Zephyr: (n.) a gentle, mild breeze. It does not disrupt, nor cause chaos, it merely brings a pleasant sensation on a warm summer day.

Chapter 1

Erik Destler was a private man. He was also cold and cynical, as well as he was lonely and heartbroken. The latter two I was not aware of until I came to know the man. Monsieur Destler lived in a countryside home, far from the bustling city of Paris. He lived there alone, with no one but his staff for company. Or so people believed. The man was also in possession of a fortune. His name was praised among businesses, as he invested in many. Erik Destler was also a patron of the arts. He supported a number of art galleries, as well as the renowned Paris National Opera company. No one knew for sure the true story of the wealthy man of mystery. That did not stop them from speculating about the man or his past.

There were so many different stories about the man. Some were so absurd that you knew they couldn't be true, like the one about him being a vampire. Those people swore he was a creature of the night, stalking the innocent and drinking their blood. Others were plausible and could easily have been the truth, such as the tragic love story. Those who spoke about it said that he had once been married to a beautiful opera singer. The two had been madly in love upon first meeting and married a month after. They lived in wedded bliss for years until she mysteriously died. That is where the story branched. Some said she died when their original home burned to the ground. Others believed she died giving birth to their only son. Another version said she left their child with him and eloped with one of his business partners.

These stories I heard from those that frequented the boutique I worked at as a seamstress. They talked endlessly about anyone who was filthy rich, such as Erik Destler. Of course I heard about other men, but this mysterious man seemed to always steal the show. As I took measurements or as I assisted women into a dress, they'd speak with who ever came with them. If nobody came with them, then they'd simply divulge these tales to me. One after the other, a never ending story with different endings each time. All of them tragic or demeaning.

It made me sick and for the longest time, I dreaded the mere mention of the man Erik Destler. I could barely stand to work when those women would argue about who's version was right. Had I known that I would become part of his story, I would have ended my miserable existence then. If only to spare myself from finding out the truth. It would have been nice, though, to be able to tell all those women that I knew the real story. To shove it in their faces that they were all wrong, or even to say that one of them was right. The looks on their faces would have been worth it.

Our paths crossing was not expected and I did not even know it was him at first. We met one evening in the second week of January. It was late and I was heading home from a long day in the boutique. Ladies were already placing orders for the spring gala season and the store had been full. At times, the store had been overflowing. Madame Larousse, my employer, had even considered staying open an hour later. The rush of patrons ended, much to our surprise, and we closed at a normal hour. As I was leaving, Madame Larousse called out to me. "Be here early in the morning, Vivienne. Or I'll dock your pay. Tomorrow will likely be as busy as today. Perhaps even more so."

My feet ached and I planned to go straight to bed when I arrived home. Though, I was sure my mother would make me bathe and change into night clothes before doing so. Mother came from a wealthy family, but married into a poor one. The propriety and etiquette she learned was not forgotten and she passed it on to me and my younger sister. Julianna and I had to be the proper young ladies our mother expected us to be. We listened to her, of course, iff only to make our mother happy. Not that she wasn't happy already. My mother was always joyous and we wanted her to stay that way.

Julianna was younger than me by five years, at fifteen years of age. Her hair was the same as mine, blonde and straight as a line. She shared eye color with our father, a misty green, while I shared the color of our mother's, a deep blue. Our noses were different as well. Mine was small and straight, like our father's nose. Julianna's was slightly larger and rounded, resembling the nose of our mother's father. We shared high-cheekbones and long, curled eyelashes. Her jaw was angled, something for which I was jealous. My jaw curved and I swore it made me look plumper. I believed her to be prettier, out of the two of us despite looking so similar.

As I was walking and thinking about how cozy my bed would feel, I failed to pay attention to where I was going. The Paris streets were easy to navigate when you were paying attention. My tired and wandering mind had seemingly forgotten this until it was too late. When I looked around me after stopping under a lamp post, I found myself wondering where I had wandered. These buildings and such were unfamiliar to me. I could have gone back the way I came, but I feared I would only get myself more lost. Looking around, I tried to make sense of where I was. While doing so, I failed to notice the solitary figure approaching from my right.

Wringing my hands together worriedly, I studied my surroundings. I needed to identify something, anything that would point me in the right direction. It was cold and looked as if it were going to snow, not the ideal weather I wanted to be wandering in. As I turned to the right, I shrieked at the sight of the person that was just reaching me. The person was tall and wore a heavy black winter cloak and a wide-brimmed fedora. A thick scarf hung from their neck. They stopped at the sound of my terrified cry, glancing up from underneath the hat. A pair of mismatched eyes, one bright blue and the other laurel green, met mine. The rest of their face was unable to be seen, as it was cast into shadow by the fedora.

"I am so sorry if I startled you." I apologized. "You surprised me and I happen to have lost my way."

"All is forgiven." I was drawn back by the melodious male voice that emanated from the figure. It was beautiful, however brief his words had been. He tipped his hat and continued on by me. As he stepped out of the light of the lamp I stood beneath, I realized that he could probably help me find my way home.

"Monsieur, please wait!" I called out. The man stopped and turned back around, those mixed eyes peering at me once again. "Could you point me in the direction of Saint Hyacinth Street? Like I said before, I have lost my way." He did not answer for some time and I worried that he did not appreciate being asked for directions. I opened my mouth to tell him that I'd find it on my own, but he finally spoke.

"Come along, mademoiselle." He didn't even seem to be moving his mouth when he spoke. Did he even have a mouth at all? "I will walk by there on the way to my carriage. Besides, it is not safe for a young lady to be wandering around in the dark alone."

"Oh thank you, monsieur!" I felt so relieved that he was helping me. Who knew if I would have found my way back alone? Lifting my skirts, I walked out of the light and followed him when he started on his way. "You do not know how much I appreciate you doing this. If there is any way, I can thank you..."

"No thanks are needed." he interrupted sharply. Closing my mouth, I hoped I hadn't offended him by offering something in return for his help. I didn't see how I could have offended him by doing so. The man did not say anything more and I decided that I may make things worse by speaking again, so I remained silent. Best not to upset this kind gentleman a second time.

We had yet to arrive at any street I recognized when it started to snow. I groaned silently to myself, having known that this would happen. My cloak was not as thick as it had once been and did little to keep out the chill. It did not help that the snow falling was thick and melted against what warmth surrounded me. The further we walked in the snow, the more I started shivering. It wasn't until my teeth started chattering that the man stopped. He turned around and took one large step so that he stood in front of me. I looked up at him, hoping to see any other facial feature than his eyes. His scarf and the shadow cast from his hat still obscured them. An unfamiliar weight was placed on my shoulders and it took me a moment to realize he had placed his cloak around them.

"Th-th-thank-k-k you." I said through my chattering. He nodded and turned back around, continuing down the sidewalk. His cloak was warm and blocked out the cold. Pulling it tighter around me, I walked faster to keep up with him. With his cloak gone, I noted that he was wearing a very nice coat as well as dress pants. I hoped he didn't mind the cold or getting those nice clothes wet. I wondered what kind of occasion he had attended in those clothes.

Eventually, we came to my street and it was time to part. Removing the cloak from my shoulders, I handed it to him only to have him push it back towards me. "Keep it. You need it far more than me."

"Oh, I couldn't, monsieur." I argued, holding it out once more. "You've already helped me without asking for something in return. I am nearly home and there will be a fire waiting for me when I arrive there."

The man sighed audibly and seemed to be fighting with himself about arguing back. I stood there, holding his cloak and waiting for him to respond. When I pushed it closer to him, he spoke. "Mademoiselle, I will ask something of you if you promise to keep the cloak."

Mulling over his offer, I guessed it was better than nothing. "What do you want?"

"It is simple." he answered. "I wish to know your name."

"That is hardly anything!"

"Ah, but you asked what I wanted, mademoiselle, and that is what I want." The man was surely smirking behind his scarf. Why hadn't I expected him to ask for something so stupidly simple? I couldn't back out now.

"I am Vivienne Clerisseau." I swung his cloak, which I guess was mine now, around my shoulders. "Thank you for assisting me find my way and for the cloak."

The man took a sweeping bow and spoke as he did so. "You're quite welcome, Mademoiselle Clerisseau." He stood back up to his normal height, tipping his hat at me once more. "Good evening." With that, he strode off into the night. I watched as he disappeared down the sidewalk in a flurry of snow. Turning to head home, I realized that I had not caught his name.I knew I would not likely see him again, as this city is so large and you rarely see a stranger twice. Not to mention, I only met him because I got lost. Shrugging in defeat, I hurried home so I could pass out in my warm bed.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Leave some love in the reviews!