“Mr. Romanov!” A manager appears from the back, cutting off the sales associate mid-sentence. The woman’s expressionshifts instantly, her eyes widening in recognition before she smooths her features back into professional neutrality.
The manager extends his hand. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”
I shake his hand briefly. “I need a black Birkin 40.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. We have one set aside.” He turns to the saleswoman. “Anaïs, retrieve the black Birkin from the VIP storage.”
The woman disappears without a word.
She returns moments later, carrying it with care and lays it on the counter, black with gold hardware, the exact one I watched Zoya stare at for four minutes straight.
“The Birkin 40 is the largest size we offer, very roomy, perfect for…”
“I’ll take it.”
“Wonderful choice.” The manager steps in smoothly. “Let me process this for you personally.”
I open the duffel bag and begin placing stacks of hundred euro bills inside the Birkin while he watches. His composure doesn’t crack, but the saleswoman’s eyes widen slightly before she glances away.
“That’s quite a generous gift, sir,” the manager says.
“She’s worth it.”
“I’m certain she’ll be delighted,” he adds, finishing the transaction. “Would you like the box and dust bag?”
“Yes. I want it to look perfect.”
“What a thoughtful gesture.” He completes the wrapping with a decorative bow. “She’s going to be over the moon.”
“Thank you for your help.”
My next stop is the florist, a couple of stores over. The woman behind the counter notices me entering.
“Good afternoon,” she greets enthusiastically, getting out from behind the counter. “What can I get for you?”
“I want a bouquet of red roses,” I answer. “Nothing but your best.”
“Coming right up.” She moves to gather them, a spring in her steps. “What’s the occasion?”
“A date.”
She grins. “That’s sweet. What else do you need?”
“Do you have lily of the valley?”
“Yes!” She wheels around, an impressed look on her face. “Not many people ask for it, but it’s gorgeous.”
“Add some to my order.” I drop what’s left of the cash in front of her. “Also, turn this into a bouquet.”
She peers at the bills and pauses. “You want flowers made from cash?”
“Yes. Can you fold them into roses? Make it look elegant?”
She loses her composure for a moment, then pulls it back. “I’ve made cash bouquets for events, but nothing this big. I’ll need an hour. Will that work?”
“That’s perfect. Take your time. I want it to look beautiful.”
“I’ll make it stunning for you, sir.”