Coco du Ciel

by Elise Noble

  “Pretend to be a disgruntled customer. Tell them there’s an issue with the product—that it smells strange, or it has lumps, or it’s an odd colour—and question its origins.” Remi fell silent for a moment, then blew out a long breath. “On second thought, forget that. Give me the batch number, and I’ll have one of my people look into it.”

  “Your people?”

  “I keep a security and investigations firm on retainer. They’re less likely to me— Less likely to arouse suspicions.”

  He’d been about to say “mess this up,” hadn’t he? Rhys wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful for the help or insulted. After all, he’d tracked Remi down to Villance and pushed him into a meeting. But since Rhys didn’t have a private investigator at his beck and call, he swallowed his pride and nodded.

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

  “I’ll have him call you, but it might take a week or—”

  “Remi, le repas est prêt,” a woman’s voice interrupted, high and melodic. Rhys turned to see Celine Klein in the doorway. Her hair was different to that in the pictures he’d found—dark brown instead of blonde, and with a long fringe that swept over her eyes—but the face was the same. “J’ai fait…” Her hands flew up to cover her features when she realised Rhys was in the room, and she tripped over her feet as she backed away. “Je suis désolé.”

  “Celine, it’s okay. Come back.”

  Her confusion was all too clear as she took one hesitant step forward. Did she ever leave the castle? Who did she speak to apart from Remi? Just the staff?

  “Celine, this is Rhys.”

  She stopped ten feet away, her gaze switching between her husband and the stranger in her home. Rhys got the impression she’d run if he made any sudden movements.

  “Bonjour?” she tried.

  “Rhys is from England.”

  “Hallo?”

  “Celine understands English, although she rarely gets the chance to speak it,” Remi explained. “She likes to watch American movies.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” Rhys said, careful to keep his words slow and clear.

  “Je ne comprends pas,” she whispered to Remi.

  “It’s a long story, but you have a lot in common with Rhys’s girlfriend. She appeared one morning beneath the coco du ciel trees in his Uncle Albert’s greenhouse.”

  Celine gasped and focused on Rhys. “This is true?”

  “Yes, but unlike you, she doesn’t have any links to her past. I’m helping him to find out where she came from.”

  “That…that might be impossible.” Celine looked around. “Where is she? She is here?”

  “No, she’s in England.”

  Celine’s face fell. “How did her DNA get into the tree? That is where to start.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Remi told her.

  “Over lunch? There is enough food for three. I like to cook,” she explained. “Always I make too much, but the staff eat what’s left.”

  Judging by Remi’s sour expression, a cosy lunch for three definitely hadn’t been on his agenda. But rather than showing Rhys the door, he sighed and smiled at his sort-of wife.

  “Of course, chérie. We can talk over lunch. Unless Rhys has pressing business elsewhere?”

  The note of hope in Remi’s voice suggested he’d have preferred his unwanted guest to drive straight to the train station without looking back, but curiosity got the better of Rhys. He’d never have this chance again, and he wanted to find out more about Celine-slash-Cambria. Aside from the obvious—namely being a prisoner in her own home—did she lead a normal life?

  “Perhaps I could stay for a quick bite to eat?”

  Celine beamed at him. “I’ll ask the staff to set another place.”

  The table in the formal dining room seated twenty-two, which seemed a waste if Remi and Celine kept to themselves. Remi took his place at the head of the table with Celine to his right, then waved Rhys to sit opposite her while a maid bustled around setting out more crockery.

  “Why such a big table?” Rhys asked. “I mean, if you’re not keen on guests.”

  Remi rested his chin on steepled hands. “An illusion of normality.”

  Normality. Right. They lived in a bloody castle.

  “Le déjeuner sera servi dans cinq minutes, monsieur,” the maid said before hurrying out of the room. She spoke French, but her accent was more guttural. Eastern European?

  “Aren’t you worried the staff might spill your secrets?”

  “We don’t hire staff locally, and they all abide by a strict confidentiality agreement. None of them can afford to breach it.”

  “Money talks,” Rhys muttered.

  “Quite the opposite, actually.”

  While Remi fussed with his napkin, Rhys took a moment to study Celine. In the pictures he’d seen of Cambria, she’d always looked sleek and polished, the epitome of a billionaire’s wife in her designer clothes and jewellery. Today, the second Mrs. Klein was dressed casually in leggings and a long T-shirt, her thick hair tied into a topknot. To Rhys’s untrained eye, she didn’t appear to be wearing any make-up apart from something shiny on her lips.

  Was her new look down to her new personality? Or just because she never went out anymore?

  “How long ago was your girlfriend reborn?” Celine asked.

  “Almost two and a half months. But she’s not exactly my girlfriend.”

  Remi raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re going to a lot of trouble to help her.”

  “I didn’t want to fall in love and then find she was already involved with somebody when she got her memory back.”

  Except it was too late. He’d managed to fall in love anyway. The warmth whenever he thought of Coco, the niggle of fear that he wouldn’t be able to help her—they were there to stay.

  Celine spoke softly. “If she’s like me, her memory won’t come back. It’s gone for good.”

  “But what if she finds out who she used to be? You fell in love with the same man again.”

  “Falling in love was the easy part. Staying in love, that’s much harder.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To be with Remi, I have to remain hidden from the world. He’s too well known for us to go out in public. So yes, I have the man I love, but I’m also lonely. Remi too. We can’t make friends, we can’t take a vacation together, we can’t hold a dinner party. It would be far easier if I moved to the other side of the world and started afresh, but then…” She glanced over at her husband. Remi was watching her closely now, and she slipped one hand into his. “I can’t. I just can’t. But it’s okay—the château is beautiful, and the staff are friendly. I’m learning to play tennis. Do you play tennis?”

  “Not very well.”

  Rhys understood now that the castle wasn’t only a home; it was a fortress. A prison. Suddenly, he was glad he was a nobody and that Coco’s reappearance had flown under the radar. It meant they’d managed to avoid a plethora of awkward questions.

  A chef walked in followed by a pair of kitchen staff, each carrying a serving dish. Silver covers were lifted with a flourish, and the staff melted away again. Lunch was cottage pie—although Celine called it hachis parmentier, which sounded far posher—with a selection of steamed vegetables. It tasted pretty good, and Rhys wished he had more of an appetite.

  “So, how did you two meet?” he asked to break the silence.

  “The first time?” Celine asked.

  Think before you speak, idiot. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

  “I met Cambria while I was at Harvard,” Remi said. “She worked in a coffee bar just off campus. I ran in there one morning to take shelter from a rainstorm, and there she was. Until that day, I thought love at first sight only happened in movies, but now I know differently.”

  “So you started dating?”

  “Not right away. She’d been through a bad break-up and swore she’d never date again. But I went back every morning just so she’d serve me coffee, and I hate coff
ee.”

  “Imagine that,” Celine cut in. “A Frenchman who hates coffee.”

  “We’re rare creatures, but we do exist. Two months passed before Cambria realised I wasn’t a connard, and then she asked me out on a date. I booked tickets for the theatre, but my car broke down on the way and we ended up walking to a restaurant instead. The food was terrible. But we talked for hours, and that was the night I knew she’d be my wife.”

  “I’ve seen pictures of our wedding day, and I looked so happy. Now I know why.” Celine smiled at Remi, a private moment in front of a stranger. “And even though life is harder now, I’m glad to be here. Now, tell me more about your friend. How is she coping?”

  “Not all that well,” Rhys admitted. “I get the feeling she was quite self-sufficient before, and now she’s got no choice but to rely on me. We’ve been living in one room in a shared house, and I love being with her, but there are times… Times when some space would be nice.”

  “Cambria was the same. Independent. Adjusting isn’t easy.”

  That wasn’t the only similarity they shared. Celine and Coco both had an underlying vulnerability about them, a chink in their armour that no amount of money could hide. Fear for the future? The influence of their past? Probably both, but from that flaw, their sweetness seeped, sticky tentacles that wrapped around a man’s heart and held it prisoner.

  Coco had done that to Rhys, but he didn’t care. He’d willingly give her everything he was able to. And right now, he needed to get back to England and update her on the situation. What he’d learned wasn’t the sort of news you broke over the phone. If he left straight away, he could be back in Paris in four hours, catch the next Eurostar, and have her in his arms that evening. If Remi was correct, then nobody was looking for her and they never would be. The apathy of the Welsh police had proven to be a blessing in disguise. Plus Rhys had hastily scrubbed his social media profiles of any mention of her mysterious reappearance before he sat down for lunch, which meant all that remained were a few faded posters in Gwynedd. Coco’s first body was dead and buried. Or perhaps cremated.

  Gone, anyway.

  Which meant that maybe Rhys stood a chance with her. Those niggles of guilt that had been plaguing him over their growing closeness faded into the distance. Even if she’d left a boyfriend behind, she could hardly just waltz back into his life, could she? Rhys began to eat faster.

  “I’ve made macarons for dessert,” Celine said. “Three different kinds. And we’re having salmon en papillote for dinner. Do you want to stay here tonight?”

  “Thanks for the invite, but I need to get home.” Or back to England, at least. The “home” part was still somewhat uncertain. “Coco’s on her own.”

  “Could I meet her, do you think? I don’t often have people to talk to.”

  “That’d be tricky. You don’t travel, and she can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she doesn’t have a passport, a birth certificate, or any other kind of identity documents.”

  “Remi?” Celine asked, her tone pleading.

  “You know it’s not a good idea to leave the château, chérie.”

  Celine kept her eyes fixed on her husband, and Rhys knew that look. When Coco used it on him, he’d do anything for her.

  Remi sighed. “What if I had Coco brought here? Would that work?”

  “Without a passport?”

  “Privacy and silence aren’t the only things that money can buy.”

  CHAPTER 23

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS later, Rhys paced the massive entrance hall at Le Château de Villance, the no-doubt-expensive rug soft under his feet. Remi hadn’t been thrilled at Celine’s invitation—or rather her insistence—for Rhys and Coco to stay with them, but he’d indulged his wife and grudgingly offered up a guest cottage in the grounds. The place was immaculate, and it still had that new-paint smell. Rhys would bet good money that nobody had ever slept there.

  Staying with the Kleins promised to be awkward, but logic said it was the best short-term solution. Not only would it save cash, but Celine seemed happy at the prospect and Coco might be glad of the company too.

  Now he was waiting for her to arrive. He hadn’t told her much over the phone last night, just that somebody would be coming to pick her up, and although he’d kept his tone light and tried to frame it as a nice vacation, she’d seen right through the ruse.

  “What’s wrong, Rhys? What is it? What did you find?”

  “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, I promise.”

  “So it’s bad? It must be if you won’t tell me today.”

  “Please, just pack your things.”

  “What about your stuff? Should I leave it here?”

  “Bring that too. And the goldfish.”

  Remi had rolled his eyes at the mention of the fish, but he’d promised luggage space wouldn’t be an issue, and this morning, Celine had let slip that he was sending a private jet. A private freaking jet. Not for the first time since that fateful morning in Wales, Rhys had pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

  “The plane has landed,” Celine called from the doorway to one of the many living rooms. “The pilot called Remi.”

  “Where is Remi?”

  He hadn’t been at breakfast that morning. Celine had brought fresh pastries over to the cottage, and they’d eaten them on the terrace with coffee as she peppered him with questions about Coco. What foods did she like? Did she have a favourite colour? What type of music did she listen to? And movies, did she watch those? Was she fond of horses? Because Celine had a purebred Arabian that Remi had bought her last Christmas. Rhys hadn’t been able to answer most of the questions, which was kind of embarrassing, but Celine had seemed happy just to talk.

  “Remi’s working. Most of the time, he works from home now, and always he is on the phone. He has an office in the tower and a lab in the basement.”

  “A lab?”

  “Science is his first love. I’m his second. If you ask him, he’ll say otherwise, but I know the truth.”

  Celine seemed okay with that, but Rhys suspected she was wrong. Remi had upended his whole life to care for her. She definitely came first in his eyes.

  “He studies genetics?”

  “Yes, genetic engineering. Biotronix has been at the forefront of genetic research for fifty years. Did you know Remi took over the company from his father?”

  “I read it on the internet.”

  “So did I. Remi doesn’t much talk about him. They…how do you say it? Headed butts?”

  Rhys swallowed a laugh. “Butted heads.”

  “Oui, that.” The crunch of wheels on gravel made them both snap their heads around. “Ah, they are here.”

  “Huh? But the airport’s an hour’s drive.”

  “Non, non, there’s a private airfield ten minutes away.”

  Rhys practically ran to the front door and wrenched it open before the driver had a chance to knock. Coco’s eyes went wide, and then she threw herself into Rhys’s arms.

  “I missed you,” she sniffed, burying her face against his shoulder.

  “Missed you too, beautiful.”

  “It’s a castle. A real castle.” Coco stepped back to look around the hallway, and when her gaze settled on Celine, all the colour drained out of her face. “What?” she whispered.

  “Coco, meet Celine Klein. She was once known as Cambria.”

  “But… But… But Cambria died.”

  “She did. Now do you see why I wanted to speak to you in person?”

  “The trees…? The legend…?”

  “Yes.”

  Rhys took Coco’s weight as she sagged against him, holding on until Celine leapt forward to help him carry her over to a red velvet loveseat in one corner. There were random chairs everywhere in this place, and he had to be grateful for that.

  “Should I fetch Remi?” Celine asked.

  “I think she’s okay. Coco?”

  Her eyes flickered open. “What about me?”
she whispered. “Did I die too?”

  All he could do was nod, and Coco dissolved into tears. Thank goodness they hadn’t done this over the phone. Celine squashed onto the seat beside her and wrapped her up in a hug, two ghosts come to life. Nothing in this world made sense anymore, and Rhys had no option but to go with the flow. At least he no longer had to bear the burden of Coco’s secret alone.

  “She isn’t crying for the person she is now,” Celine explained. “She’s crying for the person she once was. I did it too.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Only time can truly heal, but you can create new memories to replace the ones she lost.”

  And he would. For as long as Coco would let him, he’d do exactly that. Rhys knelt beside her and squeezed her hand. Her slender fingers were cool to the touch, and he kissed her knuckles, trying to offer a little more comfort.

  “H-h-how do you cope?” Coco blurted to Celine. “How do you deal with the fact that you died?”

  “I won’t lie and say it’s easy. Most people would see a second chance at life as a blessing, but they don’t realise it’s also a curse. Just try to focus on the good things. I have Remi, and you have Rhys.”

  Coco looked down at him, and he used his free hand to wipe away her tears.

  “Do I?” she asked. “Do I have you?”

  “Always. You’ll always have me.”

  “Why don’t you show Coco the cottage?” Celine suggested. “Take a walk around the grounds, and then we can meet for dinner? There’s still so much we need to talk about, but she looks tired.”

  “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted, yawning. “Or any of the other nights you weren’t there.”

  Rhys pressed a kiss to Coco’s forehead as he helped her to her feet. “Celine’s right; you should get some rest.”

  They still had a long evening of questions ahead of them with little prospect of getting the answers Coco needed.

  ***

  “This place came out of a fairy tale,” Coco whispered as they headed towards the dining room. Or at least, Rhys hoped they were going in that direction.