“True. Now….” Léo stood and pulled Ben up with him. “If we don’t finish with that chicken, we won’t eat until midnight.”
AFTER dinner had been cooked, eaten, and cleaned up, Léo excused himself to call Jean and organize their travel arrangements. They had decided to stay in Paris Saturday night too and fly back after brunch on Sunday morning. That would give them time to see Lucien, and for Léo to show Ben “another side of Paris.” Since Ben had a feeling that included all the expensive shops and restaurants he’d avoided on his previous visit there, he had mixed feelings about it.
He poured himself some port and took it out onto the balcony. Even though the sun had long since gone down and there was no moon, it was beautiful—and peaceful. The ocean sang less than a hundred meters away, and the warm summer breeze was laden with the heady scent of flowers. He checked his watch and decided it was late enough to call.
Dani picked up on the second ring. “Hey, everything okay? You don’t normally call at this time. Domestic bliss getting you down already?”
Ben grinned, feeling so much more positive just for having heard her voice. “Did I wake you?”
“Nah, I’m just out of the shower. Talk to me while I get dressed and make myself look like a corporate drone.” He could hear her rummaging, probably through her cosmetics. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup but her “work face” was a necessity.
“Sure. Wanna hear some drama?”
“Ooh, drama! Of course.”
“Léo’s dad called earlier, because he heard I’m living with Léo, and we’ve basically been ordered to go to Paris and have dinner with them Friday.” He went on to fill her in on the background Léo had told him, interrupted by her frequent sarcastic comments.
“Wow,” she said when he finished. “That’s… wow.”
“Yep.” From the background sounds, it seemed like she was on her way out to her car. “Do you need to go?”
“Not just yet, but soon. Quickly, tell me what you know about Léo’s family.”
“Not much. What you told me. Generations old, dad and brother in many businesses, mum a princess. Oh, but I did hear that his sister-in-law is pregnant. Until then, I didn’t even know he had a sister-in-law.”
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. If you can without upsetting Léo, check out his Wikipedia page. There’s some info on there about the family. I think the dad and brother have pages too, but not as detailed. I’ll see what else I can find. You can’t walk into this unprepared. And ask Léo what you need to wear to dinner. Yeah?”
Ben sighed, but in reality the sense of relief was overwhelming. “Yeah. Thanks, Dani.”
“Anytime. Talk later.” And she was gone.
THEY flew to Paris from Nice in a private plane. The original plan had been to take a helicopter from Monaco to Nice, but Léo had decided at the last minute that he wanted to drive. Not the Veyron, of course—he would never leave his baby sitting at an airport for days, not even under the watchful eyes of the valets. No, instead he brought out the Aston Martin Vanquish, another car Ben would have been afraid to wear shoes in just a few short weeks ago.
Wow, his life really was changing.
The plane, for example. He’d always figured private planes were just smaller. He hadn’t realized that they could be kitted out so luxuriously, with an actual bedroom and full shower room, a kitchenette, and sofas, chairs, and tables. He had full Wi-Fi connectivity, access to a range of entertainment, and of course an attendant just waiting to fulfill his every wish.
The pilot had come back and greeted them personally, welcoming Léo aboard and introducing himself to Ben. Apparently the plane belonged to the Artois family personally, not the corporation. That’s right, it wasn’t used for business travel at all, just for things like skiing weekends in Switzerland or a shopping jaunt in Milan. You know, the usual.
Of course, it was a short flight, so Ben didn’t feel he really had time to appreciate the advantages of the plane. He’d flown business class from Australia to London—he could have afforded first class, but despite the urge to splurge couldn’t bring himself to spend that kind of money on a flight—so this kind of luxury in the air was amazing to him.
Léo’s assistant, Jean, met them at the airport with a chauffeur-driven car. “I hope you don’t mind,” Léo had said when explaining the plans to Ben. “There are a few things we need to go over, and if we do it in the car, the rest of my time will be free to spend with you.” Ben hadn’t been bothered in the slightest, and was even less so when he realized the “car” was in fact a fully stocked limo, complete with wet bar. It was weird; he was constantly aware of the money in Léo’s life, but Léo treated it so casually that it kind of faded on a day-to-day basis. He was a guy who lived in an apartment and drove a car and went out with friends to local businesses. And then there would be something like the suit, or the preferential treatment he received at restaurants, or the plane, and Ben would be reminded that Léo’s level of rich was beyond what most people could even conceive of.
He sat back now and studied his lover. Léo’s gorgeous dark looks mesmerized him, as always, but there were many hot men in the world. It was Léo’s presence that Ben found truly captivating, just as he had that first night in the Place du Casino.
His gaze slid sideways to Jean. Léo’s assistant, currently taking notes as Léo made comments about the document he was reading, was a tall, fit man in his early twenties. He’d greeted them with a tablet in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other, and everything since that moment had been ruthlessly organized. Ben thought that if he ever had need of an assistant, he’d want one less… exacting. Because Jean made him feel vaguely incompetent. In the best possible way, of course.
By the time the car stopped at the destination, Ben had dreamed up several things he could make his imaginary assistant do just for the hell of it. He got out and looked around. Every building had a doorman, and there were no gawking tourists or low-budget cars on the street. He had a feeling that when he found out the name of the street and told Dani, she’d be able to give him reams of information about the wealthy magnates and celebrities who lived there. He was intensely glad they were staying at Léo’s place and not going directly to the family home.
“Come.” Léo took his hand and led him into the building as the doorman rushed forward to help with their overnight bags.
AT 7:27 that evening, Ben stood with Léo in front of a gorgeous building in the seventh arrondissement. Léo had told him the house had been in the family since the seventeenth century, which was part of why Ben was now clinging to Léo’s hand in an attempt not to flee. He was wearing his new suit but had a feeling he’d still feel underdressed when they got inside.
He took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready,” he announced.
Léo turned his head to meet his gaze. “I don’t think I am,” he confessed, and Ben’s jaw dropped.
“Really?”
“I am worried they will behave badly, or otherwise convince you I am not worth your time.”
Ben laughed, because really… Léo, not worth his time? As if. “Come on. We’re both going to dread this until it’s done.” He tugged on Léo’s hand until they’d reached the front door. Léo muttered something and rang the bell.
“Remind me, if dinner’s at eight, why are we here at seven thirty?”
“Drinks,” Léo muttered. “They never sit down to dinner without drinks first.”
“Of course,” Ben said. “Hey, that might help. Just remember, you promised not to let me get drunk.”
Léo was smiling when the door opened. The middle-aged man there was wearing an immaculate suit, and Ben wondered if maybe there would be other guests at dinner.
“Good evening, Monsieur Artois,” the man said. “Monsieur Adams. The family is in the west salon.”
“Thank you, François,” Léo said as they entered. “Do not bother to announce us.” The man’s mouth opened to say something, but Léo was already sweeping Ben along the corri
dor, so quickly he only had a vague impression of high ceilings and ornate plasterwork.
“Who was that?” he asked as they hurried up a staircase. “How come he was speaking English?”
“Butler,” Léo said shortly. “And believe me when I tell you, my parents know much more about you than just that you don’t speak French.”
On that reassuring note, he stopped in front of a door and threw it open. The four people in the room turned to look as they entered.
Ben was suddenly incredibly aware that he’d bought his underwear three-for-five dollars at his local supermarket.
Léo’s father stood and strode toward them. He was somewhere in his sixties, most of his hair still midbrown, although the gray was definitely stepping up its efforts. His eyes were gray too, his skin much paler than Léo’s dusky bronze. From the looks of it, his suit had been made by Carrere or his Parisian brother. His face was set in a faintly disapproving frown.
“Léo. Where is François?”
“We outpaced him,” Léo said, and his voice was different. Even that first night in Monaco, when Ben had thought him so arrogant, when his voice had dripped with disdain, there had been… something there, something softer. Warmer. Now, he was cold. As he leaned forward to kiss his father on both cheeks, a shiver ran down Ben’s spine. He really didn’t want to spend this evening with Léo the robot and his cold family. “Father, this is Benedict Adams. Ben, my father, Charles Artois.”
Ben offered his hand. “Good evening, Monsieur Artois.” Charles Artois nodded curtly and shook his hand briefly. Ben considered that good enough and went willingly when Léo took his arm and guided him to where two women sat on a sofa. Léo bent and kissed the older one.
“Mother,” he greeted, and then he kissed the younger woman. “Ben, my mother, Myriam, and my sister-in-law, Celine.”
Ben inclined his head politely. “Thank you for inviting me this evening,” he said, and when Myriam Artois offered her hand, he took it and bent over it awkwardly. She wasn’t holding it like she wanted him to shake it, but he didn’t feel confident enough to kiss it. He hoped he wasn’t already making an arse of himself. Truthfully, he was almost more intimidated by the small stature and dark beauty of Léo’s mother than he was by the arrogance of Léo’s father.
Celine was a classically lovely blue-eyed blonde with a baby bump and a friendly smile. “It is nice to meet you,” she said, her accent quite heavy. “I am happy to be practicing my English.” Ben smiled back at her, trying not to grin unrestrainedly in relief. He felt like maybe he should congratulate her on her pregnancy, but didn’t want to say anything in case… he wasn’t sure what.
Finally, they moved to the last person in the room, a tall man standing by the window. Ben was slightly taken aback to realize the view from the window was of the Eiffel Tower—and it was close. He dragged his gaze away and focused on Léo’s brother. It could be nobody else; the likeness was quite startling. Gabriel was perhaps a little heavier, with silver beginning to thread his hair, and the shape of his face was more their father’s, but otherwise, Ben wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been taken for twins as children.
“Ben, so pleased to meet you,” Gabriel said, reaching out to shake Ben’s hand while slinging his other arm around Léo’s shoulders and dragging him close.
“I’m pleased to meet you too,” Ben blurted, shaking his hand heartily and smiling. “So pleased.” Léo smiled faintly at that, and Ben’s courage was bolstered enough for him to say, “Congratulations, by the way.”
Gabriel grinned. “Thank you.” He glanced over Ben’s shoulder. “Shall we have drinks?”
The next few minutes passed in a flurry of settling into chairs as drinks were concocted and passed around. Ben was torn between wanting to join Celine in a sparkling water, thus ensuring he couldn’t get drunk and say something stupid, and desperately needing the numbing effect of alcohol as Léo’s mother continued to watch him with a carefully neutral expression.
To say that conversation was stilted was a laughable understatement. Gabriel asked Ben about his travels, but Ben was so self-conscious, he found himself stammering, his face getting hotter and hotter. Finally Léo laid a hand over his and squeezed, then interrupted to ask Celine how her parents were. This led to a description of the renovations on her parents’ home and a discussion of the chaos of renovating in general, and Ben remained gratefully silent.
By the time they were seated for dinner in the incredibly elegant “family” dining room, Ben was feeling a little more in control. He’d had enough to drink that his nerves had settled, but not so much that he was in danger of blurting out the details of his and Léo’s sex life.
He hoped.
“You have a lovely home, madame,” he said to Léo’s mother. It was absolutely true, but also an attempt to get on her good side.
She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
Ben tried not to wince. Clearly she wasn’t interested in conversing with him.
“Ben, what work do you do?” Charles Artois asked, although “demanded” was probably more accurate. Ben had always thought Léo arrogant, but compared to his father, he was positively self-effacing.
“I’m a nurse,” he said. “I specialize in home healthcare for the terminally ill.”
“That must be very difficult,” Celine offered sympathetically. “If they are terminally ill, you cannot make them well again.”
Ben nodded. “It can be hard, but knowing they’re able to stay in their homes and be comfortable is some consolation. A lot of people can’t stand the idea of a nursing home or hospice care.”
“They die with some dignity,” Léo’s father declared, and Ben blinked at the almost approval in his voice. “It is good that you can help them.”
From the way Léo’s fork clanged against his plate, he was just as surprised as Ben. The status quo returned a moment later though.
“When must you return to your… job?” Myriam asked. Considering that Léo had told him Charles worked a ridiculous number of hours per week, Ben wasn’t sure why she’d infused “job” with such disdain. Perhaps working was only allowed when you owned the company?
“There is no set date, madame,” he said politely. “When I return to Australia and am ready to work again, I’ll let the agency know, and they’ll find a client for me.”
“And when will you be returning to Australia?” Myriam again, not even trying to hide the intent behind the question. When can I get you out of my son’s life?
“I don’t have a set date,” Ben repeated uncomfortably.
“Ben and I are spending time together,” Léo said firmly. “I don’t want him to go back to Australia just yet.”
“He has plenty more of Europe to see, in any case,” Gabriel added smoothly, in an obvious attempt to divert conversation. “I’m sure he won’t be returning home for some time.”
“But surely his family misses him,” Myriam said. Ben felt a pang of guilt, because his mum had said she missed him the last time they spoke. He should probably call her more often.
“He speaks to his family regularly,” Léo interjected. “More often than I speak to you.” Or will in the future, his tone implied. Myriam froze, then returned her attention to her plate.
Crap, crap, crap, Ben thought. He reached for his wineglass, took a gulp of the really excellent red wine, then set the glass down carefully beside his plate.
And threw caution to the wind.
“Madame, monsieur, I’m aware that I’m not your ideal mate for Léo. I regret that this is the case. It would make things much easier if my presence in your son’s life thrilled you. You could be happy, Léo and I could be happy, and you would maybe develop a better relationship with Léo. We could visit every month, and I would call you Mum and Dad—or maybe not,” he added as Gabriel choked on his wine. “But anyway”—fuck, why wasn’t Léo stopping him?—“um, anyway, that’s not how things are. .” Gabriel moaned, and Léo sat frozen at Ben’s side. “The point is… the poin
t is, things don’t always go the way you want. Léo and I are spending time together. Whether it goes further than that is yet to be seen. Whether you’re a part of his life is entirely dependent on your own behavior. ” He snatched up his wineglass and knocked back the remaining contents, then held the glass out to Léo. “More, please.”
Wordlessly, Léo obliged. And then, as Ben sipped slightly more decorously, they all sat in frigid silence.
Great. He’d made it worse.
“You thought Léo was going to assassinate you?” Charles burst out. “What about my son could possibly resemble an assassin?”
“That’s exactly what I thought!” Léo exclaimed.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It sounds like a fascinating story,” Celine said. “Will you tell it to us?” She was so pretty and so earnest, and her smile was genuinely friendly, and Ben could not resist. He found himself telling her—well, everyone, really, but mostly her—about how Léo had introduced him to glorious champagne and fine dining and romanced him with drinks on a moonlit terrace, then kissed him by a floodlit rooftop pool and left him to chaste dreams. He compared it all to a movie, and related his fear that it was too good to be true, and how the assassination theory came about.
“What happened next?” Myriam asked eagerly. “How did he prove he was genuine?”
Ben swallowed a gasp. Who would have thought Léo’s mother was a romantic?
“Er… he took me to lunch, and then we spent the afternoon at the Musée océanographique.”
“He willingly went to an aquarium?” Charles shook his head admiringly. “Well, that would prove he was interested.”
This is weird. Right? It was definitely weird. Ben shot Léo a pleading glance, but Léo seemed to be completely focused on his plate, a tiny smile curving his lips.
“Well, it is a lovely way to meet,” Celine declared. “A story worth telling.”
“Thanks,” Ben said weakly. Too bad he felt like a complete idiot.
The Bunny and the Billionaire Page 13
