A Deceptive Attraction: The Wilsons, Book 3

by Alicia Roberts

  “What should I do about Leon?” she asked Max. She already knew the answer.

  Her brother’s voice softened. “Vi, I’ve made no secret of how I felt about Tim. I don’t care who left whom; I’m just glad he’s gone. If you like being single, we all support you in that. But if you want to be married, at least happily married, then you need to be picky. Very, very picky.”

  Violet swallowed hard.

  “One thing Dad always taught us was never trust a liar,” Max said. “I’d love to see you happy, Vi.”

  “Thanks, Max,” Violet said, hoping her voice didn’t sound too choked up. “For everything.”

  “No problem, sis,” Max said. “Take care.”

  Violet ended the call.

  Anger surged up in her. She couldn’t remember ever hating someone as much as she hated Leon Girard. He had seemed so sincere, such a gentleman, so protective and concerned about her comfort and safety. It had touched the vulnerable side of herself that she normally kept hidden behind her tough persona.

  She had let down her guard because it felt so good after all those years of caution and avoiding risk. Her friends and family had encouraged her to loosen up and live a little. So she had.

  It didn’t surprise her all that much that she had been used. She had known Leon less than a week, after all, and she had broken every rule in the book, not to mention her own internal rules, by sleeping with him so soon. Worse, she had given her heart away to him without asking a single thing in return. Sure, it hurt, but it had been her decision, and she was responsible for it. “If you play, be prepared to pay,” her father had always told her and her siblings as they were growing up.

  Being used was bad enough, but Leon had gone one better and actually involved her in a criminal enterprise. Securities fraud was no joke. Only a decade ago, a famous, fabulously wealthy magazine publisher in New York City had been caught up in an insider trading scheme. She had served time in a federal prison for it, with every single detail of her trial and incarceration breathlessly reported by a hungry press anxious to embarrass her as much as possible.

  How could Leon possibly try to do this to her and her family and still come across as the man he appeared to be?

  Violet shuddered. He was worse than Tim. All Tim did was pretend to be sensitive while he was cheating on her. He never did anything to try to get her arrested.

  Memories of her first night with Leon invaded her mind like thieves. She remembered the two of them locked together like lovers on the Staten Island Ferry with his jacket around her shoulders, filling her senses with his scent. Her body remembered the shock of his hard organ pressing against her belly for the first time when he held her, and the full feeling it gave her when she parted her thighs and took him inside her in his bed later that night.

  Tossing away her lifelong distaste for drama, Violet threw herself face down on her bed and began to sob.

  Chapter 14

  After Violet left the suite with her bags, Leon called Air France and booked a ticket to Paris departing at one o’clock that afternoon. The IPO reception was his last job in the States in his current position. His work here was done.

  His seat was the only first-class ticket left on that flight, and he had snapped it up. If he had stayed in New York one minute longer, he would either buy a pack of cigarettes or go out of his mind. Neither one was an acceptable alternative.

  He settled back into his seat and sighed with relief as the plane backed away from the gate and taxied down the tarmac toward the runway.

  The whole IPO project last night had been nothing but a wild goose chase. Hugh was an idiot, and his scheme to target the Wilsons had been idiotic even for Hugh. But the biggest idiot of the entire show had been Leon, for going along with it.

  Ah well, Leon thought as the plane left the ground and the landing gear went up with its telltale clunk. He had been professional. He had done his job.

  But he had lost Violet in the process. Not only that, but he had hurt her terribly. He had seen the anger in her eyes as she had packed her bags that morning. A woman like Violet didn’t show that kind of anger unless something was tearing her up inside.

  And that something was him. She had told him so to his face.

  Leon thought of his breakup with Adele and wondered if he needed to go back to his old routine as a player. The irony was thick. When he had kept things casual and left his heart out of it, everything was understood and nobody got hurt. As soon as his emotions got involved, he always ended up disappointing someone. The breakup with Violet this morning had cut his feelings to the bone.

  Or was it really a breakup? They had only known each other less than a week.

  And yet, Leon thought, he felt as if he had known Violet all his life. They responded to the world in the same way, with a sense of humor, and utterly without drama. Her manners were as perfect as any Frenchwoman’s. She had been tender and kind to him after he had the panic attack at the top of the Rockefeller Center. And she was so beautiful that she took his breath away.

  Leon sat bolt upright in his seat as he realized what had just happened to him.

  He had gone to America and fallen in love.

  ***

  His sister’s voice on the other end of the phone was too loud. Leon held his cell phone away from his ear, but it didn’t help. Colette was very unhappy with him.

  He had called her as soon as his plane touched the tarmac at Roissy-de Gaulle Airport in Paris and the pilot announced they could make phone calls. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say when she answered. He just needed to talk to her. It had been this way ever since he was old enough to remember. Colette lectured him at times, but she always understood.

  This time was different, though. He had told her the entire story, including a general description of the IPO job at the Edison. Colette knew what he did for a living and would fill in the gaps for herself.

  Unfortunately, that was exactly what she did. That was when all hell broke loose.

  “What on earth possessed you to involve Mademoiselle Wilson in your work, Leon?” Colette demanded in French. “She is such a nice girl.”

  “It wasn’t my idea,” Leon said. “It was the American’s. He thought there might be something there.”

  “And what did you think?” Colette asked him.

  “I knew there was nothing,” Leon confessed.

  “Then you should have insisted that he leave her alone,” his sister said flatly. “You have always said you were above politics. This was your chance to prove it.”

  “And what was I supposed to do, ma sœur?” Leon said. “He doesn’t work for me. I had no authority. Besides, it was my job.”

  “You didn’t have to hurt her, Leon,” Colette said.

  Leon opened his mouth and closed it again. There was nothing he could say. His conscience had already said it all on the flight to Paris, long before his sister had.

  Colette was silent for a minute, then spoke up. “I have been planning to ask her to design an evening gown for me. It was not just a ruse so I could help you meet her. She does beautiful work.”

  “And why you are shopping for an evening gown?” Leon hoped she would let him tease her, as she normally did. It would mean she was no longer angry with him.

  Colette laughed and Leon relaxed. “I will tell you over lunch sometime. Meanwhile, I will contact Violet and order her services. Someone needs to make it up to her. It might as well be me.”

  “I want to see her,” Leon said.

  “Are you sure that is a good idea, Leon?” The edge was back in Colette’s voice. “Why would she want to see you?”

  “So I can offer her my apologies.”

  Colette sighed. “Let me talk to her first. When I get a chance, Leon, I will try to do a better job than I have so far of explaining women to you.”

  “I am looking forward to it,” Leon said. “I need some help in that area, it seems.” He paused. “Will you let me know when she arrives? I want to pick her up from the airport
so she doesn’t need to take a cab. She doesn’t speak French, you know.”

  “Oh, all right,” Colette relented. “I will text you her flight information when I book her ticket.”

  “Will you call her tomorrow? I’m anxious to see her.”

  “Tomorrow!” Colette thundered. “You just left her in New York with absolutely no reason to trust you, and justifiably so. Her world has been shattered. Please Leon, allow Violet to put the pieces back together before you come to her with your apology. She will be far more likely to forgive you then. I will call her in two weeks.”

  Two long weeks, Leon thought.

  She paused. “You don’t need any help convincing women to do your bidding,” she said. “It’s what happens afterward that worries me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Leon said. “I’ll get it right this time.”

  He ended the call. Now, more than ever, he had all the reasons in the world to get it right this time with Violet.

  Chapter 15

  Violet came into her shop, leaving the mad lunchtime rush on Broadway behind her. She carried two orders of Chinese takeout in a paper bag, one for her and one for Troyesha.

  It had been over two weeks since she had left Leon standing there in her room at the hotel and moved back into her apartment. The first week had been difficult. She had cried more often than she could remember since she was a child.

  By the start of the second week she had begun to feel more like herself. Occasionally she caught herself wondering where Leon was, and if he had gone back to France. She would cut off the memories as soon as they arose. There was no point in reliving the experience. He had ruined it, every bit of it.

  Violet prided herself on her resiliency. If someone knocked her down, she would bounce right back up. It didn’t occur to her that stuffing her emotions down might not be healthy. She didn’t care. This was survival.

  Troyesha had asked her about Leon when she had gone to work that afternoon after her call to Max.

  “It didn’t work out,” was all she said. Troyesha had noted her poor attempt at disguising her red, swollen eyes with mascara and didn’t ask any more questions that day.

  “Phone call for you while you were out,” Troyesha announced. “From France.”

  Violet almost dropped the bag containing their lunch. She felt dizzy. “Who was it?”

  “It wasn’t Leon,” Troyesha said. “It was his sister. She wants you to design a dress for her.”

  Thank goodness, Violet thought. Although her brother Max had raised her suspicions that Colette was part of Leon’s insider trading ring, Violet’s instincts told her otherwise. Even if she was, this was business. Artist or not, Violet was a Wilson at heart. She would be a fool to pass up an opportunity like this. She took out her cell phone and punched in the number Troyesha had given her.

  Colette answered the phone in French but switched to English when Violet identified herself.

  “Ah, Mademoiselle Wilson,” she said. “Does your offer to design an outfit for me still stand?”

  “Of course,” Violet replied.

  “Then you must come to Paris,” Colette said. “I will pay for your plane fare and lodging. No, please don’t argue,” she said when Violet started to protest. “You must take time out of your work to visit me here, and you deserve to be compensated. I will make the reservation when you are available.”

  “Let me check my schedule,” Violet said.

  That was a joke, she thought. There was nothing on her schedule, other than the family brunch upstate every Sunday. There had been nothing on her schedule since her breakup with Leon.

  Maybe she wasn’t doing so well after all.

  “I am free all next week,” she told Colette.

  “Bon. I will text you with your flight and hotel information.”

  “I don’t speak French,” Violet confessed. “Will that be a problem?”

  “Not a big problem,” Colette replied. “Most Parisians speak English but you have to make them do it.” She laughed. “You might brush up on the basics, things like ‘parlez-vous anglais?’”

  After the call ended, Violet went to the back room of the shop and started packing her couture supplies. Troyesha came in a few minutes later.

  “What are you doing?” she asked Violet softly.

  “I’m going to Paris.”

  “Oh good,” Troyesha said. “Then you’re getting back together with Leon.” She said it as a statement, not a question.

  “Absolutely not,” Violet said. “Leon and I are through.”

  “Riiiiiight.” Troyesha rolled her eyes. The door signal beeped and she went out front to wait on a customer.

  Colette’s text came in the following Monday. The day after that, Violet took a town car to Kennedy Airport and got on a plane bound for Paris.

  ***

  Charles de Gaulle Airport was madness, no other word for it. Violet could handle the shoulder to shoulder crowds. In fact, they reminded her of home, but the layout was confusing, and the staff were unhelpful. The airport was grungy in a way that reminded her of a New York subway station.

  Her mental clock was jumbled up too. The flight across the Atlantic had taken seven long hours, and when her plane landed, it was exactly the same time in Paris as it had been when she left New York.

  She managed to find the baggage claim. She had only brought one of the two big wheeled suitcases she had been towing all over Manhattan two weeks ago, but that was plenty. She looked around frantically for the exits.

  “Do you need a ride?”

  The voice behind her was low and melodious. She had heard those exact same words before. Recently, in fact.

  She turned and found Leon standing behind her, holding out his hand to help her with her suitcase.

  Her belly clutched wildly and her heart started racing. She didn’t know whether to throw her arms around his neck, or run as fast as she could from him.

  “I should have expected this,” she said, holding tightly to the handle of her bag.

  “It is not my sister’s fault,” Leon said. “I made her tell me your flight number.” He reached over and took the bag handle out of her hand.

  “Oh, I’m not angry with her,” Violet said. “I’m angry with you.”

  Leon took her arm and led her in the same direction that the rest of the crowd was moving, with her suitcase in tow. “Where are you staying?” he asked her.

  “None of your business,” said Violet. “Ask your sister.”

  “My car is here. I would like to offer you a ride to your hotel. When we get there, I will drop you off, and if you don’t ever want to see me again, you won’t have to.”

  “I’ll take a cab,” Violet said.

  “There are no cabs available.”

  It was true, Violet realized as she looked at the empty curb. She had been one of the last passengers off the plane, and everyone else on her flight had reached the exit before she had.

  What kind of a town was Paris if a girl couldn’t even get a cab?

  She let Leon stow her bag in the sassy little black Porsche parked in the loading zone with its flashers on. He opened the door for her, and after a moment spent glaring at him, she got in.

  “What was that address again?” Leon asked her as he expertly navigated the crowded route out of the airport.

  Violet gave him the name of her hotel without comment.

  They rode in stony silence. Violet’s thoughts were a jumble of conflicted emotions. Leon couldn’t be planning to pass her any more illegal stock trading tips, could he? He and his oily little friend Hugh had been stupid, but he couldn’t be that stupid.

  Maybe he wanted to sleep with her again. She had heard that men made sexual conquests for sport. She supposed she had been one of them when he had seduced her during his visit to New York. That was understood, but she had no intention of making the same mistake twice. She had been stupid, but she wasn’t that stupid.

  “Violet, I am so sorry,” Leon spoke up. He had parked the Porsc
he under the canopy at her hotel and was sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re sorry for?” Violet asked him.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Leon said.

  “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “Prove to me that you’re sorry by explaining to me what you’re sorry for. Tell me what you and Hugh were really up to at the reception. Tell me why Hugh was all over me like a cheap suit as soon as you went to the men’s room. Tell me why he gave me a crooked stock tip and told me to tell my family about it.”

  Leon put his hand to his temple and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t, Violet. I can only tell you how truly sorry I am.”

  Violet looked over at him. He looked sincerely pained by her response. Maybe he was sincere, but that didn’t help her.

  “I’m going to take a chance and believe you mean that. In that case, I accept your apology.”

  Leon lifted his head. “Thank you Violet.”

  “But you must understand this,” she continued. “Without an explanation for your actions that night, all you’re doing is hurting me even more.”

  She got out of the car, where the bellman was waiting to take her bag. After sitting in the driver’s seat looking bewildered for a moment, Leon popped the trunk lid open.

  “Put yourself in my place, Leon,” she said through the open door of the Porsche. “If you can.”

  She closed the door and left him sitting at the curb.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, Violet took a cab from her hotel to the address Colette had given her. She was growing to like Paris already. The tight streets and narrow row houses reminded her of the oldest parts of New York City that had been built before cars were invented. The street noise and impossible traffic were soothing because they reminded her of home. It was true that the language barrier was frustrating, but she found that if she at least attempted to communicate in French first, most Parisians would answer her in English.

  “Bon jour, Mademoiselle Wilson,” Colette greeted her as she opened the door.