by K L Clare
How do I say We’re going to Paris in French? Lissie had asked.
Nous allons à Paris. Repeat it back to me.
I wanted her to become fluent early. The education system didn’t place much emphasis on foreign-language learning. The curriculum provided wasn’t offered until kids were eleven or twelve years old. But my mother was an excellent teacher, and she’d started French lessons with Lissie not long after our arrival from the States.
Nous allons à Paris, my two beauties had chanted with their hands linked, giggling, twirling round and round through the wild primroses and tall grass, the pups chasing at their heels.
Sean jumped up from his seat at the conference table and poured me a cup of coffee when I entered the war room. “We’re ready, sir. Thomas has the lawyers on standby for the video conference, and printed copies of the contracts are here on the table.”
I took a drink. “Thank you. Before we get to the video con, I want to quickly discuss accommodations for Paris. Extend the apartment lease you secured. In fact, leave it open-ended for now.”
“I’ll contact the real estate broker after this meeting and negotiate a flexible agreement. How long do you estimate staying on?”
“We’ll stay for as long as Elle is happy to be in France. Be prepared for additional fees for changing the terms and rewriting the contract without a prearranged limit. Make it happen, Sean, and don’t let the broker fuck you over.”
Thomas disconnected a phone call. He’d arrived after breakfast. “That wasn’t the plan. What is this about?”
“Don’t read into it, brother. My wife wants an extended holiday in Paris, that is all. I have no intention to cap the time as long as she wants to be there. When she and I leave here next week, we’re going to the Continent straightaway.”
“What? Christ. Well, you could have mentioned it sooner. We need to put together a revised security plan and prepare the team.”
I nodded for the sake of saving face in that moment. Thomas would be disagreeable when he learned Elle and I were going to France alone. It would be a heated discussion, and it needed to be held in private. He would force me to rethink my position and would argue that I should backtrack on what I’d promised her. And the basis for his argument would be solid, of course. Elle would always be the last White Rose, and we would always need to protect her from that.
I turned back to Sean. “Arrange for the helicopter to be flown here from Gatwick. Ben Scott will file the flight plan and clear French customs and pilot the aircraft. He’ll retain possession afterwards and remain on standby until I release him.”
“The countess will be well during the flight?” he asked.
“We’ll conduct some test runs in this vicinity to be sure she can tolerate it. Since the cruising altitude is significantly lower and the cabin remains unpressurized, my money is on Elle. She’ll do well.” I grinned. “Let’s get on with the meeting.”
Elle’s parents died in a plane crash when she was two years old, and that fact, compounded by the anxiety disorder she suffered from, made it difficult for her to fly in an airplane. The psychology of it manifested into a dangerous physical illness.
We hadn’t discussed taking the helicopter yet, but I was confident that my wife would give it a shot. If she did refuse or if our test flights failed, then we’d take the car shuttle train through the channel tunnel. I preferred not to do that if she could acclimate to travel in my corporate helicopter.
“Good morning, Mr. Hastings. So nice to see you,” one of the four lawyers said from a monitor on the wall. “Are you ready to open up your general partner stakes today?”
“I appreciate the light tone. As you well know, this was never in the business plan when Ethan and I created it. But Ethan is gone, and it’s time for HG to become more progressive. Thomas and James have proven they can successfully carry operations when I am otherwise occupied.
“My brother is prepared to make a substantial investment as a senior managing partner, and James has accepted our offer for a position as junior partner. HG shall seek a second junior partner.
“Once all four partners are invested, the group will accept offers from funds management firms who wish to invest in the general partner stakes. The selected firm, if one is selected—and make certain that language is clear in the documents—would own a nonvoting stake and must provide a generous capital infusion, which would be used for new strategies such as expansion into credit and growth equity.”
I signaled for Sean to get me another cup of coffee. “Thomas will now run through the division of new and existing office operations.”
Thomas stood and walked to the opposite end of the room. He filled his cup, then leaned against the table and looked to the monitor. “We’ve offered management of the forthcoming Madrid office to James, and he has accepted. We expect to receive his start-up proposal within thirty days. I will open and run the New York office.
“My brother is set to launch Paris over the next twelve weeks. When our fourth partner comes on board, that person will assume responsibility for the Paris office. London remains HG’s home office, and when Will is ready to step back from operations, I’ll assume full management. When the time comes, the juniors will be given an opportunity to submit proposals for an additional office in Frankfurt.
“Keep in mind we have existing clients in each of these territories, so we’re indicating the new offices are more than basic organizational start-ups. Each of the ops will hit the ground running with active accounts and investors.”
“If I might add,” James interjected. “There’s quite a lot of untapped interest in the Madrid region—new markets, new capital opportunities—and I’m prepared to dive in when the senior partners believe we’re ready to expand on that plan.”
“Good. Let’s get these contracts signed and get to it,” I said.
Our lawyers walked us through the contracts, and each was fully executed. Hastings Group was a young company and becoming more progressive would take it to another level. I expected my own personal earnings to increase another 20 percent within the year.
My mind wandered while Thomas led the rest of the meeting.
Elle would be safer in France. Devon Parker’s reach would be eliminated.
And I’d have more space to process the issue with Thomas—it was obvious he had feelings for my wife. Christ, but I needed him. Elle needed him. But the truth was, it would take only one lapse in my brother’s judgment to tear this family apart. I was certain he understood that just as well.
* * *
Elle lifted onto her knee to lean over the console that separated our leather seats and braced herself with one hand on my thigh as she watched the deer run through the trees into the open grassland. She reached across with her other hand and touched her fingertips to the glass on my side of the helicopter. I had to kiss her—there was no fucking help for it when she was so near, so alive with curiosity and awe.
At least two dozen deer in the herd loped along, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun, their heads disappearing now and then when they indiscriminately foraged through the tall grasses. Most of the winter coats had been shed. The brighter chestnut and the white spots made it easier to track them.
Elle pressed the corner of her mouth harder against my lips. “There she is,” she announced through her headset. “I think it’s her. . . . Wait—oh, yes . . . I see the crescent-shaped spot on her back. She’s grown a lot. They’ve all grown so much, it seems.”
“It was a good winter for the deer as well, then. The females should start giving birth over the next couple of months.”
Ben had gradually climbed to four thousand feet and then made a gentle descent to less than a quarter of that altitude, and my wife was doing quite well with the new experience. Though it was just the three of us on board, the luxurious passenger cabin accommodated four, while the cockpit had room for two pilots.
“You’re feeling okay, baby?”
“I’m great, actually,” she sai
d. “I’m ready to go closer to the channel.”
I grinned. “Yeah?”
“It makes no sense. Flying should be flying, but this feels different to me.”
“The loss of control doesn’t weigh as heavily with the clear visibility that comes with these lower altitudes.” I switched over to Ben’s channel on my headset for a second. “We’re doing well back here, my brother. Hit the beach. Keep it low.”
“If hovering over the water scares you, Elle, we’ll go back. Just say the word.”
She sat back in her seat and gave me a double thumbs-up. And a smile. Christ, that goddamned smile. The one that was a contradiction of her innocence because it baited me with mischief at the same time and put my cock on notice.
I leaned over the console and stroked her bottom lip with my finger. “You know what I’ll do to you . . . for smiling at me that way.”
“Can he hear us, Will?” she asked, still with the smile.
I shook my head. “We’re on our own channel. I have to switch over to talk to him.”
“Hmm.” She moved her eyes to my erection. “So, he wouldn’t hear me if I commented on how hard you are right now . . . or if I told you how badly I want you to fill me and stretch me and make me come while you’re inside of me?”
Yeah. I was going to fuck the hell out of my little tease when we returned home.
“You just made your bed, witch.” I winked.
She giggled. “And I can’t wait to lie in it beneath you, savage.”
I ran my finger over her bottom lip again. I wanted to taste it, taste all of her, but instead, I angled my chin towards the glass beside her. The helicopter was hugging the coastline. We were about to move out over the water, and she hadn’t noticed.
Her gaze bounced between the eroded sandstone walls on the beach and the horizon, and she lost her breath for a moment. “It’s all just so beautiful from here,” she said. “Experiencing it this way makes it feel like it belongs to me.”
Only one beauty moved me.
“It does belong to you. Whatever you want, Elle. It’s all yours.”
Her fingertips found the inside of my forearm, and she traced the lines and the curves of my tattoo. The rose. The dagger. Her name. “You can’t give me the cliffs or the sea or the moon. Still, I know you would try. Why are you so good to me, Will? I’m not the perfect angel you believe you see. I’m flawed like everyone else. Perhaps even more so.”
Her green eyes. So unexpected. So fucking lovely.
“You are perfect to me. For me. And you are an angel. My angel. Attempting to convince me otherwise will never do. It will only serve to make me angry. And, Elle, you do know that about me.”
Whatever she was keeping from me was eating at her conscience. I had to make her see. There was nothing left that we hadn’t already endured that could break us.
She nodded and diverted her eyes to the west, searching the horizon for the Atlantic Ocean. “How are we this lucky? To be loved by the person we love more than ourselves. It’s difficult to understand, you know?”
“I don’t care to understand. How or why means nothing. I care only that it is.”
Ben tapped on the glass dividing panel between the cockpit and the cabin, and I switched my headset over to his frequency.
“Are we good back there? You ready to call it a day?” he asked.
“All is well. Take us home, Ben.”
I pulled Elle onto my lap. “You being able to do this . . . well, it opens up more possibilities for us. I don’t want to travel without you. I can’t live without you.” I kissed the tip of her nose.
She kissed my cheek. “Same.”
“You’re flying, baby.”
“It’s really kind of crazy, right?”
We chuckled close to each other’s mouth, and I took advantage of the near contact, pushing past her lips with my tongue to taste her, to kiss her until she couldn’t draw another breath. . . .
Not until I gave it to her.
32
Vanity fucking Fair. I had forgotten about the interview and couldn’t remember why we agreed to be featured in the magazine’s celebrity spread in the first place.
Wanted to show the world my biggest win.
Elle and I were greeted by the publication’s senior editor midway across the lawn after our exit from the helicopter. Sean led the woman to us, her stiletto heels sinking into the turf and her short, dark curls standing on end as she trudged in our direction.
“Hello! I’m so glad for the chance to see you today. Sean says you’re leaving soon for Paris,” she shouted above the noise as Ben piloted the small aircraft to one of the estate’s outbuildings. “I’m Jenn Jackson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.”
I shook her hand. “Will. This is my wife, Ellie. I understand you are James’s sister.”
“Yes, that’s right. I just ran into my brother inside the house, which is quite amazing, by the way. You should know he loves working at your company.” She spun on her heels to greet Elle, extending her hand again. “It’s lovely to see you in person, Countess.”
“Please. Call me Ellie. We’re glad you could make it down from London. I thought it would be nice for you to visit Eastridge since so many of the photos were taken here.”
I placed my hand on the small of Elle’s back and nodded for Sean to lead Ms. Jackson back to the house. “We’ll take a few minutes before we see you both in the drawing room.”
“See you in about thirty minutes,” Elle added. “Mrs. Bates will serve tea on the hour. Make yourself at home, and by all means, spend some time with your brother if you’d like.”
Ms. Jackson stared for a second and seemed rather tongue-tied. It was the eyes. Newcomers were struck by the rare green shade of Elle’s irises, and sometimes rendered speechless by her natural beauty. She was just as beautiful when the couture and the makeup and the cameras were gone.
I grinned and led my wife into the house.
What a lucky motherfucker I was.
“I’m not sure I’m looking forward to this interview.” Elle caught her arm up in mine as we hit the staircase together. “Did you see the copy layout on your desk? The headline says ‘Meet the New Plantagenets’ or something like that. Who would even know what that means? I’m excited about the feature, but I don’t want us to be called that.”
“We’ll tell her to change the headline.”
“I don’t think we can edit their publication.”
“You know better, Elle. If you don’t like it, it will be changed.”
“I don’t like it. This is the twenty-first century, and we’re the Hastings family.”
I stopped on the landing and pulled her hand to my mouth, smiling against her skin. “Before I asked you to marry me, I worried you might refuse to take my name. You were so headstrong when you were grieving. I thought you might feel like I was taking something more away from you, that you were losing your independence.”
“That’s thoughtful but wrong. My commitment to you and to our family has nothing to do with gaining or losing independence. And for the record, you never asked me to marry you—you commanded it. Lucky for you, I was already determined to spend the rest of my life in your bed.” She winked. “Oh. Now I can’t stop thinking about how enormous your erection was on the helicopter. Sometimes I wonder how you manage to fit it inside your trousers.”
I laughed. Really, truly laughed. Elle stared at me for a second, shocked, I think. Spontaneous laughter didn’t exist for me before Elle. But there it was. She let out one of her own husky laughs, and I picked her up into my arms. Her long legs came round my waist, and she crushed her lips against mine.
“I love you, Will.”
“That’s all I want, Elle. That’s everything I need.”
I didn’t kiss her back. Christ, I wanted to kiss her. But right then, the mobile in my pocket buzzed with a message we’d been expecting. Elle slid to her feet, and I read the text out loud.
Commissioner Brown: Parker’s
trial opens tomorrow morning.
Shit. Fact was, the commissioner had no way to guarantee a conviction. He had confidence in the case he had built against Devon Parker, but ultimately, he had no control over the court’s ruling, even if he had provided solid evidence to the prosecutor.
A sharp pain cut through the center of me. The physical discomfort was a warning. Darkness stirred. My next thought? Shut down the Vanity Fair piece to limit my wife’s public exposure until I killed that motherfucker.
The Last Secret
From: Ellie
To: Isobel
This must be short because Will is waiting for me. We’re leaving for France, but I need to tell you this first. I think the time is coming, Isobel. We must tell Lissie soon. I know I said it wasn’t part of our plan, but a London tabloid has since speculated that you are a Hastings.
I’ll let Will know when we reach Paris. Your brothers do not seem to have the desire to keep your father’s secrets. I don’t believe they will deny that you are one of them.
Lissie deserves the truth. And it should come from Will and me. She deserves to know where and to whom she belongs.
I will not watch her grow up lost and empty, longing for the love of parents she never knew—or living under a cloud of shame because people believe her mother and father were sister and brother.
I can give her more than that, more than we had, Isobel.
But I have to hurt her first to make her whole. Telling her that Sarah Parker is her biological mother and that you are her aunt will not only confuse her, but also it will break her heart.
And you must know that I found yours and Ethan’s final secret—something the commissioner unearthed for me. I will not say the words or write them down. Not yet.
But soon I will say the words to Will.
The last lies must be revealed.
For Lissie.
For you.