by Alix Nichols
Raphael pulls one little sock over his left ear and the other over his right ear. “Do I look good?”
“Perfectly silly,” I say.
“You’re being socksist.”
I raise my brows.
“Haven’t you heard about sockers?” he asks. “I converted while you were in Martinique. My religion prescribes that I wear pink socks on my ears at least ten minutes every day.”
I roll my eyes.
He sits down next to me, his expression growing sober. “We’re gonna go exclusive, like the first time around, right?”
I look away, my mouth refusing to tell him there won’t be a second time.
“No,” I finally say.
His mouth gapes, then flattens in comprehension. “You’re seeing someone.”
I nod.
“Is it serious?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say honestly. “We’re sort of colleagues, and I’ve only had one date with him.”
He gives me a forced smile. “OK, then. I hope you choose me before you reach the five-date threshold with him. Assuming you still adhere to that rule of thumb.”
“I do.”
He shakes his head, incredulous. “I never dreamed Mia Stoll would agree to a non-exclusive arrangement, let alone ask for it.”
“There won’t be any arrangement between us this time around,” I say. “What happened here was a one-off.”
He gives me a long, hard stare. “You can’t resist me, Mia. We both know that.”
“Then don’t put me in a position where I have to resist,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion.
“Why are you so hell-bent on driving me away when you want me so much?”
“Because you’re toxic.”
He flinches at my epithet.
“That came out meaner than I intended.” I sit up and cup his cheek gently. “What I wanted to say is that I’ll never be able to fall for another man if you stick around.”
His eyes bore into mine. “When you say you won’t be able to fall for another man, does that mean you’ve fallen for me?”
I study a speck on the sheet.
“Does that mean you’re in love with me, Mia?” he asks.
I nod, my gaze still on the sheet.
“Then let me ask you this: Why are you so hell-bent on falling for another man if you’re in love with me?”
“Because…” I give him a pleading look. “Don’t you see how we’re after completely different things? All you want from a relationship is a fun time. You won’t even call it a relationship, for Christ’s sake. You call it an arrangement.”
I lift up my chin, daring him to say I’m wrong.
He doesn’t.
“I want more than that,” I say. “A lot more. I want something solid and long-term. And that means I need to find a man who wants the same thing.”
A part of me hopes against hope he’ll say, “That’s my wish, too, Mia. I’ve changed. I want to be there for you and Lily.”
When he opens his mouth, my muscles are so tense with apprehension it’s surprising they don’t snap.
“I see,” he says.
I hang onto a glimmer of hope a little longer, but he doesn’t add anything to his “I see.”
Slowly, I breathe out, hiding my disappointment the best I can.
That’s when my handbag beeps on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Saved by the gong.
I rush to it and fish out my phone.
“I’m expecting an important email,” I lie and click on the notification on the screen without reading it.
The message that opens up makes me forget my letdown. It makes me forget to breathe. I read it once, then once more, and then a third time in a crazy hope it will melt away before my eyes. But it doesn’t. If anything, its words appear bigger and their lowercase letters scream louder than the caps of Gaspard’s one-sentence notes a year ago.
Hello, Mia.
You thought you could just change your phone and email to make this go away, didn’t you? You should’ve changed your name.
I’ll be in Paris next week. I know you have your defense coming up, so you won’t run again.
Meet me next Saturday at noon, in the same diner. If you don’t show, the tape hits the Internet, and I mail it to your parents the same day.
You will not get a third chance.
So, choose wisely this time.
Gaspard
Chapter 29
After breakfast, Cedric pulls Raphael aside to pick his brains about some business-related matter. I use the opportunity to head to the beach with Lily and a book. My plan is to play with my baby, read, and try to relax. I’m aware it’s a shaky plan, given the distressing effect of Gaspard’s email, but I’m determined to do my best to enjoy this beautiful island a little more before we fly back to Paris.
A half hour into “reading” without registering a word, I shut my book and sit up.
Diane sits down next to me. She picks up Lily’s Sophie the Giraffe teether and plays with her for a while, making my little girl giggle.
Then she turns to me and smiles. “You know, I recognized you the moment I saw you at the airport. I’d seen you a year go at Le Big Ben.”
“I recognized you, too,” I say, smiling back and pointing at her rounded belly. “Five months?”
“Six.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Wait and see.” She gives me a wink before adding. “I’m so glad you are the woman who tamed Raphael! I feared he’d end up with—oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
“I’ve tamed no one,” I say. “As for Raphael, he’s untamable.”
“He was. Before you.”
I smirk. “You want to know the truth? A year ago, Raphael and I had a fling. Then I went away. Now that I’m back, he wants more of the same. An ‘arrangement,’ as he called it. That’s all.”
“Is Lily his?” she asks.
I blink. “You’re… direct.”
“I’m sorry.” She gives me a pleading look. “Please disregard my question! My curiosity will be the death of me.”
“She is,” I surprise myself by saying. “But that’s not what I told him.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” she says.
Inexplicably, I believe her.
She runs her hand through Lily’s feathery curls. “Do you think he believes whatever it is you told him?”
“He didn’t say anything to the contrary.”
“It doesn’t matter what he said.” Diane smiles as Lily grips her thumb and pulls it into her mouth. “What matters is what he did. He brought you and Lily here, to his sanctuary, so you could meet his brother and his closest friends.”
I dig my hands into the sand, processing her words.
Diane gives Lily a soft kiss and sets her on the towel.
“Don’t judge Raphael by his words,” she says, standing up. “He uses them to disguise his feelings. Judge him by his actions.”
And with that, she saunters away.
As I ponder her advice, Genevieve turns up by my side and points to where Diane sat a few minutes ago. “May I?”
“Please.”
Did I unwittingly occupy everyone’s favorite spot on this beach?
“Nice weather, isn’t it?” Genevieve asks, leaning back and stretching her slender legs.
I nod. “Just perfect.”
“I looked you up,” she says, turning to me. “You’re a medievalist.”
“Yep.”
“I remember you from a year ago.”
“I waitressed at Le Big Ben for a few weeks.” I smile. “Didn’t realize I’d made such an impression on Raphael’s friends.”
“He dumped you like he dumps everyone,” she says. “But then he took you back. Why?”
My smile begins to slip.
“What’s your agenda?” she asks.
I stare at her, too unsettled to respond.
She stares back. “Actually, you don’t need to answer that. Your plan
is transparent enough.”
“Is it?”
“You’re hoping to snag him, like so many before you.” She shrugs. “And you’re using your baby as bait.”
On impulse, I pick Lily up and wrap my arms around her in a protective gesture.
“Listen to me carefully, Mia.” Genevieve leans toward me. “Raphael may charm the hell out of you, but he’ll never marry you.”
We’re in agreement on that point.
“Do you realize he’s so much more than just a rich and handsome playboy?” she asks.
As it happens, I do.
Raphael is bright and great at what he does. Despite his breezy persona, he cares for his company and works his tail off to grow it. He’s hilarious, but never at the expense of others. He’s a Casanova all right, but he doesn’t cheat or lie to the women he sleeps with. Come to think of it, he’s one of the most honest people I know.
“He’s nobility,” Genevieve says. “And so am I, for your information.”
“For your information, this is the twenty-first century.”
“Et alors?” She lowers her eyelids in contempt. “The world is still run by a select few. Raphael is an heir to one the country’s oldest and wealthiest aristocratic families. Do you know his full name? You must know it, seeing as you worked for him.”
I look away.
“Besides, he and I have a pact,” she continues. “If we haven’t fallen in love by thirty-one, we’ll get married.”
I glance at her face to check if she’s serious.
“And that day is fast approaching,” Genevieve says, deadpan.
I shrug. “So what’s the problem? You’ll have him all to yourself soon enough, if your pact means anything to him.”
“It does.” Her left eye begins to twitch. “We’re perfect for each other, and he knows it. We’re both rich, influential, and cynical. There’s a reason I’m his best friend and his only female friend.”
“Good for you,” I say.
“He despises the women he sleeps with.”
I say nothing.
“We’ll be the French power couple of the century once we’re married,” she says, pushing her hair back.
I lift my chin up. “Then why do I get the feeling you’re scared of me?”
She points at Lily. “Is she his?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Even if she is, your plan won’t work,” she snarls. “I’ll make sure he sees you for what you are. You’re a cheap gold digger like that woman Adele, who went around claiming he got her pregnant.”
I wrap my arms tighter around Lily.
“I’m positive the baby wasn’t Raph’s,” Genevieve says. “Regardless, I was happy the bitch miscarried.”
Did you help her miscarry?
“But then she started saying he’d raped her.” Genevieve rolls her eyes. “Pathetic fool.”
I stroke Lily’s hand. “I’ve heard she suddenly up and left.”
“She left because I gave her a good incentive.” Genevieve’s eyes light up. “I could pay you, too. Name your price.”
“You can keep your money,” I say.
She glowers at me. “Oh, I see. You think you’re smarter than Adele. You think you’ll get more from him than from me.”
My mouth contorts with disgust.
“OK, then.” Genevieve stands up and folds her towel. “I’ll keep my money, but I’ll give you a free tip. Take your bastard and disappear.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll do what it takes to protect Raphael from garbage like you.”
With that, she picks up her designer beach bag and heads toward the villa.
I stay on the beach, entertaining Lily with her favorite buzzing bee game and hoping to compose myself before I go back to Raphael and his nearest and dearest. Easier said than done. I lay Lily down on the towel, and stretch out by her side. There isn’t a hint of a cloud in the sky, and the breeze is so gentle it makes the Mediterranean Sea sound as docile as the pond in the Jardin du Luxembourg.
What a contrast to the turmoil inside my head!
Twenty minutes later, I admit that composure is beyond reach, even on this island. Why, oh why didn’t I stay put in Martinique? My ambition to get the darn PhD brought me right back to the two men I’d run from a year ago. And now it feels like I’m living a déjà vu, wondering which one of them will hurt me more: Gaspard, on purpose, or Raphael, without meaning to?
I collect my things, buckle Lily up in the front carrier, and trudge in the direction of the house. Just as I reach the hedge around the patio, Geneviève’s polished voice reaches my ears. Her words are less polished than her accent.
“Bullshit,” she says.
There’s a brief silence, and then she speaks again. “But what about our pact?”
“What pact?” Raphael’s voice is soft.
“To get married when we turn thirty-one.” Genevieve’s voice cracks. “When we talked about it a few months ago, you failed to notify me you’d unilaterally rescinded it.”
“We joked about it a few months ago! Oh come on, Vivie, we were kids when we made that pact.”
“We were eighteen.”
“Exactly—kids,” Raphael says placatingly. “I always thought of it as a standing joke between us, and I was sure you saw it the same way.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“I don’t get it,” he says. “You know I’m not a marrying man. The whole world knows that.”
“Yes, but I thought… I thought our bond was special. We’re cut from the same cloth, Raph. You always agreed with that.”
He says nothing.
“Don’t you see how much sense it makes for us to get married?” Genevieve asks.
“No, I don’t. We haven’t even dated, for Christ’s sake!”
“We could.”
“We won’t.”
There’s another silence.
“Jeez,” Raphael says. “Vivie, I had no idea…”
“Then you’re stupid,” Genevieve clips. “But cheer up. Your Mia is smarter than than the two of us together. She’s definitely going places.”
“What does that mean?”
I hold my breath.
“We just had a nice long chat, she and I,” Genevieve says. “I offered to pay her to fuck off—”
“You—what?”
“You heard me right. I offered her money.” Genevieve’s voice trembles with repressed fury. “And you know she said?”
“What?” Raphael asks coldly.
“She said, ‘Keep your money. You’ll never be able to offer me more than I can squeeze out of Raphael.’ ”
Lily chooses that precise moment to sneeze loudly.
When I reach the end of the hedge and step onto the patio deck, Genevieve is gone, and Raphael gives me an unreadable look before turning on his heel and marching inside the house.
Chapter 30
Having made it through today’s seminar without falling asleep is a small miracle, given that I didn’t sleep last night. At all.
We landed in Paris late in the evening after a bumpy flight that kept Lily wailing nonstop.
Raphael drove us home.
We barely spoke.
When he parked the car and helped Lily and me out of it, I was a hairbreadth from telling him that Genevieve’s words were a shameless lie. But I didn’t. Nor did I invite him to come upstairs.
He drove off without asking when he could see me again.
How ironic.
I’m making sure it’s really over between us, which is just what Genevieve wants. Granted, I’m doing it for my own selfish—and less selfish—reasons.
The idea of watching the man I love hook up with other women is unbearable. Regardless of the mistakes of my youth, I deserve better than that. My baby deserves better than that.
Raphael deserves better, too.
Neither of us had wanted a child, but once pregnant, I changed my mind. I chose to become a parent, and I neglected
to ask Raphael’s opinion. So now, it isn’t fair to rob him of his choice not to have a family. And if he ever changes his mind about it, shouldn’t he have the option to pick a wife with a past to be proud of, and a future unmarred by public disgrace?
Honestly, I don’t know if these are good reasons to deny myself the love of my life and to deprive Lily of her birth father.
But in the end, reasons don’t matter.
Just like it doesn’t matter how much I regret having taken part in that gang bang years ago. What matters is that someone taped it and is blackmailing me once again with his tape. While I’ll never give him what he wants, there’s nothing I can do to stop him from punishing me for my lack of cooperation.
“You look preoccupied,” Xavier says, touching my hand. “I’m blabbering on about my conference paper while your mind is somewhere else. Is something wrong?”
He had implored me to stay for a chat after the post-seminar coffee with Professor Guyot. I agreed. He chatted. I nodded without registering a word of what he was saying.
And now I’m ashamed of myself.
Xavier is a good person. Aside from Pàpa, he’s the most ethically conscious and morally solid man I’ve ever met. And while my stupid heart refuses to transform that appreciation into attraction, I hope we can enjoy a true friendship. The kind that could, one day, turn into something more.
And to lay the foundation of that friendship, I’m going to tell him about the blackmail.
Besides, this thing will drive me crazy if I don’t confide in someone I can trust. Normally, I’d call Eva. But she’s in Florida until next Monday where she’s organizing a big international conference on manned flights. These types of conferences are always crazy busy for her. She works around the clock, starting at six in the morning and dropping dead after midnight. There isn’t a worse time to burden my sister with my problems than now.
The thing is I need to burden someone. And who better than Xavier to share the weight?
I draw a long breath and give him the lowdown.
“Have you seen the video?” he asks after I’m done.
I nod.
“So it’s real—not something he’s invented so he can sleep with you?”
