The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel

by Jones, Gwen

  “Did I hear right?” Charlotte felt like screaming. “We’ve just been running all over the East Coast because of her, and she wants you to make her coffee?”

  “Your woman there,” Viviane said, en français, eyeing her blandly, “she’s rather excitable, isn’t she?”

  “Actually,” Rex said in their own language, “she’s my attorney.”

  “Oh really?” His aunt gave her a quick once-over. “Well, with that hair she looks more like a tart. Are you sleeping with her?”

  “What the hell!” Charlotte cried. She glared at the older woman. “And you look like something out of a Mickey Spillane novel,” she said in French. “Why don’t you go stand under a streetlight.”

  The woman turned red with rage. “Why didn’t you tell me she speaks the language!” she said in English.

  “Because it’s more interesting this way, don’t you think?” Rex said. “But let’s keep to English so we’re all on the same page.” He grabbed her arm. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to tell me what part you’re playing in this drama, or I swear to God I’m calling the police and having you—”

  “Arrêtez—arrêtez!” she cried, shrugging him loose. “Believe it or not, if you give me a chance to explain you’ll find out I’m very much on your side.”

  His brow arched. “Excuse me if I find that extremely difficult to fathom.”

  The elder woman straightened, righting the scarf over her midnight-black hair. “I’m not asking you to believe me. All I’m asking is for you to listen.” She shivered again. “And maybe take an old and very tired woman out of the cold.”

  “Old—you?” Rex scoffed. “Why Viviane, you’re ageless.” Then he took her arm, a bit more gently, yet no less firmly. “You have ten minutes. Let’s go.”

  THERE WAS NO milk and very little sugar, so Charlotte bypassed what Rex and his aunt would call café américain for a French espresso her grandmother had been fond of. Which either impressed or irritated the older woman immensely. Charlotte found it hard to tell the difference and couldn’t care less about either.

  How she was feeling toward Rex right now was quite another story.

  “You could have told me,” she whispered as they stood by the stove, his aunt settling herself at the kitchen table. She turned up the fire under the kettle. “You’re Marcel’s first cousin, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’ve hardly seen her more than ten days my whole life. The fact she’s my tante is purely an accident of birth. Marcel doesn’t even know about me.”

  She stared at him in disbelief? “What?”

  “It’s rather awkward sitting in someone’s house you don’t even know the name of,” Viviane said, slipping her scarf around her shoulders. “Don’t you think it’s time you introduce us, Rex?”

  He turned from the stove. “As if you don’t already know, but I’ll say it anyway.” He flung his hand from one woman to the other. “Charlotte Andreko—Viviane Mercier.”

  “Enchantée,” Viviane said, nodding her head to Charlotte. “I’ve noticed your accent is too good for an American,” she added with a regal lift of her nose. “Are you French?”

  “Her grand-mère was a Parisienne,” Rex said, appearing to enjoy how that stiffened her shoulders. “Her mother was born there and lives there now. Charlotte is half French.”

  “Ah.” Viviane lifted her chin. “That explains the attitude.”

  Charlotte ignored that, bringing down the coffee press. “That was you in the Rolls-Royce the other night, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Viviane said.

  “But how did you find us?” Charlotte said. “No one knew we were here except the police . . .”

  “Seems my aunt gets her money’s worth out of a bribe,” Rex said. “You must have dumped quite a load of cash for the privilege of screwing with my life.”

  “You really shouldn’t talk like that, nephew,” she said. “Because in just a few minutes you’ll be thanking me.”

  “Can we save the cryptic dialogue for later, please?” Charlotte said. “I’d like to know why you were here Tuesday night, then in Washington yesterday, and why you grabbed Rex’s phone.” She stifled a yawn. “I’m working on very little sleep, and I’d really like to get this over with so I can go to bed.”

  “No doubt you do.” Viviane said, fuming. She glanced to her nephew. “You are sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

  “Do you think I’d share that information with you or anyone else? Now,” Rex said, “get to the point already. I’ve been accused of a felony, and—”

  Her voice stopped him with the barest sound of derision. “As if you would have to force yourself on anyone. How ridiculous—”

  “Viviane!” He charged at her, looming over her at the table. “Why have the directors been talking about going public again? The last time that happened you came to me at Richette, ready to sell out the family. It’s the same now, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” she said, mirroring his glare perfectly. “I didn’t come looking for them. This time Richette came looking for me.”

  “Now why would they do that,” Rex said, standing back, “if they didn’t figure you’d be open to it?”

  Her mouth crooked with a such a potent mix of cunning and seduction, it was a wonder the world wasn’t laid at her feet. “Because I led them to believe I was.”

  Apparently, Rex wasn’t buying it. “How?” Then he smiled as well. “Not that I’m questioning your skills.” Or, Charlotte figured, perhaps he was simply immune.

  “I was in Paris over the summer where I went to a cocktail party. At Jean-Paul Levere’s.”

  “Who?” Charlotte said.

  “Richette’s CEO,” Rex said, his eyes never leaving his aunt’s.

  “He said he invited me specially to introduce me to an American businessman,” she went on. “By the name of Brendan Hitchell.”

  “Representative Hitchell,” Charlotte clarified, glancing to Rex, scooping coffee into the press. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Not right then,” she said, crossing a pair of very shapely legs. “Jean-Paul only said Monsieur Hitchell was looking into expanding his oil and gas business to Europe, and perhaps there was something our companies could do for him.”

  “How interesting he approached you instead of Marcel,” Rex said, joining her at the table. “I’m assuming this was when both your son and I were in America?”

  Her gaze shot to his. “I was perfectly aware of what he was doing.”

  “Then why did you play along?”

  “You’ve heard the rumblings in the board about taking the company public,” she said. “How their shares weren’t paying as well as they could. The things they were saying about Marcel and André taking the company down.”

  “Fueled by your cogent criticism of each, no doubt,” said Rex.

  Those stunning eyes turned downward. “I’ll admit my reputation as a mother isn’t the best.” Then she looked up, burying her gaze into Rex’s. “But wait until you become a parent and you bear the betrayal of your oldest to a family that’s taken someone so dear to me, and your youngest, hating you for trying to get justice. Then tell me how you’d feel.”

  “How horrible it’s been for you.” Rex’s hands clenched. “You sit there with that Hermès scarf around your shoulders, your Rolls-Royce on the street—covered in diamonds and euros falling out of your pockets—and yet you’re trying to tell me the Merciers have ruined your life?” He clasped his chest. “Have they ruined my life, too?”

  “You’re the worst! You’re like a knife right through my heart,” she said, grasping the edge of the table, her eyes narrowing. “You ruined everything.”

  Rex shot to his feet, enraged. “Because I had the audacity to be grateful?”

  “Wait a minute—wait a minute,” Charlotte said, coming between them. She needed to de
fuse this situation before they killed each other. “I’m thinking it’s time you clue me in on a few things. If Mercier’s a family business and both of you are part of the family, then why aren’t you playing on the same team?”

  “Because of her grand plan to destroy Mercier,” Rex said sardonically. “And she tried to use me to do it.”

  “The Merciers killed your parents—killed my only sister, and you’d do well to remember that,” she snapped, her jaw twitching. “And they would’ve left you to rot back in that stinking little village if I hadn’t fought for you.”

  Viviane turned away from her nephew, looking to Charlotte instead. “This is my life, avocate. They say I’m selfish, but all I’ve ever done was fight for people who don’t give a damn about me and even less for themselves. I grew up in Le Havre, around ships, too. All day I used to watch them coming and going, wishing I could get on one and get the hell out of there. My sister did, though not in the way I wanted to. She met a farmer at carnaval with more filth under his nails than a dockworker, and married him two weeks later. I was so brokenhearted when she said she was moving away I thought I would die.” She lifted a delicate finger, flicking the corner of her eye. “We were inseparable up until that point. She was my twin sister, and we were barely eighteen.” She glanced away, the years clouding her eyes. “I never saw her until years later when I brought her home in a box.”

  Her face filled with anger. “But after she left all I wanted to do was get even with her, though my escape wasn’t much better. Not long after my sister left home I met an American sailor. He promised me the moon, and I believed him. I left with him for America, but what did I get? A broken-down farm, a drunk for a husband, and a baby son at nineteen. And what’s even worse, when I went home to visit a couple years later, all I heard was how happy my sister was, especially now that she had a baby boy.”

  She made a distinct sound of derision. “She’s picking grapes and living in a hovel, and she’s happy? I never heard of such a thing. I knew I was meant for better than that. On one of my visits home from America to Le Havre I met a man in a nightclub named Victor Mercier. When he offered to buy me a drink, I knew my life would change.”

  “Which was how her grand little foot got in the Mercier business,” Rex said.

  “Wait a minute,” Charlotte said, pouring coffee from the kettle into the French press. “You got a share of the company just by marrying into it?”

  “Previously, only blood relatives would be given shares,” she said, “but Victor’s fifteen years older than me and was an only child and without an heir when I married him. So when Marcel was born, he was so happy he not only gave me a family share, but my son André as well.”

  “How generous,” Charlotte opined.

  “Victor was considered a very good catch. A sound investment, you could call it,” Viviane said, looking quite satisfied with herself. “This may sound odd, but two of the best financial decisions I’ve ever made in my life was to make sure this man here”—she nodded to Rex—“got a good education, and the other, giving birth to my son, André. Both of them are excellent managers.” All at once her expression soured. “But both of them went ahead and destroyed everything that I wanted to accomplish.”

  “Which brings us back to Richette,” Charlotte said. “You used your family shares as leverage?”

  “Although the Merciers own most of the shares, it’s possible to turn over ownership of the company if the board of directors decide to sell their shares along with just one family member,” Rex said. He looked to his aunt. “Which is what Viviane tried to do seven years ago.”

  Charlotte brought two cups of espresso to the table. “Enlighten me,” she said.

  “Seven years ago when the financial markets nearly collapsed in the U.S.,” Rex said, “everything convulsed in Europe as well, including shipping. The board went into a panic as our net worth was tanking. Victor tried to tell them it was just temporary, that everything would even out if they just remained patient. But the board wouldn’t listen.” He glanced to his aunt. “And neither would Viviane.”

  “And why should I have?” Viviane said, on the defensive. “Victor was starting to care more about keeping his mistresses in penthouses than taking care of business. And Marcel was no different.” She huffed in disgust. “He was running around with his pants around his ankles just like his papa.”

  “You hardly gave a damn about that,” Rex said. “You figured your time had come as Mercier was just ripe for a takeover.”

  “But why?” Charlotte said, not following. “Weren’t you thinking of Marcel?’

  She shrugged, lifting her espresso. “Why should I? He certainly wasn’t thinking about running a company. And André wanted nothing to do with the corporate culture, even though he knew more about the practical end of the business than anyone. He was happy just sailing around as an engineer. So I turned to my nephew.”

  “You were at Richette then,” Charlotte said.

  “As their directeur général délégué,” Rex said. “She said the board was behind her, and her share of the company would tip the scales to allow it.” His expression darkened as he looked to his aunt. “When Victor found out he had a massive stroke.”

  “Between the legs of his mistress, the old queutard,” Viviane added.

  Charlotte looked to Viviane. “So you decided selling out the family was the best for business?”

  Viviane looked shocked at the boldness of the statement. “This one speaks her mind, doesn’t she?”

  “She came to me with the idea of a takeover,” Rex said. “What the hell did I care about Mercier? They had outlived their usefulness as far as I was concerned. I put it before Richette’s board of directors and they were all for it. Since the market was down, we’d be able to get them at a great price. Someone then leaked we were interested in Mercier, and Richette stock soared, while their value kept sinking even lower.”

  Viviane laughed, deeply and throatily. “It finally got André to dry land.”

  “That’s true,” Rex said. “I had never met him before, though I had heard about him. He came to my office fresh off the ship, still dressed in cargo pants. Even so, he was one of the most imposing men I had ever met. And, I could tell from the start, one of the most intelligent. He told me he was taking over for his stepfather temporarily, and he was offering me a deal. He said he was using his own money to buy out one of the investors, the one who had originally wanted to sell out. He was now offering that seat to me on the board, as well the same position I had then as DGD at Mercier. I’d become a shareholder of the company, and not just a mere”—he spun the word—“employee, making me richer than I could ever imagine—if the market rebounded.”

  “Which it did,” Charlotte said.

  “But back then, I was taking a chance,” Rex continued. “Still, there was something convincing about André that made me trust him. He said if I’d do that, then Mercier would retain enough control to repel the takeover. But all I could see was a deal too good to refuse.”

  Charlotte looked to Viviane. “You must have gone through the roof.”

  She laughed lightly. “Avocate, there are some who haven’t let me hit the ground yet.”

  “Marcel,” Charlotte said.

  “When he found out, he swore he’d never forgive me for what I did,” Viviane said.

  “And now she’s trying to do it again,” Rex said, his eyes turning very dark.

  “No,” Viviane said sharply. “I know you won’t believe me, but I can’t play those games anymore. The fight’s not worth it.” She lifted her cup, setting it down before she could even take a sip, all at once growing very quiet.

  There in that kitchen, amid the silence that yawned between the three of them, Charlotte saw a woman aging before her eyes. For all her seeming advantage, for all her natural beauty, Viviane Mercier was worn to the core, the fine lines around her eyes and mout
h settling even deeper as she bent into her coffee. And then, in an instant, she knew why.

  Vendettas, in the end, are pretty cold comfort.

  So are ideals, a little voice told her.

  “I can either grow old or be alone, but I can’t do both things at once,” Viviane said wearily. “It’s too hard. I found that out when André came to visit me a few months ago. Before he came I would have gladly sold myself to the other side. But as soon as I saw those two little boys of his, well . . . it made me realize how time is marching on without me.”

  Rex stared at her for a few long moments, sipping his coffee. “I’ve never known you to be quite so sentimental, Viviane.”

  “Call it sentimental—call it whatever you want, but you’ll see what I mean”—her gaze flashed dismissively to Charlotte—“when it happens to you.” Then she flung her hand to Rex’s phone. “Isn’t my getting that back for you proof enough?”

  “Only after whatever goons you hired hacked it.”

  “Goons, huh?” She eyed him wryly. “Think what you want but I swear, nothing was stolen or erased.”

  “And don’t think I won’t check it out,” Rex said.

  “If you need any more proof I’m on your side, how about this bit of information.” Viviane leaned in. “Congressman Hitchell has been buying stock in Richette.”

  Rex’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Charlotte noticed. “How do you know?” he said.

  She seemed to take exception. “I have my spies as well, you know. He’s buying so much stock he’s now one of their principal stockholders.”

  “Why, that’s an ethics violation,” Charlotte said. “You can’t sponsor a bill that’ll benefit a company you’re going to make millions off of.”

  “But he’s buying Richette stock through a blind trust, so it looks like he doesn’t know what’s going on,” Viviane said. “From what my spies are saying, once Hitchell’s bill passes, the price of Richette stock will go through the roof.”