Honeymoon in Paris (17 page)

Vincent didn’t even wait for the door to shut before he combed my body with his intense hazel gaze. “Charlotte
Olivier,
what a pleasant, beautiful surprise.”

Suddenly Vincent’s words from that first meeting outside of our Paris honeymoon hotel rushed back to me. He’d said that he was opening up a new magazine which would be headquartered in Lyon. Then he’d asked Luc if he still had family down that way.

How could I have forgotten?

“I think there’s been a mistake.” I mentally shook off Vincent’s greasy stare and turned for the door.

“There hasn’t been any mistake, Charlotte. You need a job, don’t you?” Vincent’s voice was smooth, strong, practiced.

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. Yes, I desperately needed a job, but
not
from the one man my husband hated with all his heart and soul.

“I’m offering quite a generous package for this position. With Luc being a meagerly paid university professor and Brigitte initiating custody hearings again, it would not be wise for you to turn your back so quickly on this opportunity—at least not until you hear what I can offer you.”

I thought of Jean-Sébastien, my supervisor at the language school, and how distraught he’d been over the closing of classes. I thought of his wife Marie-Élise and their two small sons. I thought of my mom who’d had no interests of her own and no career to fall back on after years of being dependent on my father. I thought of Luc and his refusal to tell me the whole truth on what was really going on with the Boucher family. And I thought of my own dismal financial outlook.

There were a million and one reasons why I should not dignify Vincent Boucher’s proposition with a response.

But there were also just as many reasons why I needed this job right now.

If I was going to do this, Vincent was going to have to play by my rules.

I flipped around and marched up to Vincent’s desk. “I’m not oblivious to the fact that you seem to have a personal vendetta against my husband and his family… and that for some reason, you’re dead set on stealing all of the women in his life: his mother, his ex-wife, and now here you are offering me a translating job. Oh, but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.”

“Your point?” He leaned back in his chair and lifted a brow, completely unfazed.

“I don’t want to know your reasons for wanting to hire me. I don’t care. What I do want is to secure a translating contract, but the only way this will work is if
I’m
dictating the terms.”

Vincent plucked a pen and notepad from his desk. “And those terms would be?”

“First, this is purely a business relationship. I’m in love with my husband, and nothing you say or do will turn me against him. So don’t try. Also, the contract will be with the language school I work for. They have other qualified translators on staff, so if at some point it’s time for me to move on, you’ll have your pick of some fantastic language specialists. Lastly, I would like to submit a few pieces for consideration for the magazine, and I want written confirmation from you that after this translating contract ends, I will be considered for a full-time staff writer position.”

“Finished yet?” Vincent asked as he scribbled down the last of my demands.

I sat down in the cushy black chair facing his desk and placed my hands in my lap. “Yes, I think that’s all.”

He chuckled. “You’re quite the businesswoman, you know that?”

“Well, if you really need a qualified translator
that badly
, I would hope you’d consider my small list of demands.”

He glanced over the list once more. “The only request I will have a hard time meeting is number one. Beautiful women have always been my weakness, as you well know.”

“Must be tough for you working in this estrogen-dominated environment every day.”

He laughed. “You have no idea, Charlotte. You have no idea.”

“I’d like to know a little bit more about what this translating position will involve, what types of hours you’ll need me for, and how much money we’re talking.” I wanted to show Vincent that I was serious about keeping things all business.

Okay, there may have been a
tiny
part of me hoping that in working for Vincent, I would find out what was really going on between Luc and the Bouchers, and that I could actually
help
Luc, so that whatever he was facing, he wouldn’t be facing it alone.

“Since we’re opening up as the sister magazine to
Bella
’s US version, there is quite a bit of correspondence between my office and theirs, and as you probably noticed the first time we met, my English is terrible,” Vincent said with a charming grin.

I’d never understood the phenomenon of twenty-something girls going for much older men, and I hated to admit it, but with Vincent, I understood. Just one intriguing gaze from him screamed power, charm, sex, and mystery. Not that a man like him was
my
cup of tea—but I understood why a woman like Brigitte would fall prey to Vincent’s charms.

“I’ll need you to translate incoming and outgoing e-mails, sit in on conference calls with me and, occasionally, accompany me to events and photo shoots,” Vincent said. “Working for a magazine can be very glamorous at times, but it is also a business. And with the amount of money we have at stake with this new venture, there isn’t much room for error. You’ll need to be extremely accurate—
and
discreet. Can you handle that, Madame Olivier?”

I nodded, wondering
what
exactly I would have to be discreet about. “Of course.”

“There is one more thing, in addition to your translating and interpreting duties,” Vincent said.

Okay, if this was where he asked if I would give him a blow job under the desk every afternoon, the deal was off. “Yes?”

“I would like for you to spend a couple of hours a week teaching me English.”

I wondered how it was possible in all of his years of business that Vincent had never properly learned the English language, but now wasn’t the time for that question. At least he hadn’t asked me for the unthinkable.

“Yes, for the right amount of money, of course I can,” I said.

Vincent jotted something down on his notepad, then flipped it toward me.

The amount staring back at me took my breath away. This contract would surely buy Jean-Sébastien a few more months with the language school, and it would encourage him to begin bringing in more outside translating and teaching contracts. This contract would also buy
me
at least a few more months of full-time pay before I had to figure something else out. Hopefully that something else would include a writing position at
Bella France,
which—if the stars aligned—would provide the perfect platform for me to complete and publish
The Girl’s Guide to Tying the French Knot.

I smiled up at Vincent. “I think we have a deal.”

“Is Luc going to be a problem?” Vincent asked.

As I imagined the uncomfortable task of telling my husband about my new job, a knock at the door interrupted us.

Mireille strutted in, one hand on her hip. “She’s here, and she’s already flipping out at the photo shoot. The
Bella US
crew is trying to tell her what to do, and she can’t understand anything they’re saying. She’s requested to see you immediately.” Mireille shot Vincent a dramatic eye roll, then slammed the door behind her.

“
Oh là là… les femmes
,” Vincent mumbled under his breath as he stood. “Do you have anywhere to be this afternoon?”

“Not for a few hours anyway.”

“Some of
Bella Magazine
’s English-speaking staff have flown over to help us get our first issue up and running, and to be sure we stay within the
Bella
brand. I haven’t understood a word these people have been saying all week. It will be nice to have you there to translate today if you’re ready to get started. Don’t worry, I’ll have my legal assistant draw up your contract as soon as we’re finished with this. We will, of course, be sure to include
all
of your terms.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing to meet Vincent’s gaze. “Where are we headed?”

“We have a very high-profile actress posing as the cover model for our flagship issue, and we’re needed at the photo shoot.” Vincent headed for the door. “As Mireille said, this actress doesn’t speak much English either, so your services will be extremely useful today.”

Excitement flooded through me as I followed Vincent down the long hallway. I just landed a job making more money than I’d ever made in my life! I was going to be able to help Jean-Sébastien keep the language school open,
and
I was going to have a shot at an exhilarating writing career when this was all over.

Plus, in the meantime, I would be attending glamorous photo shoots!

In the business sense, at least, Vincent Boucher suddenly didn’t seem
that
awful.

Now the only thing I had to worry about was how I was going to break the news to Luc.

Vincent opened the door to a massive room filled with lights and photographers. But when I spotted the actress posing in the middle of this cover-shoot frenzy, I realized that telling Luc about my new position wasn’t the
only
thing I had to worry about.

Working with the rail-thin, gorgeous blonde who was shooting her pouty gaze at Vincent had
not
been part of our deal.

Vincent leaned into my ear. “If you’re really serious about writing for the magazine one day, you were bound to cross paths with
the lovely
Brigitte
at one point or another. I figured it might as well be today. Still in?”

I pushed my shoulders back and held my chin up. “Of course I’m in.”

But as Brigitte Beaumont’s cool green gaze landed on me, I wondered what in the hell I’d just gotten myself into.

SEVENTEEN

“What is she doing here?” Brigitte hissed into Vincent’s ear.

Vincent motioned for me to join them, which was obviously the last thing I felt like doing. Bolting out the door and never looking back sounded like a much more viable option at this point.

But I wouldn’t let her ruin this for me.

More outrageously fashionable magazine staffers swirled frantically around the room as I walked toward my nemesis. Of all people to be posing for the cover shoot of
Bella France
’s first issue, why did it have to be Brigitte?

Vincent placed a heavy hand on my shoulder while Brigitte continued her evil stare-down. If she was already throwing a fit at the shoot, I couldn’t imagine that having me here would do anything to improve the situation.

Was Vincent asking for a petty catfight? Did he get off on this kind of stuff?

“Brigitte, I’m sure you remember Charlotte Olivier,” Vincent said calmly. “I know you’ve been having some problems working with the English-speaking staff here at the shoot, and Charlotte is here to help. She’s
Bella France
’s new translator.”

I could almost see the icicles forming in Brigitte’s stone-cold eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her bony hip out to the side.

“Is that going to be a problem?” By the lack of affection in Vincent’s tone as he addressed Brigitte, I wondered if there was still trouble in paradise.

“Of course it won’t be a problem,” Brigitte said, but the evil pout splashed across her heavily made-up face certainly said otherwise.

“Wonderful,” Vincent remarked, ignoring his girlfriend’s defiant attitude. “I have some business to attend to, so I have to be going. Charlotte, I’ll need you to stay for the duration of the shoot and deal with any translation issues that come up. In the meantime, I’ll have my legal assistant draw up your contract, and Mireille will show you to her office as soon as this wraps up.”

Brigitte shot Vincent another distressed look and opened her mouth to speak, but Vincent cut her off. “You’re a professional actress now, Brigitte. I suggest you start acting like one.” Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving a steaming little blonde in his wake.

Another impeccably dressed woman walked up to us, her warm smile and kind eyes a welcome sight.

“Beth Harding?” I guessed.

“Charlotte.” Her grin widened as she held out her hand. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person.”

“You too,” I said. She had no idea how happy I was to have a friendly face in this landmine of Luc’s past.

“I just heard the good news about your job offer!” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “You work fast, girl. I know you were looking to write for the magazine, but just give it a little time. Translating will be a great way to get to know everyone here.”

“Thanks, Beth. I’m excited to see how it all goes.” Excited wasn’t
quite
the right word, but I didn’t feel like filling Beth in on why I wasn’t jumping out of my skin at the moment.

“We’re still receiving reader mail about your latest article,” Beth said. “Women want to know what happened after you confessed your love to Half-Naked French Hottie, and now to think you’ve married the guy already! What a story. We’ll have to squeeze in a follow-up piece once you’ve been hitched for a little while. I’m sure you’ll have some more juicy gossip for us on the ins and outs of French marriage.”

Clearly Beth had no idea that Brigitte was Half-Naked French Hottie’s (aka: Luc’s) ex-wife.

But when I glimpsed the expectant look on Brigitte’s clueless face, I remembered—she didn’t understand a thing we were saying.

That’s what
I
was here for. Hmm… this could turn out to be fun after all.

“Do you speak French, Beth?” I asked.

She sighed. “I wish. But no, I barely speak a word. I wasn’t even supposed to be the one making this trip, actually, but my supervisor had to cancel at the last minute, so they sent me. I’m so glad they did, though.”

“What are you two talking about?” Brigitte asked in French.

“Oh, we were just discussing how that top looks a little too tight on you, and your forehead could use a little more powder,” I said. “It’s great when the lights bring out your natural shine, but we’re not going for the
greasy
look, if you know what I mean.”