Mistress for Hire

by Letty James

The waiter returned with her water and took their order, even though she wasn’t a bit hungry. When the waiter left, she gestured to her sister’s outfit. “Why in heaven’s name are you dressed like a punker?”

  Jessica gave her a big smile, making her look like herself again. “I’m undercover,” she whispered.

  Nikki felt her eyes go wide. “What? How could you get a job with the French police?”

  Jessica batted her question down. “No. No. With a non-profit organization. We’re investigating child kidnappings and child pornography around the world.”

  “I thought you were in Australia?”

  “That’s just a ruse to put people off the trail.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Her voice rose in a screech as Jessica made shushing noises. “It’s one thing to stand in front of a Japanese whaling ship for the rights of dolphins, but this is just nuts.”

  “I know what I’m doing. We’re very organized. Safe houses and all that sort of thing.”

  “Jessica! This is for the professionals.” Nikki’s mind raced, trying to think of what she could tell her sister to dissuade her from this foolishness. “Let me talk to Gérard about this. Surely, he knows organizations you can get involved with where you’re in the thick of things. Legitimate organizations that leave the dirty work to the police.”

  “He’s the one who got me into this.”

  “What?”

  The waiter appeared with their soup and both women waited tensely until he went away.

  “Yes. The Milk for Africa foundation got so screwed up that I wanted to do more. I wanted to be on the front line so I could see exactly where the money is going. This is important, Nikki.”

  “Oh, God.” Nikki buried her head in her hands. Her sister had finally gone off the deep end. She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Something about the foundation and Gérard.”

  “Do you know what they did?” Jessica’s own vehemence startled Nikki.

  “Perhaps you’d better tell me.”

  Jessica told her of the campaign to deliver baby formula to underdeveloped countries. Hundreds of cases of liquid formula were distributed in the name of humanitarianism. The formula helped starving babies not only live, but thrive. Mothers spread the word of the miracle formula and fed their babies formula instead of breastfeeding. Then the free formula stopped. Suddenly hundreds of mothers’ breasts were dry and they had nothing to feed their babies. A huge demand for formula began. Formula started being sold on the black market. And the Milk for Africa Foundation, headed by Gérard Beauvais, was to blame.

  “The whole thing’s been swept under the rug. There were several companies involved and not one has done anything to rectify the situation. The formula companies are still making millions of dollars off these poor, vulnerable women. Bilking the countries of aid dollars, which could be used for other things such as safe drinking water. They have no shame. No conscience.” Jessica started to pound the table with vehemence.

  Nikki sat in shock, her hand covering her mouth to hold in the anguish she felt. No wonder Gérard wouldn’t talk about it. “Gérard couldn’t have been involved in something so horrible.”

  “Oh, yes, he was. And he’s going to own up to it. And do something about it.”

  Nikki shook her head. “I’m sure there’s something you’re missing.”

  “That’s where you come in.” Jessica slid a flash drive across the red checked table cloth. “Get the files on the Board members of the Foundation. I already have the files on the operations. We plan to expose the whole gang and make them accountable.”

  “Those are the files you stole from Gérard!” Nikki grabbed Jessica’s wrist, making her fork clatter to the floor. “How dare you do that to him,” she hissed across the table.

  Jessica raised her eyebrow and for a moment Nikki wondered if she’d picked up that look from Gérard. “I didn’t do it to him. He’s done it to himself. Being greedy and ruthless will eventually bring you down. Now, let me go.”

  Nikki dropped her hand and slumped back against her seat. Ruthless, the perfect way to describe Gérard Beauvais. Except she had seen a kind, generous, sensitive side she doubted many people knew about.

  Jessica pushed the flash drive a little closer. “Look, you need to see what kind of man you’re marrying. And maybe rethink that decision. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  She’d been unreliable and undependable, but Jessica had always gotten the bad guy. Nikki and Mimi had been proud of her as they sat safely at their living room computer and followed Jessica’s exploits across the globe.

  “You talked about family being more important than causes. Well, I’m here, your only family left, and I’m asking you to trust me on this one.”

  Nikki dropped the miniature drive into her purse with a sigh. Despite Jessica’s claim of family, she felt very much alone.

  “That’s her? The one who stole your documents?” The private detective pointed through the windshield at Jessica.

  Gérard had been in the greenhouse, looking forward to Nikki’s return home, when the detective had called. Now, a cold fury enveloped him in direct contrast to the sweat rolling down his sides.

  Gérard nodded. “That’s her.”

  “And the other one?”

  “I’ll deal with her.”

  The detective got out to trail Jessica down the block. Gérard watched as Nikki disappeared down the steps to the Metro, then he climbed out of the miniscule car and phoned for Marco. He would easily arrive home before she did. Gérard glanced at his phone again. No call from Nikki. Clearly, she had lied to him.

  Chapter 16

  Nikki rode the Metro in a daze. The trains whizzed by in a blur. A mute beggar handed her a piece of paper asking for money. Nikki reached for her box of pastries to give to him and realized she’d left them at the restaurant sitting on the table. It was no use going back now. She dug into her pocket for a two Euro coin and handed it over. If not for Gérard, she herself would be begging on the streets. She walked slowly back to the townhouse, trying to figure out what to say to him. The flash drive felt like a time bomb in her purse.

  Gérard was in the garden when she got home. Wearing jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt, he looked like Paul Bunyan, the lumberjack of nursery school fame. He still hadn’t shaved, but it only enhanced his rugged aura, adding a dash of danger. As he turned a pitchfork full of muck in a raised bed, steam rose in the frosty air. He studied her over the pile and she had the uneasy feeling he could read her mind. She looked away, taking in the topiaries now covered in burlap.

  “Madame kept you quite late.”

  “I, I had an errand.” Nikki stuttered, not sure how much to tell him. She dug the toe of her boot into the gravel, then smoothed out the hole. “What are you doing?”

  “Compost.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She twisted the ring on her finger. The conversation died between them, the silence awkward as she tried to look everywhere but at him. He, in turn, had abandoned his work and stood staring at her, his gaze a stormy blue.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  She shook her head, her palms spreading wide, then smacking against her thighs in indecision. If she told him about meeting Jessica, he would jump all over her about not calling. And if Jessica was right about Gérard’s involvement in Milk for Africa, then she had misjudged him terribly. She needed some kind of proof. She chewed at her bottom lip.

  “Did you bring me a sample of your work?”

  Surely, she was imagining Gérard’s innocent question had a steely undertone.

  “No. I, I forgot it.” Nikki stumbled over her words, feeling on the verge of tears.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Just coming down with a cold. I think I’ll
go lie down.”

  “Have Didiér bring you some tea.”

  Nikki would have liked it very much if Gérard brought her tea, but he stayed on his side of the pile, gripping his rake.

  “I’ll see you later.” She headed into the house toward her favorite room, the library. A cup of tea and some quiet would help her sort this out. She stopped in the hallway, staring down at the door to Gérard’s office, her pulse racing. He spent hours outside and would probably be there for quite a while, digging in the dirt. Just one look in his office wouldn’t hurt. If a file was there, she could make a quick copy to read later and he would never know. The door handle felt warm against her cold hand. Well oiled, the heavy oak door quietly eased open and Nikki slipped in, closing it behind her. Sleek and modern, his office looked like an ad for a ritzy modern furniture store rather than the gilt-trimmed antiques throughout the rest of the house. It felt like a secret sanctuary and guilt stabbed at her with sharp pin prinks.

  Stay on track. Jessica is always right.

  But then she reminded herself Jessica had been out of her life for a long time, only swooping in from time to time to check in and boss her around. But she always had her best interests in mind. After all, hadn’t Jessica told her at Mimi’s funeral to get rid of Tim? And look at what had happened. And even though she and Gérard weren’t officially engaged, or even unofficially, she had a right to know what he was hiding from the world if he was using her to cover it up.

  She set her purse on the floor and yanked open the doors of a large armoire. A video screen sat on the top shelf with filing cabinets underneath. Nikki quickly scanned the file labels, but saw nothing pertaining to Milk for Africa. But it could be labeled something else or be in the computer. Jessica had told her to look for both. She heard a door close and quickly shut the drawer, her fingers slipping on the handle as her heart pounded under her ribs. Just as she shut the cabinet doors encasing the video screen, Gérard stepped into the room.

  “Are you looking for something?” His voice was cold, his eyes like ice as they froze her to the spot.

  She ran her hand along the beautiful wood grain of the cabinet. “I couldn’t resist taking a look at your office. Maybe when my month is over, I can come back to work at Beauvais Investments.” She tried to make her tone flip, but her voice came out breathy, hesitant. Instinct told her he knew she was searching for something she had best leave alone. Her excuse was flimsy at best, considering he had made it quite clear three weeks ago that personal assistant was no longer one of her duties.

  He moved in front of her, and she stepped back, tripping over her bag, her clog catching the strap and spilling the contents onto the floor. The hard drive, in its green fluorescent case stood out like a guilty man in a line up.

  The both stared at it, then Gérard looked up at her, his mouth a grim line. “This room is off limits without my permission. I thought you understood boundaries.”

  Her face flamed, but she forced herself to raise her chin and challenge him. “Boundaries? A little late for that now, wouldn’t you say?”

  Gérard traced her collarbone through her sweater. Wool and cotton seemed to fade away as heat spread through her. She bit her lip, wishing for at least the barrier of her glasses between them.

  “You signed away your right to boundaries, didn’t you?”

  Her breath hitched at his cruel dominance. “I didn’t sign away my life.”

  “Ah, but you did. For a year.” His fingers had moved up to her neck, slowly stroking her pounding pulse.

  She gripped the edge of the desk behind her, biting her lip so the pain would remind her not to be seduced so easily by his mere touch.

  “I have the bakery job, which is distinctly forbidden in the contract. So what good is the contract anyway?”

  “I like that word forbidden. It reminds me of so many reasons I should stay away from you.”

  Their mouths were only a breath apart. She could have twisted away, run, and never looked back. She knew he would let her leave. She had betrayed his trust. But the power he had over her, the endless, insane longing, tormented her. She touched the soft flannel of his shirt over his heart. His eyes met hers, the intensity of longing as strong as the first time they’d made love.

  His hands gripped her upper arms as his lips crushed hers in a punishing, dominant kiss.

  She clutched at his chest with a fierceness she’d never felt before, the flannel bunching under her fists. Fighting back with her mouth, she let him know she would take every touch and return them with an eagerness of her own. He pushed her down on the desk and her legs circled his waist to feel him full and hard against her.

  Her ring scraped against his jaw and suddenly he tore away. He shoved back and turned to clutch the edge of the armoire. His shoulders heaved as he sought to control himself. She scrambled off the desk, her hand over her mouth as her sanity returned, appalled at how easily she would have given herself to him.

  “Get out.” He didn’t turn, as if he hated the sight of her.

  Nikki didn’t move. She wasn’t giving up that easily.

  “I just wanted to see the file. I wanted to see if she was right. I wasn’t going to give it to her.”

  He turned, his face the frozen mask of before, but his hand gripped the edge of the armoire as if for support.

  “I saw you there, Gérard. Even in a different car, you’re easy to spot.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you did it anyway. You deliberately went behind my back to dig up whatever dirt she wanted you to find. Well, you won’t find it. It’s all in here.” He pointed to his temple.

  “You can’t go on hiding it, Gérard. The truth needs to be known.”

  He banged against the wood, making her jump.

  “There is no truth. A mistake was made. You think I don’t feel like a fool to have been taken in like this? I was lied to.” He leaned toward her, his mouth twisted into a grimace that terrified her. “But you know what? Everybody lies. Greedy little lies. And you’re no better than the rest of them. Going behind my back to justify your sister’s warped sense of do-good morality. We’ll see how she feels about her thieving activity after she spends the night in jail.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Not yet. But it’s only one phone call away.”

  Nikki’s hands balled into fists, but it wouldn’t do any good to hit him. He probably wouldn’t even flinch. “I’ll be gone within an hour.” Her mind reeled at all she needed to do to find her sister and get them both tickets back to the States.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He pulled her passport out of his pocket and slapped it against his other hand. “We have a contract. And, you’ll honor it.”

  “Nobody’s going to put me in jail for refusing to be your mistress.”

  He pocketed her passport. “Try me,” he said, flinging the words over his shoulder as he left the room.

  Nikki yanked off the fake engagement ring and threw it across the room, the bang against the window not nearly satisfying enough. How had she ever thought she was falling in love with this man?

  Gérard knew what Nikki was looking for, and she wouldn’t find it. McGowan had already called, promising a deal if he dropped the charges against Jessica. Said he would let him tell his side of the story, slant it toward the positive. Give him a chance to make things right.

  He didn’t believe a word McGowan said.

  He rarely let his guard down. Never got emotionally involved—that was his power. It worked for business and it worked for pleasure. All he knew now was the one time he let a woman in, shared a private part of his life with her, she’d betrayed him.

  Sitting down heavily on his stool in the greenhouse, he pulled an airline flight confirmation slip, along with Nikki’s passport, out of his pocket. After seeing her in the café, he’d come home and made a p
lane reservation for her— one way, back to the States. Having been fully prepared to send her on her way, he’d threatened her with the contract instead. He couldn’t let her go and he knew why. It had taken all his strength to pull away from her, wanting to control her with his body, to feel her underneath him, to bury himself in her and forget about everything else. But she was right. The truth needed to come out. He picked up his phone and made some calls.

  Low clouds turned all of Paris gray as Nikki spied on Gérard toiling in the greenhouse, his dark head bent to his task. She sat with her arms on the sill, hidden in her unlit room. Occasionally, she scrubbed at the pane with her sleeve to wipe off her breath’s condensation.

  He looked up as he locked the greenhouse door and Nikki watched him move toward the house as snow began to fall in fat white flakes. How she wished he would come to her room so they could talk. Just talk. She lied to herself. She longed to touch him. Hold him in her arms and figure all this out. It had been a week of stilted conversations between them. He hadn’t taken her phone from her. And she could easily have accessed the internet from Madame’s bakery or a café, but she didn’t. She would prove to him he could trust her. But he still hadn’t told her the whole story.

  Jessica had called. She was in Scotland.

  “Kidnapping is what I’d call it,” she whined.

  “At least you’re not in jail.” Nikki shook her head at her stubborn sister.

  “I can work from jail. More than I can say about this godforsaken place. I don’t have my laptop. There’s lousy cell phone service. You’ve got to take over this project, Nikkers.”

  “Take it over? In what way?” The connection went dead. Now what?