Tiara's POV
After about an hour from the airport, we finally arrived at Montmartre. But the place where the car stopped made my brows furrowed in confusion.
It was a small and old street, the French buildings were suited on either side, covering the street. The street ran in its predictable grid pattern and the lights of a store and the restaurant in a corner shined neon into the day.
But... there was no hotel around. Are we staying in a motel?
Without bothering me, Dylan who was sitting quietly just climbed down from the car and walked to the man who brought us here. Something is fishy. I should get off from this car and investigate this case. When I came out of the car, the driver wad done unloading our luggage. What the hell?
The driver bowed us politely before he climbed back into the car and lost insight within the next second. Fuck! Where on earth is he going? He can't leave us here.
