The Frenchman's Bride

by Imani King

  “He was framed?” I asked, struggling to process this.

  “Don’t think so. That Blaine is smarter than people think, and he likes it that way. Marcel was bad news and you know it. Blaine just pulled a string to make sure everyone else knew it too...”

  It was true – I remembered Marcel being boastful of his illicit activities, but I had never believed him. What if he actually meant half the stuff he bragged about to me? What kind of trouble would I have been in?

  “Never saw him again. Not before I found out that you two showed up together halfway across the world.” She grumbled, looking at me with that telltale it’s time you came clean look.

  “You were never going to tell me about any of this, were you?”

  “I just wanted what was best for you. I know I’ve done you wrong, child – and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The pain was evident in her eyes, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

  “How could you hide something like that from me?”

  “Honey, you were a terribly naïve girl. You don’t remember what it was like. You were this close from getting into trouble with those boys, all the time. You kept your poor mother worried sick! I knew how fragile you were – what that would do to you. It would shape you – define you – for years to come. You’d never be able to get over it.”

  There was some truth to that. As I struggled to deal with this, I knew in my heart that knowing the truth would have crippled me emotionally. I’m not sure if I could have gone to university, grant or no grant.

  “I did what I thought was best for you. I just wanted you safe and secure.”Mama stayed quiet, on the fringe of tears, and nodded. “That boy looked out for you, and don’t think I was too blind to see he kept on doing it. We almost lost the house once. Got behind two mortgage payments. I went to plead with the bank and they told me the note was paid in full… And that grant of yours… You think that just fell out of the sky? I will never again meet a boy so selfless as that one.”

  I decided that it was time for me to come clean, too. “Mama, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going with him... Blaine wound up being part of this news story I’m working on. He took me on this big yacht across the ocean…it was terrifying. Exhilarating. I saw things I thought I’d never see. I went to Cannes! I swam in Greece! He showed me such wonderful things. Beautiful things. And he made me feel like a princess the entire time.”

  Mama nodded, hanging on my every word.

  “How do I begin to process this?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Mama whispered, reaching her arms out. I pulled into her embrace and started to sob as she held me tight.

  “I mean…what am I supposed to do? How do I even begin?”

  “Child, that boy was a blessing to me. What I saw in him that night convinced me that he would never do you any harm.”

  I nodded quietly, brushing at my tears.

  “But tell me, as crazy as all of that sounds: how was he when he was with you? Did he try and force himself on you? Was he unkind? Cruel? You can tell me, sweetie.”

  “No, it was wonderful,” I admitted. “Blaine was strong, and gentle, and kind... He changed me. He showed me so much, and he made it sound like I meant the world to him.” I pulled from her embrace, wiping my eyes again.

  “Does he mean the world to you?”

  I sighed deeply. “I think so.”

  “When this boy looked at you, curled up on my couch and sleeping off that mess, his eyes were full of love. If even half of that is still there, then he could be good for you. Misguided, maybe. I’m not gonna tell you what to do, child, but I haven’t seen a boy look at a girl like that since I met your father.”

  “I just…how can I trust him again, when I know so much about what he’s done?”

  “That’s up to you to decide,” she told me quietly. “Ain’t nobody can make that decision but you. But you’ll have to decide soon – you never know what life’s gonna bring, and you might miss your chance…”

  I’d like to tell you that I knew what decision to make. I wish I could say it was all clear to me right there, and that everything magically fell into place in my head.

  None of that happened, and that was perfectly okay.

  I didn’t know what I was going to decide.

  But what I did know was what I needed to do next.

  30

  Blaine

  * * *

  Sitting behind my executive desk, I was nursing a tumbler of my finest scotch – swirling it lightly within the glass – when Ivy came into the room. It wasn’t like her to barge in unannounced, and it occurred to me to banish her out or threaten to dock her pay…but the defiant look on her face halted my temper.

  Even her abrupt and unwanted intrusion couldn’t change things. As she stormed over, I glanced over at the clock on my desk. In twelve hours, bright and early, my private pilot was going to be ready to whisk me away from all of this. I had settled on the Caribbean – I had a beach villa down there, and I was happy to descend into a long year of decadence with the sparkling ocean in my view.

  “There’s something you need to see,” she bluntly told me, her hand on her hip.

  “Oh? And what is that?” I asked, a shade of anger sliding into the tone of my voice. “Come in here to lecture me?”

  “Not at all,” she replied sternly. My receptionist walked around to my side of the desk, ripping open one of the drawers to my desk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waking you up, you stupid oaf. You certainly look like you need it, and I don’t recall working for an alcoholic. You’ve been in here for two weeks, and I’ve finally found the right thing to snap you out of your bullshit bout of self-pity.” She withdrew a remote and snapped on the large screen television across my office.

  Indignation burst into a blaze within me, and my nostrils flared with fury. “Ivy, family or not, if you ever talk to me like that–”

  “Blaine…just shut up and watch this.”

  She dialed in a channel and crossed her arms, standing next to me while I slumped forwards in my chair, elbows against the desk.

  In the corner of the screen: the words Repeat Broadcast. The video was fading between subtle scrolls of a dating website – a website that grew increasingly familiar to me. I recognized the older voice as a distinguished reporter in the city, Patrick Bern.

  “…Top story tonight is the alleged reporting on a prostitution ring under the name of Discreet Companions. Here, to tell you more, is the novice reporter who broke the story wide open, Sierra Simmons.”

  I practically jumped in my seat.

  Sierra was onscreen now, and she looked absolutely stellar in a low-cut teal blouse and a black waistcoat. With a microphone in hand and a confident, professional daringness in her eyes, she told the story while the video occasionally faded away to screenshots of the website.

  “For the last month, I have been working undercover to expose the predatory nature of a website known as Discreet Companions. A highly exclusive community, it operates under the guise of setting up young, hard-for-money women with upscale gentlemen under the intention of entering a cash-for-companionship partnership.”

  The screen displayed a number of profiles, with distortion applied over faces and names.

  “But was that all there was to it, or was there more to the story? I needed to know. Working off the books from PBN, I enlisted on Discreet Companions with the intention of finding any evidence of wrongdoing. During my time, I was able to solicit the company of numerous members of the site, many of whom attempted to engage in solicitation of sex for money.”

  Several tabloid pictures of me appeared on the screen.

  “Blaine Winguard was my partner in the investigation. After fabricating a number of false scandals to deflect suspicion, he educated me on the proper ways to handle myself with the rich and famous.”

  Sierra was back now, smiling directly at me.

  “You might recognize my face – that’s because Mr. Winguard br
ought me, at considerable personal expense, to the Cannes Film Festival to give my profile the necessary boost in publicity. With all of his help, and his willingness to voluntarily tarnish his image to protect impressionable young women, I was able to easily infiltrate the site on an unsurpassed level.”

  Ivy snuck a look at me, but my eyes were glued to the screen, the glass of whiskey left forgotten to the side.

  “After Mr. Winguard’s contribution to my plight, the entire upscale community desired my company, including the gentleman who started it all – one Sir Raleigh Bartlesby. In meeting with him at his office, I discovered evidence of illicit activity, and I can prove without a reasonable doubt that not only was Discreet Companions purposefully designed to encourage the force of unwilling prostitution for the benefit of its high-profile members, but it also operates as a front for human trafficking. I have already testified with the proper authorities and submitted proof of my findings in front of a grand jury, and I expect justice to be dealt swiftly and painfully to all complicit.”

  The screen returned to display captures of the website while her voice continued, outlining how the website operated, what it took to get in, and how it preyed upon the needs of young women.

  Meanwhile, I leaned back in my chair in a daze. Sierra never turned down the internship, I realized. Whomever the chairman appointed to accept her had simply found a dangerous use for a new, opportunistic face – and through sheer dumb luck, had propelled her into the spotlight.

  Sierra had played me for a fool. But in doing so, she had helped me tremendously – choosing to cast me in the best possible light and playing up my unintended part in this fiasco. She had also effortlessly reversed the collateral damage of my reputation better than any public relations representative could have dared dream.

  “You need to hire this girl to rework your image,” Ivy chuckled. “She is far cleverer than you imagined, isn’t she?”

  “You’re goddamn right she is,” I murmured.

  “Did you know about any of this?” She asked thoughtfully. “I find it hard to believe that she could pull all of this off right under your nose, without you have any inclination of the sort…”

  “Not an ounce,” I confirmed. “I didn’t even suspect that site of half of these charges. Whisking her away was supposed to keep her out of trouble. She was working a story the entire time, and she had access to me for weeks…this woman could have ruined me, once and for all.”

  “But she didn’t,” Ivy acknowledged.

  “No.”

  “So. What are you going to do now, then?”

  I felt a flood of strength surge through my very veins. There was no room for wounded pride in my body – my flowing confidence pushed it out, rushing to fill the space like a compacted burst of steam. I felt powerful again, even formidable.

  I sat up straight and turned to my irreplaceable assistant. With an authoritative voice, I commanded: “Call my stylist and a tailor – I’m going to need a good suit. Then, call my driver.”

  Ivy smiled warmly. “Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  “And another thought,” I continued. “Contact my pilot. Cancel for me. I have a feeling that I might not need to leave the city early tomorrow morning after all…”

  “I’ll see to it that it is done. In regards to stylist…when would you like the makeover?”

  The first smile I’d worn in days slid across my lips.

  “Now.”

  31

  Sierra

  * * *

  When I heard the knock downstairs, I didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. I was curled up in my bed, my laptop in hand, when I heard Mama answer. I glanced over at my clock on the wall – Wow. Who’s knocking on our door this late in the evening?

  I could hear muffled conversation, and the door closed. Thinking that was the end of it, I was surprised to hear Mama’s laugh echo upstairs, and realized that I could still hear some quiet conversation. Who’s coming over this late? I asked myself.

  Curiosity finally getting the best of me, I set my computer aside and hopped out of bed, walking along the hall and descending partly down the stairs. Just as I peaked my face around the banister, I recognized the voice – and the surprise guest – both at the same time.

  My jaw dropped.

  It was Blaine Winguard.

  “Oh, there you are,” Blaine remarked casually as he sipped coffee from a mug. “I was wondering if you were going to stay up there all night.”

  “Come on down here, child,” Mama motioned to me. “Mister Winguard here was just telling me about Greece.”

  “Was he now…?” I murmured in discontent as I reluctantly slid down the stairs. The two of them were casually sitting at the dining room table in the center, smiling and conversing as if they were old friends.

  “There you go, dear, don’t be a bad host,” Mama declared, rising up from her chair. “I’m going to pour myself a fresh cup. Either of you want anything?”

  “I’m good,” I answered curtly, my eyes glued to him.

  “Yes, I’ll take another one myself, if you’d be so kind,” Blaine grinned, raising his mug. “Whatever you do to this is absolutely delicious.”

  “I do like to brew a good pot, if I say so myself,” she replied, clearly pleased with his assessment. With a quick glance my way, she took his cup and strutted into the kitchen, and I turned to face our guest.

  “You could have called,” I told him bluntly.

  “I could have. You wouldn’t have answered.”

  “Well, that’s true,” I replied, unsuccessfully trying to keep a smirk from rising on the curl of my lips. “Probably would have just told you to go straight to hell.”

  “That sounds a lot like what I had envisioned,” he grinned back. “Perhaps with a little more passion behind it. I couldn’t begin to imagine what expletives you would have chosen.”

  “It would have been a very brief, very colorful conversation,” I admitted. “But we’re getting off-topic. You’re in my home. Uninvited.”

  “Well, your mother was gracious enough for you.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but, speaking of the Devil, Mama returned with a pair of fresh, piping-hot coffees. She handed one to our guest before snatching up a curled newspaper on the table.

  “Well, I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she replied, stifling a forced yawn. “Sierra, if you need me, I’ll be upstairs with my Sudoku…don’t stay up to late now, you heard?”

  “Yes, Mama,” I agreed reluctantly. “Goodnight.”

  Great. Now I’m being left alone with him – in my own house?

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Simmons, and thanks again for the coffee,” Blaine waved politely before taking a fresh sip.

  “‘Night, you two,” Mama replied kindly. She wandered around the banister and upstairs, and the sounds of the creaking wood beneath her footsteps slowly disappeared into the night.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed at him as soon as I was completely sure that she was out of earshot. “Why would you come to my house?”

  “I wanted to thank you,” he replied, letting his usual mischievous grin cross his face.

  “For what?” I demanded, although I was finding it hard to admit to myself that I had wanted to see him again…and that I was happy he was here.

  “Well, Ivy showed me your exposé on the television.”

  “Oh.” Of course it was that. So he was pissed…

  “You did some extraordinary work, and right under my nose…all that time I spent with you, and I never suspected a thing,” Blaine continued, taking another deep sip from his coffee. “I would be furious if I wasn’t so damn impressed with you, you know?”

  “So, you’re not mad?”

  “Not really. Especially not since realizing how much good you did for my image…it’s a shame that not much of it is particularly true.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned back. It was my turn to smile. “Well, just because I didn’t let you in on the secret doe
sn’t mean that you didn’t help. Okay, sure. Those scandals are all you. But regardless of whether you knew or not, you did show me how to be confident around those kinds of people, and you did launch my profile internationally…it didn’t take much tweaking to paint you in that light.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Not by a long shot. I’m not sure how far I would have gotten without your help…and I felt like I owed you one.”

  “I thought you were angry at me.”

  “I was. I am. I just…don’t really know anymore,” I answered, holding my head. “I’m so conflicted about all of this. It’s a lot to wrap my head around. You’re protective to a fault. You’ve got to let me live my life, all right?”

  Blaine was staring me in the eyes when I looked back up, but I could see a deep sadness in his eyes. He didn’t say a word, so I continued.

  “Now, don’t get me wrong, you’ve helped me in ways that I’ll never be able to repay. But I didn’t ask you to, and you let me think all this time that I was getting by off my own merits…you’ve taken that from me.”

  Leaned forward, I glared angrily at him. I was ready to have this conversation with him now – to let it all out.

  “Now, I don’t know how much of my life is really mine. All my accomplishments, all my hard work…I’ll never know, up until now, how much of it was by the sweat of my own brow. And I’m not sure if I can forgive that.”

  Blaine whispered the words I thought I’d never hear from him – the words that started to change everything for me.

  “I understand…and I’m sorry.”

  It was hard to keep my jaw from dropping. As Blaine glanced away, clearly pained, I thought on how well I had come to know this boastful, sly man – and how far above the world he really was. He didn’t apologize. He never had to.