When he came, Carla held him gently and rested him against her chest.
“I can stay here forever,” he muttered nuzzling her throat.
“Me too,” Carla replied.
Then he reached out and kissed her on the lips. It was a kiss so sweet and full of longing and telling her everything she already knew.
***
Falcon’s house was a beehive of activity. It seemed like the whole population of Riquewihr was there. Catering trucks lined the driveway and some even spilled out towards the back of the house and along the road leading to the driveway.
In the distance, Carla could see men assemble a huge white tent elegantly adorned with folded curtains. Smaller tents of similar color stood with their awnings swaying in the gentle breeze. Two men unloaded a heavy carpet and proceeded to roll it out on the grass.
From inside Falcon’s bedroom, Carla could hear doors slam as florists whose arms were laden with multicolored roses, irises and lilies, filled every nook and cranny with stunning creations.
On top of all the activity, Carla sighted Jacques leading the pack, gesticulating wildly with his arms as he directed the men where to proceed. He must have noticed her looking out from the window above and gave her a thumb up.
Carla, her naked body covered with a sheet, returned the gesture.
Falcon strolled out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water still dripped from the sides of his neck and down his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he stood behind her.
“Ready for the big ceremony tonight?” he whispered in her ear.
Carla wrinkled her nose and replied, “It all seems so chaotic.”
“Your wedding planner seems to be doing alright,” Falcon gestured at Jacques below who was berating a delivery boy pushing a cart full of wine boxes.
“At the back…at the back,” they heard him say, shooing the poor man away.
When Falcon proposed, Carla was ecstatic. She would have been happy just living with him without the sacredness of a wedding ceremony. When she accepted his proposal, he said he wanted a big wedding back in New York.
Carla disagreed.
“I want to get married in Riquewihr, in your house,” she suggested.
Carla was afraid of a big wedding in New York. A prominent name such as Manchester meant celebrities and high society, people who populated his world.
Falcon was more than willing to give her whatever she wanted.
Carla didn’t realize it only meant that the guests would be flying in to Paris, ferried by limousines to the house, instead of arriving in their own cars.
The guest list blew her mind. Senators and other government officials confirmed their attendance. So did movie stars and celebrities from the entrainment world. Falcon’s friends in the cosmetics and perfume industry were coming too. A whole choir of young boys with angelic voices from a neighboring town was contracted to sing during the wedding. A famous quartet and a band were hired to provide the dance music.
Her wedding dress brought its own share of challenges. Carla had no idea where to start and who to call. The list of ateliers who were eager to show off their creations was as long as her arm. Thankfully, she remembered Esmee who was so excited to hear about the news, she practically wept.
“I just thought it would never happen for him,” Esmee said, smiling happily.
Esmee took over all the details and scoured the whole of France in search of seamstresses who were experts in the art of intricate beading. They worked day and night to finish the gown which was embellished with 70,000 different varieties and sizes of Swarovski elements. French lace for the lining and tulle fabric on top, added with a Baroque lace embroidered with French sequins, it had to be the most beautiful gown Carla had ever seen.
The days that followed were a whirlwind of activities that left Carla feeling strained. Everything was so overwhelming.
“We should have eloped and gotten married in front of a judge,” Carla commented.
“And take away the pleasure of showing you off? No way,” Falcon retorted.
Carla smiled and twisted around to face him. She studied his beautiful face. The crescent moon shape that was his brows, the penetrating eyes that stared deeply into hers, the patrician nose and flinty jaw, and the lips that stole a kiss from her.
It still hadn’t sunk in that in a few hours she would be standing in front of a minister promising to love and to hold, to cherish and to care for him for the rest of her life.
“How could I be so lucky,” she thought.
Carla grabbed a corner of the bedsheet wrapped around her and wiped the moisture of his face. Last night she thought they would follow the tradition of not seeing each other the day before the wedding. She had come to terms with that although she missed him already.
But Falcon didn’t believe in those traditions, commanding her to stay with him. Carla was fine with it because she spent the whole night and half of this day in his arms.
“Have you decided where you want to go for our honeymoon?” Falcon asked.
He had earlier suggested Africa, Scotland or anywhere in Asia. Carla had the whole world to choose from and Falcon would indulge her.
“Uhm, not yet,” she replied.
She was eager to see all those exotic places. But with Falcon by her side, he could bring her to the worst places on earth and she would still be happy.
“There’s always Paris,” Falcon suggested softly.
Carla melted at the idea. Paris was her happy place. Falcon was right when he said it was where their romance first started.
“Yes, there is always Paris,” she replied, staring into his eyes with pure delight.
*****
The End
*****
Did you enjoy the book? Drop me an email on [email protected] anytime, to say hi and let me know your experience ☺
(You can also Sign-Up for my mailing list and get an exclusive FREE Billionaire Romance Story NOW! and have a chance to get my upcoming books for free, and other updates on bonus content and offers.)
Click HERE or enter BookHip.com/VMZCJF in your browser.
JOIN IN!
(Bonus Book 1 on Next Page!)
BONUS BOOK 1
Daddy’s Rockstar Friends – A Reverse Harem Romance
CHAPTER ONE
Jacine
I scrunched the hard copy of today’s Variety between my hands as the plane landed at LAX. The jolt of the aircraft hitting the runaway did nothing to relieve my pounding heart. Flying didn’t bother me, but the newspaper’s headline did…
Three Rock Bands Trade Blows in Eatery
Not three rock groups, but key members of three of the hottest rock sensations in the US, Arcane, Clash, and Obsidian, raged at each other. The insane violence spurred customers to run screaming from the trendy restaurant, Angelo’s.
Not an eatery, I thought wryly. The Angelo family will hate that.
A few though, including the ever-present paparazzi, snapped with bacchanalian delight pics and videos that flashed through social media almost as immediately as the event happened.
Welcome to the Information Age.
Tucking the trade rag in my purse, I prepared to flee from this seat with relief. Miserably I had spent the past six hours in it scrunched between two hefty women. In a hurry to get to LA, I took an economy class seat, a mistake I will never repeat. My thoughts swirled in a mess as chaotic as the passengers trying to disembark.
PR Head Suffers Cardiac Event after Three Clients Come to Blows.
That sidebar story was the piece that made my heart race. My father was there sitting in a business meeting with a potential client when the three rockers started the ruckus.
In thirty years of public relations, Franklin Alexander witnessed untold absurdities. Some of his customers practiced little discretion. His no-nonsense wrangling of stories and clients saved many celebrities from ruin. That and a rare reputation for honesty in the land of stars made him one of
LA's top spin-masters.
I sympathized with Franklin Alexander, my father, but not Franklin Alexander, the businessman. I warned him that taking on the three musicians at once would cause trouble.
But I was too professional to give him a deserved dose of “I told you so.” My father schooled me in every angle of the business and I worked hard to prove my worth as the head of the New York office of Alexander and Wells. Though he would argue, running the New York office was more difficult than the LA branch. The New York celebrity base sprang from deep roots in music and theater, with a few cultivated from the film industry. That crowd demanded stability, reliability, and solid results for their cash. It was a jittery atmosphere compared to freewheeling LA, where anything was on the table, including a few lines of pearly white coke.
I stepped off the plane in louboutin spiked heels and took the crowded concourse in quick New York long strides that outpaced more leisurely West Coast residents. Anson, the family limo driver answered my phone call immediately.
“I’m here. I’ll meet you at departures.”
“Do you need me to get your bags, Miss Alexander?”
“Not to worry. No time to pack.”
My next call was to my stylist, which went to voice mail.
“Hi, Rose. It’s Jacine Alexander. Just got back into town. Please curate a current West Coast wardrobe for night and day, including underwear as soon as possible. Oh, and I lost ten pounds, so size it accordingly. Since, I’ll be at the hospital with Dad for most of the day, just drop off the collection at the house. Thanks.”
Anson drove to the entrance, and I didn’t wait for him to open the door, but barreled into the vehicle.
“The hospital, please, Anson.”
“Yes, Miss Alexander. But you should let me get the door.”
“New York changes a person. You become more self-reliant.”
“And quicker, too,” he said with a mischievous grin.
I smiled for the first time since starting this trip. Anson wasn’t just an employee. He was family. Anson worked for the Alexander family for as long as I could remember.
His tone dropped. “Is there news about Mr. Alexander? The staff won’t tell me.”
“My father didn't fill out that form?” I sputtered with exasperation. That irascible parent of mine had promised to sign and submit the medical information release before I left for New York. My father worked long hours and was not always accessible. Anson was my pipeline to keep track of my father.
“He may have, Miss. The hospital didn’t have it on file.”
I whipped out my iPhone and typed a message to Tobias Marshall, my father’s lawyer and best friend, and put him on the case.
Me: Hey, it’s Jacine. What’s the update with dad?
Tobias: I’m at the hospital now with your father.
Me: I’ll be there as soon as traffic permits.
Tobias: That was fast.
Me: Not fast enough. How is he?
Tobias: Trussed up with tubes and wires and spitting displeasure. But they want to keep him for a couple more days to do tests to make sure he doesn’t have any more blockages.
Me: Good.
Tobias: He’s worried about the business.
Me: Of course. But I'll handle it while he recovers.
Tobias: He doesn’t like it.
Me: Too damn bad. See you in a few.
“Anson, he’s fine. Cranky as usual. But they are keeping him to run tests.”
“Good. I worry about him, with his schedule.”
My light and breezy tone was a total lie, but it wouldn’t do to worry Anson. He took his duties too seriously. He still called me Miss Alexander and my father Mr. Alexander even though he worked for us for the past thirty years.
Anson turned the radio a light jazz station, and I worked on business emails during the drive. The work of Alexander and Wells Public Relations didn’t stop just because the CEO of the company was in the hospital. I sent a message to the head of our IT department and told him I needed access to my father’s email. I’m sure neither man would like that, but damn it, I’m determined that my father takes time off. He’s a strong man, but Anson is right, my father does work himself into the ground.
As soon as Anson pulled up, I dashed out. He would return to the entrance at my call when it was time to leave. This was so much better than cabs and walking in NYC. But here in LA, everyone drove. No one walked unless it was on the treadmill in the gym.
“Dad,” I said as I entered. I kissed him, and his mouth twisted slightly in distaste. He was onto me and knew I didn't come just to act the dutiful daughter. I gave Tobias a quick kiss on the cheek before I turned back to my father. Tobias’s hand lingered a little too long at my waist, but I shoved away that thought. My father deserved all my attention.
“I will not stay here a minute longer than I need to, daughter.”
“And I don’t want you too.”
“And I will go right back to work.”
“Nope. I’m not wasting a perfectly good plane ride back so you can get yourself into trouble again.”
“It was a mild event. Hardly happened.”
“That’s because you are too damn stubborn to let that shriveled heart of yours boss you around. But you haven’t had a vacation in five years, and I’m putting my foot down.”
“But the business—”
“Why did you raise your only daughter in it? So someone you trust can take care of things for you.”
“Are you accusing me of creating my workforce?”
“One child hardly qualifies as that.”
“It is when it’s you,” said Tobias with a smile.
“Funny, sir. Funny.”
“He has no sense of humor,” snapped my father. “And he’s right. And I won’t let you run over me like you do the New York clients.”
“Moi?”
“Your father calls you the wrecking ball,” said Tobias.
Not liking the sound of that, my hands flew to my hips reflexively. “He did?”
“Once. When you pulled that actor, what the hell was his name?”
“Bash Hunt?”
“Yeah, that asshole. You yanked him by the scruff of the neck from that whorehouse and threw the jerk into rehab.”
“You know how short leading men are.”
“Yes. Yes. You need to sit to look them in the eye and barely a handful,” grumbled the elder Alexander.
“And he was in no condition to make any protests. I got him out via the paramedics.”
“Still. He’s been a purring pussy since then.”
“I’m good at my job. That is no reason to pin invectives on me.”
“Oh, I believe he said it with pride,” added Tobias.
“You know,” growled her father, “with friends like you—”
Tobias shrugged and smiled his charming grin that always made me melt and calmed my father. I couldn’t help but admire his rugged body, salt and pepper hair and silver fox features. Tobias’s face featured a slightly hawk nose and prominent cheekbones. Though I’d known him forever as my father’s best friend, growing up I often imagined having him as my boyfriend. It was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. I might have said when I was five-years-old that if I didn’t marry my daddy, I would marry him.
A nurse came in to take my father for tests and told us to come back tomorrow. She stared more at Tobias than me, so he must have put his time in here looking out for my dad.
“Sure thing,” said Tobias. “Come on, Jacy, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“That’s right. Leave me alone with this foul hospital food.”
“That’s because you're on a heart-healthy diet,” said Tobias trying to hide his mirth. “No flavor for you since you ate the wrong things for too many years even though I warned you.”
“Get out!” my father declared imperiously.
So we did.
CHAPTER TWO
Tobias
I swallowed hard and struggled to keep cool with
Jacine. It was hard to resist the urge to put my arm around her waist, to draw her close and breathe in the scent of her musky perfume.
Forty-eight years old, I am old enough to be her father, but damn if she didn’t light a fire in me that another woman couldn't.
I always had a thing for Alexander women. Jacine’s mother was a beauty that took my breath away. Franklin had damn good taste. But Jacy was exceptional. With her mother’s beauty, blonde hair, startling blue eyes, her tall hourglass figure and her father’s smarts, she was the full package.
It wasn’t until that first Christmas back from college that I noticed how much she’d grown. She left for Harvard a gangly teenager, a kid that I regarded with paternal affection and returned a bare four months later with a polish that belied her years.
Jacy knocked me off my feet.
But Franklin was my best friend, and I would never make a move on his daughter. That would cut across boundaries I didn’t want to cross. In fact, my attraction to Jacine freaked me out.
In one way, it was good. No other woman would register on my Richter scale and I could concentrate just on work. The yearning in my heart funneled into making cash, and a lot of it. Franklin and I were on par in the asset area, and I built a solid reputation as an entertainment lawyer. This is why I also worked closely with Franklin and in fact was on retainer with his firm.
So I tell myself this dinner with Jacy is a business expense, though I know in the most secret part of my heart what it is.
Time alone with the one woman I could never have.
Why would such a beautiful young woman want an old man like me? Sure, I kept in shape at the gym, but as each year passed, I felt the workout more in the muscles than the year before.
Even if this was LA and such pairing was as common as fronds on a palm tree, she was still my best friend’s daughter.
Off limits.
Do not touch.
A big neon sign flashing “forbidden.”
So, idiot me, that made her even more enticing than she should be. Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.
Scent of Desire : A Parisian Exotica: An Ultra Luxury Billionaire Romance Page 10
