by Lula Baxter
There’s a silence that follows that. Then Mom turns back to me with the look that always makes me think I should visit more often. “There’s a lot of him in Alexandre. The thirst for adventure. The perfectionism. He was a wonderful father and husband.”
“Alexandre told me about how he died. That must have been terrible.”
“Yes,” Mom says, lowering her eyes to her glass. “We were both angry for a long time.”
Her eyes flash back up to mine and now I’m reminded of why I don’t visit more often. “But we each have our own ways of honoring Frank’s memory.”
I feel my jaw tighten and my gaze harden as I stare back. She’s too tough to back down, holding mine with that admonishing hint, urging me to reconsider what it is that I do with Bernard Financiers.
That was the main reason she and Jules never lasted. The moment he informed her of his less than ethical ways of righting what he felt was wrong in the world, she ended her relationship with him. When I decided to join his company, she resented him even more for corrupting her son. I was always caught in the middle, stuck between a mother I loved and a father-figure who helped me not just honor the memory of my father, but avenge it.
Astrid is the one to break the tension. “The view here is lovely.”
I want to laugh at the banality of the statement, which I suppose was the point. Mom breaks my gaze and turns to her with an appreciative smile. I just breathe out a soft laugh.
“I’ve always loved the sea,” Mom says, then turns to look at it with a wistful gaze. “It reminds me of living in California with Frank. We lived by the water.”
“Venice Beach,” I say, now feeling the memories set in as I drink my wine. Even though this house is much larger and with a much better view of the water than the home where we lived back in California, I can see the similarities. The sun, the ocean air, the laidback way of living.
“We all loved the water,” Mom says. “That’s one thing Alexandre inherited from us both.”
She turns to Astrid. “Do you like the sea?”
“I love it. I don’t get to enjoy it much where I’m from in Boston. That’s why I love it here. I think Nice is my favorite city in France.”
Mom laughs, adding a light air to the moment. “I like her Alexandre.”
Astrid just sips her wine with a pleased flush to her face.
I eye my mother, wondering what hole she’s digging for me to fall into.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Astrid
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” I say, after I help Jeanne clean up the plates and glasses.
“Why don’t I drive you down to the city and—”
“Oh no” I protest, placing a hand on Alexandre’s arm. “I didn’t get to see this part of the city when I was here last time and I’m curious. You stay. I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.”
I could feel the tension between Alexandre and Jeanne while we were sitting outside on the veranda. I don’t know exactly what it is but I know it has something to do with his father. It’s disappointing since Jeanne is so amazing. I liked her the moment I first hugged her, not feeling any of the jitters and nervousness women get meeting the mother of their—boyfriend?—whatever, for the first time. I really want them to work it out.
“It’s a lovely neighborhood for walking, Astrid,” Jeanne says with a smile. I can tell she’s reading my mind and appreciates the gesture.
“Very well, then,” Alexandre says, much less pleased by my ploy. I peck him on the cheek, feeling the tension leave his jaw as I do, and head out the front door.
It’s early enough in the morning to be pleasant, but not so late that the sun will make the walk uncomfortable. Jeanne’s house is high above the water and I can see how far away the touristy spots are below. This gives me a chance to explore a part of Nice that I didn’t the first time around when I was in one of the nicer hotels down below.
Up here, it definitely has more of a neighborhood feel about it, a very upscale neighborhood with these larger homes—mansions?—and spectacular views. Jeanne’s house was large but charming. The fresh air and time alone give me time to think about everything.
I’ve now met Alexandre’s mother. I’ve seen him vulnerable for once. I’ve seen him as he really is.
And I like it.
A lot.
More than I’ve liked anyone. Even my high school sophomore crush on David Clark can’t compete with the butterflies that are in my stomach when I think about Alexandre. Making love to him. Riding in cars with him. Going to nude beaches with him. Eating greasy pizza with him. Just being around him.
I love him.
It’s as simple as that.
I. Love. Alexandre. Richmont.
The giddiness that hits me when I finally come to that realization practically has me floating off the ground. I wonder how he’ll take it when I tell him. Maybe I should wait until this month is up.
No. Something tells me the right time is now. I’m so excited about it, I almost want to turn right back around and head back to Jeanne’s house.
“Astrid? Astrid Hawthorne?”
The cloud nine I’m sitting on evaporates as I’m brought back down to earth upon hearing my name. I turn around in surprise and find a beautiful woman with long dark hair walking down the sidewalk toward me. She’s wearing a gorgeous wrap dress that hugs her admirable curves. Something about her makes me feel like a virginal debutant in my pink dress. Maybe it’s the way she walks and carries herself. I have no idea who she is, but she’s approaching me with a friendly smile that hints at knowing who I am. At the very least she knows my name.
“Do I know you?” I ask with an apologetic smile. She has a definite French accent, which means she’s probably not someone I should know from Boston.
“We haven’t officially met. I am Gabrielle Bernard, I work with Alexandre. We own Bernard Financiers.”
I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned her before. I do recall him saying he was “part owner” of the hotel we stayed at when I first met him. This must be the other owner. My eyes wander up and down her perfect figure and striking face and I can’t help but wonder how closely they work together. And more importantly, why I’m just now learning about her.
“Are you here to meet with us?” Alexandre only mentioned his mother, but maybe he thought I should meet his business partner as well.
But, again, why didn’t he say anything?
“Oh, I love coming down to Nice every so often. I was actually on my way to see Jeanne when I saw you walking here. She and I are quite close.”
“She’s lovely,” I say with a smile.
“She is,” Gabrielle says in a slightly dismissive tone. Then she gives me a searching look. “You seem surprised. Alexandre, he has not mentioned me?”
“No,” I say, feeling that irritation run through me again. “Why don’t we go back together? I’m sure Jeanne and Alexandre would love—”
“Oh, I do not think that would be a good idea. In fact, if I knew you were going to be here I would not have come to see Jeanne.” She purses her lips. “Besides, it would be awkward since Alexandre and I have been lovers for years.”
I straighten up, any hint of a smile leaving my face.
Gabrielle laughs at my reaction, placing a hand lightly on my arm. I want to snatch it away. “Oh do not worry, ma chérie, it is over. All in the past,” she says breezily.
That does nothing to reassure me. Why is she even telling me all of this?
A sudden thought hits me. “How do you know who I am? Has Alexandre shown you my picture or something?”
“Oh,” she says, her face taking on a look of embarrassment. “I suppose he has not told you about that either. I would have thought…what with introducing you to his mother, he would have confessed to you….”
“Confessed what?” I ask, suddenly wary.
“Well, we have been interested in your father’s company for a long time now. In fact, that is why he was in Monte Carlo at the same
time as you. It was no coincidence, him running into you, Astrid.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Hard. Everything she’s telling me seems vividly clear, making perfect sense, yet at the same time a chaotic blur, making no sense at all.
“I…I don’t understand.”
“Lord Wilmore?” Gabrielle hints, giving me a sympathetic look.
“He’s Lord Wilmore?” I gasp in surprise.
“Well… oui. Yes, of course,” she says, shrugging as though it’s obvious.
That punch that sucked all the air out of me now twists in my stomach like a grinder.
“W-why?” I ask.
“It was all part of the plan to purchase Hawthorne Pharmaceuticals for ourselves. End the financing so it can be had for much less.”
I think back to New York. Something he said rankled me at the time. Now it all makes sense.
“Because it happens to be a good investment at the moment,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
“I know this is terrible to hear, but this is how business is done, ma chérie.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap, suddenly hating the sound of her voice.
Gabrielle flinches, blinking in surprise at the fierceness in my voice. Then her eyes narrow and she gives me a cool look. “I am just the, how do you say…messenger? The original idea, it was all Alexandre. You have a right to know the truth.”
“Right,” I say, giving her my own cool look. “Well, thank you very much, Gabrielle Bernard.”
I brush past her and she huffs in surprise. I don’t care about her anymore. As much as I despise her—I’m under no illusion she’s told all of this to me without an ulterior motive—she isn’t the main focus of my anger.
As I make my way back to Jeanne’s home, the pieces fall together in my head. By the time I reach the gate in front, I have it all figured out. I wonder how I could have been so blind, so stupid? This morning I may have thought I was in love.
Right now, I hate Alexander Richmont more than any man on earth.
Chapter Forty
Alexandre
“She must mean something to you if she could get my son to actually visit me.”
“She does mean something to me, Mom.”
We’re in my mother’s living room, having the heart-to-heart that Astrid manipulated us into earlier, in French now that it’s just the two of us.
“She’s young,” Mom muses. “But there’s a maturity about her. I think she’ll be good for you.”
“It’s still early.”
Mom laughs and I feel my brow deepen with irritation. “The wonderful thing about you, Alexandre, is that when you love, you love fiercely. As you did with your father. Unfortunately, I think that has made you reluctant to give it away too easily, or at least admit to it.”
“I’ve been back for a few hours and you already have me figured out.”
She laughs again. “A mother knows her own son. I saw the way you looked at her. Even back when you were a complete idiot for that awful Gabrielle as a boy, you never looked at her that way.”
My mother never liked Gabrielle. She saw too much of the predator in her. I suppose I can add that one to the seemingly growing list of reasons why I haven’t visited. I’m sure she’d sniff out the fact that, until this summer, I’ve still been sexually involved with her.
Mom reaches out a hand to brush my face. I instinctively stiffen under it and she laughs. “You’ve been gone so long, you’re no longer used to your mother’s touch? Just because I don’t approve of what you do, doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Alexandre.”
“Are we going to go through this again?” I sigh.
“I’m done judging you for your choices in life,” she says, putting her hands up in defense. Then she gives me a look that’s uncomfortably sympathetic. “I don’t think you even do it because of your father anymore. It’s been almost twenty years since he died. We both miss him and at first, I understood why you were interested in what Jules was teaching you. Now, I think it’s all just a game to you. You always did like to win.”
I consider what she’s said. The memory of my father’s death still leaves a bitter feeling in me, but there’s a note of truth to her words. I’ve become more consumed with the thrill of the hunt and the sweet taste of victory than I have with righting wrongs or imposing justice.
“I do hope one day you’ll be a better man. A man your father would admire.”
That hurts more than anything. I’m suddenly back to remembering why I don’t visit her often.
The truth is a bitter pill to swallow.
“Lord Wilmore.”
We both turn to see Astrid standing in the doorway. Her blue eyes are icy slits of fire, focused completely on me. But it’s her words that cut right through me: Lord Wilmore.
She knows. How?
“Astrid,” I say, standing up to approach her as the dread begins to sink in.
“Don’t,” she says, taking a step back.
I stop, reading her face for any hint of willingness to hear me out. I see nothing but pure hatred.
“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together before. I feel so stupid! A story about a man seeking revenge? A man who loses his father? It’s so obvious now.”
“Who told you?”
She stares at me for a second before laughing. “So it is true. Does it even matter who told me? You used me. You used my father, my father who is nothing but good. Undermining his company like that? You destroyed us all. And for what?”
“I gave you a choice and you took it,” I say calmly, trying to take control of the situation. I’m getting defensive now, which is exactly the wrong way to approach this.
“No…you didn’t,” She says, suddenly quieter. “You played a dirty game, using me, my parents, and even Bruce, all to get what you wanted. Everything from the start was a lie. Even that chance meeting on your stupid motorcycle, and then that night…” Now there are tears in her eyes. “You were playing me the whole damn time.”
“That’s not true.” Even I hear the lie in my voice. Part of what she said is in fact the truth, at least the part about how all of this started.
Astrid just stares at me, not bothering to respond.
“Astrid, whatever happened before, it’s different now.”
“Yes, it is, Alexandre. Because I’m not the girl I was before, the one who did the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. I’m a changed woman, a woman who can’t accept any more lies in my life. I want to go home.”
“Astrid,” I say, feeling the fight and the rage light up in me.
“I think,” My mother interjects, rising from the sofa to approach her. She places an arm around Astrid and gives me a warning look. “It is a good idea for you to have some time to yourself, Astrid.”
I stare at my mother in disbelief wondering how she can betray her own son. Her look just tells me what I already know: I’m the one in the wrong.
“You can stay with me until we arrange a flight home for you.”
Astrid nods, giving me one last hurtful look that cuts me to the core, before letting my mother guide her away.
I watch the two of them go, wondering what the fuck just happened.
How did Astrid find out?
More importantly, how do I win her back?
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out it was you?” I say in French through gritted teeth.
I slam the door to Gabrielle’s office behind me. It didn’t take me long to figure out who told Astrid about Lord Wilmore. It had to be during Astrid’s walk that day in Nice. It wouldn’t have been hard for Gabrielle to find out we were there. She is, after all, co-owner of a company that deals mostly in gathering information about people. It’s how I first discovered Astrid and her father were going to be in Monte Carlo earlier this summer.
Her feet are on the desk as she looks at some paperwork in her hands. She slides her eyes over to me with lazy amusement. “What are you referring to, Alex?” she asks with mock innocence.
&n
bsp; “Cut the bullshit, Gabrielle,” I say, strutting over to her desk and leaning in on my knuckles. “Why? Why the fuck would you tell her about Lord Wilmore? Why the fuck would you tell her about Monte Carlo?”
Gabrielle sighs and removes her feet from the desk and sets the paperwork down. “She had a right to know.”
“And now tell me the real reason,” I say through gritted teeth.
Gabrielle’s eyes narrow into accusatory slits. “Because you were getting sloppy. Fifty-million dollars of our money for this…this girl!”
“And you thought sabotaging it all would win me back?”
“Did you think lying to her would end in success?” she spits right back at me.
“That wasn’t your call to make.”
“Was it your call to make by sending those photos in the first place?” She knows exactly what buttons to push. “I did the same thing you did, Alex. I exposed the truth. Obviously, your little petal isn’t as naive or stupid as I thought, or you wouldn’t be here in my office right now.”
My hand itches to reach out and slap her for that, but I refrain. Gabrielle isn’t the problem, as much as I hate her for telling Astrid. The problem is the truth itself.
Nothing Astrid accused me of was a lie. Meeting her in Monte Carlo was no coincidence. Sending her those photos was part of my devious plan to buy into her father’s company and yes, get her to break up with Bruce so I could have her for myself. And I kept all of it from her. It was like a band-aid needing to be ripped off. The longer I waited, the stickier it became and when it finally did come off, the wound was re-opened, letting everything bleed out.
And now I’ve lost her again.
She’s changed. I haven’t.
That ends now.
“I’m buying out of Bernard Financiers.” It seems spur of the moment, and Gabrielle’s reaction certainly attests to that. Now that the words are out, I know it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Long before I even met Astrid. My mother was right. It’s no longer about justice or righting wrongs, it’s about the hunt, the game. Winning.
