Forbidden Monsieur: Princes of Avce

by Victoria Pinder

  Dominic and Monique exchanged a secretive look. Monique sat straighter, pursed her lips and shrugged. “Oh, well I never could imagine you on the vineyard just making wine all your life.”

  In a too-calm voice, Alex asked, “Why not, Monique?”

  Monique shifted toward Chelsea instead. “It seems boring.”

  “His vineyard is state of the art and such a warm, happy home.” Chelsea spoke fast, angry that anyone would ever belittle what Alex created.

  Alex lifted his chin and then turned toward the other man. “It seems boring, to you. It’s why you chose Dominic and Paris.”

  He didn’t need to placate Monique in her black dress with her painted face that showed she’d spent the afternoon getting her makeup professionally done.

  Dominic coughed like he didn’t want to be under Alex’s gaze. However, the waiter came with salads and two more glasses of wine. Once the waiter left, Dominic, face flushed red, said, “Alexandre, you were on track to be one of the finest solicitors in the country and you gave it all up to grow wine. You can’t expect everyone to follow you.”

  Alex had been a lawyer? She never thought about that. She hadn’t wondered about his life, and, honestly, she should have. Chelsea held her tongue and listened to learn all she could, if Alex was jealous or over Monique.

  Alex’s confidence never wavered as he stared the man down. “Follow me? Dominic, you were an invited guest who didn’t respect the bounds of friendship. But I’m glad we’re all moving on and that you took Monique with you.”

  Now Chelsea understood—he was over Monique entirely. She’d said yes to dinner to figure that out, but it was so clear. She tried to catch Alex’s gaze but thought she lost. She turned her head toward the entrance and then her breath caught in her throat. Why was Stefano walking over to her? Who was he with? She lifted her chin and gripped her napkin tight. “Alex!”

  “What?” He turned away from Dominic.

  With a quick glance, she recognized that both men’s noses were typical of her country, but she scooted her chair closer to Alex and leaned over to warn him. “Here comes Stefano and another man from my country?”

  Alex sat straight, but then stared at her. “How do you know?”

  The other man looked like he was from Avce. It was obvious, so she simply said, “It’s in his profile.” Then she felt the two men stand beside her and she turned her gaze toward them. She lifted her chin, smiled and said, “Stefano, how are you?”

  Stefano kissed the back of her hand, but instantly she went cold at the custom that he often mocked as archaic but used as a means to seduce a woman. Stefano held her chair close, looked at her table and gave her a mischievious expression that made her spine stiffen. “Lady Chelsea, my dear. Who are your friends?”

  Monique’s eyes widened at the word lady. Chelsea picked up the challenge with little effort, but she refused to give Stefano any ammunition against Alex, ever. “This is Monique Martin, Dominic Thomas, and Alexandre Travers.”

  Stefano reached out and shook Alex’s hand as he stood. “The man who rescued my future wife. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Her cheeks felt hot. This wasn’t good. She shook her head fast. “Stefano, stop teasing. We are not getting married.” At the blank expressions of Dominic and Monique, Chelsea finished the introductions. “Alex, this is the Marchese of Normanni, Stefano Durnovo, and I don’t know his friend.”

  Stefano stepped back, and she could breathe easier for that second. But then Stefano said, “Forgive me, Lady Chelsea. This is the Duc of Modena, Astorre Manfredi.”

  Alex’s soulful gaze flashed with interest. Drat. She kept her head high and met the Duc with grace. Stefano and his mind games—he was always bored with everything. How could she forget what it was like to be the butt of his game? She lifted her eyebrow and said, “Ohh.”

  “Glad I could make this introduction.” Stefano straightened and nodded at them all as his goodbye. “We should get back to dinner. Goodbye Chelsea. I will call on you tomorrow.”

  No. She didn’t need to be called on. Hopefully tomorrow she’d be gone from Paris and headed back to Alex’s vineyard—where it could never be boring.

  Right now, her mind raced and she couldn’t focus. She rose with a false, courteous smile. “I need to go to the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”

  As she walked from the table, she felt Alex’s hand on her spine.

  She slowed her step and leaned into him, grateful for his strength. Alex asked, “So that was him?”

  “Yes. It doesn’t matter, not now.” Chelsea let Alex’s presence recharge her. “Just give me a second.”

  “I’ll be here.” He waited outside the door.

  She splashed water on her face and told her heart to stop racing. It didn’t work. She had no business being upset at anything. Her head spun, and she focused on the drip of water into the sink. Calming. Each slow drop. Finally, she felt confident enough to leave her sanctuary. Stefano’s mind games didn’t matter—she was leaving with Alex. Alex’s easy smiles were the one image she could count on that made her shoulders relax. Good.

  Alex waited outside the bathroom door for her. She smiled and joined him. He took her hand and they returned to the table. As he helped her sit, Dominic pointed toward a waiter. “Here comes the wine. I ordered us another bottle.”

  Good. Chelsea smiled, but Monique stared at her and tilted her head. “Chelsea, you’re as white as a ghost.”

  Now she had to deal with curiousity when she wasn’t sure how Monique felt about Alex? Chelsea smiled banally at Alex and prayed they could leave soon. “Am I? I just needed a moment to refresh myself and Alex escorted me. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Where are you from, Lady Chelsea?” Dominic asked like a man interested in noble titles.

  Chelsea turned and hopefully quashed the questions fast. Alex’s ex-best friend and ex-fiancee were his past and unimportant now. She fixed her napkin on her lap. “Avce, though I grew up in California until I was a teen.”

  “Interesting,” Monique said. “It seems like you are well-traveled. I’m surprised what you see in our Alex here. He intends to stick it out on his vineyard until the day he dies.”

  Alex’s grimace revealed his feelings. She lifted her nose in the air and intended to tell Monique how wrong she was. Alex’s stability was one of the best parts of his character. Her heart beat shouldn’t speed up, but she said nothing. She stared across basket of dinner rolls and hoped Alex understood he was her rock. “And it’s such a beautiful spot to her plan a life.”

  * * *

  She heard Stefano and the Duc of Modena laughing a few tables down.

  She was happy with Alex. The Duc wasn’t half as handsome or interesting as her mother said. Alex was way sexier. Besides, her life in Avce was about to end, except for visiting her family. All she had to do was tell her parents and follow her heart instead of her obligations.

  Chelsea held Alex’s hand tight, not wanting to let go of him and the strength he offered. She was still rattled from seeing Stefano and the Duc over dinner, but only because she hated her old life.

  Every time she stared into Alex’s soulful gaze, she saw behind him to the table she would have drifted toward if she was with anyone else. Stefano so often made her feel stupid and insipid and his friend would probably be too much like him.

  Until she met Alex, she never felt supported and protected in anyone’s arms. He was awesome and special and hers.

  Hopefully Alex had closure now and it was time they both moved on.

  At last the long dinner was over and Alex led her outside.They walked toward the Louvre and the garage where his car had been parked all day. “If you want to talk about how to handle any leftover anger at Monique or Dominic, remember I’m here for you.”

  “We’re good, Chelsea.” Once inside the vehicle Alex said, “Let’s get you home to your parents.”

  She sighed with regret. “I wish I was staying in your hotel room tonight, next to you, instead of in my l
onely bed.”

  He signaled onto the street, easing into nighttime traffic. “Soon, Chelsea. But I’ve kept you long enough.”

  He parked in front of her small but posh house with a black wrought-iron banister separating the tiny yard from the fashionable sidewalk. Technically, her sister owned the house, but she and her parents had been living in it for almost a year. She did not want to go inside. “Tomorrow morning, we’re still on for breakfast at the Eiffel Tower?”

  He came around to the passenger side of the car and opened her door for her, and then took her hand. “Oui. Of course, my sweet one.”

  If she was sweet, she wouldn’t have noticed the two men behind his shoulder. Yet, Alex was wonderful, handsome, kind, pleasing and smart enough to get ahead on his own. Neither of the men from her country knew anything about work. If she had to, she’d work like her sister had done and find a way to help Alex achieve even more than one contract.

  Either way, the last thing she was to Alex was sweet and kind. She’d work on being more like him. “You think I’m sweet?”

  He held her hand and offered to walk her to the door. “It’s part of your charm. What did you think about your Duc?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. The last thing she needed was to blush. She’d been so wrong before she met Alex. She glanced down at the ground. “He’s not my Duc. I don’t even know him.”

  As they walked onto the small stone pathway to her front stoop, Alex stopped. “We’re here.”

  The only cloud she had when she walked inside the door was how to solve her father’s money issue. Her mother specifically counted on a match and Chelsea wasn’t sure she could make a million dollars by tomorrow, even if she went to work right now. She wasn’t strong or brave. She wasn’t even honest. She was a fraud. She pressed her head into his shoulder. “I don’t want to go in.”

  He hugged her, like that might fix anything. “It’s all right. Tell me what you want right now, and I will do it.”

  Chelsea almost shouted that he needed to drive her out of Paris. If she stayed here, she’d be lost. In the past, she’d always given in to what her parents expected. She knew it, but she took her head off his shoulder and forced a smile. “No, I need to pretend to be an adult. Breakfast will be good, and I’ll have a bag packed to go home with you.”

  He waited by her front door—the perfect gentleman. “Are you sure?”

  No. She was the worst choice for Alex, who deserved better than her. She held his hand and wished she could just run away with him. Instead she let his hand go and glanced up. “Thanks for driving me to Paris. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, mademoiselle.” His mouth claimed hers and fireworks exploded once again. If only all that mattered was her feelings, and his.

  Tears threatened, but she held them at bay and waved him off. She waited until he reached the car, then let herself in and closed the door behind her, feeling as if she was about to be trapped and never be happy, ever again.

  The first person to walk down the stairs from the second floor gallery was Cassidy, brown hair tamed back into a loose bun, wrapped in a fluffy white robe.

  What was she doing here? Chelsea couldn’t stop the tears from rising and stinging her eyes.

  Her sister joined her. “Who was at our door, Chelsea?”

  This was all Cassidy’s fault. She talked about love and somehow, despite everything, the question of its existence had rubbed off on her.

  Her sister had no idea the trouble she’d caused. Chelsea turned her face and headed into the living room though her sister followed. Chelsea ignored the thumps in her heart and turned back with a tremulous smile. So long as Cassidy didn’t look too close, Chelsea might be able to escape to her room. “Hey, sis! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  Cassidy grabbed a tissue from the side table near the front door and followed her into the living room. She handed the tissue to Chelsea and then took the seat beside her on the couch. “Mom wanted us to fly out and find you if you didn’t show up soon.” Cassidy smoothed the soft material over her lap. “Glad to know you are fine.”

  Okay, she probably should have called and not just left messages. Her sister didn’t always need to rescue her. Chelsea’s tears dried as she wiped her cheeks. “I told them I was fine and that I fried my cell phone when I crashed my car.”

  Cassidy sat back in disbelief. “Is that why you’re crying?”

  “I don’t care about that.” Her sister should know everything. Chelsea’s heart raced but she said as calmly as she could, “I met Alexandre Travers.”

  A bright smile grew on her matchmaking sister’s face and she reached out to take her hands. “Oh my goodness. Finally.”

  Chelsea’s palms were damp, and she let her sister go, immediately. If her heart didn’t slow down, she’d end up in a hospital. Chelsea curled her legs under her and shook her head, tears welling again. “Cassidy, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Follow your heart.” Cassidy spoke softly, like they were best friends sharing secret when that had never been their relationship. Was it too late?

  No. This was wrong. Chelsea Bright did not have a heart. Why should any of this matter now? She straightened her legs and dress so it didn’t wrinkle. Crying was for teenagers, not for her. She took a deep breath and changed the topic—anything to erase the romantic notions from her sister’s head. “Did Mom tell you about Dad’s newest gambling debt?”

  Cassidy’s smile disappeared instantly. Good. Chelsea sat straighter as her sister asked, “No, what happened now?”

  Alex was right. Their father was their issue together. Chelsea didn’t need to handle this alone, just as it wasn’t up to Cassidy to fix by herself either. She met her sister’s clear brown eyes. “Our father thought he had access to the tax accounts and so he made a bet and of course lost, for over a million euros.”

  Cassidy flinched, and her lips didn’t quite close. She seemed shocked when, honestly, they both knew she shouldn’t be. Their father had always been reckless when it came to cash and acted like money grew on trees. “Who took that bet from him?”

  Chelsea hadn’t asked that when she’d confronted their mother. She lowered her head and shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.”

  Cassidy crossed her arms and spoke in an angry voice. “I thought Remy and I had closed down his biggest competitors from even thinking about betting with him.”

  Once again Cassidy was on her white horse and about to solve all the problems in the family, including hers. Chelsea curled her lips. For once she’d wanted to be the one to handle her family’s problems, not her older, perfect sister. She crossed her legs and stared at her. “I don’t know, but Mom and Dad didn’t want to ask you for the money.”

  “Because I’d ensure he can’t do it again,” Cassidy said as a defense.

  Maybe because she was so perfect, she probably would. Chelsea stood and paced the room. There was no way her sister should deal with this problem too. She’d find the million euros even if she had to marry Stefano to get it.

  “He will always find another place to wager.” The thought stuck in her mind as she told her sister the whole truth now. “Cassidy, I was set on finding the Duc of Modena, Astorre Manfredi, and marry him.”

  “But now that you’ve met Alexandre Travers?” Cassidy’s voice held such belief in hope and true love.

  Chelsea wanted to prove her sister wrong. But at the same time, Alex made her feel whole and his belief in her made her ache to believe in herself. If he was here, she’d be in his arms, holding him so tight and not letting go. But she couldn’t. He was a fantasy just like her dreams of painting. She let out a long sigh and shook her head. “He thinks I should follow my heart and my dreams.”

  “You should.” Cassidy followed her as Chelsea continued to pace. “What are they?”

  Yeah right. The truth was hard, cold and like the metal slab they put the corpses of dead bodies on after death. The beauty she put on canvas was still a huge lie. Everything was
.

  Chelsea’s body ached, but she saw the truth more clearly than ever before. She turned toward her sister. “But being back here, I just feel guilty. I was raised to marry well.”

  Cassidy’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m taking care of Mom and Dad.”

  No. She didn’t need to live on handouts either. She’d do her part and get the money for herself and her parents. Her sister had done more than enough. Cold calm enveloped Chelsea’s body. “And you shouldn’t have to do that, Cassidy. It shouldn’t be all on your shoulders.”

  Cassidy dropped her hands to her side and stood in front of the door. “And you shouldn’t sacrifice true love because of guilt.”

  Love? Guilt? All of that was nonsense. Happiness in life was a delusion or illusion people strove for but made no sense. She lifted her chin and met her sister’s gaze. “There is no such thing as true love, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy trembled like Chelsea’s words were physical blows. “What are your feelings for Alexandre Travers then?”

  Boom. Now that was the real hard question. If he was here, she’d have begged him to get her out and take her away. Part of her had known once she came home, she’d be a wreck. She’d been right. Alex, the showing of her paintings, none of that made logical sense. She needed money, and to solve these problems, but her only answer was a weak sounding, “I don’t know.”

  The door opened behind her sister and their mother, Francesca Bright, in a light lilac dress, floated into the room, complete with her matching amethyst jewelry. “What doesn’t Chelsea know?”

  Cassidy spun on her slippers, ready to be the one that saved them all from all their troubles. She’d been the heroine of the family since Chelsea could remember. Her stomach twisted that she’d never done her share of anything. “Mother, is it true that Father has over a million dollars in debts again?”

  Their mother pouted like she was still a teenager herself and met her gaze, like she’d expected Chelsea to be on her side as she briefly acknowledged Cassidy. “Chelsea told you.” Her full attention went right back to Chelsea. “I thought we were here to ensure she met and married Duc Astorre Manfredi?”