Can he persuade his Cinderella...
...they’re meant for one another?
Billionaire Raoul Fontesquieu is starting a new life with his recently discovered son—and everything must be perfect for Alain’s arrival. Enter temporary housekeeper Cami Delon! Exquisitely beautiful both inside and out, Cami enchants Raoul with her kind yet cautious nature. But will he be able to convince her that she fits perfectly into his privileged world...because she already has his heart?
Escape to Provence
The perfect destination for a summer of love—but can they make it a lifetime?
In the heart of Provence, the picturesque Fontesquieu vineyard is famous for its wines...and for the gorgeous billionaire bachelors who run it!
Amid the rolling hills and exquisite views of the glittering Mediterranean, Dominic and Raoul Fontesquieu are determined to continue their family’s enduring legacy. But when two women arrive at the vineyard, the vines aren’t the only things to flourish in the summer sun...
Discover Dominic’s story in Falling for Her French Tycoon
And Raoul’s story in Falling for His Unlikely Cinderella
Both available now!
Dear Reader,
Over the last few years, one of my favorite television series has been Downton Abbey. When I was watching Daisy, the kitchen maid, hurriedly preparing the kindling for a fire in the massive library and making a botch of it, I was reminded of the original story of Cinderella.
Poor Cinderella had been highborn, but she had been relegated to cleaning cinders out of the fireplace. It’s a timeless story, rewritten over and over again throughout the years because we all love to root for her to overcome the barriers and be with the prince she adores. We also cheer for the prince, who must choose a princess to marry, but we know Cinderella is his heart’s desire. Will they gain their eventual happiness?
Our delight in reading a Cinderella story again and again is to see how the two ill-fated lovers finally get together. None of us tire of reading another version of the original time-honored story called Cendrillon, written by the Frenchman Charles Perrault.
My novel, a version of Cinderella, has been set in my favorite location of Provence, France. I’ve loved writing about two wonderful people who deserve each other despite the outer and inner forces keeping them apart.
Enjoy!
Rebecca Winters
Falling for His Unlikely Cinderella
Rebecca Winters
Rebecca Winters lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favorite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels—because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website at rebeccawinters.net.
Books by Rebecca Winters
Harlequin Romance
Escape to Provence
Falling for Her French Tycoon
The Princess Brides
The Princess’s New Year Wedding
The Prince’s Forbidden Bride
How to Propose to a Princess
Holiday with a Billionaire
Captivated by the Brooding Billionaire
Falling for the Venetian Billionaire
Wedding the Greek Billionaire
The Magnate’s Holiday Proposal
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To my darling, devoted Rachel, who’s a dear friend and a saint besides being a spectacular wife and mother to three adorable children. Over the years, we’ve talked about everything under the sun. As you can guess, the poor thing has had to put up with me telling her about my ideas for new novels. With her expertise as a voracious reader, marathon runner, nurse and carpenter, she has supplied marvelous suggestions that have helped me develop characters in my books. What would I do without you, Rachel?
Praise for
Rebecca Winters
“There are tender moments, bouts of excitement and, of course, raw emotion. A delectable read that readers won’t want to end!”
—Goodreads on Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Excerpt from Redemption of the Maverick Millionaire by Michelle Douglas
CHAPTER ONE
Monday, December 1
IN A STATE of euphoria, Raoul Fontesquieu left the apartment at the Château Fontesquieu in Vence, France, and headed for his office. He was now officially on vacation from work. Once he’d gathered up a few things and had talked to his cousin Dominic, he had big plans. But on the way, he heard his cell ring. It was only six in the morning!
A grimace marred his features when he saw his father’s name on the caller ID before picking up. “Qu’est ce qui se passe?”
“I’m calling from the Sacred Heart. Your gran’pere was transported to the hospital a few minutes ago. He’s in room 407 and isn’t expected to live past the next hour. We expect you here now!”
Matthieu Fontesquieu, Raoul’s intransigent father, didn’t know how to do anything but demand obedience. Being his parents’ only child, he’d borne the emotional scars of such treatment for as long as he could remember.
Over the last week the family had sensed this day was coming. Armand Fontesquieu, the eighty-five year-old, impossibly autocratic CEO of the Domaine Fontesquieu in Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur, was drawing his last breath.
News of his death would ring throughout Provence and the wine world, but Raoul wouldn’t mourn him. As a little boy he’d tried once to establish a relationship with him, but had been shot down and had never tried again.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Once he’d hung up, Raoul turned his car around and drove out of the Fontesquieu estate for the hospital. Upon reaching it, he took the elevator to the fourth floor and strode down the hall. His mother and father had been watching for him. She seemed particularly anxious, which was not a good sign. Something was up. He just didn’t know what.
“Your gran’pere is waiting for you,” his father murmured.
Waiting? While he was on the verge of death?
Raoul frowned, looking around for Dominic. Neither he nor his dozen other cousins were here. “What’s going on?”
“You’ll understand in a minute. Let’s go in.”
Raoul entered the hospital room filled with his aunts and uncles and saw his grandfather lying in the bed hooked up to IVs and oxygen.
His father nudged him. “Tell him you’ve arrived.”
He was sick of his father’s orders, but now wasn’t the time to defy him. He walked over to the bed. “Gran’pere? It’s Raoul. I’m here.”
The old man didn’t open his eyes. How sad that even now, Raoul couldn’t conjure any feelings for someone so cold.
“Raoul?” He spoke in a loud enough voice to reach everyone. “I want the family to hear from my own lips that you are now the CEO of the Fontesquieu Domaine.” In another minute his grandfather, plagued by liver disease, exhaled and was gone.
His father t
ook hold of his arm. “The family has arrangements to make,” he whispered. “Stay available. We’ll talk later today about your new position and get you installed.”
He sucked in his breath. The last position Raoul would ever want would be CEO of the Fontesquieu family wine business. He was already busy with plans for a future that had nothing to do with the family.
Before dying, that grasping excuse for a human being had colluded with his favorite son Matthieu to put Raoul in charge for one reason only. By making him the CEO, it was their last bribe to bend Raoul to their will.
They assumed this grand gesture would force him to call off his divorce to Sabine Murat. Both families had been fighting it to preserve all the Murat millions with the Fontesquieu fortune. Both fortunes together enabled the families to continue to buy more assets.
But no coup could have accomplished what they’d hoped for. Raoul had never loved Sabine. Now it was over and finished, grace à Dieu. His divorce from Sabine Murat had been finalized yesterday afternoon. That was all he’d been waiting for.
This morning Raoul was free to embrace his new life with his precious eighteen-month-old son.
Overjoyed that Alain’s existence no longer had to be kept a secret from the world, Raoul left the hospital for the modern Fontesquieu office building where all the family head offices were housed, including his own as president of marketing and sales. It was located behind the immense seventeenth-century château on the estate of the famous Fontesquieu vineyards drawing tourists from around the world.
He phoned Dominic. They were closer than brothers. It was Dominic who’d insisted Raoul stay with him in his suite at the château throughout his two months’ separation from Sabine. During that period Dominic had gotten married and moved out for good. Now it was Raoul’s turn to leave the château and never come back. This morning he had so much to tell Dominic, he was going to explode if they couldn’t talk right now.
To his relief, Dominic, the funds manager for the Fontesquieu corporation, had opened the door of his own office suite to wait for him. “Come on in. I only heard the news about our grandfather a little while ago. It seems wrong not to mourn him, but I don’t have those feelings.”
“Tell me about it,” Raoul muttered. “I got the call at six. Papa ordered me to get to the hospital. I arrived just in time for our grandfather to announce to the room that I was the new CEO before he took his last breath. You and I both know the reason why.”
Grim faced, his cousin nodded. “Even with death approaching, they planned it down to the last minute.”
“He and Papa don’t give up, but as you know, I would never have taken over, and before long I’ll be leaving the family business. The good news is, last night I got a call from my attorney Horace. The divorce decree was granted yesterday at the end of the day. I would have called you, but the news came too late to disturb you. Dom—I’m a free man and can live like one!”
“Raoul—” Dominic hugged him so hard he almost knocked him over.
“It wiped out a good portion of my assets, but it was worth it.”
“If you need help, I’m your man.”
“I know that and am grateful, but my new business is growing and I’m already recouping. Papa said he’d call me later in order to install me, but I have news for him. When he phones, I’ll refuse to accept it and wish him luck in his new position—the one he’s always coveted. Now he can be both comptroller and CEO.”
Dominic nodded. “We might have my father, three uncles and two aunts, all Fontesquieux, who are more than capable of taking over Grandfather’s empire, but you and I both know your father is the one who’ll run everything now. He’s made in the old man’s hard-boiled image with my father a clone of both of them.”
Raoul stared at him. “Good luck to him. Little does he know I’m resigning soon. Already I’ve gathered new clients for the company I’ve started. Over the last two months the list has been growing.”
“You’re a genius.”
“Great Uncle Jerome was the genius who gave me the idea before he died.”
“Nevertheless, I can’t imagine the company without you.”
“I’ve been wanting to leave for years.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was bound by a secret and couldn’t tell you the real reason why I didn’t join you in Paris. But with Grandfather’s death, I no longer have to stay silent. The truth is, I would have joined you in Paris when I turned eighteen, but by then Jerome was diagnosed with lung cancer.”
“You’re kidding—”
Raoul shook his head. “He swore me to secrecy and didn’t even tell Danie. You know what he was like. Because he was a scientist, he handled his health care in his own way and turned to alternative medicine.”
“How did he do it exactly?”
“He used holistic interventions of supplements, herbs, enzymes, plus he changed his diet and he prayed. Knowing he would eventually die, I couldn’t leave him because I loved him too much. But it was hard not being able to tell you the truth at the time.”
“I understand totally. Gran’pere Armand never liked or acknowledged him, but Jerome had you and loved you like the son he could never have.” Dominic eyed him solemnly. “What’s so sad is that your father has to know he lost you years ago.”
“Amen,” Raoul ground out. “Before the day is out everyone will have heard about the divorce being granted, but that’s irrelevant. Right now, I’ve got to see about getting my villa furnished, starting with the nursery. Alain needs a crib. Want to come with me for a couple of hours?”
“What do you think?” an elated Dominic cried. “I’m all yours for now.” He gave some instructions to his assistant Theo, then turned to Raoul. “Let’s go!” They left the building and climbed into Raoul’s Jaguar.
* * *
At 8:00 a.m., twenty-six-year-old Camille Delon, known to her friends as Cami, packed a lunch for her and her mother. Together they left their apartment on the main floor of the eight-plex located in the lower income area of Vence, France. They walked toward the van parked around the side with the company logo, Nettoyage Internationale.
A chilly breeze would have blown Cami’s shoulder-length black hair around if she hadn’t formed it into a chignon. Her blue pullover sweater felt good over her T-shirt and jeans as she got behind the wheel. From the time she’d started working with her mother seven years ago, they’d agreed Cami should do the bulk of the driving since her mom didn’t feel that comfortable maneuvering the van in heavy traffic.
She closed the door and drove them to the housecleaning office in the heart of Vence to get their next assignment. NI, a premier housecleaning and housekeeping service, had offices all over Provence and were great employers.
“Bonjour!” the manager, Helene Biel, greeted them when they walked inside her office. Three other full-time coworkers, Jeanne, Marise and Patrice, who usually worked together, had come in another company van and were already assembled.
“Now that you’re all here, I’m sending the five of you out on a lengthy assignment. The new owner of a property with a large, ultra-exclusive villa needs a total housecleaning: walls, ceilings, woodwork, windows, thorough scrubbing of kitchen and bathrooms, main rooms, fixtures, vents, floors, fireplaces, patio, you name it. The only room you’re not to touch is the study on the main floor, which will be locked.
“He wants it spotless before he can start furnishing the place. After visiting the site, I estimate it will take you ladies four to five days. I’ll let them know you’re on your way now. That’s it. This is the address.”
After hearing its location, Cami eyed her mother wordlessly. This villa was located in the most elite, prestigious area of Vence. Only billionaires could afford to live on the top ridge of hills that overlooked the whole spectacular landscape stretching to the Mediterranean.
With an address like that, it had to be near
her favorite fairy-tale-like Château Fontesquieu, one of the wonders of Provence, set in the middle of its world-famous vineyards. The thought brought incredibly happy memories associated with her father. When Cami had been little, her dad, who’d been a taxi driver before his fatal car crash, had driven her and her mom to the estate every fall to see it and she’d never forgotten.
She must have been five years old when he’d first taken them on a tour through the vineyards at harvest time so they could watch the workers picking the grapes. Every year after that during the harvest he did the same thing, stopping each time for them to take in the sights.
One particular incident stood out in her mind and had always lingered there. At the age of twelve, she’d seen an older man walking through the vineyard with a young dark-haired man, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was so handsome, she’d put down the back window so she could lean out and look at him a little better. They appeared to be supervising the workers before they reached the man’s elegant black car with the gold hood ornament. As the younger man turned to get in, he caught Cami staring at him and smiled.
A thrill ran through her young girl’s heart and she smiled back before the other car drove off. When she asked her father about the ornament, he said it was the emblem of the royal Fontesquieu family, which had existed for hundreds of years.
Cami sat back. In her mind’s eye the younger man had to be one of the royals, the fictional prince who lived at the château. Nothing could have delighted her more and caused her to dream about living in there with him one day as his princess.
But in November of that very year her father had been killed. The pain and shock of losing him stripped her of such a foolish fantasy. No more trips to the vineyard or anything else. By the time she’d turned twenty-one with a brief, failed marriage behind her, she’d been forced to face another personal crisis.
Her doctor had said that in time the genetic heart murmur she’d been born with would have to work too hard. He explained to her that she had a bicuspid aortic valve. The surgeon ran tests and decided to put off surgery until the symptoms began to affect her life, possibly when she turned twenty-six. By then the technique would have been perfected and become less invasive, possibly avoiding open-heart surgery altogether.
Falling For His Unlikely Cinderella (Escape To Provence Book 2) Page 1