Midnight in Montmartre: A French Kiss Sweet Romance

by Chloe Emile

  "You two do look alike."

  "Really?"

  "No doubt. You're almost twins, not identical of course, but look, the same eyes, the contours of the face, the hairline, even the amazing smiles—”

  Mia blushed. He thought her smile was amazing.

  And he had agreed that the woman could be related to her.

  She hadn't shown the commercial to her parents, fearing that they'd be hurt to know that she wanted to find her birth parents and possible siblings. Her best friends Anne and Christina in Seattle knew. They also agreed that the woman in the Fizz ad looked like Mia, but the resolution of the video was not the greatest since it was on the Internet. To see it on a big screen the size of an entire wall with crystal-clear images was a different story. She could practically see the woman's pores.

  "Mia, are you okay?" Luc asked.

  She turned to him. He looked concerned.

  Mia was feeling a bit faint. And her internal organs were probably tied into the shape of a bow.

  "Oh, yeah. It's just that she looks so much like me, that's really overwhelming."

  He took her hand and squeezed it. "It's okay. It must be quite a shock."

  At his warm touch, Mia began to relax. Luc had at least two interviewees in the waiting room right now, but helping her with this matter was more important to him. Not to mention that he was the owner of a successful company, and his time was precious. That indicated that he had more than a passing interest in her, didn't it?

  Then again, Luc had intercepted her mugging when he didn't know her at all. Luc was simply a man who cared about other people. It didn't mean that he had an agenda when it came to Mia. How did she know that a man of his caliber didn't have someone waiting for him at home? There was no ring on his finger, but it was likely that he had a girlfriend. Someone like him could take his pick.

  "Thanks for all your help," she said. "I better let you get back to your scheduled appointments."

  "No problem." Luc smiled his devastatingly heartbreaking smile. "I'll be sure to talk to my brother and his bandmates for you. I know they're on a tour right now, so I can't say that I'll be able to reach him right away. He goes kind of M.I.A. when he's on tour, but I'll try."

  "You've already done more than enough," Mia said, standing up. She looked down shyly. "About the job offer, I think I would like to apply."

  "Great, you're hired," Luc said without missing a beat. "I just need you to fill out an application so we can have it on file. In France, we love paperwork."

  "Wait, don't you have to think about it? Interview other people first?"

  He shrugged. "When opportunity knocks, I take advantage of it. I have a hunch when it comes to employees, and most of the time, I'm right."

  "I'm not so sure. You know I don't speak French at all, and you did say you have a lack of English-speaking employees here."

  "But I speak English," Luc argued.

  "Your receptionist doesn't."

  "It doesn't matter. You'll be taking French lessons, and we do have one other English-speaking employee. You know how I learned English? Being dropped into a semester of university in Utah after I barely scraped by my English exam to get into it. You pick up things fast when you're desperate."

  "You're right," Mia said. "And I'm not the kind of person who's afraid of a little humiliation."

  "I believe that." Luc laughed. "If you're not afraid of fighting a mugger in the middle of the night alone, what are you afraid of?"

  For a moment, Mia panicked. She knew what she was afraid of. Maybe working for Luc wasn't such a great idea after all. For one thing, she loved it when he laughed.

  Chapter 6

  When Mia left the office, Luc wondered whether he made a rash decision in hiring her on the spot. His partner Didier would've been more cautious, scrutinizing resumes and portfolios, checking references, and even going so far as background checks. Luc would have to pretend he had done all that when he told Didier about their new hire.

  He had a good feeling about her. Every once in a while, you had to go on a hunch. He had to admit that perhaps he'd been swayed by her on a personal level, too. As talented and efficient as his other employees were, none of them had made him smile in all these years of working for him as much as Mia had in the mere forty minutes they’d spent together that morning.

  She was special; anyone would've been able to see that if they spent five minutes with her. Mia was sharp and creative. She was nice, but he could tell she wouldn't stand for any crap. That was exactly the kind of employee he needed at his company.

  And her beauty was in a category of its own. Sure, there were some very attractive women in Paris, Beth Montaigne being the epitome of beauty, but he couldn't compare Mia to anyone else. She radiated confidence, comfort in being in her own skin.

  It was ironic that she didn't know where she came from and was searching for answers. The fact that she was adopted and was looking for her sister made him a little sad. He couldn't imagine being in a position like that, given that he had grown up in exactly the opposite way: surrounded by family members at every turn. There was some sort of birthday, anniversary, or other special celebration practically every week, not just with his immediate family but also with his grandparents, cousins, and the like. In short, he'd grown up in a crazy household, with plenty of siblings to spare.

  Mia was not the type to welcome pity, and he didn't patronize her, but he did want to do what he could to help her. Surely it was no coincidence that he'd met her last night, then today at the office. His company had made the commercial that had brought her across the world, and she was about to work for him.

  Was he starting to believe in fate? He didn't know, but he did feel responsible for her, for her happiness.

  He tried calling Mathieu several times, but each time, it went straight to voicemail. Mathieu’s phone didn't even ring; it must've been dead. He had probably forgotten to charge the phone or didn't even know where it was. Touring was exciting yet exhausting for Mathieu. The real world didn't exist when he was on tour. Luc expected his messages to go unanswered for some time, unless he got lucky.

  Luc called Les Slinks' manager, Jacque. He didn't pick up, either, but at least his phone rang. Luc left a message. Jacque was the responsible one. The other members of the band were hopeless, too, busy with drinking, girls, and god knows what else. Nonetheless, he tried the numbers of all four of them. The calls all went unanswered. They must've been rehearsing or doing TV or radio interviews. Their schedule was usually jam-packed when they traveled to different cities.

  By the time he finished interviewing three other candidates that morning, he only had time for a quick ten-minute lunch in his office, delicious takeout sushi. After interviewing a few more candidates, all terrible fits for his company, he finally had time to follow up on reading Mia's articles on the Seattle Life website, where a majority of her pieces were published.

  It didn't take long for him to discover how talented she was. She might have struggled with French, but she had a way with the English language. Her prose was both witty and intelligent.

  He was particularly touched by a profile she had written of a bipolar man and the struggles he faced. She wrote pieces on a variety of subjects, both serious and comedic, and her work showed great diversity. The one about the golf fanatic in Seattle who played rain or shine, even a few times during thunderstorms, made him laugh out loud.

  Yes, he had definitely made the right decision. Didier was going to agree when Luc showed him Mia's work. He was about to call Didier into his office to discuss their new English-speaking employee's contract when Jacque called them back.

  Luc explained that he wanted to get in touch with Mathieu.

  "What can I say, Luc? You know how your brother is. When he's not playing, he's a hermit on the bus, cranking out new songs. His life is music. If he's not performing, he's writing."

  Luc knew that too well. It was endearing half the time and incredibly annoying when Mathieu would still belt out c
onversations in song, a childhood habit. Growing up, Luc had thought Mathieu would have a career on either Broadway or MTV. It didn't surprise him that it was the latter, since Mathieu had taught himself how to play the guitar at thirteen.

  "I'm not with them at the moment," Jacque said. "I had to take care of some studio chaos with another band recording in Berlin."

  "Where are Les Slinks now?"

  "In Chicago."

  Les Slinks were promoting their new album, their first English-language album. They had a big following in France and in other Francophone countries with their French albums, but their English album was their way of going international. They were opening for the Strokes' U.S. tour, which was a big opportunity for them.

  "When are you rejoining them on the tour?" Luc asked. "And where?"

  "In Philadelphia next week," Jacque said. "If anything, Les Slinks are ending their tour at the end of this month, so he'll be back in Paris by then."

  "I know, but I prefer to get a hold of him as soon as possible."

  "I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything."

  "I understand. Hey, do you remember the Fizz commercial that they shot?"

  Luc asked him whether he remembered the girl in the audience, Mia's doppelgänger, and whether he or anyone in the band had talked to her.

  "I doubt it," Jacque said. "But why don't you email me her picture? I'll show the guys when I see them."

  "Okay. I will, thanks."

  Luc hung up. He was going to be a bloodhound and track down this woman in the video no matter what. He had a million things to do at the office, but the only thing that really mattered was helping Mia. She'd looked so luminous against the window's sunlight that morning. His mind drifted to the soft way she looked at him when she smiled, her full lashes grazing her cheeks when she looked down at her lap shyly.

  There was so much duality in that woman: tough and sweet, bold and shy. He wanted to get to know her more.

  "What's going on with you today?"

  A male voice startled Luc out of his reverie.

  "Oh, hi, Didier."

  Didier was looking at him with an amused expression. He wore round spectacles that reminded Luc of a wise owl and had dark hair that was never out of place. At thirty-eight, he had an air of scholarly intelligence, but beneath the professorial exterior was a man with sharp business sense and keen observation of human nature. He knew what made people tick and why they bought what they did. Together with Luc's creativity, LUX was the ad agency to watch in Paris.

  "Are you happy about something?" Didier asked.

  "No, why?" Luc asked innocently.

  "You're sitting there, staring into space, smiling."

  "Is it a crime to smile?"

  "And you've been humming all day. The employees are starting to talk."

  "Are they?"

  "They always talk. You have to admit you've been acting strangely. You're practically walking on a cloud. I've been waiting for you to break out in song."

  "Humming? I haven't noticed that I was doing that."

  "It's bizarre. I've never seen you so...so happy."

  Luc chuckled. "You say it like happiness is a bad thing."

  "It's not bad, just unusual. You're usually so serious at work, focused. Not that I'm accusing you of being inefficient. You seem to be doing your work at twice the speed. Whatever you're on, I want it."

  "It's nothing," Luc protested. "I'm just happy with the way work is going, that's all. I just really like my job sometimes."

  Didier scrutinized him with those perceptive dark eyes of his. "I like coming to work, too, but I don't do a jovial two-step into the office or dance on tables."

  "I don't either. This isn't a strip club."

  Didier slowly nodded in realization. "It's the Mademoiselle Montaigne campaign, isn't it? You got something big?"

  Mademoiselle Montaigne was the new sister lingerie label to Beth's family's famous Madame Montaigne brand. It was younger and edgier, and LUX had been working on coming up with the new label's big campaign for the past couple of weeks. Other agencies were pitching ideas, too, and Luc wanted to make sure that their idea was the one to be chosen. A big campaign like that could catapult LUX to the top.

  "Possibly," Luc said vaguely.

  Didier smiled knowingly. "Ah. Now I get it. Make the campaign a success and finally get the girl. If your campaign is approved, you'll be working with her closely."

  "Who?" Luc asked.

  "Beth. Of course."

  "Right."

  Didier raised an eyebrow. "No need to play dumb with me. I know you've been after Beth for a while."

  "Does everybody else in the office know, too?" Luc asked wryly.

  "Hey, no need to be defensive. I get it. Beth is the most beautiful woman in Paris. Possibly in the country. Heck, she could win Miss World. No one would blame you for trying to win over a woman like that."

  A woman like that, Luc thought. What did that even mean anymore?

  Chapter 7

  Luc was right. The company really should rent out another floor in the building. She had thought her cubicle at Seattle Life was small. Here, a cubicle would've been a sanctuary. At least the cushioned panels walled off distractions and gave some semblance of privacy.

  At LUX, there were three long tables in a spacious room, and each person carved out a space for him- or herself at a table. Mia wouldn't have minded, since she was a social creature, but her coworkers didn't exactly make her feel welcome. In fact, they all seemed to be giving her the stink eye.

  She didn't know whether it was an advantage or not that her table was flush against the wall. On one hand, there was no one giving her the stink eye across from her, but she was also isolated from the others since her back was turned to them. They could see her and what she was doing, and she couldn't see them unless she turned around.

  Her new coworkers were probably laughing at her elementary French. In fact, she was sure of it. She saw their faces twitch when she attempted to speak in their native tongue, and she would bet money that they broke out into laughter as soon as they were in the cafeteria. Mia was even sure that some of the employees understood her but pretended not to.

  Sarah had told her that at least four of the employees at the company spoke decent English, but they always spoke French to Mia, even when she started a conversation in English. It was just their way of gaining the upper hand.

  At least Mia had Sarah. She was from London, the only other native English speaker at the company. Sarah spoke fluent French, and the others seem to like her fine.

  "Don't worry," Sarah said. "It took me a year to raise my French to this level and earn their respect."

  "Are the French really that distrusting of foreigners?" Mia asked.

  Sarah thought about it. "Only ninety-nine percent of the time." She flashed a big smile. "Just kidding. It's big-city mentality in general. It's a competitive atmosphere, this field. When I was working in London, I wouldn't say it was all rainbows and sunshine either, but at least we had the language and culture in common. The challenge here is to work through those differences and ignore all the office drama."

  Sarah had naturally bright red hair and a charming gap between her front teeth. These quirks aside, she was dressed in somber neutrals like everybody else in the company. Mia supposed that was part of fitting in. She had a bright-pink cardigan on over a matching pink-and-white-striped dress. She certainly stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of navy and gray.

  Mia didn't even own anything in gray. It wasn't her color. Why were Parisians so averse to wearing color? Was it because they didn't want to compete with the beauty of the city?

  Sarah had already brought Mia up to speed as to what the team had come up with so far for the Mademoiselle Montaigne campaign. The copy was originally written in French, and Sarah translated it for Mia.

  "Montaigne recently hired Gigi Tom to be the face of the campaign," Sarah said.

  Mia gasped. "I love her!" Then she started to laugh. "Re
ally? Gigi? But she's actually cool."

  Gigi was a British supermodel who had been on top of the fashion industry for five years now. With her short, punky, platinum-blond hair and a fearless fashion sense that combined crazy vintage pieces with haute couture, Gigi had too much of an edge to be a lingerie model.

  "That's what I thought too when I first heard," Sarah said. "But Gigi's very versatile. She does commercial makeup campaigns, then she could turn around and do an avant-garde editorial for Vogue Italia. I think the Montaigne company wants their younger brand to be fun and edgy."

  "So Gigi's a good fit, then," Mia said.

  "Certainly. Madame Montaigne is classical and a bit stuffy. They're going with something different with the younger line, and they need a strong campaign to match so it doesn't get lost in Madame Montaigne's shadow."

  "So nothing's really up for muster so far, huh?" Mia said.

  "Everything has been rejected by Luc and Didier so far, as far as I know."

  "Good," Mia said. "Because some of these are quite terrible. They're not edgy. They're simply sleazy, not to mention just plain dumb."

  Sarah laughed. "Don't hold back, Mia. Tell me how you really feel." She looked behind her and used a lower voice. "But really, you're talking ninety percent of advertising. A lot of ad people think they're being creative and innovative, but I agree, most of the time, these ideas are just dumb. The thing is, if you want a campaign to appeal to millions of people, you can't be subtle. You don't want anyone to miss the point."

  "Sure, but I've seen some funny, unique ads in my time," Mia said. "I believe you can be creative and come up with something of quality while still appealing to a mass majority. I always like a little humor in ads. Those are the ones that usually stick with you."

  Sarah nodded. “That’s why Luc is trying to hire more foreigners, so we get a variety of ideas. Plus, the Montaigne company wants to expand to England and America, and the ads need to have an anglophone perspective."

  "The American lingerie companies aren't exactly known for being tasteful either," Mia said. “There’s a fine line between fun and sleazy when it comes to lingerie advertising."