open oil paper bag containing two large macarons.

"Have a pleasant day, both of you!"

"Thank you, you too!"

The waitress politely watched the two leave the shop, her professional smile instantly melting into barely suppressed excitement. She turned to a colleague beside her who was arranging boxes, lowered her voice, and asked urgently in French:
"Tu as vu? C'était bien Barbara Palvin, non?"

Her colleague's eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously, responding in a low voice in French, "Oui, c'est elle! Mon Dieu, qu'est-ce qu'elle est belle!"

Meanwhile, Barbara, who had already left the Ladurée shop, was completely unaware that the shop assistant had recognized her. Lost in her memories, she continued telling Han Yi the story of her first time buying macarons in Paris.

“Back then…” Barbara’s voice was tinged with nostalgia, “I had just finished shooting an ad in Place Vendôme—you know, in the studio at Chanel’s headquarters. We shot from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I was exhausted, but also incredibly excited.”

“The hotel I was staying at wasn’t even on the Champs-Élysées,” she continued, “but in the Marais district, a little further east, a very small and cheap hotel. I was young then, and had just arrived in Paris. Everyone told me that Paris wasn’t very safe. And a little girl alone in a foreign country would always be repeatedly told by her family to ‘be careful’ and ‘not wander off.’ So I was afraid to take the metro alone, even at three or four in the afternoon.”

“But I really, really want to try macarons.” Her eyes sparkled. “And I have to try them at the Ladurée flagship store on the Champs-Élysées. I think that’s the only way to be romantic and worthy of the significance of my first trip to Paris.”

"So guess what I did? I gritted my teeth, hailed a taxi in front of the Chanel office building, and took it straight here. I still remember the fare—eleven euros!"

"I spent a full eleven euros to travel here, and after hesitating in front of the counter for a long time, I finally ordered a coffee for 2.7 euros and a large pistachio macaron for 1.5 euros. I didn't order anything else, just these two things."

Barbara shook the paper bag in her hand, her tone relaxed.

"Back then, I would only earn a few hundred euros for a job, maybe seven or eight hundred for a better one, but never more than a thousand. And my career in Europe was just starting out. I would only get three or four jobs a month, sometimes even fewer."

“Although I had saved some money while working in Asia, it was all managed by my parents. I really wanted to make a lot of money—a lot of money—and buy a beautiful house for my whole family. So I tried to save every penny. At that time, I hadn’t been influenced by the extravagant atmosphere of Paris, and I was completely different from the extravagant me two years later… well, the me who met Madame Bettencourt in 2012.”

"So for you back then, this was an incredibly luxurious experience." Han Yi listened to her story with a gentle smile and gave timely feedback. "I can imagine how adorable you were at seventeen—you must have been sitting in a window seat in that shop, sipping your coffee and carefully savoring each macaron piece, afraid of finishing it too quickly."

“The emotions are right, but the situation is wrong.” Barbara smiled brightly. “At nineteen, I hated traveling alone, and at seventeen, I didn’t like eating alone either. Libras are social animals; they’re afraid of being alienated from people and afraid of loneliness. The thought of eating alone is terrifying; it makes me feel isolated and helpless.”

"So, I pretended to be calm, asked the shop assistant to pack up the macarons for me, acted like I was very busy, and walked briskly down the Champs-Élysées, eating as I went... Well, you should try it."

"Is it really okay?" Libras are afraid of being alone, and Scorpios are afraid of going too far. Han Yi hesitated, looked around, and asked, "Wouldn't that be impolite?"

"Is anyone watching you here?" Barbara spread her left hand, pointing it at the deserted street in front of her, and brought the paper bag a few inches closer to her boyfriend's mouth with her right hand. "Besides, eating macarons won't leave your mouth greasy or crumbs all over the ground, so no one will think you're being rude."

"It hasn't even crumbled yet?" Han Yi had just taken a bite when the crisp macaron shell started crumbling off. He couldn't avoid it; some crumbs fell to the ground, while others stuck to his cashmere coat.

"It's because your mouth is too small; it can't hold anything at all," Barbara mercilessly mocked her boyfriend.

While frantically brushing the crumbs off his coat, Han Yi raised an eyebrow upon hearing this.

"Oh, really?" He looked at her with feigned surprise. "My mouth is too small?"

"But I had it wrapped up just now—"

Without a second thought, Barbara threw a soft punch, landing it on his chest. "Say another word, and you're dead, sir."

Han Yi wisely made a zipper-zipping gesture and held it to his lips to indicate that he was going to shut up. Then he carefully took another small bite of the macaron, this time being smarter and catching it with his palm underneath, and sure enough, no crumbs fell out.

"Don't treat your boyfriend so roughly... Look, he can occasionally evolve in a certain area."

"I..." Barbara, who was trying hard to keep a straight face, broke down the next second. "Why can't I get angry with you? I really can't. I'm not a person who gets angry easily, but sometimes I do get angry at certain people or things. If I see or hear something I don't like, I will show it and vent it. But with you... I feel like I really can't."

"Because I'm like a marshmallow." Han Yi shamelessly showed Barbara his teeth. "Soft, sweet, and high in sugar. People love to eat them, and the sugar coating sticks to your mouth and the area around it, and you can't shake it off."

“Yes, that’s you.” Barbara sighed deliberately, her tone wistful. “I slept with you for one night, and then I couldn’t shake you off.”

"Do you really want to get rid of her?" Han Yi looked at her pitifully.

“Oh, Yi…” Barbara sighed, completely surrendering. She took a step forward, affectionately wrapped her arms around Han Yi’s arm, leaned half her weight on him, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I can’t resist.”

"How could I bear to get rid of you?" she whispered. "You are the treasure I finally won over."

After speaking, Barbara suddenly fell silent. She didn't stop walking, but her previously brisk pace slowed down, and her gaze fell on the hazy morning mist at the end of the Champs-Élysées, as if her thoughts had drifted far away.

"What's wrong?" Han Yi keenly noticed her change in mood and turned his head to ask.

“It’s nothing…” Barbara shook her head, and after a while she spoke, “I just suddenly remembered the days when I lived in Paris.”

Han Yi remained silent, simply waiting patiently. He knew that when Barbara spoke in this tone, she didn't need questions, but rather someone willing to listen.

“When I lived in Paris, many men pursued me.” Her voice was soft, as if she were talking to herself.

“I know, you told me that before.”

“There were so many, so many. As a young model, I… I don’t want to brag, but I was definitely a girl with an advantage in appearance. And girls like that always attract a lot of attention in this city. But… everyone I attracted was terrifying to me at the time.”

"horrible?"

“Yes, not the kind of football star who texts me and then immediately posts on Snapchat about partying with a bunch of hot girls, but a Hollywood celebrity on vacation in Paris looking for a one-night stand with a supermodel.” Barbara’s lips curled into a helpless smile. “At first, when I saw Hollywood stars sending me private messages, I would get a little nervous, a little expectant, wanting to see what they were going to say. I would tell myself, maybe they’re really nice people, maybe…”

She shook her head at this point.

“But every time I open my private messages, I find almost all of them are blatant flirting, and sometimes they’re not even flirting, they’re just…” Barbara imitated the tone of those frivolous men, “‘Damn, you’re so sexy,’ and then add ‘I’m having a party in Paris tonight, are you coming?’”

"So, during that time, I was somewhat disappointed with the men in this city. I seem like a very lively and outgoing person, but this overly unrestrained view of relationships didn't really suit my taste. Because no matter what, I come from a very small country and a very conservative family. Even if I enjoy making friends, those overly active social occasions would make me feel a bit tired."

“But as long as I’m in Paris, I have to attend all sorts of social events because my friends are there, and it would seem too unsociable if I didn’t go. But if I do go, I’ll get into a lot of trouble… You know what I mean? You have to be friendly and enthusiastic at all times, but you also have to be cautious and vigilant at all times. It’s really hard to do that.”

She looked up at Han Yi: "So, this is also a major reason why I later decided to move from Paris to London."

“Isn’t London a big city too?” Han Yi tilted his head and said, “And London’s fashion industry is also very developed… although not as developed as Paris, it is still quite developed.”

“But London feels different.” Barbara looked up and thought for a moment before answering. “It’s a very mysterious feeling… London feels very calm. The fashion there is also more avant-garde and cold, and the people who work and live there are generally much more distant than those in Paris. That’s the general environment, perhaps it’s the character of the country.”

“So, living in London gives me choices,” Barbara continued. “I can choose to tell my friends that I’m not really in the mood to go out today, or that I have other things to do. This is perfectly acceptable in London, and no one will think you’re being antisocial or disrespectful. It’s the same in New York—on Manhattan Island, everyone is busy all the time, and you have plenty of excuses to make. You don’t need to be active in social situations all the time.”

"But Paris is different."

"Because everyone thinks Paris is the city of romance, that France is synonymous with romantic encounters, and that something should happen in France. Everyone thinks Paris is a place of extravagance and debauchery, and that you should come here to enjoy yourself to the fullest, and that you should... you know."

Han Yi nodded thoughtfully, signaling her to continue.

“And…” Barbara took a deep breath, “In New York, rich men can hire Instagram models or private escorts. In London, they can hire football babes or Page 3 girls. But in Paris, everyone—I mean all those rich and powerful men—the first thing that comes to mind is, ‘I’m in the heart of the fashion world, and if I can’t find a supermodel to sleep with, that would be beneath me.’”

There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"So in Paris, models receive the most of these kinds of offers, even if we're not necessarily prettier than football babes. To be honest, the vast majority of models are very thin, many to the point of being unhealthy. But that doesn't matter, because it has nothing to do with sex or women themselves."

"It's a man's desire to conquer. What they want isn't a beautiful woman, but a trophy to show off. 'Look, I slept with a supermodel who appeared in Vogue'—that's what they really want."

"I won't." Han Yi looked at her firmly. "Even if we weren't in a romantic relationship, or even if I had never met you, I wouldn't send private messages to every model in the city just to sleep with them."

“Yeah, right,” Barbara scoffed, teasingly adding, “because that’s the kind of thing you only do in Ibiza.”

“No, what happened on Ibiza wasn’t just an ordinary romantic encounter.” Han Yi held up his index finger, his expression unusually serious and earnest when he talked about this topic. “I know it sounds cliché, but those things happened because it was you.”

“I may be attracted to your appearance, or impressed by your achievements, but that’s not why I like you. What I like is you as a person, a real person with flesh and blood, not a few empty titles.”

“It’s a very small circle, so I’m sure you can’t hide anything from me. You know I’ve never had any dealings with any of these supermodels, I’ve barely even spoken to them. Taylor Hill? Hailey Baldwin? They approached me, but got nothing in return, I didn’t even give them my phone number.”

“I know.” Barbara’s tone softened when she talked about the topic, just like the sparkle in her eyes. “I have never actively ‘searched’ for you in the industry, but my good friends have.”

"Stella?"

“Stella,” Barbara nodded in response, “She saw how you treated Taylor and Hailey, but she still feels insecure because…”

Barbara really didn't want to mention those three names anymore, so she abruptly cut the conversation in half and started a new line.

"She's the kind of girl who would do everything she could to take care of me, no matter what. Ah, maybe I shouldn't tell you so much about Stella; maybe you'll dislike her because of it..."

"How could that be?" Han Yi frowned, then laughed, "What's so bad about friends looking out for each other? Besides..."

Moreover, a man like me is someone who deserves to be wary of.

Han Yi meant that he should be wary of billionaires with mysterious backgrounds like himself, but he swallowed his words back.

Because he realized that there was another way to interpret this sentence.

What interpretation method is used?
A man like him, who gets cornered in a suite by four girls and forced to play truth-or-dare mahjong, is definitely someone to be wary of.

What information about me did she find in her circle?

“We found nothing. And that’s the most comforting thing, isn’t it?” Barbara patted Han Yi’s arm, her tone light and gentle. “Nobody knows who you are, and nobody has spoken to you. Um, except for Taylor and Hailey, but they were the ones who threw themselves at you.”

“See?” Han Yi shrugged, quite smugly. “I’ve never been interested in that part of life… not because I’ve never been here before, no. If I wanted to hook up with models, I could have plenty of opportunities in Los Angeles and New York. You know, I’m not bragging, but if I wanted that kind of life, I could definitely have a lot of good options… after all, someone like Jho Low managed to get Miranda Kerr, so he’s no better than me in any way, right?”

"If you want to hook up with models..."

Barbara narrowed her eyes slightly.

Who are your candidates?

“Let me think… Kate Upton, Nina Agdal, and of course, Candice Swannepool…”

Han Yi solemnly counted on his fingers, then grabbed his girlfriend's wrist before her fist landed on his chest, and changed his tune with a grin.

"None of the names I've mentioned can compare to you. In my mind, none of them even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as you. There are thousands of supermodels, but there's only one Barbara Pavin."

"Luckily you braked quickly, or it would have been terrible." Barbara hummed contentedly through her nose. Although her boyfriend's sweet words were exaggerated, these were the kinds of things a girl in love loved to hear. "No kidding, you're a good person, I admit that. You're completely different from most players in this city. This is... this is what I wanted."

She tucked a strand of hair that had been blown by the cold wind behind her ears, paused for a moment, and then continued.

"Although I don't like the overly lively and frivolous social scenes in Paris, I have to admit that Paris... is truly a city where romance runs deep."

“You can feel that atmosphere everywhere you go here.”

"For example, you might walk down the street and see an elderly couple sitting side by side on a bench by the Seine, saying nothing and just quietly watching the water flow. Or you might pass by a flower shop on a street corner and see the owner carefully pruning a bunch of roses, his focused expression as if he were creating a work of art."

"And another thing, when you go to the market to buy vegetables, the cheese vendors will earnestly introduce the origin and flavor of each type of cheese to you, as if they are not selling food, but sharing a lifestyle. Or when you sit down in a street-side café, you will see the French people next to you sitting for an hour over a cup of coffee, reading newspapers, watching passersby, doing nothing, just sitting there leisurely."

"This feeling... is like everyone in this city is reminding you that life shouldn't just be about rushing around, but about slowing down and appreciating the beautiful moments. This atmosphere always makes you feel like you want to fall head over heels in love."

At this point, Barbara's voice became even softer.

"And you know what? Living in a metropolis like this, you always crave a partner. That feeling is especially strong, particularly when you're walking in the Luxembourg Gardens at dusk and see couples cuddling together watching the sunset. Or when you've finished filming an ad at night and are driving past a small restaurant in Montmartre, you see couples smiling at each other by candlelight through the window..."

"Back then, I really longed for a caring and warm boyfriend to live with. It didn't need to be anything grand, just something simple: going to the market together to buy groceries, picking out the freshest tomatoes and the most fragrant basil. Cooking together at home—he chopping vegetables and I making soup, or vice versa. Then sitting at the table eating together, chatting about the funny things that happened at work that day. After dinner, washing the dishes together, taking a walk along the Seine, not saying a word, just holding hands and walking..."

"So now..." Han Yi asked softly, "have you fulfilled your wish?"

“Of course.” Barbara gave her boyfriend an incredibly charming smile.

"This is the moment my dream has come true."

“Then, Miss Barbara.” The winter sun was still hidden behind the clouds and mist, so Han Yi’s outstretched hand and his magnetic voice were the two warmest things Barbara could feel at that moment. “For the next few days, I belong to you. For the rest of today, please show me the daily life of young Barbara in Paris, and at the same time… help that Barbara fulfill her wish.”

"You have a boyfriend now, a boyfriend who will do whatever you want and obey you the only way."

"Now, what do you want to do with him?"

(End of this chapter)