French Resolution (Dances With Gazillionaires Book 2)

by Nora Snowdon

  “Oh. Sure.” Edward went a little further down the road and then pulled into a driveway. He walked up to the house, knocked on the door, and chatted a while with the large woman who answered. He came back empty handed.

  “Bettina will be upset. They were supposed to have it ready for her today.” He shrugged.

  The ride back to the estate was very quiet. Damn. Did she have enough on her credit card to cover a new one-way ticket? And what if she had to pay for a night at a hotel? She’d have to find a cheaper one.

  The estate was buzzing with activity again. Helen found Bettina to ask what was happening.

  “Mr. Christoff is having another party. I guess because his sister is here. Don’t worry though. Camille should be done with the computer soon; then you can buy your ticket. And you can stay here, if you can’t get a flight until tomorrow. No one is in your old room.”

  “God, no!” She’d assumed Antoine would be in Langford Quay. She couldn’t face him after last night. He’d seemed so casual when she’d caught him and Laurenne half-naked. Ah oui, I always have sex with several women a day. Hell, maybe he would’ve asked her to join them. Eww. What a frigging nightmare. “I have to get home. I’ll call the airport and then just take a taxi.”

  “No. The fax machine has been clogging the phone line for ages. In the meantime, I’ll prepare a late lunch for you. You must be starved.”

  “No thanks, Bettina. I don’t think I could eat anything.” Her stomach was already churning with anxiety—food seemed like a bad idea.

  “You don’t look well.” Bettina peered at her with concern. “You go lie down. I’ll call you when the computer is free.” Bettina walked her out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

  Helen took Bettina’s advice, mainly because she couldn’t think what else to do. Camille was still on the computer and Helen didn’t want to run into Antoine or his guests. As she lay down in her old bed, weariness overtook her. She fell into a deep sleep and dreamed her father was still alive and telling her he was sorry.

  Helen awoke to the soft stroke of a hand across her forehead.

  “Are you feeling better?” Bettina asked.

  “Yes. Actually I am.” She shook her head, surprised. The dream had been comforting, even if it was just in her mind. She stretched and then jolted upright. “Oh, I guess the computer is free. I’d better get right on it.”

  “No worry. Mr. Christoff has already booked you a flight for tomorrow. This way you can enjoy one more day with us.”

  “Oh no, but—”

  “The party tonight is formal. He said to wear your other new dress.” Bettina sounded a little puzzled. “And he gave these back for you to wear with it.” Bettina held out the necklace and earrings that Helen had returned earlier.

  “I can’t go to his party tonight,” she protested. “Honest, Bettina, I don’t think I can face those French women.”

  “Nonsense!” Bettina laughed. “You will face them and they will see that you are a strong, confident young woman. Now jump into the shower and make yourself beautiful. I’ll have a snack for you in the kitchen, before the guests start arriving at eight. Edward brought all your bags up and if you need anything ironed, let me know.” Bettina indicated the rarely used service bell and bustled out the door.

  When had her life stopped being her own? Lately it seemed like everyone was giving her orders and she was blindly following them. She got into the shower and let the hot water soothe her nerves. Aside from Antoine, Laurenne, and Angeline, no one else knew what a lovesick fool she’d been. She would behave with dignity and poise, and pretend she was above their sick games.

  Helen took a lot of care to achieve the perfect look. Dark eyeliner, mascara, and smoky eye shadow, a deep burgundy lipstick, and she almost carried off the dramatic flamenco style of the dress. Helen tried not to look in the mirror for long to avoid having second thoughts. Whenever she tried dramatic make-up, she worried it made her look cheap. If she wore it with confidence, maybe that would make the difference. She could learn from Laurenne. The necklace and earrings enhanced the new look.

  Bettina let out a low whistle of approval. “When did you become so sophisticated? I hardly recognize you, child!”

  “Thanks, Bettina. Do you know how many people are coming tonight?” Helen asked, trying not to chew on her lip. Dark lipstick would look tacky on her teeth.

  “About thirty-five. Some of the people from yesterday. I believe your Mr. Christoff has some big personal announcement. He’s been holed up with Mrs. Dumont for much of the day.”

  “Oh great.” She bet Angeline was pushing for him to make an honest woman of Laurenne, or something. Maybe he wanted Helen there to prove that she wasn’t a threat. Although it was difficult to imagine Laurenne feeling threatened by anyone. She pecked at the spicy grits and grouper that Bettina placed in front of her.

  “And drink some milk to coat your stomach,” Bettina advised. “The amount of alcohol we’ve been going through this week could give a whole village in Africa liver damage. Speaking of drinking, I almost felt sorry for Camille, she was so upset by her behavior last night.”

  “Really? What’d she do?” Helen realized she’d missed Bettina’s acidic recounting of the night before. It used to be her favorite part of her father’s parties, listening to Bettina’s interpretation of events afterward. People were quite unconcerned about making drunken fools of themselves in front of the help.

  “I gather she felt used by Mrs. Dumont and the other woman. She might’ve met her match with those two. That’s enough chatter now. You’d better finish and go brush your teeth. You should have fun for your last night here.”

  Helen rolled her eyes as she exited the kitchen. If only Bettina knew how depressing this evening was going to be. At least she’d avoided seeing the French women for most of the day. Helen had just started down the hallway to her room, when a familiar tingle slid down her spine.

  “Helen.” The deep voice was close behind her. “A moment, please.”

  Damn. She steeled herself and turned to face him. “Hello, Antoine. Thank you for arranging my flight.”

  “My pleasure. I hope it is not too much of an inconvenience for you to spend one more night in Nassau.”

  She edged back a step. The more distance between them, the safer she’d feel. “My boss will understand.” Keep it impersonal. “Well, I’m sure you have other things to do. Don’t let me stop you.” She turned toward her room.

  “Are you not going to even ask me about yesterday?”

  “It was pretty obvious,” Helen snapped. She took a deep breath and then faced him again. “Look. I don’t know if you and your fiancée have one of those weird, open relationships, or whatever you call it. Or maybe French people are less concerned about fidelity. Or it’s a rich guy thing. I don’t know. All I know is I can’t do that. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place.”

  “Maybe not. But you did.” His eyes searched her face. “And I think you are still involved with me.” Antoine closed the gap between them. He brushed a stray curl from her forehead, his fingertips lingering at the side of her temple.

  Desire and mortification raged within her. “Please don’t.” Her voice shook. “Yes. I’m attracted to you but you’re not free, and I’m not willing to play your games.”

  “Do you love me?”

  She tried to look away from him, but he turned her face toward him. “What does it matter?” She clenched her jaw, desperate to keep from crying. His fingers slid down her face and then across her lips.

  “It matters to me.”

  She couldn’t understand how, after all he’d done to her, she could still want him. She dug her nails into her palm attempting to regain her control.

  She should run. Her room was just two doors down.

  She stood there staring up into his beautiful hazel eyes and then watching as his sensuous mouth lowered to her own. She moaned, as she gave in to the soft pressure of his lips upon hers.
Her brain screamed, “No! Don’t be a fool!” as her traitorous lips opened to the sweet probing of his tongue. His hand on the small of her back pulled her up against his hard body. Her already sensitive breasts were tantalized by the feel of his muscular chest beneath his silk shirt. Antoine broke the breathless kiss and waited for her to open her eyes.

  “You never answered me,” he whispered, his hand stroking the side of her neck.

  Helen looked at him puzzled.

  “Do you love me?”

  “How can you ask that?” Helen tried to move away. Antoine held her tight. When she realized he wasn’t going to release her, she turned on him. “Is this some sort of sick game? Yes! You made me fall in love with you. I wish I wasn’t. Now you can go back to that perfect fiancée, knowing you can still twist the heart and mind of a simple, and incredibly stupid, American dog.”

  “Ma petite—”

  “Please don’t.” Helen hated the pathetic tone in her voice. “I can’t take much more.”

  With a sudden twist she wrenched free of his grasp and ran to her room. She was not going to cry. She wadded up some tissues, dampened and pressed them below her eyes. The cool might keep her eyes from puffing up. She brushed her teeth, put on fresh lipstick, and steeled herself to go out there again.

  Masochistic or not, she was going to pretend Antoine meant nothing to her. The party already sounded in full bloom as she headed down the stairs. She hoped there’d be someone she knew that she could hang out with for support.

  The ballroom had been restored to its former glory with all the glittery vestiges of Randy and Andy eradicated. A five-piece band played quietly in the background. Helen glanced around at the people gathered, elated to discover George in attendance.

  “Oh good. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She smiled, edging into his cluster.

  “Helen! I heard you missed your flight. I’m so glad we’re graced with your presence for one more night.” George kissed her cheek and then made half a move to kiss the other. He shrugged, then introduced her to his companions. “Helen’s with the Feed the Children Foundation,” he explained. “Oh, and we have the final check for you to take back to New York. It was quite a haul last night.”

  “Oh good. I’ll just have to make sure I don’t get mugged at the airport,” she joked.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Thanks, George. A—”

  “White wine,” he finished with a smile. “I never forget a beautiful woman’s choice of drink.”

  She watched him walk away. Oh shoot, she couldn’t remember any of George’s introductions. One of these men was from New York as well, which could’ve been a conversation angle. Another one had been with the Red Cross in Nassau. Luckily George wasn’t long in fetching her drink.

  “Mmm, thank you.” She took an indelicate swig. “I hear we’re all in danger of losing our livers with all the drinking around here. At least we’ll be losing them to expensive alcohol.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” George’s loud guffaw was embarrassing as others turned to stare at their group. The attention didn’t last long and she found herself enjoying the party despite her misgivings. The French contingent seemed to be keeping to themselves, with the exception of Camille. She was hanging around the bar and shooting nasty looks at someone other than Helen. Helen was pleased to be ignored in this instance.

  The band stopped playing and the room quieted as people focused on the front of the room. Antoine’s deep voice carried over the crowd.

  “Mes Amis. I would like to thank all of you for sharing this important occasion with me. I will not take up much time, because I know you are all anxious to socialize, dance and taste the exquisite food that is calling to us from the other room.” There was an appreciative chuckle.

  “First of all, I would like to announce that we have tallied the amounts raised at last night’s event. We raised just under a half a million dollars to benefit the Feed the Child Foundation.” Antoine paused for the applause. “Will Helen Dunhill please come here to receive the check? The ink dries, as I speak.”

  Helen was pushed toward Antoine.

  “Ah, there you are. Thank you for allowing us to support such a worthy cause, Mademoiselle Dunhill. With great pleasure I give you this check from the Robert Dunhill Memorial Gala.” They both held up the check as several cameras flashed. Antoine continued, “And I have a more personal announcement to make as well.”

  Helen went to melt back into the crowd but Antoine was still gripping her hand. She couldn’t extricate herself without making a scene. She glanced at his face to see if he was even aware that he was holding her. His face was inscrutable.

  “As many of you know, I have been a Godforsaken bachelor for many years. Ma sœur, Angeline, has been trying to assist me in rectifying this situation. Well she has convinced me.”

  Helen glanced out to see Laurenne and Angeline nodding in agreement. God, this was getting even more embarrassing. She discreetly tried to free her hand. His fingers remained locked.

  “And so, in front of you, mes amis, I would like to make my proposal to end my cold and lonely existence.” He turned and knelt in front of Helen. “Helen Dunhill, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  The blood rushed from her head as she contemplated the scene before her. Was she hallucinating? She stood there frozen, speechless.

  Others were not so quiet. “What?” Angeline’s screech rose above the rest of the surprised crowd. “You were supposed to…”

  “No, Angeline. Despite your interfering, this is what I am supposed to do.” Antoine squeezed Helen’s hand to get her attention. “Ma petite? Please say something.”

  “But…” she stuttered.

  “No buts.” He stared at her intently and continued so only she could hear. “There will be no ‘sharing’ of my affections. I love you alone and have, without realizing it, from the day we first met at the tennis club. You make me feel alive in ways I have never felt before. We were made for each other. When I thought I was going to lose you for good last night, I almost went insane. Say you love me and will be mine forever.”

  A tremor started in her chest and spread throughout her body. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I love you.”

  Antoine swept her up into his arms and took her mouth in a joyous kiss. The sound of applause joined the loud crashing of her heartbeat as Antoine swung her around in his embrace. He set her down and murmured in her ear, “Mon amour, you have made me the happiest man in the world.”

  Helen was dragged out of Antoine’s embrace and fiercely hugged by Bettina. “I told you it would all work out. I’m so happy for you, child.”

  George and Edward also pressed forward to offer their congratulations. Helen was stunned when Camille hugged her.

  “I am sorry I tricked you. Please forgive me.” Camille kissed her on both sides of her face.

  “Sure Camille,” Helen answered.

  “Alors. I would like to dance with my fiancée,” Antoine announced. “La musique, merci.”

  Helen numbly followed as he waltzed her around the ballroom. She was so flustered she couldn’t hear the music.

  “Relax, ma petite,” Antoine whispered in her ear. “You will enjoy it more.”

  Placing her head on his chest, she gave in to the sweet intoxication of being in his arms once more. She hadn’t realized how far they’d travelled on the floor until the fresh scent of flowers tickled her nose. She opened her eyes to see they were alone on the terrace. Antoine grinned down at her.

  “Dancing has many purposes. Now that we are alone…” He opened a small ring box and brought out a delicate ring in white gold that matched her necklace. “May I?” Antoine slid the ring on her finger and then kissed her hand. “Maintenant, tu es, finalement, ma femme.”

  Helen put her hands on his shoulders and stood on her toes to kiss his lips. “Yes,” she replied. Then she laughed and added, “To whatever the heck you just said.”

  *

  Helen awoke to
the strange sensation of a large hand cupping her breast. She rolled over to gaze at the man attached to the appendage.

  “Good morning, ma petite.”

  “Mmm. I think it is.” She snuggled further into his warmth. She purred as his hand began a gentle exploration down her sleepy body. “You’re insatiable.” After making love for most of the previous night, she hadn’t expected a repeat performance in the morning.

  “Your fault.” Antoine nuzzled her neck. “I need to feel that you are truly mine to keep. You have run away from me too many times.”

  “With reason,” she protested. “And what was Camille apologizing about yesterday?”

  “I was waiting for you to ask. She threw her drink on Laurenne and myself at the gala.” At Helen’s confused expression, he continued, “Angeline and Laurenne set up the encounter so you would catch me with my pants down, so to speak. Laurenne told me she had a cleaner that would protect the fabric and I did not suspect a thing. Even after you saw us, I assumed it was a bad coincidence. But the next day, Camille confessed. She had thought they were going to propose her as my potential wife.” Antoine shuddered.

  “Your sister hates me.”

  “She will love you once she knows you.” He laughed. “She distrusts Americans on principle.”

  “Great.” Helen sat up and frowned. “Hey. Did you get Edward to make me miss my flight?”

  “Oui.” He smiled.

  “And when is my flight back today?”

  “Our flight, leaves at three-twenty.”

  “To New York?” She hadn’t even considered where they’d live. Or what she’d do.

  “Oui. You have met my horrid sister; I should meet your mother.”

  “Oh. And what about after?”Oh crap, she should’ve asked all this earlier. She’d been so thrilled by his proposal, she hadn’t considered what marriage to Antoine would entail.

  “After? Do you mean the wedding?”

  “I guess. I mean, you live in France. But what am I supposed to do? I couldn’t just get a job there because I don’t speak French? Or…” She closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath.