The Scarlet Night (Rose Gold Book 0)

by Nicole French

  It was just her bad luck she ran into me.

  “Then, why?” Nina asked. “Why did you even bother?”

  Another lock of blonde fell over her face. I tucked it behind her ear, then stroked the edge of her jaw. “Look at you. Who in the hell would say no to this?”

  I kissed her again. Gently. When I pulled away, Nina’s eyes were shining and wet. A single tear welled from one and tracked down her cheek. The ice had melted a little, and I was right. It broke my damn heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have—but I saw you—and I—”

  “I know,” I interrupted. “Believe me, doll. I know.”

  “In another life…oh, God, Matthew. I really would—”

  “Shhhh.”

  I pulled her close and wove my fingers into her hair, urging her to nuzzle my shoulder. I couldn’t look at her like this. Couldn’t fucking bear the despair written so clearly across those crystalline features. Shit, if I wasn’t careful, I’d be crying right along with her, then on my knees, begging her to stay.

  We couldn’t have that. She couldn’t have that.

  I glanced out the window, where the beginnings of dawn were starting to glimmer over Brooklyn. I swallowed and looked away. I didn’t want to think about the fact that we were coming to the end of what had to be the best night of my life. I’d go back across the river, to where I belonged. And she’d go…somewhere.

  It wasn’t just the sex. I mean, it was. Even lying here, exhausted and depleted, I still wanted her as badly as I had in the bar. Her hair was tangled, skin blotchy from my attentions. She looked as worn out as I was, but somehow, even more beautiful.

  But yeah, it wasn’t just the sex. It was every conversation in between. It was the way she felt when I held her. The twinkle in her eye when she laughed at one of my stupid jokes. Her quiet wit when she thought I wasn’t listening.

  There was so much more to this woman than I could ever discover in one night. I needed to memorize these final moments. Do everything I could to capture this feeling. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again, but one thing was for sure: I went out looking for something missing in my life, and I had found it. Maybe it wouldn’t last with her, but I wasn’t going to settle for anything less. Not ever again.

  We lay there for a while longer, and eventually, Nina’s eyes drooped shut. Her lashes cast shadows just below her eyes, and her mouth fell open slightly.

  God, she was so beautiful. Relaxed. Perfect.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” I wondered as I gazed at her sleeping face. “Or is that just a story old men tell at the ends of their lives when they wish they’d lived them better?”

  I stroked her sleeping face. She shifted, then nuzzled my palm.

  “Not until tonight,” she hummed. “Until I saw you.”

  I stared for a long time. Fuck. She was asleep, right? Or had she heard me? What the fuck was I jawing on about anyway? Love at first sight?

  And yet, the words seemed like the truest thing I had ever known. Of course that’s what this was. My grandparents said they’d experienced it too. Saw each other in the halls of their high school, and were inseparable from that moment on.

  But their luck was good, even if they didn’t get to spend ALL their lives together. They had years and years. I didn’t even have a whole day.

  My chest hurt. My eyes burned.

  I was pretty sure I had just met the love of my damn life, and soon I’d have to kiss her goodbye forever.

  A few hours later, the bright rays of morning shone through the suite. It was winter, but the sky was blue. New York was awash with light bouncing off the glass sides of skyscrapers, the rippling waters of the rivers that surrounded the island.

  Beside me, Nina still slept, an angel surrounded in light. I hadn’t slept. Instead, I’d watched her, mulled over what had happened, and decided that no matter what, this couldn’t be it. She might say no, but whatever her situation, it wasn’t worth losing this. Call me a home-wrecker. Call me a cad. But what had happened last night was nothing short of a miracle. Nina Astor was worth fighting for. We were worth fighting for. I just had to convince her of that too.

  Before I could say anything, the buzz of a phone sounded from the armchair in the corner. Where Nina’s clothes and purse lay.

  She pushed up from the bed, her face crinkled with sleep. She had two marks from the pillow on one cheek. “Is that…”

  “Leave it,” I said. “They can wait.”

  But apparently they couldn’t. When Nina glanced at the bedside clock—ten o’clock—she immediately pushed back the covers, clasped the nearest piece of clothing around her (which happened to be my shirt), and made a grab for her purse.

  “Hello?”

  I lay back on the bed, admiring how long her legs looked from below the hem of my shirt. Yet another sight I could happily get used to. Fuck, I was exhausted, but I could go a sixth round if she just bent over…

  “She what?”

  Okay, definitely not. I sat up, letting the sheets pool around my waist. Nina turned, and I enjoyed the way her gaze flickered appreciatively over my bare chest. Good. It was nice to know she was as pleased with what she got in the morning as I was.

  But then her gaze morphed to shock as she sank into the armchair. “No, no. Tony, no, that’s impossible. Not with Er—” She cut herself off with a quick glance at me, then shut her mouth into a firm, straight line.

  I sat forward. “Nina, what’s going on?”

  She waved her hand at me to be quiet, turning her back as she stood up and walked to one of the windows.

  “That’s crazy. Tell me you’re not letting her go. Tell her she needs to come right back here as soon as you can refuel…because he’ll be insane with worry, that’s why!…Tony, no. Please listen. I understand she is your employer, but she is not making good decisions…well, surely you can override them if it’s for her own safety!”

  I braced my arms over my knees, listening. Whoever Nina was talking about sounded like a basket case, and Tony, whoever he was, had obviously fucked up.

  “Fine,” Nina said with a sharp tone that was as knife-edged as any of my sister’s retorts. It was amazing how some women could do that—turn one innocuous word into a weapon. I hadn’t really thought Nina the type, but suddenly a lioness was pacing the room in place of the Angora house cat.

  I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  “I’ll visit him today,” she snapped. “But I can’t make any promises for your job once I tell him.”

  And without waiting for a reply, she ended the call before turning to me. Anger was written all over her face. The kind that, under the right circumstances, I could help her work out in more…productive ways.

  But before I could suggest exactly that, she collapsed into the armchair and buried her face in her hands. “Oh. Oh…”

  I jumped out of the bed and pulled on my underwear before moving to sit in front of her on an ottoman.

  “Shit,” I said. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘shit.’ Or ‘fuck,’ if you’re me.”

  She looked up, half-annoyed, but a hint of a smile appeared. “I know how to swear, Matthew. I just choose not to most of the time.”

  I tipped my head. “Prove it.”

  But she wasn’t in the mood to play. All the levity of the night before was gone.

  “Hey.” I took her hands and cradled them both between my palms, massaging them slightly.

  Nina gave a long, low sigh. “Oh, Matthew,” she said softly. “What am I going to do?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened? You never know. Maybe I can help.”

  She watched me for a moment. “It’s my cousin’s wife. The one I told you about. She’s—well, she's done something very unwise. And he’s not available to deal with it, so I have to.”

  I tipped my head. “Seems a bit unfair. You shouldn’t have to clean up everyone’s messes.” I didn’t know Nina’s life. She’d barely shared any of i
t with me. But this seemed a little unwarranted.

  Instead of arguing with me, she pressed a brief kiss to my forehead and then stood up. “I have to go. It’s a mess, too much to get into now. But I…”

  She drew a hand through my hair, then dropped her thumb over my mouth. I immediately bit it. She smiled again, but not without regret.

  I could have begged her right then.

  Instead, I saw an opening.

  “Give me five minutes,” I said. “Enough for a quick shower, all right? Get dressed, and then I’ll walk out with you. We’ll get a coffee. You can tell me what happened. I’m pretty damn good at figuring shit out, you know. It’s sort of my job.”

  She opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but in the end, she relented. “All right.”

  I stood up and kissed her. She sighed with a low mewl. Fuck, I was hard all over again, but this was clearly not the time.

  “Five minutes,” I assured her again, then jogged into the bathroom.

  As promised, I emerged five minutes later still toweling my hair, but fully dressed with the exception of my button-down and vest.

  “You ready, doll?” I called out as I scooped the shirt off the chair where it had been laid out neatly along with my vest and tie.

  She wasn’t in the bedroom. I assumed she was waiting in one of the other rooms of the suite.

  I tucked in my shirt, then shoved the tie into my pocket before putting on my vest. I strode into the living room, looking for my trench coat.

  “Nina?”

  There was nothing. No answer. I was the only person in the suite.

  I ran back to the bedroom to see if she had left anything. A note. A number. Anything that might indicate she had been feeling the same thing I had. That the flash of hope I had seen in her eyes only minutes before hadn’t been an illusion.

  But the only thing I found was a crushed red rose in the center of the bed, its shriveled petals scattered in the sheets. The final remnant of a scarlet-colored night that was now just a memory.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “Fuck.”

  I dashed to the picture windows, gazing down at the street. If she had left a few minutes before, maybe she was just leaving. Maybe…maybe I could catch her.

  But from this high up, most of the faces on the sidewalk were blurry. I watched anyway as a woman in a light gray coat paused on the corner. Her blonde hair gleamed in spite of the fog, a new sun to light up the street. She was carrying a bouquet of crimson roses.

  Nina.

  It was too late to run down and catch her, especially when a big black car with an unreadable plate pulled to the curb next to her. But then she looked up and clearly saw me standing in the window. Her hand raised. A hail? A farewell? I couldn’t tell. I was frozen in place, watching morbidly as a woman who changed my life got into the back of the car and disappeared forever.

  I turned away and surveyed the rooms that still seemed haunted by the ghosts of our night. Bright red passion, the kind that imprinted itself onto its surroundings.

  Forever?

  No. Fuck that.

  As sad as I was that Nina Astor had just walked out of my life, I had a few tools at my disposal. I knew how to find people who didn’t want to be found.

  Nina Astor had said one night, but that wasn’t good enough for me.

  We didn’t just deserve one night.

  We deserved a lifetime.

  And I wasn’t ready to give that up without a fight.

  Thank you for reading The Scarlet Night, the prequel to the Rose Gold Trilogy. The Other Man, the first full-length book of Nina and Matthew’s story, is available for preorder now on all platforms. Get it for a special preorder discount here.

  While you wait, check out Jane and Eric’s story, The Hate Vow. An estranged heir must marry to keep his fortune. The only problem? She can’t stand him. Start reading here.

  Binge the world of Nicole French from the beginning, and meet Matthew Zola for the first time in Legally Yours. It’s love at first sight for a Boston tycoon, but his overbearing ways make the girl of his dreams run the other way. Start reading here.

  Acknowledgments

  I’ve been waiting to write Matthew Zola’s story for years, ever since he first popped up in Legally Yours, and various readers said, “Oohhhhh, who is THAT guy?” Obviously this is just the first tiny taste of ALL the feels to come, but first and foremost, I have to thank those readers for waiting and waiting to hear from him. We’ve all known that Zola had a story to tell. I’m excited to get it out there.

  In particular, I have to thank the wonder ladies (and a few gents) of my reader group, La Merde. You are all such a joy, and the pleasure you take in my characters always makes me eager to share them with you every Wednesday. Thank you so much!

  To my alpha and beta readers—Patricia, Danielle, Natalie, Erika, Dawn, Rebecca, and Grahame. This was a short one, but I was still nervous. Thank you so much for all your amazing and enthusiastic feedback. In particularly, thanks to Danielle as well for organizing my ARC group and simply being there.

  To my editor and proofreader, Emily Hainsworth and Judy Zweifel. Your eagle eyes are ever-appreciated.

  To my publicist, Dani Sanchez, who is constantly listening to me throw a million ideas at her a day about new ways to do anything. She never shuts me down, and more than that, she saves me constantly. Thank you!

  To my other author friends whose constant support means the utter world: Jane, Laura, Kim, Claudia, Parker, Grahame, Rebecca, and many more. This author world is such an amazing place.

  And of course, to my husband, kids, and family. The Dude doesn’t realize it yet, but Matthew is pretty much his carbon copy. Thanks for the model, thank you for visiting the Bronx with me, and most of all, for your undying support.

  Also by Nicole French

  The Hate Vow

  (Jane and Eric’s story)

  Eric de Vries

  Looks like millions. Worth billions.

  Unfortunately for this wayward heir, to keep his money, he needs a wife.

  And of all the women in the world, he chooses me.

  Too bad I’ve hated him for five years, since he took all my tears and tossed me away.

  The guy slept his way through half of New England and discarded women like hotel toiletries.

  Been there. Done that.

  Still...what would you do for twenty million dollars?

  Would you wear the dress?

  Fake a smile for the man who broke your heart?

  Or would you run far, far away?

  Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  I’ll see you at the church.

  The Spitfire Series

  (Skylar and Brandon’s story)

  I had a plan.

  Finish law school. Start a job. Stay away from men like Brandon Sterling.

  Cocky, overbearing, and richer than the earth, he thinks the world belongs to him, and that includes me.

  Yeah, no. Think again.

  It doesn’t matter that his blue eyes look straight into my soul, or that his touch melts my icy reserve.

  It doesn’t even matter that past all that swagger, there’s a beautiful, damaged man who has so much to offer beyond private planes and jewelry boxes.

  But I had a plan: no falling in love.

  I just have to convince myself.

  Book I is available FREE: https://www.nicolefrenchromance.com/spitfire

  Broken Arrow

  (Nico’s story)

  They call me every name in the book, and every one is true.

  Violent. Criminal. Bad news.

  And if they’re lucky, I’ll take my anger out on a punching bag instead their faces. If they’re lucky.

  Then I meet her. Sophisticated. Successful.

  More culture in her finger than I have in my entire body.

  She says I have more to offer the world than my fists. She says I can pick my own direction instead of taking the one I’m given.

  But tell me, beautiful, how do yo
u do that, when you don’t know where to go?

  How do you find the right path when your compass is broken?

  Download Broken Arrow FREE here: bit.ly/BrokenArrowGiveaway

  About the Author

  Nicole French is a lifelong dreamer, low-key fashion addict, and total bookworm. When not writing fiction or secretly reading gossip columns, she is hanging out with her family or going on dates with her husband. In her spare time, she likes to go running or practice the piano, but never seems to do either one of these things as much as she should.

  For more information about Nicole French and to keep informed about upcoming releases, please:

  Visit her website at www.nicolefrenchromance.com/.

  Check out Nicole’s Goodreads page: www.goodreads.com/authornicolefrench

  Want to hook up with other Nicole French readers or interact with the author? Join Nicole’s reader group, La Merde.