Forbidden Monsieur: Princes of Avce

by Victoria Pinder

  Right. The plan to save their family. She tugged her ear. All evening, she’d mostly focused on Alex and his soulful brown eyes. Chelsea lowered her head. “I met him tonight.”

  Francesca came all the way inside the living room. Chelsea stared at the ceiling. “You met him already? Where?” Their mother was relentless. “How?”

  If only she hadn’t been expected to marry a noble. If she was free to marry anyone and just be herself, like she used to believe when she’d been a little girl in sunny California. There a vintner like Alex would be seen as a worthy match for owning property and working, not because his ancestor did something a thousand years ago. But she couldn’t say any of that. Instead she felt her face heat, like she was caught doing something wrong. “I was on a dinner date. At Le Baum.”

  “I see.” Francesca smoothed a large amethyst pendant as if it calmed her. “Well it’s good that he saw you with another man,” she said decisively, “so you don’t seem desperate.”

  Her mom had no question about who the other guy might be or why Chelsea’s heart beat wildly? She had no words.

  Cassidy’s hands went into fists at her side and she shook her head. “Mother, tell Chelsea she shouldn’t go after this Duc Astorre Manfredi and that she should follow her heart.”

  For one second Chelsea waited and hoped, but silence clung in the air. Their mother pursed her lips but the quiet boomed louder than anything else.

  So that was how it would be. Everything was up to her now. Chelsea took a deep breath. She owed her parents a solution that didn’t include Cassidy bailing them out, as she always did. It was time for Chelsea to be a grown up and grown ups don’t wait around and hope for the best. Chelsea felt the coldness in her throat, choking her, but kept icy churning to herself. “I don’t believe in love, Cassidy. Not like you do.” She lifted her chin, determined to be honest, at least. “I like Alex. I want to be with him, but being adult means you realize that you don’t always get what you want.”

  Their mother frowned. “Who is Alex?”

  “Wait one second, Mom.” Chelsea thought how her mother hadn’t bothered to ask about the man she’d just kissed on the front door step. She must have seen them because their mother never left the window in case someone important passed.

  But then again, her mother had never asked about her feelings.

  Francesca shrugged and moved around the couch, leaning her hip against it. “Okay.”

  Chelsea prayed her sister understood. If Cassidy did, then maybe Alex would too. “I can’t ignore my family needs and let you take care of everything, including me. Not anymore.” Before her sister could argue, Chelsea spun on her heel and kept her head high. “Mother, we have only a few hours left to dazzle this Duc.” She would end things with Alex in the morning—she’d been foolish to think she could escape her heritage. “And this was our plan all along.”

  “Chelsea, don’t be rash,” Cassidy said.

  Child-like behavior was her forte in the past, but this wasn’t it, not now. It was time to be an adult and accept that she didn’t get what she wanted. She couldn’t blame Alex for making her see the difference, though it sure hurt. She kept her voice monotone as she shook her head. “And don’t think you know me, Cassidy. I’m going to do what’s best for me and my parents too. You don’t have to bail out our father this time. I’ll handle it.”

  Before anyone could say anything else, Chelsea rushed from the room, accepting her gilded case again. She needed a minute to regroup and forget how her body and soul ached for Alex Travers. But she should have known better. Cassidy’s unshakeable belief in true love shouldn’t rattle Chelsea’s cage that she’d been born into and accepted as her chains.

  Alex sat at the bar of his hotel as he couldn’t sleep. The opulent former mansion was convenient to where they’d parked and he’d booked this hotel in a posh location of Paris to be close to Chelsea and able to walk over if she called him in the middle of the night. Chelsea’s impulsiveness must have rubbed off on him a little. His entire body felt too wound up. Leaving Chelsea at her parents might have been a mistake, but she had to face her past.

  He ordered a bottle of cabernet for himself and mused on ways to help Chelsea. Her façade of confidence had fooled him at first, but she’d allowed him to see the vulnerable woman beneath.

  He heard an older man’s laugh. At first he was going to ignore it, but then something nudged his subconscious. He swiveled on his barstool and instantly recognized the man as Chelsea’s father, because he’d Googled Chelsea’s family.

  The silver hair swept back was an exact replica of the online photos. Alex took his glass and bottle and moved closer to the man whose drinking buddies had departed, saying goodbye. As her father walked toward him to leave from the front door, Alex met blue eyes that matched Chelsea’s. “Excuse me, my lord. I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you the Earl of Paston?”

  He stopped immediately and motioned toward the barstool beside Alex. Alex nodded, and the gentleman said, “Why, yes. However, France killed the nobility centuries ago, so please call me Gio, my good man.”

  In all the bars in the world, Chelsea’s father was here. He waited for the bartender to bring his guest a glass and pour the wine. Once her father was settled in his seat, Alex took a deep breath. “Gio, I’d like to talk to you about your daughter, Chelsea.”

  His gaze sharpened, and he centered his glass on a cocktail napkin. “Chelsea? You know her?”

  She hadn’t left his thoughts or heart since he’d dropped her off. “Yes, sir. I know her.”

  Her father sipped his wine and then put the glass on the bar. “How can I help you then?”

  Alex had done some research on gambling and various addictions and there were many ways to bring the subject up. He chose the direct confrontation route but stilled so he made no sudden or threatening movements. “Chelsea was worried you were in serious trouble over gambling debts.”

  Her father’s face drained of color and his body went tight. “Don’t be-”

  “Over a million euros.” Alex interrupted his denial with facts.

  Gio’s shoulders slumped like he’d been caught by the police and exposed. He picked up his wine, gulped, swallowed and said, “She told you this?”

  Good. No more denials. Alex didn’t dare move a finger that might make the man bolt for the nearest exit. “Yes, though I’d like to make a personal deal with you.”

  Her father put his glass down and sat upright, straightening his shirt. “What was your name, young man?”

  He should have introduced himself. He offered his hand to shake. “Alexandre Travers.”

  Gio Bright took his hand and shook it. “What is the deal my fine French friend?”

  At least her father was willing to talk. If he agreed to this plan, then Chelsea wouldn’t be trapped by family obligations. While he had no feelings about his own father, he’d have done anything for his mother, so he understood why Chelsea felt beholden. “I will give you a million euros to pay off the gambling debt so Chelsea is free to choose what she wants—but I will need two things from you.”

  Gio covered his lips with his mouth. His blue eyes sparkled. Alex sat back in his chair, sipped his wine and waited.

  Fate had brought them together tonight, and his solution was the best he could think of for Chelsea and her family.

  Her father lowered his hand, picked up his wine glass, refilled it and took a small sip. “Before I agree, I need to know what we’re “freeing” Chelsea from and what your conditions are.”

  Fair. Chelsea believed her father was sick, and that gambling was an illness. If this was the case, then he’d support her in every way. Alex started with the easier one for Gio to digest. “Chelsea gets to decide who to marry or not marry.”

  Her father didn’t blink. “Avce law says she must marry before she turns 30.”

  Of course, but this wasn’t a legal discussion. He nodded. “I understand that, but that’s not what we’re discussing.”

  Gio�
�s gaze narrowed. “Free to choose what man she’d like to marry then? You think she might choose you, young man?”

  The end snort was enough evidence to show his own opinion.

  No one in her family seemed to know her or what she really wanted. He sipped his wine. “I want Chelsea to not feel pressured by your financial obligations. To be able to make her own choices. She wasn’t going to put her art on display at Art Paris Art Fair because she didn’t think she was good enough.”

  Her father pressed his lips together. “I didn’t know about an art show. Her mother probably didn’t either and she was once an artist herself.”

  That was no longer a surprise. Alex drummed his fingers along the counter. “Well, now you know.”

  “I see you care about her.” Her father shifted on his stool so that he also faced the bar and no one interrupted them. Gio then asked, “And what are these other conditions?”

  Now they were getting down to business. Good. Alex turned in his seat slightly and stared into the other man’s eyes. “First, I need you to tell me who to write the checks to pay those debts.”

  Perspiration beaded Gio’s forehead.

  “I want you to reveal the names to Chelsea and your family, so you’ll never gamble with them again.”

  Gio quickly motioned his agreement, but his voice was thick. “That’s fair.”

  Alex held his breath and then said, “And last, you’ll need to check into a Gamblers Anonymous group for help with your addiction.”

  The older man’s face went white. “I’m not addicted.”

  “This isn’t the first time one of your daughters has had to bail you out. Why don’t you make it the last? They love you, you know. I can see you love them.” Alex took out the business card he’d picked up on his way to the hotel after dropping Chelsea off and placed it on the bar. “The cost of the group home won’t be a problem—I will cover it. I will also pay for the month-long stay as your daughters shouldn’t feel obligated to ensure their father’s safety when you’re an adult.”

  Gio huffed and shook his head. “You sound like my daughter Cassidy, not Chelsea. Chelsea's always been the more obedient one.”

  How Alex hoped to change that. Obedience meant never choosing for herself. Chelsea needed to honestly think about what she wanted out of her life and not always be impulsive, especially when she denied herself the very things she wanted the most. Perhaps her father’s opinion was why. Alex refilled his glass. “That’s not a good quality to admire in a daughter anymore. It also went out of style a few centuries ago.”

  Gio laughed, sipped his wine and swallowed. “Wait until you have daughters one day young man.”

  If Gio did as Alex wanted, he’d draw up the checks tonight and be done with everything before he went to bed. For now he held out his hand to shake and seal their bargain. “So, do we have a deal?”

  Her father shook his hand and let out a relieved sigh. “Yes, I will write the names and addresses down of the men if you get a pen and paper.”

  Alex looked for the bartender, but the man had disappeared. He slid off his barstool. “Wait here. I’ll get paper from the lobby.” It was best to get everything done while the man was motivated.

  Gio helped himself to the rest of the wine in the bottle as he waited.

  Alex walked over to the front desk and took paper and a pen from check-in. He turned and saw Chelsea with an older brown-haired woman. He watched her as they walked further inside and called out, “Chelsea.”

  She pivoted on her heels. In the interior light her face was pale, her pantsuit so faint a blue it was almost white. She gave him a curt nod, but continued down the hall with the lady. “Alex, I’m with my mom. We’ll talk tomorrow at breakfast.”

  Interesting. She was here but she seemed in a rush to go—she’d hadn’t been in the bar. Was there another lounge he didn’t know about? He waved at her. Tomorrow they’d talk, though he’d prefer she didn’t know that he’d paid her father’s debt until he knew she wouldn’t transfer any guilt or obligation onto him.

  He’d never told her that he had money.

  Alex returned to the bar where her father waited. He handed him the paper and said, “Please make the list out on this.”

  Gio wrote names and addresses in the neat penmanship of a nobleman. As he wrote, he asked, “Alexandre Travers, what is it that you do that you can afford to help me out?”

  Alex put his elbow on the bar top. “I grow wine in the South of France, my lord.”

  Her father’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is the wine any good?”

  “Yes.” A smile grew on his face. He’d taken five years to care for every vine and this year the taste of the grapes was far superior to what he’d originally inherited. Alex fully expected his wine to sell at a luxury price for years to come. “I like to think so. And as for why? I want to help Chelsea—and helping you is a step in that direction.”

  Gio finished his list and passed the paper over to Alex. Alex read the names of the five men and then folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Upstairs he’d get the checks drawn on his computer and sent out.

  “I would never harm any of my children, Mr. Travers.” Gio put the pen down. “I’m sorry if Chelsea made you think I ever would.”

  If he or Chelsea thought her father a horrible person, he’d wouldn’t have offered to help. Alex kept his voice light. “She believes you love her, sir. She defended you, which is why I made this offer in the first place.”

  Gio pressed his lips together. “In the morning, I’ll tell Cassidy more names for her list of men to keep away from me. I’ve tried to stop,” his voice shook, “but I can’t seem to…”

  He took it seriously that he wasn’t to see these people again. The last condition was also important. Alex slid the card over to Gio. “And this is the business card of a local gambling recovery center. They are expecting your call.”

  Gio stood and balanced against the bar, overcome by emotion or wine, Alex didn’t know. Then he bowed like Alex was part of the noble class. “Good doing business with you.”

  Something in the pit of Alex’s stomach tightened as he remembered Chelsea in such a rush in the hall. He stood and crossed his arms. “One more thing.”

  Her father widened his stance. “We’ve already made a deal.”

  Alex kept his head low to not intimidate or threaten. “We did. I just hope you don’t tell Chelsea about what happened between us.” If she knew that Alex had paid her father’s debts she would then transfer her feeling of obligation to Alex, and if he won Chelsea, it had to be without that playing card.

  “The less Chelsea knows, the better.” Gio’s smile grew in appreciation and he said, “It will be our secret. I will check into the clinic, first thing in the morning.”

  “Very well. Good night.” Eventually he’d have to tell her about what he’d done and how much money he now had, with the potential for how much more. By modernizing the vineyard, he’d set himself up and any potential future children of his, to live far better than he’d ever had as a child. Perhaps it wasn’t the luxury Chelsea grew up with, but he’d ensure they’d never be poor.

  Coming to the hotel to the stupid exclusive bar upstairs to meet Stefano was not Chelsea’s idea. Her mother had forced her to call and get as much information on the Duc of Modena from her old friend. Stefano’s insistence they meet now, must have been so she’d walk past Alex.

  Tomorrow she’d figure out how to tell Alex what happened, but for now, she was stuck in the elevator, going up to the top floor with her mother as her chaperone, even though she was in her twenties.

  None of this was good at all.

  Chelsea held the railings behind her, sick at the shock on Alex’s face when he’d seen her just now. The elevator climbed.

  Of course, Stefano and Manfredi were at this hotel. Hopefully Stefano was true to his word and this was just a one-on-one tete-a-tete. But Alex’s soulful gaze made her weak. It wasn’t fair but it was her fate to never get what she wanted o
ut of life. Alex choosing the same hotel to stay in for the night made cosmic sense. Or, it could bepart of Stefano’s perverse sense of humor.

  The doors opened to another room that must have once been where the nobility dined as it looked down the river toward the Louvre and Notre Dame. As she saw Stefano, alone, at a table near the bar, with his familiar strong profile, her heart ached and urged her to run back downstairs. She squared her shoulders as her mother guided her to the exclusive bar on the penthouse.

  With a pang in her every step, she walked over and joined him at his lonely table for one in this desolated bar.

  Her mother stayed near the door and the bartender, but she gestured with a slight dip of her nose for Chelsea to go by herself while she stayed on the other end of the room.

  So she was to gather the intel alone. Her heart raced as she motioned toward the chair opposite Stefano. Once he nodded, she sat, and she instantly put her hands around her waist like she might protect herself. “Stefano, glad you could meet us for a drink tonight.”

  He glanced across the room, toward her mother and his brown eyes had a twinkle that chilled Chelsea. He was the complete opposite of Alex. “How could I refuse the woman who would make me happiest to be my wife?”

  A cold shiver raced up her spine. Stefano wasn’t cruel or evil, but he was cynical and preferred the dark. If she married him, she’d never be free, and she felt it in her bones, but now wasn’t the time to share this. Instead she brushed off his proposal and said, “We’d make each other miserable and you know it.”

  He shrugged and offered her a glass of wine. “I know that we know each other’s tics well enough. We look at marriage the same.”

  Even in wine choices, Alex selected wine that tasted smooth while Stefano’s choice was harsh with a bitter aftertaste. “It’s still a no for me, but my mother is curious how you know Duc Astorre Manfredi so well now?”

  Stefano studied her. She endured his perusal and he finally said, “Through Matteo Korbel, we’ve become friends.”