Captivated by the Brooding Billionaire

by Rebecca Winters

  “Dieu merci it did. But after what you’ve been through, I’m surprised you agreed to drive here with me.”

  “Frankly, so am I, even with the prize you dangled in front of me.”

  “That prize does exist, but whether it’s authentic will be for you to decide.”

  Abby eyed him seriously. “Assuming you’ve told me the truth about your life so far, what was it about your wife that made you want to marry her? Why did it work for you?”

  He took time answering. “Angélique de Dampierre was attractive and born into an aristocratic Burgundian wine family. Our family had known hers all our lives, but I didn’t begin spending time with her until three years ago. That was at the time when my father’s arthritis was advancing.

  “One evening after a party where the Dampierre family was in attendance, he took me aside. In private he told me he was stepping down as the head of the estate and would be making me the head. I knew he’d been cultivating me for that position from the cradle. What I didn’t know was that he expected me to marry Angélique.”

  Abby sat there in stunned disbelief. “Are you saying you entered into an arranged marriage?”

  Raoul nodded. “He and René Dampierre had talked it over years earlier. The union of our two families would ensure stability and bring financial security for years to come. But my father said I had to be married first and Angélique, with her aristocratic background, would make the perfect vintner’s wife.”

  “That sounds so feudal.”

  “If you knew my father, nothing would surprise you. Once in a while the ruthless side comes out in him, making him a formidable opponent. I had no plan to marry anyone at the time and told him he should make Jean-Marc the heir. We had some violent quarrels and I threatened to leave the estate and move to Paris.

  “In fact I was in the process of packing my bags when my mother got hold of me and posed an argument that forced me to listen. The doctor had told her my father didn’t have more than a year to live. She couldn’t abide anyone else in our difficult family taking over once he was gone. She said it had to be me in charge or the Decorvet estate would fall into ruin.

  “My mother is a shrewd woman with a will of iron. She comes from an old aristocratic wine family too. She understands what it takes to keep the family on top. I knew deep down as I listened to her that she was speaking the truth. Once my father passed away, there would be chaos. My grandfather couldn’t possibly run things, and he’d die watching his fifty years of unceasing work as the patriarch fall apart.”

  “So you married Angélique,” Abby whispered.

  There was a silence before he said, “It didn’t go well.”

  “Did she know how you felt?”

  “I’m sure she did.”

  “But she married you anyway because she wanted to be your wife.”

  At least he didn’t try to say that she was following orders too. No doubt Angélique had been in love with him for years.

  “My father got what he wanted, and then miraculously didn’t die. He’s still alive trying to run things even though he put me in charge. I wouldn’t put it past him to have bribed the doctor to lie about his condition in order to get his way.”

  “I can’t comprehend a parent doing that.”

  “What saved any of this for me was the birth of our little girl Nicolette. She was two and half months at the time of the crash.”

  A groan came out of Abby. She wished she hadn’t asked him about his marriage. She knew he would always be in pain over that. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Raoul hadn’t been married to Angélique very long. Even if it hadn’t been the ideal marriage or anything close, how could one get over losing both of them in such a horrid way?

  What kind of a dream world had Abby been living in to drive here with this fabulous, enigmatic, important man in order to see something possibly written by Lord Byron? What was she hoping for now? That Raoul would fall desperately in love with her? That she’d live happily ever after with a man this tormented by family problems and tragedy?

  Abby should never have mentioned his wife. She looked around the room that shouted as nothing else could how foreign his world and aristocratic background was to hers. She could never be his raison d’être. Abby needed to leave for Italy tomorrow, no matter what.

  Unable to sit there any longer, she stood up. “Thank you for dinner and the opportunity to see the Salon de Dionysos. I feel very privileged that you would allow me a glimpse inside your Saint des Saints.” She’d tried to pronounce it correctly. “But it’s getting late and I’m positive you’re tired after our long drive today. I’d better go back to my room.”

  Lines darkened his striking features. “Now that I’ve been honest with you, why do I get the feeling you’re running away from me already?”

  He could see through her with those piercing black eyes. She started to tremble. “Because I’m questioning my own judgment. Since we arrived at the estate, nothing feels right.”

  “That’s because what we felt for each other when we first met was like a clap of thunder out of a blue sky. I was reminded of a line in ‘The Young Fools’ by Verlaine.”

  “What line was that?” She’d enjoyed much of the French poet’s translated work.

  “Suddenly a white nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight was a delicate feast for a young fool’s heart.”

  “Raoul—” Where had he pulled that from? He never ceased to amaze her.

  “The reverberations have been growing stronger with every passing minute, so don’t deny it.” He got up from the couch and reached for her with his strong hands. Their mouths were only centimeters apart.

  “I don’t deny it, but I’m not looking for any kind of complication. I never want to go through the pain of betrayal again.”

  She heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’m positive my father lied to me to get his own way. You think I don’t understand betrayal?”

  Abby shook her head, not immune to the tortured tone in his voice. “I don’t know what to think,” she cried.

  “Then don’t,” he said before covering her mouth with a kiss so hungry and full of desire that she moaned. Finding herself immersed in sensations her body had never known before, she slid her hands up the silk covering his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  As Abby began kissing him back, she was overwhelmed by her need for him and what he was doing to her. She couldn’t get close enough to him. The thought of his stopping was agony.

  He rubbed her back and hips, molding her to him. “Mon Dieu, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against her lips. “To think I almost put off going to Switzerland until the end of the month.”

  “I shouldn’t have come with you. My friends warned me, but I couldn’t help myself. Verlaine was right about young fools.”

  “But he got it right.” Raoul shook her gently. “Now that you’re here, I’ll take you to my grandparents’ apartment in the morning. Come on. Much as I’d like to keep you in here all night, I’ll drive you back to the petit château.”

  He kept hold of her hand during the quick trip. When he pulled up in front, he took her to the door and unlocked it for her.

  “Good night, Abby. I don’t dare kiss you again or I’ll never leave your apartment. Do you hear what I’m saying?” he ground out with a fierceness that shook her before he disappeared.

  * * *

  Abby awakened early the next morning after a restless night. Today was the day she was going to see something that might be a fantastic new discovery to delight the literary world. But in truth she was still reeling from being in Raoul’s arms last night while he’d kissed her senseless.

  Everything she’d promised herself not to do, she’d done, like falling in love with him. In his office, he’d pulled her against him and she’d gone willingly, clinging to his tall, hard-muscled body. When he’
d picked her up at the train station, she’d known deep down in her bones that she’d wanted to become a part of this man, to merge with him.

  Though Ginger and Zoe had told her she’d be taking a risk to go with him, she couldn’t help how she was feeling right now. By tonight she would have flown to Venice—far away from his fish bowl—but for the rest of today, she would be with Raoul and it was all she could ask of life.

  She debated what to wear to meet his grandparents and finally chose a summery, leaf-green blouse and a green-on-white print skirt. Abby wanted to make a good impression on the relatives he loved.

  Her heart jumped when she heard his knock on the entrance door. She hurried across the salon to open it.

  To her surprise he wore a dressy black suit with a white shirt and monogrammed tie. Talk about a ducal presence. She couldn’t put the image out of her mind. He smelled divine, having just come from the shower, but didn’t try to kiss her. His striking looks caused her to stare.

  “Raoul—I didn’t realize I should get more dressed up.”

  His gaze traveled over her features. “You look perfect. Shall we go? I’m anxious to be rid of the charlatan image you have of me.”

  She swallowed hard. “I should never have said it.”

  One black brow quirked. “If I’d been in your shoes, I’d have said something much worse. Shall we go?”

  “Yes.”

  He closed the door. They walked to his car and he drove to the château, taking them to the south entrance. “My grandparents live in a suite on the second floor. We won’t stay long because they tire easily.”

  They passed one of the security guards at the door and climbed the marble staircase to the next level. He opened one of the tall paneled double doors and ushered her inside to the main sitting room. A brunette care giver came to greet him.

  “Lisette? I’d like you to meet my friend Abby Grant from the United States.” He turned to Abby. “Lisette takes care of my grandparents like they were her own parents. She’s been with them for two years and we’re very lucky to have her.”

  Abby gave the woman a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “They’re very excited to know Raoul has brought such an important guest. I’ve taken them into the dining room.”

  He put a hand on the back of Abby’s waist and guided her through another set of French doors to the dining room where his grandparents were waiting for them.

  “I bought the latest wheeled chairs that can be used as beds if necessary, so they can be comfortable when there are visitors. Lisette takes impeccable care of them.”

  “I can see that.” Abby could feel his love for them.

  The windows looked out on the grounds. Breakfast had been laid out on the round table. There were flowers everywhere.

  “What a beautiful room.”

  “It’s their favorite place,” Raoul murmured.

  “Mon enfant.” His silver-haired grandmother lifted her frail arms to him.

  His gray-haired grandfather had a harder time and only mouthed his name. He made a hand motion so Raoul would give him a hug.

  “Céline and Honoré, I want you to meet the woman I told you about when I called you from Switzerland.” Before they’d driven away from the vineyard, he’d let them know he’d fallen in love with her. “This is Abby Grant, the distinguished literature professeur from San José, California.

  “It’s a shame Auguste never got to meet her. She’s a kindred spirit, Papi. Because the two of you share a love for Lord Byron’s poetry. I wanted her to see the notebook Auguste sent to you.”

  “It’s right here,” his grandmother spoke up. “Lisette brought it from the study.”

  “Why don’t you sit by my grandfather, Abby? I’ll hand it to you.”

  After she did his bidding, he reached for it and put the thin, seven-by-three-inch pale blue notebook in her hands.

  Her fingers trembled. She looked at his grandfather. “You have no idea what this moment means to me.”

  “Go ahead and open it,” Raoul urged her.

  Abby carefully lifted the cover and began studying it. The poem had been written in pencil. “Labyrinths of Lavaux.” There it was, just as Raoul had said. She couldn’t stop the gasps that kept coming as she read through to the second page, marveling over the poet’s thoughts. Like Raoul had told her, it was a short piece, but brilliant. Byron’s authentic signature made it priceless.

  When she looked up at Raoul, she could hardly make out his features for the tears. “You have a priceless treasure here.” She turned to smile at his grandfather. “I’m holding an important part of history in my hand. It’s a great honor to be allowed to see this. I can’t thank you enough for the privilege.”

  Honoré nodded with a smile.

  Raoul patted the old man’s thin shoulder. “Well, Papi, after all these years, you’ve finally been told by an expert on Lord Byron that this is the treasure you’d always believed it to be.”

  His grandfather crooked his finger at Abby who gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ve never been so thrilled, monsieur. This piece on the vineyards must have special significance for you since you ran your own vineyard for fifty years.”

  The old man nodded.

  “Raoul also told me about your dog Vercingetorix. Like you, I found Byron’s ‘Epitaph to a Dog’ very touching. I also loved ‘The Prisoner of Chillon.’ Do you know Raoul and I took a boat ride on the lake right by the château? That’s when he told me about your love for Byron. I also learned how much he loves his grandparents.”

  Honoré’s eyes misted over and he had enough strength to smile and press her hand harder.

  Raoul leaned down. “Come around and meet my mamie.” Abby moved and sat down next to his grandmother.

  “This is an exciting moment for my husband and me. I want you to know our Raoul had his favorite books too.” The older woman’s soft brown eyes still twinkled. She looked at her husband. “Honoré? What one did he love the most?”

  He didn’t answer. “My husband has a hard time talking now.”

  “That’s all right,” Abby assured her.

  She called to Lisette. “Will you find Blondine? It’s in with the old books in the case in the study.”

  “Bien sûr.” While Lisette rushed off, the four of them ate breakfast. Raoul’s grandmother only ate a portion of a croissant Abby handed to her. His poor grandfather had to sip a fortified drink through a bent straw. Raoul held it for him.

  Lisette came back in the room holding a little tattered storybook. His grandmother took it. “Our Raoul probably hasn’t seen this since he was four years old.” She had difficulty opening the cover. “Look here. You printed your name the best you could, Raoul. The u is upside down.” She laughed.

  Raoul took the book and showed it to Abby. She looked at it for a minute. Emotions had almost caused her throat to close. His grandmother must have seen how overcome she was. “If you want to keep the book, it’s yours, Abby.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Raoul will translate it for you.”

  “Then I’d love it, Madame,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  “Call me Céline.”

  “Thank you, Céline.”

  Abby listened while Raoul gave them some news about the estate they might enjoy hearing. “Now I can tell you’re getting tired, so Abby and I are going to leave. I’m hoping to fit in a drive to Cluny so she can see it.”

  His grandmother looked at Abby. “The power of the monastery once extended to over ten thousand monks. I was just a girl when I first visited the huge church there, and it made a massive impression on me.”

  “I’ll let you know what I think after we get back, Céline.”

  “We’ll come visit again later, Mamie. Stay well. Love you.”

  After he hugged them, Abby got up and kissed them o
n both cheeks. “I’ll treasure this book,” she whispered to Céline. They said goodbye to Lisette and left the château.

  “Your grandparents are very dear,” she told him as they walked out to the car.

  When he helped her inside, he didn’t start it right away. “I don’t think I would have made it through this life without them. Do you know when I saw you at the train station, I was reminded of that old French fairy tale you’re holding. My grandmother used to read it to me as a child. Have you heard the story of Blondine?”

  “No.”

  “‘There was a king called Benin. He was good and all the world loved him; he was just, and the wicked feared him. His wife, the Queen Doucette, was also good and much beloved. This happy pair had a daughter called the Princess Blondine, because of her superb golden hair, and she was as amiable and charming as her father the king, and her mother the queen.’

  “I loved the beginning of that story, especially the drawings, because their family looked and sounded so happy. I begged my grandmother to read the beginning over and over again. It made me want to crawl inside the pages where I could be that happy too.”

  Tears stung Abby’s eyelids. “Raoul—was your childhood that unhappy?”

  “Let’s just say it left a lot to be desired. The rest of the fairy tale isn’t important. But the picture of Blondine looking so happy stayed with me. That was the look I saw in you that first day, an intangible quality impossible to describe. It’s certainly one reason why I was drawn to you.”

  Listening to Raoul, Abby gained an insight into why he’d told her he didn’t want their relationship to cause her pain. His desire to protect her from his difficult family made the kind of sense that helped her to feel closer to him. Combined with his recent loss, it made his desire to crawl into the pages of the fairy tale that much more poignant.

  “I had no idea that’s what you were thinking about when you got out of that old black car. Thank you for bringing me here to meet your grandparents. I loved seeing Byron’s work in his own handwriting. It was a moment I’ll never forget. Please know your grandfather’s secret is safe with me.”