by J. D. Fox
“What’s got you all fired up to help me all of a sudden? And if you really have been wanting to connect, the phone works both ways, you know,” Gen said.
“I couldn’t go to you,” Clint said, and Gen rolled her eyes; excuses, at least, were something completely familiar to her from the days of her relationship. “But I’ve been thinking. Us breaking up was a mistake.”
“You didn’t seem to think so when I was down and out,” Gen pointed out.
“Things change,” Clint said simply. “Everyone’s been talking about you— how you just up and disappeared.”
“So you want to help me because suddenly I’m some kind of mysterious exile?” That amused Gen.
“You’re a hot commodity, now that the heat of what happened to your parents has gone down a bit,” Clint informed her.
“That’s good to know,” Gen said, after a brief pause to collect her thoughts on that statement. “But it’s a bit soon to be thinking about asking for the ring back. I was just hoping you could tell me more about what Clarion has going on. Maybe I could put some of my money in--I’ve got it in savings.”
“I don’t need your investment,” Clint said, sounding almost peevish. “I do have a business deal I’m working on, but I’d rather have you back in my life as my fiancée.” Gen rolled her eyes again.
“I really just wanted to hear more about what you have going on and see if I can grow out my nest egg a bit; especially since I’m not working at the moment,” she said. Clint didn’t need to know the truth of her employment situation. At once, his voice went all business.
“If you’re interested, I can bring you in once the first round of funding efforts are taken care of,” he told her. “We’re working with some folks in France to get it established, and then we will be able to take on some more investors.” Gen pressed her lips together; that wasn’t really what she’d wanted to know.
“Can you give me any deets on who you’re working with? You know I like to do my homework,” Gen said.
“For you— and only for you— I’ll give you the name of my direct partner in the venture, so you can see how big it’s going to be,” Clint said. “The fixer on the French side of things is a guy by the name of Olivier Laurent. Pretty big fish.” Gen bit back a groan at that confirmation. It was definitely Clint, her ex, working with her new boss. That was not good, even if she didn’t have any real way of knowing anything about the deal, other than that it was Olivier’s usual MO.
“Good to know,” Gen said, keeping her tone neutral. “I’ll check him out.”
“You never did tell me where you’ve set yourself up,” Clint pointed out. Gen was too preoccupied with putting puzzle pieces together in her mind to remember that she’d had no intention of telling him that information.
“I’ve been in France,” she said absently.
“What great luck!” Clint said. “I’ll be there in a week or two, maybe you can come to see me, and we could talk about getting back together.” Gen smiled wryly to herself at the notion of ever getting back together with this man she had lost interest in such a degree that she couldn’t remember what it had been like to like him in the first place.
“That might be nice,” she said, knowing that it was the only truly acceptable answer. If she’d said anything else, Clint would sulk, and she might still need to get details out of him. “Let me know when you’re in the country, and I’ll see if I can meet up.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Clint said. “Once I’ve got this deal set up, I can bring you back into the life you deserve to be leading. Our little corner of the world has been missing you, Coltrane.” Gen thought that if she rolled her eyes any more, they might actually fall out of her head.
“I’ve got an appointment I have to get to,” she said, putting as much regret into her voice as she could muster. “I just wanted to catch you before you went into work and see what was going on with the gossip I’d heard.”
“Well I am happy to talk to you anytime,” Clint said. “Any time at all.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Gen told him, warming her voice up, much as it aggravated her to do so. “I’ll speak again soon; keep me posted.”
Chapter Twenty
Olivier checked his phone as Louis pulled into the driveway of his house, and saw that the information he’d been waiting on had finally come in. He opened the email he’d received from a friend in the tech industry and scan it. “Clara Coltrane” n’existe pas. He’d provided documents from what he’d looked into at Olivier’s request, and it confirmed what he had begun suspecting a few days before; that the woman claiming to be Clara Coltrane was, in fact, his au pair.
As much as he’d suspected the possibility for days, knowing it was true lit the simmering irritation in Olivier’s mind into a roiling boil of anger. “Thank you, Louis,” he said curtly, getting out of the car as quickly as he could. His daughter was at her grandparents’ house again for the night, and it was a good thing— Olivier knew there was no way he could hold out on confronting his employee about the situation.
He strode into the house briskly, looking around to make sure that none of the occasional part-time staff were around. “Genevieve, are you home?” he realized how foolish he would feel fuming if the subject of his anger were not even present to deal with his anger, but Genevieve emerged from the living room, looking concerned and wary.
“Is Mathilde happy to be at her grandparents’ place?” Olivier scowled at her and gestured for her to accompany him into the living room. He reminded himself that there was little chance that Genevieve knew everything possible about his business dealings, but he did know that whatever she knew was more than he’d intended.
“You went against my rules,” Olivier said, without preamble. “You agreed not to ask about my business, and now you’ve done this.”
“I have not asked you about your business since you made that rule,” Genevieve countered, more composed than Olivier would have thought— and definitely more composed than he was comfortable with. He’d wanted for her to tremble; had she been expecting him to figure it out?
“You have no reasons at all to know about my affairs,” Olivier said. He could hear himself losing the clean lines of his accent, his words blurring into French pronunciation against his will, but he was too angry to make himself calm down enough to speak more clearly.
“Your rule was that I was not allowed to ask you any further questions about your business endeavors,” Genevieve said, and Olivier saw some color rising into her cheeks. “I didn’t. I have done my investigations independently. You never said I couldn’t.”
“You know very well that I did not mean for you to do that,” Olivier said. “You must have understood that I meant that you should not know anything else about my affairs.”
“I know very well that anyone who tries as hard as you did to hide everything has something to hide,” Genevieve said. “And I’m actually kind of glad that you’re finally bringing this up because I needed a way to talk to you about it.”
“You’re glad?” Olivier threw his hands in the air. “What is wrong with you? You should not be glad: you should be horrified.”
“I’m glad because I found something out about your partner in this, and you need to be extra careful,” Genevieve said.
“How do you believe that you know more about my business arrangements than I do?” Olivier stalked across the living room floor and threw himself onto the couch, too agitated to stand still and too confused to know what to do with himself.
“I know who you’re doing this with,” Genevieve said. “And since I found out it was him, I’ve been doing some more digging.” Olivier growled low in his throat, but Genevieve either didn’t understand the warning or deliberately ignored it.
“You are just being ridiculous because you don’t like being caught,” he said. She shook her head.
“The man you�
�re working with— Clinton Humphries?”
“What about him?” Olivier scowled, beginning to think that it was possible that Genevieve really did know much too much.
“I used to be engaged to him,” Genevieve said quickly, “and I’ve been looking into what he’s been up to; I think he was involved in the same deal that got my parents thrown in prison.” She pressed her lips together, and for a moment, Olivier stared at her in shock.
“You were engaged to him?”
Genevieve shrugged. “We went to the same high school and college, it was a thing,” she said dismissively. “That isn’t what’s important here. What is important is that I think he was involved in getting my parents thrown in prison.”
Olivier knew, deep down, that there was no reason for him to be angry at Genevieve over having been previously involved with his new business partner. But somehow the fact that she had nearly married the man he was now in bed with on a business level infuriated him, on top of the knowledge that she had managed to discover something he had been carefully keeping secret, even from his own associates in the same country. Olivier rose to his feet and remembered only at the last moment his promise to Genevieve that he would never touch or grab her again— not without her consent. He took a breath.
“You have lied to me and broken my rules, and now you claim to know my business better than I do,” Olivier said slowly. “You were to keep yourself to taking care of my child and making sure that she is happy, and instead you have specifically gone against what I told you.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Genevieve protested. “I have not neglected Mathilde, and I obeyed the exact letter of your ridiculous ultimatum.”
“Ridiculous?” Olivier had to restrain the anger he could feel expanding, building inside of himself.
“Yes, ridiculous,” Genevieve said. “You don’t actually care that much about me knowing your business— it doesn’t make any sense that you would. You just couldn’t handle the fact that we had sex, so you made that stupid demand to ensure that we never ended up doing that again.” Olivier hated that Genevieve was even partially right. He shook his head, willfully ignoring the truth of her statement.
“No,” he said, underscoring the gesture. “I do care about you knowing my business. There is no reason for you to meddle in my affairs, especially after I told you to stay out of it.” He held up a hand to forestall any protest that Genevieve might make that he hadn’t actually demanded that. “I do not want you in my home anymore.”
“What?” Genevieve’s eyes went wide, and her face went pale.
“I do not want you in my home or caring for my child,” Olivier said. “I would like for you to leave within a week.” For a few moments, Genevieve merely stared at him, and part of Olivier wanted badly to tell her that he didn’t mean it, but he was too angry to take it back. She had invaded his privacy and gone against his rules, in spite of his warning that he would fire her for it. He couldn’t lose face in this situation now.
“Fine,” Genevieve said finally, not quite able to hide her visible swallow. “I will leave within a week.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Gen left the Laurent house feeling numb; less shocked than stunned, as she had been for a while, now. She turned left at the gate and began walking towards the town proper, trying to get her mind to start working. It had been two days since Olivier had told her she was fired and that she had to be out of his home within a week. Gen had been making herself scarce ever since; it was fortunate that Mathilde wasn’t home, since explaining the situation to the girl would have been incredibly awkward.
She glanced back toward the house, thinking about Olivier inside of it. She had said to him when she’d come clean about digging into his affairs, that she thought Clint had had something to do with her parents’ disgrace, and she still thought that. She had no way to prove it— but something about what Dylan had said to her, along with Clint’s certainty that he could bring her back into the “high life” and the rarefied circles she’d run in until her parents’ disgrace, gave her the suspicion. Then, too, what she had been able to piece together about what Olivier and Clinton were going to do together told her that it wasn’t her former fiancé’s first time doing something shady.
As she continued walking towards town, Gen racked her mind, trying to figure out how she could get more information. Clint hadn’t been all that forthcoming, and she couldn’t just call him and hope he would give her what she wanted. If you flirted with him enough you might get him to open up, she thought with wry amusement. Gen found herself walking towards Sadie’s brasserie for lack of any real idea of what else she should do with her time. She had to come up with either a new job or a way to keep her current job, and she had to come up with it soon. Maybe Sadie could hire her at the brasserie?
But Gen didn’t think that would satisfy the visa requirements. She sighed and turned at the intersection, seeing the flashing red tabac sign that the Metropole used. The brasserie was open, and there weren’t too many people seated outside. If she was lucky, Sadie might have time to discuss her present problem and come up with a solution. Maybe Julia or Claire knew of another family in need of a nanny.
“Genevieve! Mais tu fais quoi ici?” Sadie beamed and then looked confused for a moment, and Gen tried to think of how to explain what she was doing at the brasserie at such an odd time of day.
“I don’t have anything to do, and I have to stay out of the house for a while,” Gen replied, not quite ready to tell her friend the entire truth of the matter. “Do you want the usual? Café au lait?”
Gen considered. “You know, I think I need a shot of calvados to go with it,” she told the woman. Gen had no intention of getting drunk, but a shot of calvados would— she hoped— jump-start her brain a bit.
“It must be a very boring day,” Sadie suggested with a raised eyebrow. Gen shrugged again, and Sadie took the hint that she didn’t feel like talking about it. As she waited for the older woman to bring her the coffee and brandy, Gen felt her phone vibrate, signaling that she’d received some kind of message. She took it out of her purse and turned on the screen to see that it was a notification from Skype. Who the hell is messaging me on Skype?
Sadie brought out her coffee and shot, and Gen unlocked her phone to check and see who had sent her the message. When she saw the name, a jolt crackled through her. Clinton Humphries, The Ex. Gen shook it off and took a moment to add sugar to her coffee and stir it. She sipped the delicious mixture to bring the level down and then poured in the shot, stirring once more. A sip of the new mix burned a bit on the way down, but Gen welcomed it. Finally, taking a deep breath, she unlocked her phone once more and opened the message to see what her ex wanted.
Hey— I decided to fly in a few days early for my business stuff. Gives us time to meet up and chat if you’re interested. For a moment, Gen just stared at the message, almost not able to comprehend it. What in the world was Clint thinking? She shook her head, sipping her spiked coffee and trying to make sense of the situation. Clint had been only too willing to drop her like a hot potato; first when her parents had been under investigation and then when they were arrested. But his last conversation with her he’d been more affectionate than he had the entire time they’d been engaged.
As she finished her coffee, Gen considered the position she was in. There was no better source for her to get the information she wanted about the risks that Olivier was taking than straight from his partner’s mouth, was there? And despite the fact that Olivier had fired her for snooping too much into his affairs, Gen hadn’t been able to get the potential risk to Mathilde out of her mind. She still wanted to know about the deal that Olivier was making, and she apparently wasn’t going to get the information from him. If she could find something out, and maybe help keep Olivier from going to jail, didn’t she owe it to Mathilde to get that information?
How do you even know you’ll get it, though? Clint
is not likely to be interested in discussing the way he’s going to screw over his business partner if that’s what he intends to do, Gen thought. But then, Clint didn’t know anything about her current life other than that she was living in France, outside of Paris. She might be able to get him to open up if she played along well enough. She pressed her lips together and thought about how she could make it happen. Clint had no idea why she’d left Manhattan and her whole life there. He had no idea that she was working as an au pair for his business partner. All he knew was that she was in France and that she was potentially interested in a business opportunity that he was working on. It shouldn’t be that hard to get him to open up, should it? Then, too, was the fact that she was suspicious that Clint had had something to do with her parents’ disgrace. She couldn’t put a finger on why, or how, but there was something about the way he’d spoken, and what she knew about Olivier’s dealings, and everything else about the situation that gave her the feeling. If she owed it to Mathilde to find out whether her father was in danger, she owed it to her parents just as much to find out if they’d been screwed.
Gen unlocked her phone once more and opened the message from Clint. She thought a moment longer before figuring out what message to send him. Where in France are you staying? I can see about getting a train ticket to come meet you if you want to catch up. She smiled slightly to herself and shook her head. Clint was, she thought— and hoped— just enough of a fool to buy it. She would meet up with him, play along with his flirting, and see what she could find out.
Gen paid for her coffee and brandy and gathered up her things, trying to think of how to play out the scheme she had in mind. She would have to make sure not to get to Clint too quickly, and she would have to look her best. Where was he staying? Her phone vibrated and Gen checked the message. I’m staying in Rouen, at the Mercure. My associate lives in a town nearby so this seemed like the best option. How far away are you? Gen grinned to herself. She’d gone into Rouen a few times since arriving at her new life— mostly to shop and enjoy the sights there, the historic buildings and churches and the fine art museum. She checked the address for the Mercure and realized it was close to one of the main attractions of the town: the Cathedral of Rouen in the city center. In reality, she could get there in about twenty minutes, but if she told him that, Clint might get suspicious.
