by Lula Baxter
“We have reservations,” I say quickly. The last thing I want to do is have both my parents in the same company as Alexandre.
“Consider them canceled,” he says breezily. “I insist.”
I note the commanding undertone in his voice and feel my jaw harden.
“We’re dining with my father who just flew in.”
“I’m sure your father would be happy to make an exception for the owner of the hotel, Astrid. Don’t be rude to your friend.” My mother always was good at catching me in my lies.
The woman who was so concerned with propriety this morning is long gone, replaced by one who knows how to social climb, even on the other side of the globe. I suppose it’s fitting, considering Dad’s company may soon be international.
“It’s settled then.”
“What’s this about being settled?” I hear my dad’s voice say from behind me. I turn to see him joining this fun little conversation.
“Oh Edgar,” my mother says with a pleased smile, “This young gentleman has just invited us to dine with him. He’s the owner of the hotel!”
“Is that so?” My dad raises his eyebrows in that overly dramatic way he has when he’s expected to be impressed. His only interest in wealth is how it can benefit his work and the good it does. For most people, especially the sort of people with inflated egos that are the usual target of this look, his reaction goes right over their heads. Alexandre’s wry grin indicates he reads right through it.
“Only part owner, I’m afraid,” he says reaching out his hand to my father.
I watch my father’s expression transition to one of grudging respect. I wonder how much respect he’d have for the man if he knew what Alexandre had done to me today. I feel my face and body heat up thinking about it.
“Alexandre Richmont,” he says, as my father takes his hand.
“Edgar Hawthorne. Pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Alexandre says, focusing on him almost as intently as he was focused on me a moment ago.
Chapter Twelve
Alexandre
“Nice to meet you, Alexandre. I suppose if my wife says we’re dining with you, then we’re dining with you. Mustn’t upset the missus.” Edgar says, grinning at her.
“Don’t be silly, Edgar,” his wife says getting embarrassed.
She was as easy to melt as an ice cube in the Sahara Desert. Her husband is a bit more difficult to figure out. The jovial air and easy smile seem genuine, but there’s a deeper cunning that reads right through any bullshit. Seeing as he’s my main target tonight, I’ll have to be careful with him.
Astrid complicates things. Once again, I wish I’d left her back at the bar. Especially after learning what I just have. The ring was a shock on several levels. I stare down at it, still feeling the dagger in my stomach upon hearing the words ‘engagement ring.’ Someone will most certainly be fired over that glaring omission from the information I received about the family.
“I understand you just flew in today?” I say to Edgar. “In that case, why don’t we start with a bottle of champagne in the lounge area?”
“That sounds wonderful,” Helen says before anyone can object.
“Again, what the wife wants, the wife gets,” Edgar says laughing, then he looks at his daughter. “Astrid, what do you say?”
A quick smile comes to her face. “Why not?”
She turns the smile my way, trying to hide the discomfort that I can feel radiating off her. A vicious part of me relishes it. A woman who would let me do the things I did to her, knowing she was soon to be married, should feel more than uncomfortable. I can still taste her on my lips. It only twists the dagger that’s still in my core.
I shouldn’t feel this way. In fact, I should be pleased. There’s so much potential for blackmail, which is always a useful tool. So why am I filled with so much jealous rage?
I lead them into the lounge and watch the staff become just a little more alert at my presence. I lead them to a fairly secluded area of four comfortable chairs around a small table.
“Monsieur Richmont,” a waiter says, appearing one second after we’ve taken our seats.
“Krug Clos du Mesnil, 2000,” I say.
“Excellent choice,” he says obsequiously.
“Well, I have no idea what that is, but it sounds expensive,” Edgar says with a laugh. “I have to wonder, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
I feel that wry grin come to my face again. The man is smooth.
“Alexandre was kind enough to take me on a boat tour of the Riviera today while Mom shopped,” Astrid says quickly. She turns to me with a deliberate smile for confirmation.
I simply stare back at her for two seconds, enjoying the unease that’s beginning to tear at that smile. Then I slide my eyes to her father. “Yes, Monaco is my second home and I enjoy showing tourists all the pleasures there are in abundance along the Riviera.”
In my periphery, I see Astrid adjust herself in her seat at the word “pleasures.”
I don’t know why I’m being so vindictive. In retrospect, I shouldn’t be too upset. She wasn’t technically lying when she said she didn’t have a boyfriend. She has a fiancé. The fact that Astrid is actually engaged should mean nothing more to me than adding an additional pawn to the chessboard, giving me even more of an advantage.
It does raise interesting questions, most of which I shouldn’t be concerned with. How is she still a virgin? Why did she mislead me? Why did she let me go as far as I did on the boat, knowing she was promised to another man?
I’m no moralist when it comes to infidelity. Cheating wives and girlfriends have been some of my greatest allies. Many a secret is inadvertently spilled between the sheets, and I’m more than happy to gather them up. Having sex with Astrid would get me nowhere, business-wise, at this point.
So why do I want to fuck her so badly?
She looks just as stunning dressed in formal wear with her hair up as she did in the sundress at the bar this morning. Nothing, of course, compares to how she looked on the boat, with her legs spread open for me, moaning and crying out my name....
“Well, that sounds exciting,” Edgar says, bringing me out of those destructive thoughts. I slide my eyes over to him, almost angry at the mental interruption, before realizing what I’m here for.
I don’t miss the obvious question lingering just beneath the surface of his comment: Just how exciting was that boat trip?
I wait until our waiter has opened the bottle and poured everyone a glass before saying anything. When he’s gone, I perk up and become the charming host again.
“There are many lovely beaches that are impossible to get to, other than by boat. I was on my way out anyway, when I saw Astrid sitting alone at a bar. It’s a custom in Monaco to offer a lady sitting alone a boat ride,” I shrug and give Astrid a deceptively congenial smile. “I wouldn’t want to shame my country.”
“Is that true?” Helen asks with a flirtatious giggle. “I don’t think that’s true.”
Edgar just gives her an indulgent smile, then casts his eyes toward Astrid, giving her an assessing look. There isn’t the admonishment I might have expected from a father whose daughter gallivants around with a strange man, despite being engaged. Instead, there’s a piercing look, filled with a mixture of concern and protectiveness, as though he’s trying to figure out the same questions that ran through my head: Why?
I consider him in a new light. He’s a father who cares about his daughter’s well being, even beyond any improprieties. It should soften my heart toward the man. Instead, it just makes it harder. Men like him are the reason my own father is dead.
Which is why I am determined to destroy his company from the inside out.
“Shall we toast?” I say jovially.
I watch Astrid give me a hard look, waiting for yet another remark with a double meaning to come from my lips. I just lift my glass in the air and wait for everyone to join me, Astrid being the last hesitant hand to rise up.
“To family,” I say, looking each of my guests in the eye.
“To family,” everyone echoes with a smile. Astrid visibly relaxes.
If she only knew.
Chapter Thirteen
Astrid
“Apparently, Alexandre here knows the owner of the company that made Astrid’s ring.”
We’re sitting in a secluded section of the restaurant, being waited on by no less than three wait staff. My mother’s had too much champagne, which makes her chatty. Normally, I’d be fine with that. I was never the social type, much preferring to be left alone with a book. Let her do all the schmoozing, buttering herself up to Alexandre.
Now my head lifts up, giving her a quick look, then just as quickly I turn to Alexandre. He’s been staring at me most of the evening with those piercing green eyes. It’s discomforting and wildly pleasurable at the same time. It’s the same look he gave me when he was sliding that nectarine down between my breasts. I close my eyes, trying to rid myself of those thoughts and the physical reactions they stir in me.
“It’s a special design, you know. It has a very fascinating history.” Alexandre says, eyeing the ring on my finger as I fiddle with my napkin. My eyes blink open.
“Is that so?” Mom says with overt interest. She actually likes him now. Go figure.
Even Dad, who is less likely to be impressed by anyone, seems to have warmed to him.
“Yes.” He turns his attention to my parents. “Fascinating, but sad.”
A wrinkle of disappointment mars my mother’s face, but my father seems even more intrigued. “Well, now you’ve piqued my interest.”
Alex fingers the stem of his wine glass and seems to ponder that for a moment. He finally shakes his head and looks up at me. “I wouldn’t want to taint the soon to be newlyweds with such an ominous tale.”
“Well, I suppose that’s—”
“I’d like to hear it,” I say, interrupting my mother and giving Alexandre a challenging look.
I note the whisper of a smile that crosses his lips, which I can’t quite interpret.
“It ends in tragedy for all parties involved,” he says, still looking my way. He pauses to focus on me for a few seconds, before brightening his expression and turning to my parents. “But rest assured, the man who originally designed the ring, gave it to a woman he loved deeply.”
My mother seems only slightly appeased by that summation. My father just considers Alexandre for a moment, then looks at me with the same scrutiny. I quickly drop my eyes and busy myself with my glass of water, hoping he isn’t reading anything into it.
“At any rate, I’m sure Astrid and her future husband will be quite happy. After all, she has the two of you who seem like wonderful role models for a successful marriage.”
Mom giggles like a school girl and Dad gives him an accommodating smile.
“Astrid mentioned you are a biochemist, Edgar,” Alexandre says, suddenly changing the topic. We’ve long since moved on to first name basis with one another and why not? Here we are eating the first course of what he has informed us will be a five-course meal—completely covered by him. How’s that for picking up strange men in Monte Carlo?
I’m feeling the champagne hit my brain, so I’m glad the focus is no longer on me. Challenging him to tell the “sad” story about my ring was reckless. By now, he has to be aware of my feelings about my future marriage. I don’t need my parents to be equally enlightened.
“Yes,” Dad says, perking up at the shift to his favorite topic. “I have my own company back in the States. Started it on my own.” He looks fondly at my mother, “Though I couldn’t have done without this woman sitting next to me supporting me all the way.”
Both Alexandre and I look at them. I can’t read the neutral expression on his face, but I feel my own discomfort level rise. As wonderful as they are, as far as role models go, their daughter is certainly making a fine mess of her own future wedded bliss. I’m sitting down to dinner with a man I went to second...third?...what base is it when a man runs a piece of fruit over your naked body? Does being engaged to someone else at the time push it up another base? I want to laugh at the sad hilarity of it, but that would only open the door to unfortunate questions and comments. God, I’m a literal mess. And there are still four courses to go.
“I find biochemistry fascinating,” Alexandre says, as charming as ever. “If you don’t mind discussing work, I would love to know more.”
I know it’s the champagne—which seems to have suddenly decided to go on a joyride through my veins straight to my head—but I don’t want Alexandre’s attention shifted away from me. I don’t care if my parents find out what we did today. Maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe they should know the truth.
My engagement to Bruce Campbell is a complete sham.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexandre
“Oh, don’t you get him started, he’ll be at it all night,” Helen says, patting Edgar on the chest playfully.
The champagne was meant to impress Edgar, and perhaps loosen him up. Unfortunately, it’s had more of an effect on the two women sitting at the table with us.
I give the Hawthornes an apologetic smile. “I apologize, I’m sure your wife is tired of hearing about your work. It’s just that biochemistry is a personal interest of mine. If I had a better head for it, I would have actually gone into that field.”
“Is that so?” Astrid interjects. “And just what is it that you do Alexandre?”
I turn a cool eye toward her, making sure that my face remains impassive, despite the rage that’s building inside of me. I can see the champagne has definitely affected her. As much as her obvious plea for attention pleases a certain part of me, I don’t have time for the silly games of a drunken girl.
I put an easy smile on my face. “I’m a sort of financier. I provide businesses with the means to expand.”
That’s as much the truth as anything. In this day and age of angel investing, and dot-com billionaires who don’t know what to do with their money besides give it away and grow it, no one thinks to question someone like myself who has his fingers in numerous pies.
“Really, well that’s an industry that sounds fascinating,” she says, reaching for the bottle of chardonnay that accompanied the fish course. She looks me dead in the eye as she pours. “Why don’t you enlighten us a bit more about that? What is it exactly you finance—besides luxury hotels, that is? Perhaps the small boat industry?”
A wry smile comes to my face to match the one on hers. My eyes aren’t quite as narrowed as Astrid’s, but if thoughts could kill, she’d be face down on the table. If it wasn’t for her father, I’d throttle her—after fucking her senseless, introducing her to everything her fiancé back home obviously hasn’t.
“Astrid,” her mother admonishes, a bit of sobriety starting to creep in. “Now you’re just being rude.”
Nothing like a woman with a healthy observance of decorum to save the day.
“I have no problem discussing my business,” her father says with an exaggerated clearing of his throat. He gives Astrid one firm censuring look, then turns a pleasant expression my way. “In fact, you might be interested to learn that you’ve caught me at a rather interesting period for my company. Hawthorne Pharmaceuticals is about to expand.”
A ridiculously immature, smug sense of satisfaction hits me as I watch Astrid sulk in the face of her parents’ chastisement. Unfortunately, she has seen fit to drown her petulance in her glass of wine. I’m too focused on what Edgar has just mentioned to give a damn.
“Really,” I say, showing absolute fascination, “that is indeed interesting.”
Edgar gives a light chuckle. “Well, if only you and Astrid had bumped into each other months ago. Perhaps you could have gotten in on the ground floor.”
If only. A dry smile touches my lips, but doesn’t reach my eyes.
Edgar is too focused on giving his wife and Astrid a proud smile to notice. “Nothing is finalized yet, of
course, but the wheels are in motion. It’s a good thing too, since we have a brand new patent that’s in the first stages of approval from the FDA, which I’m not really supposed to discuss, obviously.”
Astrid returns the smile, which shines just a bit too brightly to be authentic. Perhaps it’s the wine she is now quickly finishing off. I study her for a moment. Being a keen observer of other people is one of the most important talents in my “occupation.”
There is definitely something more going on here that I have yet to grasp. Hopefully, by the fifth course, I’ll have pieced it together.
“I’m just happy that I’ll be able to help more people, hopefully on a global scale now.”
That brings my attention quickly back to Edgar.
“You’ve already done so much, Dad,” Astrid says, her voice slightly slurred with a mixture of wine and adoration. “You’ll do great things, I just know it.”
“That’s the plan,” Edgar says, staring into his own glass of wine as he swirls it around. He brings his head back up to face me. “This business, medicine, it’s become so corporate. All people care about is the bottom line. I’ve made it clear to all my potential investors what my goals are. It just isn’t worth expanding if all I’m doing is lining the pockets of investors.”
“Indeed,” I murmur, now studying him the same way I did his daughter when I found out she was engaged.
He mistakes my expression for offense. “I didn’t mean any insult to you, of course!” he says hurriedly.
“Oh, Alexandre knows you didn’t mean anything. I’m sure he’s not like those ruthless sorts who only go after money. Just look how generous he’s been with us tonight,” Helen chirps, finishing off the chardonnay in her glass.
I just focus on my own glass of wine, poring over everything I’ve just heard. Have I been completely mistaken regarding his company?
