Except for the angle, that is. The couple turned around to gaze at the cathedral then looked back at Amanda, grinning even more as they bobbed their heads excitedly and babbled in their language. The man gave her a thumbs up, delighted that Amanda understood exactly what they wanted: the perfect backdrop.
But the angle was wrong. Amanda walked up and down the bridge, hoping to get the perfect shot while the couple obligingly posed – but nope. She got the couple dab smack in the center of her sights, but sacrificed the view of the Notre Dame in the background. There was only one possible solution.
She had to cross the street. Not sure how much English they understood, she gestured for them to stay put then pointed to the other side of the road as she mimicked taking their picture. The couple understood and each gave her a thumbs up.
“Careful, hah?!” the Asian woman pleaded as she looked at the oncoming traffic, waving both hands at Amanda. “Please. Careful, hah? Ok?”
“I will,” Amanda said with a grin. Her good mood was back as she stepped onto the road and began weaving her way through the light traffic coming in both directions.
*****
Arnaud du Lac sighed as he sat in the backseat of his limo. Paris’ beautiful (if somewhat grimy) facades were lost on him as he gritted his teeth in impatience. He would have left his house a lot earlier, were it not for another one of Sophie’s temper tantrums over breakfast.
Scratch that. Not temper tantrum. It was her usual frosty tantrum made up more of silence than words. But a silence that cut and hurt, hitting their mark each and every time. And now he was late.
For anyone else, it wouldn’t have mattered. He was a du Lac, after all, non? And though he was now the citizen of a republic, his family name was still recorded in the Conseil du Sceau des Titres. Translated as the Seal of the Titles Council, this is the government organization that officially recognizes the noble status of all French nobility. This despite the fact that it also officially denies them all the rights and privileges that their ancestors once enjoyed as their birthright.
To make matters worse, Arnaud was to meet with an important group of American clients for whom things like an aristocratic heritage meant less than nothing. Doubly worse, he needed this deal. If it didn’t go through, he didn’t know where he’d come up with the... his phone rang,
“Oui?”
“Monsieur du Lac?”
“Yes, Marie,” he sighed again, knowing exactly why she was calling but hoping against hope that it was about something else. “Please tell me the Americans aren’t there yet.”
“They’ve just arrived, monsieur. Please tell me you’re close...”
“Aargh!”
“Ah. I see. Well, I’ve laid out the food and drinks, so that should buy you more time, monsieur. Especially since they seem more interested in looking at the pastries instead of eating them... well, except for one who looks like a beach ball with legs.”
Arnaud pressed the button which lowered the window separating him from his chauffeur. “Guillaume! Can’t you drive any faster!?”
“Of course, monsieur,” the driver replied. “Unfortunately, we’re stuck in...”
“There!” Arnaud pointed. “The light’s turned green! I’ll pay whatever traffic ticket they give us. And for the lawyer to bail you out, just in case. Just floor the damned thing, already!”
“Marie? We’re just fifteen minutes away... shut up, Guillaume and drive! Tell those Yanks I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, do you hear me? Fifteen!”
“Oui, monsieur,” Marie replied. “In fifteen minutes. See you then.”
*****
Meeting her assistant’s gaze, Marie said, “The bird is definitely heading south. But he’ll be on his best behavior while the Americans are here, so that should buy us time.”
The mousy, blond assistant gulped. “And if he’s more than fifteen minutes late, madame?” Her gaze shifted nervously between the older woman and the door to the conference room where the Americans were waiting.
“Then a lot of people had better start updating their resumes, Olivie,” Marie replied in her best deadpan expression. To herself, she added, including me, despite everything.
Aloud, Marie said, “So put on your best smile, undo those top buttons... you heard me! Good. Now we go back inside and do our best to keep those Americans happy till the bird arrives... whenever that’ll be. Oui?”
“Oui, madame,” Olivie mumbled dejectedly as she self-consciously started undoing the top buttons of her shirt. “I need this job, madame,” she said in a half sigh and a half sob, almost as if she were fighting back tears.
“Then undo more buttons and wipe that morose look off your face!”
“Oui, madame,” Olivie replied with more backbone as she followed Marie back into the conference room. For good measure, she even hoisted her skirt up higher to show more of her legs. As she did so, she regretted not wearing a shorter one. Perhaps it would even save her when the bird flew south today.
She doubted it, though.
*****
“Perfect!” Amanda gushed.
She’d just taken several picture perfect shots of the couple, complete with the Notre Dame and the Pont de la Tournelle Bridge in the background; but it wasn’t easy. Although she’d backed off far enough, the few cars whizzing between them forced her to time her shots carefully.
That matter taken care of, she made her way across the road to return the man’s camera, still basking in the couple’s utter delight. She was still doing that when she noticed the woman’s expression change.
It had turned to horror. But the woman wasn’t looking at Amanda. She was looking somewhere to Amanda’s right. Amanda looked and understood.
It was a black limo speeding down the Pont de Sully despite the speed limit. And it was coming right at her.
Instinct kicked in and Amanda jumped back onto the pedestrian lane. Tires screeched as the driver slammed the breaks.
Oh, good lord! Amanda’s mind shrieked as she closed her eyes. Something slammed into her upper stomach and chest, jerking her neck and head forward.
“Madame!” a man’s voice yelled... and continued yelling in a cacophony of French. Other tires screeched as cars slammed their brakes and a babble of voices speaking French surrounded her.
Small arms embraced her, followed by a hysterical slew of some Asian-sounding language in a woman’s voice. Amanda was still bent over. Despite the slight pain, she slowly opened her eyes and was surprised to see water beneath her.
She wasn’t bent over a car. She was bent over the bridge’s iron railing while the Asian woman hugged her, looking absolutely terrified.
“You ok? Hah?” the woman asked her shakily with tears in her eyes.
Amanda just nodded. Realizing she was unhurt, except for the part of her she’d slammed onto the railing, she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“Madame?” said a calm but concerned male voice that tingled up and down her spine with its deep vibrato.
A large hand touched her shoulder, forcing her to look up from the woman’s embrace. She froze.
Blue. Eyes so blue they were like the Aegean on a clear day... so much so that Amanda felt like she was drowning. They were set in a middle-aged face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a GQ magazine. And it spoke out of thick lips over a strong jaw with a dimple in the middle. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand French.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” Amanda finally managed to croak. “I-I-I don’t understand French... b-b-but I’m learning!” she added a little defensively.
Another man broke in, dressed all in black (complete with a black cap), “Madame! Are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”
“Guillaume,” said GQ Guy warningly.
The black-suited capped man backed off instantly, still looking absolutely devastated as he stared at Amanda.
Mr. GQ Model looked completely unruffled as he stood there on the street surveying the gathering onlookers. He might as well have been on
a photoshoot. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to Amanda, causing her stomach to flutter. “Are you alright, madame?”
“Yes,” Amanda replied more steadily as she held onto the other woman. “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault for not looking where I was going. Dreadfully s-s-sorry for all the fuss.”
“Should we take you to the hôpita... eh, the hospital, madame?”
“No!” Amanda squeaked.
“Yes!” the Asian woman squealed.
“No!” Amanda gently pushed the woman away from her. “There’s really no need. I’m fine. I hope there was no damage.” She looked around, embarrassed by the crowd she’d attracted.
The supermodel heaved an obvious sigh of relief, suddenly looking human. Amanda couldn’t help admiring how well he filled his gray three-piece suit. Despite his fine threads, he obviously worked out and it showed. Well-groomed black hair, too.
“At least let me take you to where...”
“No!” Amanda interrupted, upset at the commotion she was causing. “I’m fine. Really!”
The man gave her a courtly bow, turned, and walked back into his limo which drove off more slowly. As there was no injured or dead body to gawk at, the other cars had already done the same, but some pedestrians were upset.
“He just drove off? Just like that!?” squawked an indignant female voice in a New Jersey accent. “Sure you’re ok, honey?”
Amanda simply nodded as she tried to make her way back to work. The small crowd parted for her, but the Asian couple were harder to get rid of. Perhaps feeling responsible for her near miss, they insisted on walking her to her office. It was only when staff took her in hand that the couple finally let her go – but only after they’d both given her a badly needed hug.
*****
Arnaud heaved a sigh of relief. It had taken all of that morning, but the first part of the deal had gone through despite the fact that he’d arrived more than half an hour late. It was that Carl Decker, fellow. The man was a pig who practically finished the food all by himself. And since Decker was in charge... Arnaud made a note to give Marie and Olivie a bonus.
“Marie? Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day. I’m heading up to the roof deck.”
Marie heaved her own sigh of relief as she watched Arnaud leave the room. Once the door clicked shut behind him, she slowly counted to a hundred then called reception on the ground floor.
“Front desk,” came the disinterested female voice on the other end.
“It’s Marie. The bird flies north.”
Down at the front desk, the woman heaved an audible sigh then passed the information on. The boss was in a very good mood now. No more tip-toeing around the building. At least for today. Word spread quickly, but this time, quietly.
Up on the roof deck, Arnaud gazed at the city around him. With the most important part of his day over, he allowed himself to think about what had happened that morning.
Thank goodness he hadn’t killed anyone. More specifically, thank goodness Guillaume hadn’t killed anyone, as his lawyer insisted. Then he grinned. That redhead had quite a nice ass as she bent over the bridge’s railing. Nice tits, too, as she heaved and panted before him, come to think of it.
But what really seared itself into his brain were her eyes. Green. They were a deep green that turned pale when the sun shone on them – like the precious Chinese jade ornaments his mother loved to collect. Splashes of light brown marred the perfection of that green, radiating outward from dark gray irises surrounding the deepest black at the center of her eyes.
Arnaud felt a little annoyed with himself. He should at least have asked the woman for her name.
Chapter 2
The Muséum National d'Histoire Naturelle, or MNHN to everyone else, is a marvel of architecture set in another marvel of landscape gardening. But it’s not just a museum. It’s also a park and a college – part of the prestigious Sorbonne Universities group.
It’s also where Amanda worked in the Ecology and Biodiversity Management department, which she enjoyed. But not today.
“I’m a scientist!” she hissed as she fussed with her hair.
“More like a glorified gardener, you mean,” Savitri replied as she fussed with her sari.
Despite receiving government grants and private donations, all was not well with the MNHN. The continuing effects of the Global Economic Crisis and the Eurozone Crisis following the upcoming Brexit meant that the MNHN needed more money. Hence the fundraising gala. And as an employee, Amanda was required to attend.
“I still have so much work to do, and here I am...”
“Here we are,” Savitri corrected. “Listen, luv. It’s part of the job, yeah? Hobnobbing with the rich and undeserving, an’ all. Besides, when was the last time you relaxed, hey? And think of it this way – it’s all for a good cause.”
Amanda sighed. Savitri had been her best friend since high school and the person who helped her get this job, so she owed her. Big time. But while her Anglo-Indian friend was a natural at socializing, Amanda was not. She was happier dealing with plants, soil, and bugs than she was with people, so the party thing was never her shtick.
Worse, they’d be meeting the top of the food chain and Amanda didn’t know how to deal with that sort. Crepes, canapes, and champagne? She was more of the take out curry and pizza with a side order of Coke, sort of girl.
Savitri flashed her an excited grin. “Ready?”
Amanda simply took a deep breath as the other woman pulled her out of the ladies’ room and dragged her into the Grand Gallery of Evolution. Despite herself, she was impressed. The cavernous room with three sets of balustrades on three sides rose magnificently around them like the interior of some fantasy palace.
For tonight, the central exhibits had been moved to make way for the caterers and guests. It felt like a fairy tale and she was there to witness fairies granting three blessings to a newborn baby girl. All that was missing now was the evil witch who... she recognized one of the guests and nearly choked as she froze in awe.
“Oh my god! That’s... Sav, that’s...”
Her friend snorted. “Her!? She’s a has-been, luv. Hasn’t released a new album in years. Don’t even know why she’s here. I hear her third husband’s really cleaned her out with the latest divorce; meaning we won’t get much from her, if at all. Now mingle!”
Amanda panicked as Savitri let her go and vanished in the throng. She stood there looking for a face she recognized, but the few colleagues she knew by name looked busy socializing and none met her gaze.
“Champagne, madame?”
“Why thank you.” She automatically reached for the glass. “How kind of...” She squinted at the man, wondering why he seemed so familiar. He was dressed much better than the other servers milling about.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, madame...?”
“Oh. Amanda.” She was taken aback by his familiar tone. “Amanda Sorensen. I’m sorry, but have we met, monsieur...?”
“Arnaud. Arnaud du Lac,” he said with a meaningful pause as if he expected her to know him. It wasn’t just his expectant look that threw her off, it was also his strange accent. It was definitely French, but with an undercurrent of an upper class British accent. When she still looked puzzled, he added, “We met... aah... about two weeks ago?”
She shook her head, wondering why he seemed embarrassed.
He gave her a cheeky grin. “I nearly ran over you.”
Her mind clicked. Milliseconds later, she was choking on her champagne and spluttered. To her horror, she’d sprayed some of the expensive liquid on Mr. GQ’s formal jacket. Worse, trying to stop choking while trying to apologize at the same time only made things worse.
He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, his smile giving way to concern as her throat tried a yoga maneuver to get rid of enough liquid so she could get enough air. To make things worse, she was attracting a crowd again.
“Amanda!” Savitri came out of nowhere to give her a few good whacks on he
r back.
“Gaah!” she wheezed. “I’m oh (cough-cough) kay (gasp!), really.”
“What’s the matter, luv? Ooh, you spilled stuff all over your bodice, poor thing,” the Anglo-Indian woman crooned. “Well, hello there, Mister...?”
“Arnaud,” he replied distractedly, still looking at Amanda.
“Why am I such a klutz?" she wheezed.
Disappointed that the choking woman wasn’t going to die, the crowd broke off into tiny clusters and babbling filled the great hall, once more. Amanda was grateful at her return to anonymity, but felt sure they were giving her surreptitious looks, nonetheless. And the front of her green dress was wet.
“Perhaps you need some... air?” Arnaud offered.
Savitri looked at him with a slight, knowing smile. “Why, yes! Yes! You need some air, luv. Why don’t you let Arnold here take you out to the garden? Go on, then. Some fresh air is just what you need. You’ll take care of her, won’t you, Anthony?”
“It’s Arnaud.”
“Sure. Whatever. Now go on then, you two.” She made shooing gestures at them. “Garden’s that-a-way.”
Savitri always took charge, so the two made their way out of the gallery and into the perfectly manicured gardens that were such a tourist draw.
“I’m sorry about my friend.” Amanda chuckled, feeling better not just because of the fresh air, but also at being away from a crowd. The fact that he was hot as hell, helped.
“And I’m sorry I nearly ran you over. What were you doing running across the road like that?”
“What were you doing speeding?”
“Touché, madame,” he grinned. “Touché! But I wasn’t speeding. It was my driver.”
“Who wouldn’t have been speeding if you didn’t order him to?”
He shrugged. “I’m a businessman. Places to go and people to see, yes? And you? What do you do, mada...”
Unwrapped by The Billionaire Page 46