Captivated By The Brooding Billionaire (Holiday With A Billionaire Book 1)

by Rebecca Winters

  “You’re not going to tell your coworkers?”

  “Much as I would love to claim I’d come across something of great worth from Byron, in this case it’s not my secret to give away, not even to my friends. You told me your grandfather has kept this quiet all these years. It’s his secret to keep.

  “To be honest, it means much more to me to meet the two people who’ve had such a great impact on your life.”

  “As long as you don’t think I’m the con artist par excellence, I’ll sleep better tonight.”

  “Raoul—” She leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for today, for everything. I’ll cherish these moments and this book forever.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “I’ve done my part, but we haven’t talked about your flight to Venice. Have you booked it yet?”

  She fought to stifle the pounding of her heart. “No. I didn’t know how long we’d be with your grandparents.” The thought of leaving him was too painful to consider.

  “In that case, would you be willing to attend a funeral service with me first? It starts at noon. I’d rather not go alone. We’ll deal with your flight after.”

  She couldn’t think about leaving right now. “That’s why you’re dressed in black!”

  “Yes. It’s for one of the estate employees.”

  Maybe heaven had heard her because she’d been given a reprieve. “After what you’ve done for me, how could I turn you down?” she answered without hesitation. Besides wanting to be with him, she knew any funeral would be painful for him to get through. If it helped him to be with her, it was the least she could do when he’d given her a gift beyond price.

  He kissed her hungrily. “Do you have something black you can wear?”

  Abby nodded. “One all-purpose black dress in my small, pitiful wardrobe.”

  “Then I’ll drive you to your apartment and wait while you change.”

  She slid back to the passenger side, dying inside because he’d been the one to ask her if she’d booked her flight to Italy yet. He’d brought the subject up first. Did it mean he was prepared to let her go? It hit her hard that leaving him was the last thing she wanted to do. Abby was in terrible trouble.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHILE RAOUL SAT in his car in front of Abby’s apartment, his cell phone rang. His brows furrowed to discover it was his brother. He picked up.

  “Jean-Marc?”

  “Rumors are that you haven’t phoned Solange about tonight’s dinner since you got back from Switzerland!” he blurted without preamble.

  Raoul’s hand tightened around his phone. “Now that you’ve gotten that off your chest, did you see the text I sent you earlier?”

  “I haven’t checked my messages.”

  “Then you need to. Since I’m busy, you and Josette will have to take the parents to the Laroche funeral at the church today. It starts at noon, so plan ahead to make certain father’s wheelchair is put close to the front before the priest begins the service. The flowers have been taken care of. À bientôt.”

  In a few minutes Abby emerged from the petit château. At her appearance he drew in a deep breath. The female lines and curves of her figure were made for the simple short-sleeved black dress that fell to her knee. In the darkest room, her hair and eyes would gleam gold and green fire.

  He got out to help her into the car. If he didn’t suppress the urge to devour her mouth, they would never make it to the funeral. In moments, they headed for the local church.

  “Who is the person who passed away?”

  “André Laroche. He’s been our director of viticulture for sixty years and died at eighty-three. He left a widow, three children and four grandchildren.”

  “How hard for them. What did he do exactly? That’s a long time to carry out one job.”

  “He managed multiple terroirs, a difficult task.”

  “It’s a coveted position, right?”

  Raoul nodded.

  “I presume there are many others who would like to step into his shoes.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Then you’re going to miss him terribly.”

  Abby had amazing insight and compassion. “His sons have helped him, but he’s virtually irreplaceable. Still, he has one grandson with a feel for the terroirs. Working with his grandfather has helped him to understand climate, soil type and geomorphology. Not everyone is gifted with that sensibility. I have great hopes for him and am grooming him to take over.”

  “Did André know you wanted his grandson to replace him one day?”

  “I assured him of it last month after he’d been put on bed rest for failing kidneys. His heart attack happened after that.”

  “Oh, the poor thing. But to give him that news was a great compliment and must have thrilled him. You helped him die a happy man.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  Raoul swallowed hard and clung to her hand. Before long the church came into sight. Already a large crowd had gathered. He found a spot and parked the car. “Stay by me today.”

  She darted him a puzzled glance. “Where else would I go?”

  “One of the relatives might try to take you aside.”

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “We’ll go in now and pay our respects to his family before the funeral starts.”

  She held on to his arm as they lined up behind the people and waited their turn to enter the nave. If this hadn’t been such a solemn occasion, he would have laughed to see the way every eye in this closed, provincial group of mourners stared at him and Abby.

  He saw shock and disbelief in every expression. Angélique had been his duchesse-to-be, revered in their elite community. To see him bring another woman to an occasion not meant for outsiders represented something close to blasphemy in their minds. But if he had his way, they were going to have to get used to it.

  Raoul walked Abby down the aisle to the front of the chapel, which was filled with flowers. One huge wreath of white roses and lilies with the Decorvet domaine banner dominated.

  The Laroche family were seated near the draped coffin. Raoul approached André’s widow. “Madame Laroche, may I introduce Mademoiselle Grant, visiting from the US? On behalf of the family, I want to tell you how much we’ll miss André. He’s irreplaceable.”

  When Abby shook her hand, the other woman broke down. Raoul moved down the line taking Abby with him. He introduced her to each member of the Laroche family. Raoul kept her planted at his side.

  Once he’d greeted all of them, he escorted Abby down a side aisle. A fourth of the way, they came to the row where his own family was seated. His graying father sat in the wheelchair on the outside and shot him a black glance of disapproval.

  He stopped in front of him. “Papa? Maman? May I present Mademoiselle Grant from San José, California.”

  His father made no sign of acknowledgment, but his mother said, “Mademoiselle.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Abby responded.

  Next to Raoul’s mother sat Josette and her husband, who only nodded. His brother’s and sister’s judgmental expressions mirrored his parents’.

  “Don’t forget the dinner tonight,” his father half growled at him before they moved on.

  Raoul ignored the comment. He was glad he’d brought Abby with him. Now everyone had seen her with him at the same time and they couldn’t say a word. He drew her closer and kept walking to the rear where he found them space in the last pew.

  Abby sat without moving throughout the service and prayers. Being close to the exit, they were able to leave as soon as the priest gave the final blessing and the pallbearers carried the coffin out to the hearse.

  He walked her toward the car. “You can breathe now,” he said once they’d gotten inside and had driv
en away.

  “You’re not going to the cemetery?”

  “No. You and I have provided more than enough interest by being at the funeral. I’ll pay my own respects to André when I visit his grave site tomorrow. When I asked you if you’d like to come to France to see Byron’s poem, I know you weren’t expecting to attend a funeral too.”

  “Please don’t apologize. This is part of who you are.”

  Again, he reached for her hand. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and you were right about one thing. After we passed your family along the aisle, I found out what it’s like to be a fish in a goldfish bowl. What did your father say to you?”

  “I have to attend a dinner tonight in Dijon...and I want you to go with me. Tomorrow we’ll worry about your flight plans. How do you feel about that?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Is this dinner very important?”

  “Not particularly, except that I have to make a few remarks.”

  “After what you’ve done for me, of course I’ll come.”

  The blood pounded in his ears. She didn’t want to leave him. He knew it.

  Raoul parked in front of her apartment, determined to grab at happiness for another twenty-four hours. “Do you have something formal to wear for evening?”

  “I’m afraid this black dress is it. Why?”

  “Since this is the Regional Wine Association Dinner, I thought you might like to visit some of the shops and find something different to wear.”

  “You don’t think black will be appropriate?”

  “That question isn’t worth answering. But you’ve already worn it to the funeral and would probably enjoy something different.”

  “If I had any spending money, there’s nothing I’d love more than to buy a new outfit, but my budget won’t allow it. When I first flew over, I brought some dressier clothes for the colder weather, but two weeks ago I shipped a lot of them home and kept the black dress to see me through.”

  “Naturally I intend to buy something that pleases you.”

  “That’s very generous of you. Under the circumstances I’ll pick out something to suit the evening.”

  Afraid he was dreaming, he turned to her. “Hurry inside and get what you need, then we’ll drive to Dijon. I’ll show you around and then stop to buy you an outfit you can wear right out of the store.”

  “I’d better bring my black high heel sandals with me.”

  Unable to hold back another second, he kissed her thoroughly before she left the car. But he was haunted by one question. Did he have the right to love her heart and soul when he hadn’t been the kind of husband Angélique had wanted and needed?

  Throughout his marriage and after, he’d suffered remorse for not being able to love her. If it was a flaw in him, he hadn’t been able to overcome it, even though she’d been the mother of their precious baby.

  Could he finally forget the past and embrace the glorious life he wanted with Abby? He could deal with his family’s censure, but there was one thing he couldn’t endure. That would be to let her get on a plane and fly away. He couldn’t let it happen.

  * * *

  Abby had never had so much fun in her life as they spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through the city filled with medieval and renaissance architecture. They would eat a meat pastry here, and a piece of fruit there. Raoul would tease her with a chocolate truffle, then kiss her while they walked on hand in hand.

  At five they went to a shop called Clarisse. Abby was afraid to look at the prices. When she found the stunning cherry-red crew neck sheath, she loved it on sight. It had three-quarter sleeves and large colorful flowers on the lower half of the skirt and sleeves. After putting it on with her black heels, she emerged from the dressing room to show Raoul.

  The way his black eyes played over her, Abby felt herself to turn to flame. “That’s the one.”

  More than ever she knew this dinner meant something of importance, and she was glad she would be wearing a dress he liked. She gathered her other clothes and they went out to the car.

  “Where is the dinner being held?”

  “Over at the five-star Grand Hôtel la Cloche. It’s been classified as an historic monument overlooking the capital of Burgundy.”

  In a few minutes, he pointed out the nearby famous Place Darcy. They drove to the private parking before walking inside the hotel to the sumptuous hall with flower-laden banquet tables. At the front of the hall she spotted a rostrum.

  Two of the forty or so men and women assembled turned out to be his uncles. Everyone looked elegantly dressed. No wonder Raoul had offered to buy her something special to wear. The seated guests nodded to Raoul while they stared at Abby in what she could only describe as astonishment. After attending the funeral, she ought to be used to it.

  “It’s already full,” she whispered. “Are we late?”

  He put his arm around her waist. “It doesn’t matter. Now we won’t have to wait so long for me to get my part over with. Our place is up in front at the head table.”

  In seconds, she found herself seated in the middle on Raoul’s left. The food had been served and people were starting to drink their wine. He introduced her to a distinguished middle-aged man with a trace of silver in his dark hair on her left. The man couldn’t take his eyes off her, but she knew instantly it wasn’t because he found her attractive.

  “Mademoiselle Grant? I’d like you to meet Monsieur Raimund Godard, owner of the prestigious Pascal Godard Domaine here in Burgundy,” Raoul spoke in English. “And on his left, his daughter Solange.”

  Abby smiled. “How do you do, Monsieur, Mademoiselle?” She assumed his daughter wasn’t married since Raoul hadn’t attached a different last name to her.

  “Mademoiselle Grant,” the man murmured.

  The other woman leaned forward to see around her father. Abby had heard the expression “staring daggers” at someone. She now saw it for herself. Solange de la Croix Godard, a real beauty with copper-red hair sweeping her shoulders, came close to impaling Abby with the dark brown eyes she’d inherited from her father.

  By now Raoul had gotten involved in a conversation with an older man seated on his right. Abby ate in silence until another man, seated at the end of the table, walked up to the rostrum. He tapped his wineglass with a fork to get everyone’s attention and introduced himself. After a welcoming speech in French, he asked Raoul to come up.

  “I won’t be long,” he whispered against her ear before he made his way to the podium. She was still reacting to the contact when he started speaking. Throughout the five-minute speech she didn’t understand, she sensed Solange’s eyes on her, but Abby refused to let her know she was aware of her.

  There was a burst of applause before Raoul returned to the table. Two other men gave speeches and dessert was served. Raoul put an arm around the back of her chair. “If you’re ready, we’ll leave now.”

  That was fine with Abby, who didn’t like being the center of attention. He held her chair while she got up, and then the two of them left the banquet hall, aware every eye had followed them out of the room.

  “There. That wasn’t so bad.”

  She gave an ironic chuckle, but didn’t say anything as he helped her into the car. When he got behind the wheel, Abby turned to him. “What was your speech about? You got a resounding ovation.”

  “Remember when I told you that France’s grape harvest was among the smallest in thirty years, down ten percent from the year before?” She nodded. “I passed on some thoughts my grandfather and I discussed recently. It’s still too early to draw a conclusion about the quality of the wine this year. In truth, the future weather conditions haven’t been predicted by the experts to be all that bad even if the quantity of the wine will be economically tight.

  “That’s why it’s advisable for some vineyards that have a system of reserves to hold back se
lling a part of the production year to year. That practice serves as insurance to help ride out those times when there is a poor grape harvest.”

  “That’s what you’ve been doing on your estate?”

  “And will continue to do. My grandfather and I are in lockstep on that score, even if some of the family have a hard time wanting to conserve,” he emphasized.

  “I’m sure that’s why you’re in charge.”

  “Many of my family members would like to replace me if it weren’t Decorvet tradition that the eldest son becomes head of the estate if the present owner dies or is unable to function.”

  “What about the eldest female if she’s the oldest sibling?”

  “Not in my archaic family, even if she’s the most qualified.”

  “That leaves your sister out. How does she feel about it?”

  “I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think your family is lucky with you at the helm. Thanks to you they still have their legacy and have survived, even after passing through such a terrible harvest.”

  He flicked her a burning glance. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

  The impact of those words sent a thrill through her body. “Raoul—the daughter of the man I sat next to tonight, Solange, kept staring at me with hostile eyes. I’m not making it up.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  Abby struggled to find the right words. “I can only assume she wished she’d been with you tonight.”

  They left the hotel for home. “One of these days she’ll find the right man.”

  But Solange wanted Raoul.

  “What’s going on in your mind?”

  “Nothing specific.” Which wasn’t true.

  “That’s the first lie you’ve told me. Tell me what’s bothering you.

  “Was it accidental that we sat right next to the Godard family?”