“Mr. Archer, you know Mr. Kennedy, don’t you?” Shelby tried to greet him sunnily as Jackson drew near them, but his face was pulled tight in a frown.
“We’ve met,” Jackson snapped.
“Jackson, how have you been?” Andre, the epitome of good manners, reached his hand out to greet his rival. “It’s been ages.”
Not returning the handshake was out of the question, but Jackson’s frown deepened as Andre clasped his hand firmly. “I’ve been well,” Jackson replied tersely. “I see you’ve met my executive assistant, Ms. Stuart.”
“Yes, Shelby was just telling me about her cancelled trip to Paris last year,” Andre said.
“Shelby?” Jackson was nonplussed. “You call her Shelby?”
“Yes, Mr. Archer,” Shelby snapped back. “He figured out my first name.”
Jackson looked down at her, his eyes a bit hurt. The brunette was hovering awkwardly behind him, unsure if she should enter the conversation or not. Jackson ignored her.
“As a matter of fact, Jackson,” Andre continued, ignoring Jackson’s rudeness, “I’m flying to Paris tomorrow to meet with some potential investors, who are looking to work with American corporations on sustainability. I was wondering—”
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry,” Jackson drawled. “I’ve already got tomorrow booked up with meetings. Otherwise, you know, I would have been more than happy to join you. But I can’t. Because I’m booked. Oh, well.” Jackson shrugged his shoulders, the fakest gesture that Shelby had ever seen.
She really needed to look for a new job. Executive babysitting for Jackson Archer was getting more embarrassing by the day.
“Actually,” Andre pressed on, ignoring Jackson’s blatant rudeness, “I was going to suggest that Shelby go in your place. That way, Archer Enterprises will be represented in front of some important international clients and you can still attend to your business back here in the U.S.”
Jackson’s mouth gaped. He was clearly not expecting this plot twist.
“What do you think, Shelby?” Andre asked. “Want to join me in Paris?”
Shelby smirked, the edges for her mouth quirking up into a smug little comma. “Dre,” she replied, “I’d be delighted.”
***
The light of the transatlantic sun lit up Andre’s profile, creating a golden halo around his rich brown skin. Shelby couldn’t help stealing glances at him across the cabin of the private jet, this whole experience was too perfect to be real.
Jackson hadn’t been able to come up with a single excuse for her not to take this Paris trip with Andre, and here she was: guest of the world’s most eligible billionaire bachelor as he whisked her away to Paris on his private jet. Shelby wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve this, but it must have been something good.
She had to keep reminding herself that this was just a business trip, that she was just here representing Archer Enterprises, but that was rather difficult, considering that Andre kept looking up at her and smiling across the cabin.
They’d chatted briefly, Andre had updated her on some of the executives that they’d be meeting in Paris, then each of them had retreated into their own private business on the long plane ride from New York to Paris. But Andre kept looking at her and Shelby kept looking at Andre.
Something was brewing.
Jackson had been furious the night before as they left the Opera gala together. “He’s only using you to get to me, Shelby,” he’d snapped, knocking back another drink as the limo sped through the dark Manhattan streets.
Shelby had no reply to his comment, except to point out that none of this had to do with her. “I’m going as a representative of Archer Enterprises, Mr. Archer. I’m there, working for you, sir.”
This had set Jackson off on another lengthy tirade, but he was unable to come up with any legitimate excuse to forbid Shelby to go to Paris.
And, so she went.
But Shelby didn’t think it was just business.
There was the way Andre had taken her by the arm as they’d boarded the plane. The way he smiled at her from across the cabin. The way he introduced her as “my friend, Shelby,” to all the members of his staff.
That all seemed like a little more than business.
The collected Kennedy party shuffled off the plane at Charles de Gaulle airport and breezed through customs. The staff took their luggage and Andre escorted Shelby to his black town car.
“We have the investor meeting this afternoon,” he informed her, “but I thought that you might like to see a few sights first.”
To Andre, “a few sights” meant a trip to Notre Dame, a whirlwind walk through Montmartre and lunch at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
“This is incredible,” Shelby gushed as she leaned out over the steel railing and peered at the city of Paris spread out beneath her.
“If you look over there,” Andre sidled up to her and pointed one long, brown finger in the direction of the First Arrondissement. “You can see the building where we’ll be having our meeting later today.”
Andre’s other hand lightly caressed the small of Shelby’s back and she shuddered. This was just business, she reminded herself, just business. Still, she found herself drawn up to meet Andre’s gaze only to find that he was looking back at her, brown eyes soft and fond.
Shelby didn’t know if it was the brilliance of the bachelor billionaire gazing down at her, the breathtaking view of Paris below them, or the magic of the City of Lights, but she found herself drawn to Andre. She moved closer—her green eyes locked on his—and then closer. They were within inches of each other now, it would only take the slightest move from one of them to close the distance and succumb to desire.
Andre was gazing down at her and Shelby felt herself move forward to close those last few inches—
And her phone pinged.
Startled, Shelby and Andre jumped apart as she searched for her phone.
From Jackson Archer: Where are you? What are you doing???
Shelby sighed, then turned the phone to vibrate and crammed it in her purse.
Andre was looking at her, curious. The intensity of the moment before replaced by cool professional detachment. “Important text?” he asked, straightening his tie.
“It was nothing,” she replied, looking at her watch. “I suppose we need to get to our meeting?”
Andre looked almost sad as he nodded. “I suppose we should.”
As they descended the Eiffel Tower, Shelby could feel her phone angrily vibrating in her purse as more texts from Jackson flooded in.
She ignored them.
The meetings that afternoon went well but by the time Shelby and Andre had wrapped up their business, she thought that she might simply pass out from jetlag.
Jackson escorted her up to her hotel suite, then stood tentatively at the door before wishing her goodnight.
Shelby had no idea what to do. Did she invite him in? Is that something one does with the most eligible bachelor in the world? Or should she wait for him to make a move? Her brain buzzed with potential plans, but Andre solved the problem.
He took one step toward her and bent down, brushing his soft, full lips against her cheekbone. “Goodnight,” he whispered.
Shelby gazed back at him, her green eyes huge. “Goodnight,” she managed.
They stood there, silent, for a moment, before Andre awkwardly laughed, breaking the newly formed ice between them. “I guess I should get to bed, too,” he said. “We’ve got a couple big meetings tomorrow morning before we’re free to explore the city again.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Dre,” Shelby responded.
“The meetings or the sightseeing?” Andre replied.
“Both,” Shelby said, and she meant it. Doing business with Andre was a pleasure. He was a savvy, smart businessman who valued her input. This was eons away from Jackson, who hated meetings and always looked putout when Shelby attempted to join the conversation. Maybe Shelby needed to consider a career change.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Andre said, giving her a small wave and shuffling down the hall toward the elevator.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Shelby echoed.
Shelby did, as expected, see Andre the next day at the meeting.
What she did not expect, however, was the sight of Jackson Archer Jr. seated at the table next to him, wearing an Armani suit and the most petulant scowl she’d ever seen.
***
“What are you doing here, Mr. Archer?” Shelby hissed as she took her place at the table.
“I realized that Mr. Kennedy had a great point,” Jackson said, loudly. “I should be here, helping to ensure the success of our two companies! And, so I came!”
Andre’s face was placid and he looked completely at peace with this new development, but Shelby was seething.
“I thought you said this was the worst idea you’d ever heard,” she whispered to Jackson, resisting the urge to yank him to her by the lapels of his ridiculously expensive suit.
“It is,” Jackson replied, his blue eyes narrowing at her. “But I’m just here to keep an eye on you, Ms. Stuart.”
“Me?” Shelby was shocked.
Jackson nodded. “He’s clearly trying to use you to get to me, Shelby, taking advantage of you.”
“Oh my god, Jackson, that is ridiculous. I already told you—”
But Shelby’s reply was cut-off by the chair of the meeting calling everyone to order.
Several long, tedious hours later, the official business of the Paris trip wrapped up. Jackson had, under strong influence by Shelby, agreed to use alternate energy sources in any and all upcoming projects by Archer Enterprises.
There were handshakes and hugs all around, the Europeans leaning in to lightly kiss the Americans.
“You are coming to the fete tonight, mademoiselle?” M. Gilles, an elderly French gentleman, asked Shelby as he leaned in to leave a dry peck on her cheek.
“Oh, I’m not sure, actually,” Shelby began. She hadn’t heard anything about a party tonight. To be honest, she had been looking forward to spending the evening alone with Andre, but Jackson’s sudden appearance had put a stop to that plan.
“We are,” Jackson said, swooping in, and throwing one arm casually around Shelby’s shoulders. From the other side of the room, Shelby could see Andre’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Ms. Stuart and I will definitely be attending your party tonight.”
“Jackson,” Shelby hissed, but her boss ignored her.
Andre strode across the room and sidled up to Shelby, not quite challenging Jackson, but very much stepping in to his territory. Jackson lit up at Andre’s appearance.
“Andre!” Jackson beamed. “Will we have the pleasure of your company at M. Gilles party tonight?”
“Oh, I’ll be there,” Andre responded, his voice cool and casual, like he was being interviewed. This wasn’t the Andre that Shelby had gotten to know the night before. This was the public Andre, the safe Andre, the guarded Andre. This wasn’t someone she knew at all.
“Sorry about the date situation,” Jackson said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I did need to commandeer my own personal assistant to be on my arm. We might have, you know, business-y things to discuss.”
Shelby wanted to sink through the floor. It was bad enough that Jackson had blindsided her and forced her to accompany him to the party that night, but now he was gloating and rubbing it in Andre’s face. Jackson Archer was so horribly, as the French would say, gauche.
Andre, however, kept his good humor intact. “Nah, man,” he said, lightly. “It’s no problem, I totally get it. I’ve got a few people I can call…but I have no doubt that they’ll all pale in comparison to the lady on your arm, Mr. Archer.”
Shelby’s face flushed.
Andre Kennedy was the man of her dreams.
***
“Who do you think he’s bringing?” Jackson asked, standing on his tiptoes and peering over the crowd at Chateau de Gilles. The room was packed with influential businesspeople from across Europe, but Jackson Archer, at six feet three inches, towered over them all. There was no sign, however, of Andre Kennedy or his mystery date.
“I don’t know, Mr. Archer,” Shelby sighed, nursing her glass of chardonnay. The wine was excellent—of course it was, they were in France—but she was trying to pace herself. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she let herself drink away her anxiety at the thought of seeing Andre and his date.
“He doesn’t know anyone in Paris, does he?” Jackson pressed on, oblivious to Shelby’s foul mood. “You don’t think he’d stoop to hiring an escort, do you?”
Shelby threw caution to the wind and downed her small glass of wine, placing her empty on a tray and snatching another from a passing waiter. It seemed like only yesterday, she was wondering if she was going to have to hire an escort for her own boss, and now he was casting that same aspersion on Andre.
Jackson Archer might be the most oblivious, self-absorbed human on the planet.
Shelby was saved from answering Jackson’s irritating speculation by the arrival of Andre and a woman who was most definitely not a Parisian prostitute.
The woman on Andre Kennedy’s arm was taller than he was, lean and lanky, with a chiseled face and toned physique. A pair of bright blue eyes, lined in thick black liner, surveyed the room hungrily. Shelby recognized that expression and that face, although she wasn’t used to seeing them attached to a body that was fully clothed.
The woman on Andre’s arm was the world’s hottest supermodel, a lingerie angel known only as—
“Svetlana,” Jackson breathed. “Oh my god, he brought fucking Svetlana.”
Svetlana Anatolin, better known as simply “Svetlana,” was beyond famous in the U.S. and Europe. Not only was she gorgeous and glamorous, but her icy Russian personality gave her an air of mystery. Svetlana wasn’t one to step out on the arm of any movie star or athlete. She was known for only allowing herself to be wined and dined by the wealthiest men on the planet, men like Andre Kennedy. Men like Jackson Archer.
“I cannot believe he’s here with Svetlana,” Jackson said, eyes locked on the happy couple across the crowded room.
“Why not?” Shelby asked, not at all jealous of the stunning supermodel currently clinging to the man with whom she was rapidly becoming smitten. “He’s rich, handsome, powerful. He’s totally her type.”
“Yeah, but so am I,” Jackson whined. “And she’s turned me down five times.”
Shelby drained her second chardonnay. This was going to be a long night.
The party ebbed and flowed around them and it wasn’t until about an hour later that the tide of partygoers brought Shelby and Jackson into the presence of Andre and Svetlana. Andre grinned, his bright white smile seemed genuinely happy to see them, and Svetlana simply twitched one corner of her mouth into what Shelby thought was supposed to be a smile.
“Hello,” Jackson oozed, taking one of Svetlana’s elegant hands and brushing his lips across her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Svetlana.”
Svetlana seemed neither pleased nor annoyed, her expression remained neutral as Jackson winked flirtatiously and launched into a diatribe about all the time he’d spent in various parts of Russia over the course of his life.
“You look lovely tonight,” Andre whispered, leaning in toward Shelby, who flushed at the compliment.
After pressing her into being his date, Jackson had set her loose in the city to find yet another ball gown and, with the help of the hotel’s concierge, she’d procured one of the most expensive gowns in all of Paris. Add that expense to the cost of having her hair and makeup styled and it would add up to…an enormous sum that meant nothing to someone as rich as Jackson Archer.
“Thank you,” Shelby replied. “So do you.”
Andre laughed, that lovely musical tone drowning out the string quartet for just one moment. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been called ‘lovely’ by a lady before, Shelby,” he said.
�
�Well, you’re clearly hanging out with the wrong types of women,” she joked, then realized how harsh her words could be interpreted as being. Shelby’s eye’s flicked over to Svetlana. “Sorry, Dre, I didn’t mean to—”
“Nah, it’s cool,” he said. “You’re right, I think I need to up my game when it comes to quality ladies.”
“You’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world on your arm tonight, Dre,” Shelby said, looking down. “I think you’re pretty much at the top of your game with the ladies.”
“Shelby,” Andre said, chucking one finger lightly under her chin and raising her eyes to meet his. “I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the room standing right in front of me.”
The string quartet whipped into a waltz and the crowd shuffled and repositioned themselves to clear room on the dance floor.
“A waltz,” Svetlana said, her voice monotone. “I love a waltz.”
Shelby wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or genuine, but Jackson seemed to take her at face value. Of course he did, faces were pretty much the only things that Jackson Archer actually valued.
“You won’t mind if I take your lady out for a quick spin, would you,” Jackson asked Andre. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled Svetlana toward the dance floor, shooting a quick smirk back over his shoulder at Shelby and Andre.
“Sorry,” Shelby found herself saying. “He’s been in a mood ever since you asked me to come to Paris.”
“I could tell,” Andre replied, gently brushing a loose curl out of Shelby’s eye. “He’s got a bit of a jealous streak, huh?”
Shelby laughed, harsh and humorless. “That’s pretty much the understatement of the year. Yeah, he’s got a jealous streak. Anything that someone else has—a company, a car, a woman—he suddenly wants. It’s…infuriating.”
“Well, you’re a very loyal employee,” Andre said. “I’d try to steal you away from him, but…”
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