by Abbott, Alex
He gently took her hand in his and placed a tender kiss on it.
“What was that for?” she asked softly.
“Just... for no reason.” Then, amending, he added, “I like you, Valerie Lorgnasse. Or Melanie Harper. Or whatever your name will turn out to be. I’ve grown extremely fond of you these last few days, and I just wanted you to know I’m glad—I know this might sound weird—I’m glad all this happened.”
She eyed his skeptically. “You’re glad I was kidnapped?”
“Glad because otherwise we might never have met. And now that we did...” Usually a smooth talker, Jack suddenly found himself drowning in a quagmire of ill-expressed sentiments. “I mean...”
She gave him a lovely smile. “I know, Jack. I feel the same way about you.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment, being irrevocably drawn to each other. Jack longed to feel her lips on his again, her body wrapped around him like it had in the shower that morning. He hadn’t dared suggest they make love again. Not with Magali pottering about in the house, and the cleaning lady coming in to help her deal with the upstairs.
But the longing was so strong, he’d almost given into it, Magali and the other members of the staff be damned. But then Jacques had called, and now here they were, pining for each other and unable to do anything about it.
Before they had the chance to scratch that itch, Magali entered the living room, and in that same moment, the doorbell rang, announcing yet another visitor.
Christ, Jack thought darkly. Just when he wanted to be alone with Valerie, his house was turning into a veritable beehive all of a sudden.
Ten seconds later his father strode into the room, looking cold and imperious as always. The moment he laid eyes on Valerie, his eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. Shooting out an indignant finger, he thundered, “What he hell is she doing here!”
Chapter 27
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. The sight of Jack Carter Sr had stirred a memory. It seemed to linger at the edge of my mind, and the frustration of not being able to grab hold of it added to my annoyance.
He was an imposing man, big and strong, with a full head of gray hair and piercing blue eyes set in a fleshy face. I could see where Jack had gotten his good looks from, though his father had put on quite a few pounds over the years, undoing some of mother nature’s blessings.
“Have we met?”
“Of course we have!” cried the irate old man. “Don’t stand there pretending that we haven’t. Why, the sheer nerve!”
“Dad, dad! Valerie is the woman I told you about. She lost her memory? So I suggest you go easy on her, all right?”
Jack’s dad looked from me to his son. “What do you mean, lost her memory?” He fixed me with a look of confusion. “You mean to tell me you don’t know who I am?”
“That’s exactly right, sir. Even if I’ve met you before, I don’t remember. I—” I swallowed uncomfortably. “I don’t even remember my own name.”
“Well, at least that’s something, as it’s more the name than the person I strongly object to.”
Both Jack and I stared at the man, anxiously awaiting his next words. Finally, when he merely stood there, glowering, Jack urged, “Well? Out with it, Dad. What is her name?”
He turned away, and muttered something under his breath that neither I nor Jack could comprehend. When he turned back to us, he held out a slip of paper.
Taking it, I saw that it was a newspaper clipping, folded so tightly that the creases had chipped away at the ink. Opening it, I found myself staring at the picture of a girl accompanied by an older man. Beneath the picture ran the caption ‘Gracie Travers and her father, Franklin Travers, attend a flower show at the Jardin des Tuileries.’ Above the article was titled in bold, ‘Franklin Travers to receive Légion d’honneur.’
I looked up at the man, not comprehending. “What is this?”
“Can’t you read, woman,” he ejaculated impatiently. “Gracie Travers. That’s you. And that despicable human gargoyle standing next to you is Franklin Travers. Your father and the most dishonorable fellow to ever walk this earth. If I never lay eyes on him again it will be too soon.”
Slack-jawed, I stared at the man. “What—”
“Dad, I think you have some explaining to do. What’s all this about Franklin Travers and... Gracie—is that really your name?”
I merely shrugged.
Jack’s father gestured impatiently. “Travers and I were friends and colleagues at one time. We were even roommates in college, back when being roommates still formed an unbreakable bond between young men. After finishing our education, we decided to go into business together, Franklin’s father being something of a bigwig in the banking world. We had plans to take over the business eventually, working as equal partners.”
As Jack’s dad told us the story of his relationship with Franklin Travers, it all became clear. Franklin and Jack had worked together in the understanding that they were equal partners in the bank, but when Franklin’s father passed away, Franklin had decided to oust his long-time friend and partner and take complete control of the business.
Jack had been kicked to the curb, and from that day, the two former friends had become mortal enemies.
I stared down at the picture. “So my name is Gracie Travers and this is my father,” I softly intoned.
“Look, young lady,” clarified the senior Carter, “I have nothing against you personally, but I swore a sacred oath never to have any dealings with your father or his family ever again, do you understand?”
I did. Whatever this animosity between my father and Jack’s was, it had nothing to do with me.
I felt something stir in my bosom, and realized it was elation. Finally the pieces of the puzzles were falling into place. For some reason, my father had become the target of an attack by this Jeannine Müller and her husband, and they had selected me as the best way to take revenge on him.
What he had done to upset them so we still didn’t know, but now that I knew who I was, it wouldn’t be long before I did.
“Jack. I need to—”
“Get in touch with your family. Already on it.” He handed me his iPhone, the number of a Franklin Grant selected in the display. I swallowed away a lump in my throat as I gingerly took the phone and pressed the green connect button.
I listened to the dial tone, and when the gruff voice of a man sounded, I stuttered, “D-d-dad?”
There was a momentary silence on the other end, then the soft expulsion of air, and the cry, “Gracie? Is that you? By God, where are you?”
“I’m fine, Dad. I’m in Paris, at the house of a friend.”
For a moment, confused voices made it impossible to discern anything intelligible, but then a woman’s voice asked, “Gracie, honey. What happened?”
I don’t know how, but instinctively I knew I was talking to my mother. Tears flooded my eyes. “Mom? I was kidnapped. Somebody took me.”
“Oh, honey! We thought you went hiking with Natasha. When we didn’t hear from you, we figured you’d been unable to find a phone.”
“Find a phone? Where did you think I was?”
“Why, in Alaska, of course. That’s where you said you were going last time we spoke. Don’t you remember?”
“I...” Something tugged at the edge of my mind at these words. Alaska? Natasha? “Something must have happened, then, because Jack Carter fished me out of a Belgian river two days ago, where I was dumped by my abductors.”
“Abductors? Belgium? Honey, you’re not making any sense.” Then, suddenly, my father came on the line again. “Did you just mention the name ‘Jack Carter’, Gracie?”
“Yes, Daddy. His son is the one who saved me.”
“Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now!”
“That’s okay, Dad. Jack can take me home.”
“Not a chance. You’re not spending one more minute with that man! Jack Carter is the worst piece of scum on the face of this earth, a
nd if I never see his face again, I’ll die a happy man.”
Chapter 28
It didn’t take long for Gracie’s father to arrive. Jack’s dad, upon learning that his former friend and rival would be coming to the house to pick up Gracie, quickly excused himself and ran off faster than Jack had seen him move in years.
The prospect of laying eyes on Franklin Travers obviously filled him with the kind of dread only mortal enemies can experience when forced to revisit a demon from their past.
Jack was sure that Gracie’s father felt exactly the same, for when he finally showed up, he refused to set foot inside the house with all the delicacy and consideration of a stubborn mule.
“You come out of there right now, young lady, or I will not be held responsible for the consequences,” he boomed over the phone.
Jack could see his car idling out in front, and had even briefly considered waving at the man to invite him in for a drink and the chance to meet. But Gracie thought it better not to taunt the old man.
“If we want to keep on seeing each other, Jack, it’s important to appease my family, not enrage them further.”
He enveloped her in a warm embrace. “You want to keep seeing me, huh?”
She lifted her face, a sweet smile playing about her lips. “I do, Jack Carter, but only if you agree, of course.”
“Of course. And what if I don’t?”
The smile disappeared, and was replaced by a look of doubt. He immediately regretted his tactless words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I do want to keep seeing you, Melanie, Valerie and Gracie. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you all the time.”
“I need to be with my family now, Jack.”
He wanted to say that he was her family now, that he needed her more than her own flesh and blood, but he feared this wouldn’t go over well. The yearning in his heart had him spout the most ridiculous nonsense, for instead he said, “Let’s elope together. Let’s pretend this whole episode never happened. That we met under normal circumstances and our families are on the best of terms.”
“If our families are on the best of terms, why would we elope?”
She had a point there, but he didn’t care. “Stay with me, Gracie. Don’t go just yet. We’ve only just begun to get to know each other.”
He didn’t want to express the silent fear tugging at his heart. That once she was in the bosom of her family again, her memory would return, and she would forget all about him and what had transpired in the two days they’d spent together.
She leaned up, and placed a tender kiss on his lips. He took the opportunity to pull her in close, and the kiss soon turned into a heated affair. Being so close to her, having her in his arms, felt so good, so natural, that he simply couldn’t imagine being apart again.
She placed a soft hand on his cheek, and finally broke the kiss. Gazing up into his eyes, she whispered, “Thank you for everything, Jack. You saved my life.”
“You saved mine,” he murmured.
She smiled at that, and the torrent of heat he felt raging inside almost had him reach out and drag her upstairs like the caveman he felt himself turn into each time they were close.
A loud honking interrupted them. It was the third time Gracie’s father had expressed his impatience, and this time she finally heeded his call and broke the embrace.
“I have to go, Jack.” She hesitated for a moment, giving his hand a little squeeze. “I’ll call you, all right?”
“Promise me you will not forget?”
That lovely smile broke through the clouds of worry again, and struck his aching heart like a shot to the chest. “I won’t.”
He watched her walk out the door and out of his life, then, and joined her on the front step to catch a glimpse of her father.
As he stepped out, he caught a glimpse of a diminutive old man, a patrician nose adding to refined features, white hair neatly in place, lips pursed in disapproval at the sight of Jack. It surprised him that Franklin Travers had decided to drive himself. His own father never traveled without a driver these days, and something told him Gracie’s father wouldn’t settle for less than his great competitor.
Mr Travers quickly averted his gaze, even if it meant ignoring his daughter. Only when she’d opened the passenger door and stepped into the emerald Jag, did his face light up, and did he lean over to give her a cursory embrace and kiss her on both cheeks.
Then, without a glance at Jack, he put the car in gear and drove off, whisking the woman he loved away from him.
She might have waved, but Jack couldn’t be sure. Her father’s bulk obscured a clear line of sight.
He stared after the car until it had disappeared at the end of the street, and then still he couldn’t go inside. Stepping into the house meant returning to his old life, the one he’d lead before Gracie had entered it, and he wasn’t ready for that just yet.
Returning to his old life meant long days at the office, business meetings with demanding customers and weekly parties with Mike.
Suddenly, and for the first time in his life, he felt as if he simply couldn’t go on the way he had for the past fifteen-odd years. Something new and wonderful had happened and it had changed him. Gracie had happened and she had taken the old Jack and turned him into a man he didn’t even know but intensely liked.
Gracie had made him a new man, a more considerate, loving man, and he liked the effect she had on him.
He knew right then and there what his next course of action should be, and cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.
With resolute step, he returned indoors, and sought the number of the finest jeweler in town. For the first time in his life, Jack Carter was going hunting for an engagement ring—and it had better be stupendous.
Chapter 29
“A fine mess this is,” grumbled my father.
I’d explained to him all that had happened over the course of the past forty-eight hours and this was his first comment.
I was shocked and dismayed. Though the sight of the older man had resulted in a surge of memories flooding back into my brain, one thing stood out amongst the welter: my dad was a bit of an asshole.
“What? Of all the people you could have turned to for help, you had to choose Jack Carter’s son. Don’t you know what he did to me—to this family?”
“No, Dad,” I replied with some heat. “I was unconscious, remember? And if Jack hadn’t pulled me out of the canal, I’d be dead now, so perhaps instead of cursing a fate that brought Jack Carter into my life, you should be thanking your lucky starts instead. At least, if you wanted to see your daughter alive again.”
These harsh words did little to appease him, for he continued grouchy.
“What were you doing in Belgium in the first place? I thought you said you were going hiking in Alaska?”
I shook my head, another fiery retort on the tip of my tongue, but then I thought better of it. How I had ended up in Belgium was one of those mysteries that still hadn’t been solved, as was this Alaska business.
Vaguely, I now remembered I did have a friend called Natasha, but what in the name of all that was holy would induce me to travel all the way to Alaska with her I couldn’t say. I loved warm climates, I loved the beach, that much I knew. So why would I willingly choose to freeze my tush off in chilly Alaska?
I shook my head. “I have no idea, Dad.”
He glanced over. “Your memory, huh? Still not fully restored?”
“I see glimpses of my life, but not the complete picture. It’s as if I’m looking at the sky, and from time to time catch a piece of the puzzle, but then a cloud drifts across the vast expanse that is my life, and it’s all gone again.”
“What did the doctors say?”
“With time, it will all come back to me.”
“Time and rest. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, honey. Now it’s time you took it easy for a while. You’ll move back in with us, of course, so we can give you the care you need.”
I prick
ed up my ears at this. “Move back in with you?”
“Of course. That loft of yours is no place to recover from this episode. And besides, I don’t think you’ll be safe in Faubourg Saint-Antoine. From what the police told me, it’s one of your artist buddies who snatched you in the first place.”
“Wowowow. You mean to tell me I live alone?”
Dad gave me a sideways look of concern. “Of course you live alone. You’ve lived alone for three years now, ever since you finished art school, remember?” Then he grimaced. “No, of course you don’t.” He sighed. “You do know that you’re a painter, don’t you? Even though I objected very much to the decision? Your chosen artist name is Valerie Lorgnasse, a name you chose when you were eight, by the way. You always knew you wanted to be an artist?”
A painter. I stared out through the windshield at the raging traffic. Cars were honking, and a light drizzle had started to come down, messing up the traffic even more. So I was an artist, was I? And this Rainer guy, he was one of my friends?
It was hard to imagine. I stared down at my hands, and held them up for closer scrutiny. I’d figured I was employed in some menial job, but a painter?
The notion buoyed me, and filled me with a feeling of exhilaration. Suddenly my mind’s eye filled with colors and shapes, each one more outrageous and uplifting than the next. I couldn’t wait to see my studio and experience my art firsthand. “Am I any good?”
Dad gave me a critical look. “Your mother seems to think so. Me? I’m... not much of an art critic, honey. I simply wouldn’t know.”
“But I like it, right? I like my life?”
His eyebrows rose, and he seemed resigned. “I guess you do. Except for the strange company you sometimes keep. Those bohemians do have a habit of getting on your nerves sometimes. Or so you led us to believe before you took off on your holiday.”
I suddenly was reminded of something. “Dad?”
“Mh?”
