by Ava Miles
She’d also dragged Francesca out of a depressing pattern she’d fallen into after her breakup with Quinn: working herself into the ground. Alice had reawakened her joy in celebrating life. For that alone, she owed her friend a great deal.
Alice poured herself a glass and dangled her flute against her thigh, the champagne tipping toward the rim. “I know it’s not very professional, but it has to be said. I hid behind a bush in the garden so I could check him out as he strode away from the house, and he’s hot. I mean, I knew he had to be incredible if you wanted to marry him, but grrr.”
Francesca laughed out loud. “Grrr?”
“His photo didn’t quite convey his presence,” Alice said, fanning herself with an endearing grin.
“No, it didn’t.” Her mouth went as dry as the champagne just thinking about the way he filled out his suit. “We’re a go for the consultancy. I’m going to need you to do your best chaperoning. I had a hard time resisting him, Alice. I expect it to get worse.”
“Who can blame you?”
“He seems determined to win me back,” she said, smoothing her hair behind her ear, striving for a cool she didn’t feel.
“Are you going to let him?”
She laughed. Could she stop him? “I’m still on the fence.”
“There’s no rush.” Alice took a long drink of champagne. “It’s a big decision, and you need to know how it’s going to work before you jump in. You are the master of taking the big picture and bringing it to life—”
“One action step at a time,” she finished for her friend, chuckling softly. “I love the details too.” Details made her feel safe, her crutch after being born into a country often in volatile, uncertain conflict.
“Make him work for it then. At least he ponied up straight away. He brought Dom. Your fave… And is that jasmine I smell?”
“Yes, the variety we have in Lebanon.” When she’d seen those star-shaped yellow and white flowers, she’d gone weak in the knees. She’d often told him about picking them outside their home when the flower was in bloom and giving them as gifts to welcome guests. As a young girl, she used to greet her father with fragrant bundles on days when he stayed particularly late at the office. But she’d stopped the tradition after seeing him cast them aside. Despite all his talk about loving his family, he’d never been sentimental. When she’d told him once he was a hard man, he’d scoffed at her, telling her he was simply acting like a man should. They’d never understood one another.
“Wow! It’s hard to come by this variety.” She would know—Francesca had asked her to find them before. “Impressive. But don’t worry. I’m going to chaperone the hell out of you.”
She downed the rest of her champagne. “Thank you.”
“It won’t be anywhere near as bad as that time at the Saudi palace, when I knew that prince was going to sneak into your chambers, and I had to sit in front of your doorway all night in lotus position. Remember how embarrassed he was to be caught in his Calvin Klein underwear? Haram.”
Alice’s Arabic wasn’t fluent yet, but she had a good command, and her use of the word that meant shame or forbidden made Francesca utter an unprofessional giggle. “Do princes even wear Calvin Klein?”
“I didn’t check the label or anything,” Alice said. “I’ll bet Quinn Merriam doesn’t wear— Forget I went there.”
“No, he doesn’t wear anything to bed.” Francesca fanned herself for real, making them both laugh. “And that’s enough of that.”
“So what’s the plan? Where are we going to do this?”
Francesca looked around. She rather liked the privacy and nature around her at their rented house. “Let’s start here, I think. I like the spa and the dining options on the property. Speaking of… I have something for you.”
She walked over to the envelope the hotel staff had delivered and held it out to Alice. Her friend set aside her champagne and tore it open.
“You got me a private chocolate cooking course!” Alice launched herself at Francesca, who caught her with an oomph. She smiled as she hugged her friend. They might be ten years apart and culturally different in many ways, but they were sisters.
“We’re in Ghirardelli chocolate territory, and I know how much you want to make your own chocolate.” Francesca kissed both of her cheeks, and they smiled at each other. “I was sad your friend had to cancel on your chocolate cooking school in Bayonne around the holidays.”
“Me too! The French capital of chocolate, and Sarah cancels because her boss can’t do without her last minute.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Francesca said softly, “but I hope you know I’m not really your boss.” This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about it, but she still brought it up from time to time. She knew what it was to feel unappreciated, and she never wanted Alice to feel that way.
“What am I, stupid? Deciding not to take a boring office or hospitality job and travel the world with you and meet awesome people—that Saudi prince aside—was one of my best decisions ever. Don’t we have the most magical partnership? Man, I love you, Francesca.”
She’d only ever said those words to her mother and Quinn, and they were dear when she spoke them now. “I love you too.”
“Didn’t you tell me this was going to be a super emotional trip?” Alice rubbed her throat. “Thank you for this gift. I’ll never forget it.”
“You’re so welcome, habibi,” Francesca said, a catch in her voice. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
Alice waved the envelope in the air. “We take care of each other. Girls gotta do that, right?”
“Right.” She nodded and then walked over to pick up both champagne glasses. “Come, let’s have a toast. Then we can go downtown and do a little shopping before I hunker down with more P&L statements.”
“Your eyes turn sad every time you talk about restructuring this company. Working with CEO Hotstuff isn’t going to be easy. You need to keep your center. Whenever you feel yourself slipping, you find good old Alice, and I’ll get you back on track.”
Alice was good at that, and Francesca never failed to be grateful to the fates that had brought them together.
“To cleaning the slate of the past and being set free for good,” she said as Alice took the flute from her hand and clinked their glasses together.
They drank, and Alice made a humming sound of delight. “My turn. To new adventures. I don’t know, but I have a feeling monumental change is in the wind. Hold on tight, Francesca. I’ll do the same.”
Hold on tight, indeed.
After fifteen years of being away from Quinn Merriam, she wasn’t sure she was ready for monumental change, but neither was she certain she or Alice could stop it.
Chapter 3
Quinn needed to outfox Francesca’s chaperone, but his first attempt hadn’t gone over well. He’d texted Francesca on the way back to the office, asking if she’d have dinner with him to celebrate their new working arrangement, and her reply had come as he settled behind his desk.
Thank you, but Alice has a lovely meal planned. I’m glad we could come to an agreement to help your company. I’ll email you shortly with more specifics. Including my price.
Her money talk made him scowl. He hadn’t asked because he knew she was fair and her advice was worth its weight in gold. But that wasn’t the point.
Have dinner with me, Francesca. Please.
No.
Dammit, she wasn’t going to make this easy.
Pretty please…
Her response wasn’t as immediate this time.
Again. No.
Tomorrow night then?
Quick as a lightning flash, she responded: Alice and I have tickets to a local event. Enjoy your afternoon, Quinn.
He didn’t bother replying. She wasn’t going to budge, and it was clear she intended to keep sidelining him with Alice. Which gave him an idea.
Why not bring in his own chaperones, the ones who’d proven they were much better at matchmaking
? He could tell Francesca that he was so concerned about her comfort level he was bringing in his own chaperones to alleviate her fears. Not just one, but three: Uncle Arthur, Aunt Clara, and Hargreaves. She’d be a sucker for the family angle.
Secretly, he intended for Alice and his family chaperones to hit it off, giving him and Francesca plenty of time alone.
The whole plan was genius if you asked him. Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur would be flying out to California in a few weeks anyway for Michaela’s wedding; he’d just have to convince them to come early.
But first he needed to call J.T. and see if his brother would be willing to take over his duties as CEO for a few weeks. Perhaps he could also enlist his brother’s help with the matchmaking trio. They lived in the same small town of Dare Valley, Colorado. J.T. could bring Aunt Clara her favorite bottle of gin and schmooze her over a martini.
He asked his assistant to hold his calls and pick up lunch for him, and he turned his email notifications off to give himself a few minutes of unwavering focus. Then he called his brother.
“J.T., my friend,” he said when his brother picked up the call.
“My friend? Okay, what do you need? You’ve been a bear lately. No way I believe you’re simply calling during the workday to say hello.”
Grouchy, Francesca had said. “Fine. I need a favor, and it’s a big one.”
“With Flynn on his extended honeymoon, Trevor and I thought you might be calling one of us about taking over for a while if you hired Francesca Maroun. I assume she agreed. For bragging rights, am I the first or second choice?”
“Who told you about Francesca?” he asked, sitting up in his chair.
“She’s the best out there,” J.T. said, “and Connor mentioned you might be bringing her in to help restructure.”
“He did?” Surely he hadn’t told him the rest of it…
It had shocked Quinn to learn Connor knew about his relationship with Francesca. He hadn’t explicitly told anyone in the family. At the time, he’d wanted to date Francesca longer before he made the introductions. Another part of him hadn’t been comfortable talking about how he felt about her. He was the sort of person who was accustomed to regulating his emotions, and his love for Francesca had always been far out of his control. But Connor had known enough to guess, and apparently it was the reason he’d supported Quinn’s request to be stationed out of London, where she often worked, rather than the company headquarters. Of course, he’d found himself back at headquarters anyway.
Quinn had always hoped fate might throw him and Francesca back together, but it hadn’t happened back then. His pride had prevented him from taking a more active role in seeking her out. But Connor’s words had finally moved him to act. His brother had warned him to not let running Merriam Enterprises become his whole life like he’d done. Now it seemed as if the perfect storm facing him had unleashed the possibility of winning Francesca back. He wasn’t going to waste it.
“Hiring her isn’t a board decision per se, but everyone knows you need to bring someone in to help restructure. The stock prices and public concerns aren’t looking good.”
“I know, and I’m more than relieved she agreed. She’ll do a great job, but I need to work with her full time on the plans. It’s not negotiable.”
“Trevor told me. He’s known a few execs who have brought her in. It’s her rules or no consulting. I can’t blame her. Restructuring is time-intensive, and it could drag out for months without a high-level commitment. She’s like a corporate scalpel, they say. Her surgery is painful but successful, and it’s fairly fast. How long did she say it would take?”
Leave it to Trevor to have done his homework. “Three or four weeks. Given our problems, it’s fairly impressive.”
“No doubt. So… Am I first or second choice?”
He gave a hearty laugh. “Your twin thing knows no bounds. You’d both be perfect, but I called you first since Trev’s in Ireland. You’re closer geographically, and Caroline doesn’t have to fortify herself to get on a plane to see you like Becca does with her agoraphobia.”
“I thought as much. Trev feels a little guilty about being so far away, but that’s just the way it is. Did you consider asking Dad?”
When Francesca had suggested it, he’d winced, and he did so again. “I’ve weighed it from all angles. Bringing Dad back in would stabilize some concerns. People know what his leadership means. But I worry it would undermine my leadership in the long-term. It would be like I called in dear old Dad to swoop in and save the day.”
“Yeah, we thought of that.” J.T. sighed. “Well, I guess I’m it. Caroline and I talked about it, and she can handle the museum stuff on her own for a while. I’ll have to get used to those insane hours again. Frankly, I love having a job that allows for more work-life balance. But it’s only temporary. Unless Francesca identifies you as part of the problem, right?”
His brother’s laughter ignited his own. “Right. That would suck.” Or would it? He’d been struggling under the weight of the new position, and yeah, he knew he was a bear to get along with lately. Working nearly twenty hours a day with endless meetings and answering over a thousand emails daily was driving him crazy.
How had Connor done it? How had his dad? Asking them seemed like a pussy move. He would buck up and do what needed to be done. But J.T. was right. If he won Francesca back, he’d want to marry her. How was he supposed to enjoy their relationship when he worked nonstop? She’d alluded to him working all the time this morning, and he hadn’t been able to deny it.
He was going to have to do some serious thinking about that during the restructuring.
“I can be out there in four or five days,” J.T. said. “You can brief me on the major stuff over email or phone beforehand. I’ll assume you’ll be on call if I have any questions or need your take on something. While I’m on the board, I don’t know jack shit about the day-to-day business. I imagine rumors will start flying when people learn you’re working on a special project, and I’ll do my best to allay their fears. Other than that, I don’t see much new happening in the interim.”
“Exactly, and yes, I’ll be on call for anything you need. Also, Francesca doesn’t work on Sundays, so I can catch up then and pinch hit anything you need help on.”
“Not work on Sundays? Good God, what kind of a consultant is she?”
Again, J.T.’s laughter had him joining in. “A smart one. She realizes our brains need to rest, or so she said.” Truthfully, he was already hoping she’d agree to go on a drive through wine country with him on their day off.
Which made him realize he might need to pony up the truth about his feelings for Francesca to J.T. Once the family heard he was issuing an invitation to the infamous matchmaking trio, the jig would be up anyway. J.T. was backing him. He deserved the full truth.
“J.T., I also need to disclose something personal.”
“Okay…”
His tone made Quinn shift awkwardly in his seat. Sharing his feelings had never been easy for him, not even with his family. The fact that none of them knew about Francesca said everything. Except somehow Connor had known. Had others guessed? His mother had her special radar. Well, he supposed he would find out.
“I met Francesca fifteen years ago in London at a party.” He loosened his tie. “Everyone says the Merriams know their soulmates by sight. I knew she was mine.”
“You’re kidding! Wait. You aren’t kidding. How did I not know this? Did anyone know this? Okay. Forget about that. Fifteen years ago. Quinn, what the hell happened?”
He gave his brother an abbreviated account, and by the end of it, he could feel his anger and hurt rising again.
“Quinn, man, I’m speechless. And more than a little sick for you. That’s awful, bro. Totally and completely awful. God! I…I don’t know what to say except I’ll fill your shoes as long as it takes. You restructure Merriam and you win back your soulmate.”
The conviction in his brother’s voice had his chest tightening. “Thanks,
man.”
“God, if Trev knew this, he’d be on the first plane out from Ireland to pitch in. Everyone will want to help. I assume you’re calling in the matchmaking trio. They’ll be pissed if you leave them out of this.”
He smiled. “I was going to call them next. In fact, Francesca has brought a chaperone assistant of sorts, who sounds an awful lot like a female Hargreaves.”
“Really? I can’t wait to meet her. I told Caroline I want my own Hargreaves. I mean, that guy is seriously cool. He knows lost Julia Child recipes from his dad’s old spy days. Martial arts. Flamenco guitar. Is there anything he can’t do?”
“Hargreaves is the man. We’ll have to see how this Alice Bailey stacks up. She has to be pretty special if Francesca thinks so much of her.”
“Maybe we can all have brunch at Mom and Dad’s house and get acquainted. Now, you need to call the matchmaking trio, and I need to do a Google search on Francesca Maroun.” But he was apparently too impatient to wait because he almost immediately said, “Wow, bro. She’s gorgeous.”
He thought of how she’d looked in her Valentino suit, oozing both smarts and sex. “Yeah, she is.”
“Way too elegant for you, though.” J.T. whistled. “There’s a photo of her at a gallery opening in Stockholm. She’s wearing Valentino. Oh, man, I already love her.”
Art and fashion would win his brother over. “She wore Valentino today, in fact. Wait until you hear her talk business. She talks like a Merriam.”
