Honeymoon in Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  “Yes, wine would be good,” I said with a flustered laugh.

  “Well, the store has been rather quiet all day. Who am I kidding—it’s been quiet for months now. But this afternoon, we can use that to our advantage.” Isabelle smiled deviously as she bustled to the front door, flipped over the “Out to Lunch” sign, then locked the door behind her.

  “Isabelle, you don’t have to—”

  “Nonsense,” she quipped as she headed for the checkout counter, then bent down and rustled around for a few seconds. “These early afternoon hours are usually my slowest because most of Lyon are still eating their three-hour lunches or they’ve gone home to take a midday nap.”

  Isabelle popped up from behind the counter holding two wineglasses and two minibottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. “We may as well embrace the culture, no?” She didn’t wait for me to answer as she unscrewed the tops and poured us each a glass.

  “Lingerie and wine—I should’ve gotten a job here instead of at the magazine!” I said, accepting the glass without hesitation.

  “All right, tell me what’s going on,” Isabelle said.

  Isabelle’s advice had been spot-on up to this point, so I was hoping she could help me figure out what to do next.

  “The plot is thickening with the Boucher family drama,” I began. “And I’ve continued to take matters into my own hands.”

  “As any smart woman would,” Isabelle said. “So, what did you do?”

  “I was giving Vincent his first English lesson today, and Marcel stormed into his office right when we were getting started. Before I left them alone, my phone may have accidentally slipped out of my bag, and the Record button just happened to turn on.”

  Isabelle’s sapphire eyes widened, reveling in the drama. “You sneaky girl! I can’t believe you recorded their conversation! Can I hear it?”

  “Please don’t think I’m awful, and please don’t tell anyone about this.” My finger hovered over the Play button.

  Isabelle lifted up her wineglass and gestured to all of the racy lingerie filling the store around us. “Do you really think I’m in a position to judge you? I have three small daughters and I own a lingerie store. Can you even imagine what the other mothers say about me?”

  “It’s just that there’s something really crazy going on with Vincent, Marcel, and Brigitte. And Luc knows more about it than he’s telling me. I didn’t want to be in the dark any longer, so—”

  “Charlotte, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Trust me, I understand needing to do whatever you have to do to look out for yourself and for the people you love. Even if it may not be considered moral by others’ standards.” She focused back on my cell phone. “Maybe I can help. Let’s hear it.”

  I pressed Play and watched Isabelle’s confused expression as she listened intently to Vincent and Marcel’s argument.

  When the recording finished, Isabelle took an exceptionally long sip of wine. Finally, when she came up for air, she asked me, “What do you think it all means? Do you have any idea what this operation is they’re talking about?”

  “Les Bijoux? Well, I can’t be one hundred percent certain, of course, but I think I’m starting to form a theory.”

  “And?”

  “Okay, this might sound insane, but what if Les Bijoux are prostitutes and Vincent is their pimp? Well, maybe he’s not a pimp in the normal sense of the word, but he could be the one cashing in on all the action and running it from behind the scenes—possibly with the help of this Jean-Michel character he mentioned.” I emptied the rest of my minibottle of wine into the glass and took a sip before continuing. “Based on what Marcel said, it sounds like they target young, desperate actresses who are looking for a break. Then they pimp them out to God knows who—maybe rich film executives who can promise them their next role. And I think that Luc’s ex-wife, Brigitte, is one Vincent’s jewels—or prostitutes.”

  Isabelle took the last swig of her wine, then set the glass down on the counter.

  “That’s quite the theory,” she said.

  “I know it sounds absurd, but from the little I know of Vincent, and of his obsession with women, I can totally see him running an organized prostitution ring. After listening to this recording and after the conversation I told you about between Vincent and Brigitte yesterday, do you have any other ideas on what else could it be?”

  Isabelle suddenly seemed lost in thought. “Who else have you told about this?”

  “You’re the first person. I’m not sure who to take the recording to.”

  Isabelle drummed her long fingernails against the countertop. “Hmm, let me think.”

  “Of course Luc would be the obvious answer… but his secrecy has me worried. Does he already know about all of this, and if he does, why hasn’t he done anything about it?” I said. “And of course I’m still supposed to be meeting Nicolas Boucher at seven o’clock tonight at La Cour des Loges Hôtel. I don’t get the impression that he’s the type of guy to involve himself in whatever his dad and brother are working on behind the scenes, but who knows? I can’t trust any of them at this point.”

  “Who will be watching Adeline while you’re meeting with Nicolas? Doesn’t Luc work late?” Isabelle ran her fingers down the stem of her wineglass, her eyes zeroing in on my cell phone.

  “I’ve already arranged for Luc’s sister Sandrine to pick Adeline up from the crèche at five o’clock and watch her back at our apartment until I get home. So I’m all set there. The real question is—what should I do with this information?”

  She whipped her head up, and for the first time since I’d met her, I noticed a flash of fire in those sapphire eyes of hers. “You’re involving yourself in something you don’t know anything about, something that, quite honestly, sounds dangerous. I think you need to leave all of this alone.”

  “So you don’t think I should mention this to Luc or to Nicolas? But what if—”

  “Destroy the recording and see how it all plays out. This isn’t something you want record of when the shit hits the fan. Trust me.” Suddenly Isabelle’s cell phone buzzed. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” she asked.

  I nodded as she took her call into the back room, just as she’d done the week before… and several times since.

  That was strange.

  I left the counter to walk through the lush racks of lingerie while pondering my next course of action. A new collection featured toward the back of the store caught my eye. Not that I had any business buying more lingerie for myself right now, but it certainly didn’t hurt to take a peek.

  An intricately designed black lace slip fell effortlessly from a white satin hanger. The straps were thin and delicate, and they crisscrossed in the back. Three tiny jewels sparkled right where the two straps crossed, and more showy stones lined the hem of the slip. I placed the sexy piece back on the rack and thumbed through the rest of the collection. Mock emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and amethysts studded all of the bras, panties, thongs, and nighties.

  I picked up a ruby-studded bra, then checked the tag to see if was my size.

  But the word printed on the tiny label made me do a double take.

  Les Bijoux.

  As a chill slithered up my spine, I thought about the pink satin ribbon I’d removed from Vincent’s couch. It was the same kind of ribbon that Isabelle used to tie up her lingerie gift packages.

  I shoved the bra back onto the rack and turned with a start to find Isabelle watching me from the corner.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  I swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yes, just checking out the latest collections. They’re all gorgeous, as usual.”

  She smiled back at me, but it wasn’t her usual, bright smile. She looked tense… and scared.

  Walking back up to the counter, I found Isabelle eyeing my cell phone again. I snapped up the phone, then pulled up the recording once more. “You know, I think you’re right,” I said. “I had no business recording their private conversation, and whateve
r they’re up to doesn’t concern me. I’m going to delete the recording.”

  Aiming the screen totally out of Isabelle’s line of sight, I hit the Save button and tucked the phone back into my purse. “There, it’s gone. I’m just going to do what Luc asked me to do and trust him. He said I have nothing to worry about, and he’s probably right. I’m sure it will all be fine.”

  Isabelle nodded. “Of course it will be. You’re doing the right thing, Charlotte. You’ve had enough drama this week. No need to cloud up your new marriage with even more.” Isabelle picked up her sleek black purse from behind the counter and smiled at me. “That was my daughter’s school calling, and she’s sick again. I’m so sorry to run, but I have to pick her up.”

  “I totally understand,” I said. I sincerely hoped that the name of Isabelle’s new bijoux collection was only a coincidence. She had three little daughters to look after, and she’d been so kind to me these past few weeks. There was no way she could’ve been involved with the Boucher family this entire time, was there?

  “Is your daughter all right?” I asked as I followed her out of the store.

  Isabelle waved her hand. “Oh, yes. Just a little stomach bug. All the kids are coming down with it this week.”

  After Isabelle closed up behind us, she gave me a quick kiss on each cheek before we both jetted off in opposite directions.

  Even though I didn’t want to acknowledge my gut feeling on this one, I had a sneaking suspicion that Isabelle’s daughter was just fine.

  I also had a feeling that she knew I wasn’t as stupid as I was making myself out to be.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  After that bizarre encounter with Isabelle, I decided my meeting with Nicolas couldn’t wait.

  Standing in front of the fancy, five-star Cour des Loges Hôtel in Vieux Lyon, I dialed Nicolas’ number.

  “Charlotte?” he answered.

  “Bonjour, Nicolas. I was wondering if you might be available to meet a little earlier than seven o’clock tonight?”

  “Of course. What time were you thinking?”

  “Um… would right now work? I’m outside your hotel.”

  A long pause traveled over the line before Nicolas responded. “You’re here right now? Is everything okay?”

  “I really need to talk to you, Nicolas. It’s urgent.”

  “I’m in room 302. Come on up.”

  It was my first time inside La Cour des Loges Hôtel, and with its high ceilings and grand, stone archways, it looked more like the inside of a medieval castle than a modern-day hotel. I took the elevator up to Nicolas’ floor and headed down a long, candlelit hallway before pausing outside his door.

  If Luc found out I was meeting Nicolas alone in his private hotel room, things could only go from bad to worse. But until Luc spilled his secrets, he couldn’t expect me not to have a few of my own.

  Before I could change my mind about my next course of action, I knocked on Nicolas’ hotel door.

  When his rugged face appeared, for once I did not think about his outrageously hot piano sex scene immediately upon seeing him. Instead, the concern I saw in those stone-gray eyes of his made me see him as a person, as a friend. He ushered me into his beautiful hotel suite, past a crackling fireplace and a king-size bed, its covers all rustled about.

  “Please, have a seat,” Nicolas offered as we reached a cushy tan couch lining the back wall.

  I sank into the comfortable sofa and finally let out the breath I’d been holding since I left Isabelle’s shop. I had no idea if talking to Nicolas could help anything right now, or if it would only serve to further sabotage my already desperate situation. But as he sat down beside me and gazed at me with those sad, sincere eyes of his, I realized I had nothing left to lose. And judging by the look on Nicolas’ face, he didn’t either.

  “Why did you want to meet tonight?” I asked him.

  “Like I said, I have something important to give you,” Nicolas said. “Something I need you to pass along to Luc for me. I’ve tried several times this week to reach him, but he won’t take my calls. I even tried to go to his work at the university when I arrived in Lyon yesterday, but…” Nicolas trailed off, seeming unsure if he wanted to continue.

  “But what? I asked.

  “Never mind, it’s not important.” Nicolas’ jaw tightened as he stood from the couch and walked over to a sleek black suitcase next to the bed. He unzipped the top pouch and pulled out a large manila envelope.

  Gripping the envelope tightly in his hands, he paced over to the window and gazed down at the cobblestone street below.

  “What is it, Nicolas? What’s inside that envelope?”

  He turned back toward me, lowering his heavy gaze. “The contents prove without a doubt that Luc’s father was innocent. But they also bring to light a different truth, a truth that I myself didn’t want to believe, and a fact that I am certain Luc and certain members of his family will not be pleased to learn as well. I wanted Luc to see this before anyone else does. Even before you, Charlotte. Can you promise me you will give this to him?”

  I eyed the envelope, wondering what this shocking truth was that Nicolas was talking about. And if I were to hand it over to Luc without first taking a peek inside, would Luc even share its contents with me?

  Nicolas hesitated before handing me the envelope. “I’ve thought long and hard about whether or not I wanted to hand this information over to Luc, but after everything that’s happened between our families—after what Luc believes I did to him many years ago—I think he deserves to hear the truth. And he deserves to hear it from me.”

  “Are you referring to Marion?” I asked. “Sandrine told me what happened. Or at least she told me Luc’s version of the story.”

  Nicolas focused on the floor, regret tracing the lines around his eyes. “It was shortly after I’d landed my first big role in a movie. My picture was on the cover of every magazine, and women would literally throw themselves at me. I have to admit that, at first, it was fun. But I honestly never had any interest in Marion. She was Luc’s girlfriend, and considering Luc and I had only just begun to talk again after our parents’ divorce, I would never have crossed that line. One night, I invited them over for dinner, and Marion came a half an hour early—alone. She told me that she was in love with me and that she wanted to leave Luc.”

  Nicolas ran his hands through his dark brown hair before continuing. “The look in her eyes, though, wasn’t sincere. She was in love with the idea of me, with the actor she’d seen on screen. I told her that wasn’t the real me. That she was making the biggest mistake of her life leaving Luc. Just as I asked her to go, she got really emotional, and I made the mistake of hugging her. Right when Luc walked in the door, Marion kissed me. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Luc loved Marion; he was planning to marry her. In his eyes, from that day forward, I was just like my father. Luc ended things with Marion, and that’s when he met Brigitte. He was too hurt to notice what a mess Brigitte was, and I think he just couldn’t handle being alone. He’d lost his family, his best friend, and the woman he loved, all within a five-year time span. So he married Brigitte without having a clue of the disaster he was getting himself into.”

  A sickening feeling seized my gut as the pieces of Luc’s past began to come together. I only wished it had been Luc filling me in all along.

  “Do you think that’s why Luc married me?” I said. “Just another Band-Aid to cover up his troubled past?”

  Nicolas’ silence made me fear the worst. Had I been wrong about Luc’s love for me? Were his romantic gestures all just a lie so he didn’t have to be alone? Had his love been a lie too?

  “Luc may have a troubled past, but he isn’t a stupid man. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Marrying Brigitte was a mistake, but out of that error, he got Adeline. And if I know anything about Luc, I know that the last thing he would ever want is for his daughter to be the child of two divorces. He wouldn’t have married you if he wasn’t sure of his love for you. I’m
certain about that, Charlotte.”

  “Then why won’t he tell me anything?”

  Nicolas shook his head. “I don’t know. I really have no idea what Luc is up to, but I want to believe the best. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “You seem to be the only one.”

  After a few seconds of silence, Nicolas spoke. “Why did you come to see me early, Charlotte? Did something happen?”

  I pondered telling Nicolas about the recording, about my bijoux theory, and about the new possibility of Isabelle’s involvement in it all, but until I knew what he was hiding inside this envelope, I felt it was best to keep my mouth shut.

  There was something I needed to ask him, though.

  “Do you know who was photographed kissing on Marcel’s balcony when we stayed at his apartment in Paris on Saturday night? None of us can remember a single thing past that first glass of champagne in the limo, and I really need to know what you remember about that night.”

  A curious gleam passed through Nicolas’ gaze, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, the sound of a key in the door made him stop.

  Right as I turned my head, I noticed a short red dress hanging in the closet.

  And as the door opened, I realized that my hunch had been right all along.

  Clad in a slinky black top, dark skinny jeans, and a pair of shimmering gray heels, Lexi strutted into Nicolas’ hotel room like it was her second home.

  “Lexi… I had a feeling it might be you,” I said.

  She set her purse down on the nightstand then walked hesitantly over to me. “We were going to wait to tell you until a little more time had passed, but I couldn’t lie to you, Char.”

  Lexi shot Nicolas a sweet smile before taking his hand in hers. And for the first time since I’d walked into his hotel suite, the worry that had plagued Nicolas’ expression was wiped clean by his rugged, movie-star grin.

  “So, you’re together now?” I asked.