Lost In France (Firebird Trilogy)

by Kay, Jani

  “Can I offer to take your picture next to the statue, mademoiselle?”

  Pivoting on my heels, I crashed into a familiar hard chest. Alain grabbed hold of my shoulders, as if he was afraid I would bolt. His eyes were serious, only a slight upward curve of his lips showed that he was pleased to see me.

  “Mademoiselle, could I have a word, s'il vous plait?” To strangers around us, it would seem as if we hardly knew one another. Yet his palms were damp and his eyes were pleading, a small vein in his temples ticking.

  My mouth fell open. I’d never expected this. How on earth did he find me?

  His hands burned into my flesh. I was standing as if I was made of stone. The irony was not lost on me. My gaze quickly took in his dark hair falling over his brow and I noticed that he’d lost weight since I last saw him.

  Captured, I let him steer me toward a bench.

  “Sit,” he commanded. My knees were trembling, I was grateful to sit down.

  “Rebecca, I need to explain what happened.” He glanced around, the room was overcrowded and noisy. “Let’s go somewhere quieter?”

  I couldn’t go anywhere where we’d be alone. I didn’t trust him, or myself.

  “Coffee…cafeteria…” I stuttered.

  Alain steered me toward the closest cafeteria, silence hanging heavily between us. I was grateful for the masses of people surrounding us, masking my apprehension.

  He ordered two coffees while I sat down at the corner table, my legs still shaking. He took a seat across from me.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, brushing away an errant strand of hair from my cheeks.

  His touch had a strong effect on me. It sent a shiver down my spine straight to my core. Oh, my god. Angry with myself that he still had the power to liquefy my insides, I stared into my coffee, hiding my eyes from him. He can’t know.

  He reached out and cupped my chin, lifting my face and looking me squarely in the eyes.

  “Didn’t hide from me, Cher…Rebecca.”

  I studied his beautiful face for a few seconds. His face was open, but I could see traces of worry around his mouth.

  “Since you left, I can’t eat. I can hardly fucking breathe.” He stated it as a fact, not an accusation. “What you saw…it was indiscreet…I’m sorry if it hurt you…” He cleared his throat.

  “Indiscreet? Hurt me? Are you fucking kidding me?” Heat rose to my cheeks as I remembered what I had seen that morning.

  “Give me a chance to explain. Please. Just listen.” His voice was terse. “Adrienne came to my house that morning to seduce me. Yes, we’d been lovers. But, that was for a very brief period and it ended over a year ago. Long before I met you.”

  “You really expect me to believe that? After what I saw?” I gazed into his eyes. I would find the truth there.

  “Yes.” His simple statement seemed genuine.

  “Why did it end? She’s very beautiful,” I whispered, the memory of her lithe and ripe naked body against his taunting me.

  “I grew tired of her quickly. She’s superficial. Money, power and sex. That’s all she wants.”

  A flicker of contempt passed over his eyes.

  “Why wouldn’t you grow tired of me too?” The wall around my heart wasn’t crumbling easily.

  “I could never tire of you. You are different.” He took my hand and presses it to his lips—like he had done a hundred times before. And as always, it sent a delicious tingle down my spine.

  “Adrienne won’t give up. She still pursues me, believing that she is destined to be the new mistress of the chateau.”

  “So what happened that morning? Tell me.” I was finally ready to hear more.

  Alain continued: “She came that morning to plead with me to take her back, to be lovers again. She promised a lot of money if I were to marry her. But I told her I had no interest in her, that I only had eyes for you. She became…angry. Next thing, she ripped off her trench coat to reveal her nakedness. She was hoping to seduce me with her flesh. But, I told her it was over for good, that I could never love her.”

  “That’s when I walked in—”

  “Yes. That’s when you saw the spectacle I was hoping to save you from. Gaston came minutes later. I’d already summoned him to take her away.”

  “Oh, Alain…” Tears welled up behind my eyelids, my throat burning as I tried to control them.

  “I’m so sorry, Cherie, you should never have been exposed to that. Please forgive me?”

  “It’s me who should ask your forgiveness…not trusting you…” Warm tears were rolling freely down my cheeks.

  “Please, don’t cry.” He wiped my tears with the pads of his thumbs.

  To his surprise I started laughing, through my tears. “What…a…fool…I…was…” Relief flowed though me. Alain wasn’t fucking Adrienne.

  “Come back to the chateau with me. We’ll catch up on lost time.” He wiggled his eyebrows, his lips curved into a smile.

  “I can’t come this week.” The disappointment on his face pulled at my heartstrings. “My workshops finish next week. I’ll come then.”

  As much as I was elated by discovering the truth behind that awful day, I needed time to digest it all. If I was going back to being lovers with Alain, I wanted to be sure it was because I was ready to do so.

  Without any pressure.

  Chapter 54

  A little saddened that it was the last day of workshops in Paris, I couldn’t believe how fast the first few weeks of my contract had gone. I had really enjoyed working with the group, and a night of celebrating was in order.

  It was time to move on to the next destination. Munich, Germany. How would it affect my relationship with Alain? I wouldn’t be far away, but it was in another country. And, I’d have to adjust to a new culture again. If things worked out between us, Alain would have to understand that I’d be away for a week at a time. Getting back to him would be wonderful, of course. I could just imagine the mind-blowing sex we’d have.

  Back at my hotel room, I changed from my business suit into something more appropriate for an evening out. I dug up my little black designer dress I’d packed especially for occasions like these, where I wasn’t quite sure what to wear.

  It was a good choice, smart and just a little sexy but not over the top. Hugging my body in just the right places, with wide straps over my shoulders that added just the right amount of elegance, I felt confident that I looked good. I was ready for a night out and to have fun with my friends in Paris.

  We met up at a popular bar before dinner. I virtually threw back my first Cosmopolitan and ordered another. It was great to just hang out and not worry about anything. We laughed and chatted around the bar. It wasn’t long before the topic of conversation came around to our mighty CEO.

  “He’s an awesome chess player,” said Jean-Paul. “Apparently, he won a championship when he was at university.”

  Really? I had geeky tendencies, but I couldn’t see Maxwell Grant as a geek.

  “Oui, he’s also raised millions of dollars running across the USA to raise awareness for epilepsy when he was in his final year. His mother suffered from the disease and he took it really hard. Took him six months to achieve that mean feat.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know…” I said, genuinely intrigued by the adoration in Jean-Paul’s voice for his boss.

  “I can top that. Did you know he won several awards for designing low-cost housing to help young families?” chirped Celeste, a gorgeous leggy blonde.

  “OK, now you’re making him sound like a saint.” I laughed as I took a sip of my Cosmo.

  “Well, here’s the thing, if Time magazine hadn’t highlighted it in several articles, we wouldn’t even know about it. Mr. Grant never brags about any of it. He is a very humble man,” said Jean-Paul.

  Humble wasn’t a word that sprang to my mind when I thought of Maxwell Grant.

  And, I was curious as all hell about his wife. Since they all seemed to know so much about Maxwell’s private life, I figured i
t was time to dig a little deeper.

  “Oh, Natasha…she’s absolutely gorgeous, isn’t she? Wish she was my wife. But, the strange thing is that Maxwell very seldom brings her to work functions, and I’ve been to a lot over the years. If she were my wife, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight,” young Tommy said with a grin.

  “That’s because she’s a super model, knucklehead,” Celeste reminded him. “She’s too busy.”

  “I heard it was a marriage of convenience,” Jean-Paul piped up as he ordered a round of shots.

  “Didn’t be ridiculous, buddy. A babe like Natasha could have her pick of men…” countered Tommy. He clearly fancied Mrs. Grant.

  “…and Mr. Grant is so hot, he could have any babe he wants. I know I wouldn’t say no to him, married or not,” Celeste chuckled.

  “Celeste.” Both guys gaped at her. “Well do you agree, Rebecca?” All eyes were on me then. I felt the warmth spread upward from my chest.

  “Agree to what?” I heard a booming voice behind me.

  No, it couldn’t be. Speak of the fucking devil.

  Luckily I didn’t have to answer. Everyone was falling over Maxwell—happy to see him. It would’ve been nice if someone had warned me that he would be here tonight. Arms crossed over my chest, I watched the backslapping spectacle with amusement.

  “We have Dr. Clarke to thank for the workshops. Remember, I told you she was very talented?” He slowly turned to me, acknowledging my presence.

  “We aim to please, Mr. Grant. I’m glad they liked it.” I was still peeved by his turning up out of nowhere and ruining my evening out.

  “Can I get you another drink?” he offered.

  I picked up my purse, thankful we were due at the restaurant in five minutes. “No thanks, we were just on our way to the Bistro across the road.”

  “Mind if I join you?” He smiled down at me. I couldn’t really refuse, after all, the evening would be billed to his company.

  “I'm not sure there is space, we only have reservations for eleven people…”

  I wish he would go away.

  “I'm hurt, Dr. Clarke, that you don’t want me there.” My head jerked up and I looked into mocking eyes.

  “How is Mrs. Grant?” I asked coolly.

  “Fine…she’s on an assignment in Africa.”

  “Cool,” said Tommy, “wish I could go to Africa…”

  “You’d get eaten by lions,” Celeste joked as she batted her eyes at Maxwell.

  Celeste was gorgeous. And tall. And skinny. And blonde, like his wife. She was exactly his type. Exactly the opposite of me.

  Well, fine then. If he must come, she can entertain him.

  I had to endure watching more backslapping before we left the bar and crossed the road to the Bistro, amazed at how easily Maxwell got on with his employees. They genuinely admired him. Some, more than others. Like Celeste.

  Celeste hooked into Maxwell’s arm as we crossed the road. Her long legs were bronzed and sexy in her ultra short dress and high heels. She looked sensational. Did she know Maxwell was coming?

  We entered the bistro and before I could even ask the waitstaff if there was an extra place for my boss, the maitre d’ just about fell over Maxwell. It was clear he’d been here, often.

  “Ah Mr. Grant, we set an extra place for you just in case. Your secretary said you may join us tonight. We’re delighted you could make it.”

  He directed Maxwell to the head of the table. I wanted to be seated as far as possible from him, so I held back, letting everyone else go in front of me. Celeste held on to his arm for dear life.

  He indicated to a seat next to him and Celeste sat down, grinning widely. Tommy darted for the other chair next to him, but Maxwell held out his hand to stop him.

  “Dr. Clarke?” He gestured toward the empty chair.

  Really? I suppressed the impulse to roll my eyes as I took the place next to him. He casually placed his hand on my shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Champagne?”

  Everyone cheered and he ordered four bottles of Moet.

  Celeste hung off every word Maxwell uttered. She laughed at his jokes and touched his arm as often as possible. I’d seen her records, Celeste was twenty-three years old. The huge age difference between her and Maxwell didn’t seem to be a deterrent—to either of them—because Maxwell was gracious and charming, smiling at her warmly.

  Clearly her flirting wasn’t lost on him. It irritated the shit out of me. Why? I had no idea. They were both adults, it was not my business.

  I refused dessert. Maxwell raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had a sweet tooth?”

  “I’m full,” I said sulkily. Keeping up with these skinny bitches was harder than I thought. I was dying for a chocolate mousse. I always craved something sweet after a delicious meal.

  Ten minutes later, the desserts arrived at the table. If I excused myself and went to the ladies room, the torture would be lessened. Just as I was about to get up from the table, Maxwell placed his hand on my wrist and held out a spoonful of his chocolate mousse to me.

  “I thought we could share,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’m full too, but it’s my favorite,” he coaxed.

  Damn him. Where did this caring gene suddenly come from?

  Before I could protest he leaned over and cupped my chin firmly as he placed a spoon of chocolate mousse in my mouth, slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. Watching us through narrowed eyes, Celeste nearly choked on her crème caramel.

  The mousse melted on my tongue. It tasted so good I had to close my eyes to savor it. I let out a long sigh, enjoying the moment. Maxwell murmured something I couldn’t hear over the noise, and then, wiped his thumb across my lips.

  His touch unraveled me completely. My eyes flew open, searching his face. “You missed a bit there.” He shrugged, staring at my lips.

  Good Lord, I had to get away. Those piercing eyes were just too much.

  “Th…thanks,” I stuttered. Why did I always sound like a blabbering idiot around my boss? The cool composed woman I always was, crumbled whenever he was in close proximity. I didn’t understand—no other man had ever done that. Pushing to my feet, I quickly excused myself and made my way to the ladies room where I’d be safe from further idiotic behavior.

  The sound of Celeste giggling followed me all the way. Was Maxwell feeding her chocolate mousse, too? I refused to turn my head to look back.

  When I returned, Maxwell was paying the bill. I sighed, relieved. Thank God the evening was over, I could make my escape.

  We stood outside, waiting for our taxis, bundling everyone going in the same direction into one taxi. Maxwell greeted everyone warmly as they took off. My hotel was in the opposite direction, so I was having a cab all to myself. I spotted the next taxi pulling over. Finally. My turn.

  Just as I made my way toward the waiting taxi, Maxwell grabbed my arm with a steel like grip. Gone was the jovial playboy, replaced by a serious look on his face.

  “Don’t go. Have a drink with me. We have a few things to talk about.”

  I tried to resist. “I'm really tired.”

  “Always fighting me, Rebecca. What are you so afraid of?”

  Taken aback by his direct challenge, I capitulated. He wasn’t asking for anything more than some of my time. It couldn’t be that bad.

  “OK, a quick one.” I sighed.

  He took my arm and steered me back across the road. We found an empty booth and I slid in, Maxwell sitting across from me.

  “So, how are the workshops going?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Think it’s worth all the money it’s costing me?”

  I leaned back and relaxed slightly, relieved that he wanted to talk about business. I could totally do that.

  We chatted about the workshops and I found myself becoming quite animated as I gave him my opinions. We talked about ways of improving certain things to make it even better. The pride in his eyes was evident as he spoke about his company and employees. My boss defini
tely had clear visions for the future of Grant Industries.

  I glanced at my watch. An hour had flown by. I’d been certain I wouldn’t last five minutes alone in his company without starting some kind of argument. The way he had loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, had helped me relax and forget the time. With a boyish grin he threw back the last drink.

  “Tomorrow, I have the day to myself before I fly back to New York. It’s rare that it ever happens, but there weren’t earlier flights available.” He cleared his throat and pulled at his shirt collar. “I’ve never been to Versailles, in spite of the many times I’ve been to Paris. Care to come along?” He raised both eyebrows, then, quickly added, “No pressure, of course.” For the first time I saw Maxwell’s vulnerability. From his hopeful expression it was pretty clear that he was expecting me to refuse him.

  Caught off guard by his humility, I couldn’t help but smile. “I haven’t been to Versailles, yet. I’d like to go…very much.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could think clearly.

  Wrong answer. Crap, Rebecca, what were you thinking?

  His eyes crinkled at the corners as his lips curved into a warm smile.

  “I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said, as he led me outside and hailed a taxi. He held the door open as I slid in. “Good night Rebecca, sweet dreams.” He taps on the roof of the taxi as it pulled away from the curb.