Honeymoon in Paris (22 page)

Oh, shit.

A loud smacking sound followed by another pounding noise came from inside the office. Brigitte whimpered, making me think that Vincent had just slapped her across the face and possibly shoved her against the wall, but then a rustling noise and a low moan made me think otherwise.

Were they…?

“Marcel thinks I’m his, but he’s wrong.” Brigitte’s breathy, seductive voice was difficult to make out, so I gave up on trying to look innocent and instead pressed my ear against the door.

“I’ve always been yours, Vincent. Ever since I saw you walk on set that day, it’s always been you that I wanted. And Marcel is right. I am a greedy little slut. But I’m
your
greedy little slut.”

What in the—?

“That’s right,
ma chérie
. You are the most beautiful of
mes bijoux
, the most cherished asset I have, but I need you to keep your promises to me. I need you to find out what Marcel is hiding. Keep letting him
believe
that you are falling for him, that you are finished with me, and I know my son—he will open up to you. After all, what man could resist these… and this… and this?”

Another smacking sound followed by Brigitte’s devious giggle proved more than ever that Luc was right: this woman had no business being around Adeline,
especially
while she was involved with Vincent and whatever sketchy
operation
he had going on.

“No one can work this business like you can, Brigitte. My associates have been telling me what a
natural
you are. Of course I already knew this, but it wouldn’t hurt to show me one more time, would it?”

More giggling and rustling traveled through the thin walls, then came Vincent’s voice, except it was all business this time.

“Chantal, something has come up. I won’t be able to attend my English lesson with Charlotte. I’ll be on an important call, so please hold all calls and visitors for the next hour.”

By the lack of words and the heavy breathing, growling, smacking, and moaning that followed, it became absolutely clear what was happening on the other side of that door—and even clearer why Vincent had chosen such an isolated location for his corner office.

TWENTY-ONE

Later that afternoon, I was sipping a glass of Chardonnay inside Pain & Cie, my favorite café situated on the Presqu’île of Lyon. I’d texted Fiona to meet me for an emergency briefing, gossip, and advice session (over wine and dessert, of course), and I’d texted Lexi to tell her we’d put her on speaker phone. Plus I had gorgeous Chez Isabelle lingerie to give Fiona, and I wanted to make sure my friends hadn’t been kicked out of their respective homes after our tabloid debacle the week before.

Halfway into my glass, as I was lost in thought trying to decode the sick and bizarre interaction I’d heard between Brigitte and Vincent, I spotted Lexi flying up the stairs to the second floor of the café where I’d blocked off a corner table.

“Lexi! What are you doing here?” I asked as I stood to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“What? A girl can’t take the train from Paris to see her best friends?”

“Of course! But I obviously thought you were in Paris when I texted you. When did you get to Lyon?”

“Only a few hours ago. Dylan and I haven’t stopped fighting since the tabloid mess, and I just had to get out of there for a few days. Plus I had to come talk Fiona down off the cliff. When I spoke to her last night, she was actually considering poisoning Madame Rousseau’s coffee. I figured stopping our sweet British friend from serving a life sentence for premeditated murder was probably worth the trip.”

“Poor Fiona,” I said, but I couldn’t stop my giggle. “Things must be desperate if she’s plotting the woman’s murder.”

“Hey, no judgment here,” Lexi said, shooting a flirtatious glance at our handsome French waiter. “Fiona is a saint. I know Marc is wonderful, but that mother of his is a total deal breaker.”

“Speaking of deal breakers, I’m so sorry if those stupid tabloid pictures are the reason you and Dylan are fighting. Are you guys going to be okay?”

Lexi waved off my apology. “This isn’t your fault, Char. That man and I are always fighting; I’m just not sure how long this type of relationship can last. And there’s something else…” Lexi trailed off, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“What is it, Lex?” I suddenly remembered Lexi’s mad dash off the Paris Metro after she’d received a mysterious call and wondered if she was finally going to fill me in.

Before she could spill, Fiona bounded up the stairs.

“I hope you girls are planning on staying here for a while.” Fiona plopped into her seat and blew out an exasperated sigh. “Because you couldn’t pay me enough to make me return to the hell that is my life right now.”

“I heard about your murder attempt on Marc’s lovely mother,” I said with a grin.

“I haven’t attempted it…
yet,
” Fiona said.

“You know you’re more than welcome to stay with me and Luc if it gets too unbearable,” I said. “Adeline isn’t too into sharing right now, but I’m sure we’d figure something out.”

“Thanks, Char,” Fiona said, the dark circles under her eyes telling me she probably hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. “But the Wicked Witch of the West is leaving tomorrow, thank the heavens.”

After we put in our afternoon wine and dessert orders, Lexi turned to me. “So what’s going on?”

“Before I spill the beans on the latest turn of events, I need you two to promise that you will not breathe a word of this to another
living soul,” I whispered over the table. “And I’m talking no one. Not even the boyfriends.”

Lexi and Fiona simultaneously crossed their fingers over their hearts. “Promise,” they both said.

“Did you two choreograph that or something?” I asked with a laugh.

“We’re just really in tune with each other,” Lexi said impatiently. “Which is why we won’t tell a soul. Now spill it, honey.”

I proceeded to fill the girls in on some of the events that had gone down at
Bella France
that day, including Mireille’s belief that she was in an exclusive relationship with Vincent, followed by Vincent and Brigitte’s talk of operations and jewels, and the icing on the cake: their kinky sex session inside his office.

Our berry crumble tarts had arrived by the time I finished unloading the latest outrageous gossip, but the girls couldn’t have been less interested in their desserts.

“This is insane,” Fiona said. “What do you think they’re up to?”

“Money, drugs, jewels—sounds like some sort of organized crime operation,” Lexi said.

“With Brigitte as Vincent’s pawn,” I added.

“It sounds like you have more than enough proof that Brigitte is unfit to have partial custody of Adeline,” Fiona said. “Are you going to tell Luc about all of this?”

“Yes, I have to. He’s teaching nights now, so it’s hard to find any time during the week to really talk, but I’ll wait up for him tonight.”

“Wait,” Lexi finally spoke. “What kind of contract did you sign? I know you want to score a writing position with the magazine at the end of all of this, but to be honest, I wouldn’t touch this situation with a ten-foot pole if I were you.”

“I didn’t sign on the terms Vincent and I had originally agreed upon. Instead, I’m there on a thirty-day trial period. That way I’ll receive enough money to hold me over and keep the language school up and running temporarily, but if things are still out of control
after the initial thirty-day period, I can leave and have no further obligation to Vincent or to the magazine.”

“Does Vincent know about the thirty days?” Fiona asked.

“I’m not sure, but if he has a problem with it, all I have to do is mention what I overheard today, and I think he’ll let me do whatever the hell I want.”

“Char, this guy sounds dangerous,” Fiona said. “And whatever he’s up to with Brigitte does not sound like something you want to associate yourself with. Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, hasn’t the Boucher family caused us all enough trouble lately?”

“I’ve already signed on the dotted line, so there’s no going back now. I want to find out exactly what Vincent, Brigitte, Marcel, and Nicolas are up to, and what Luc has to do with all of it. There’s still something Luc is refusing to tell me about his past with the Boucher family, and I’m tired of being left in the dark,” I said. “So, if he isn’t going to open up to me, I’ll just have to launch my own investigation.”

“What makes you think Nicolas has anything to do with this?” Lexi asked.

“He got in touch with me last Monday after he saw the pictures of all of us in the tabloids. He said he’s going to be in Lyon this week, and he wants me to meet him at the bar inside La Cour des Loges Hôtel tomorrow night. He says he has something important he needs to give me. Whether he’s involved in Vincent and Brigitte’s sketchy dealings or not, he clearly knows something. And despite Luc and Marcel’s warnings to steer clear of Nicolas, I have to find out what he knows. I feel like something really big is going on here, and I refuse to let me
or
Luc be blindsided when the shit hits the fan. Learning that Brigitte Beaumont is my husband’s ex-wife was enough of a surprise for me this year.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “I can’t thank you enough for telling me this outrageous story. Seriously, Char, your life is like a soap opera. I can’t wait to find out what Nicolas is going to give you.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to help,” Lexi said, her tone defensive. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would get wrapped up in his father’s messes.”

Fiona arched a brow. “Lexi, do you know something about Nicolas that you’re not sharing with us?”

When Lexi pushed a strawberry around on her plate and refused to make eye contact with us, I had to ask, “Lexi, was it you and Nicolas on the balcony that night? Is that why you were so intent on saying it was Marcel? To point the finger in the other direction?”

“No, it wasn’t me,” Lexi said. “I swear on my Jimmy Choos, I was not kissing Nicolas Boucher on the balcony that night. So which one of you was it?” A sly grin crept up on her full red lips.

Fiona clenched her stomach and suddenly looked as if she might be sick, so I launched in for the save.

“I have a theory,” I said. “Remember how one of the pictures in the tabloids showed Brigitte storming off alone that night after making a fool of herself at the premiere party with Vincent?”

Lexi nodded, while Fiona’s panicked eyes focused on her full glass of wine.

“Well, think about the conversation I just overheard between Brigitte and Vincent. Vincent instructed Brigitte to keep seducing Marcel so she can find out what he’s hiding. What if it was Brigitte on the balcony with Marcel that night?” I was really reaching here, but the sudden relief that washed over Fiona’s face made my fake little theory worth it.

Lexi gazed out the window of the café, lost in thought. “You may just be right,” she said after a few seconds had passed.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll tell the guys that I overheard Brigitte today at the office admitting to being in the balcony photo with Marcel that night. Hopefully this will get the men off our backs,” I said, feeling quite satisfied with this new solution. Fiona desperately needed something to appease both Marc and his impossible mother, and hopefully this would do the trick.

“Oh, and I have something else that might help.” I retrieved the dainty lingerie bag from underneath the table and handed it to Fiona. “Lexi, yours is back at my apartment because I didn’t know you’d be here. Do you want to take the Metro back with me so I can give it to you?”

Lexi peeked down at her shiny silver watch. “You’re so sweet, Char. I have to run, actually, but maybe I can swing by tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I said, eyeing her tight red top and dangly earrings. “Where are you headed?”

That naughty gleam sparkled in Lexi’s eyes once more as Fiona peeked in her lingerie bag.

“What is it, Lexi? What were you going to tell me earlier?” I asked her.

Lexi swiped the last bite of her tart off the plate, then opened her wallet and left some euros on the table. “Oh, it was nothing,” she said, but I knew my friend better than that. She was definitely hiding something.

And by the way she’d been defending Nicolas, I was almost certain I knew what it was.

“Remember, Lex, keep it zipped,” I reminded her.

With one hand on her hip, she shot me a sassy look. “Char, honey, the only thing I’ll be doing with these lips in the near future is kissing a hot man. All right, ladies, I have to run,” she said. “Have fun with that lingerie tonight.”

“Oh, I sure will, while my boyfriend’s mother snores all night in our bed and I’m sleeping on the couch with Marc sprawled out on the living room floor,” Fiona scoffed. “Thank you, though, Charlotte. This is gorgeous. I’m sure it will come in handy as soon as that old cow is out of my apartment.”

With her contagious laugh and a flip of her long, silky dark hair, Lexi weaved through the skinny aisles of the café, leaving me alone with Fiona.

I took another bite of my delicious tart, watching as Fiona’s normally cheery gaze turned from bleak to desperate. “Fiona, it’s all going to be okay. You can tell Marc
and
his evil mother that it was Brigitte that night up on the balcony.”

“No, it’s not that.…” Fiona trailed off as tears rimmed her blue eyes.

“What is it, Fi?”

“I… I think I’m pregnant.”

I stifled my initial shock and instead took Fiona’s trembling hand from across the table. “Are you sure? Have you taken a test yet?”

“I missed my period, and I’ve been throwing up every day for the past three days. Marc’s mother is onto me, and you know how strict and conservative that woman is.”

I knew better than anyone—it had only been a few months since Madame Rousseau had thrown a royal fit at my
Bella Magazine
article and had taken away my chances for a prestigious teaching position in Paris.

“You know Marc will support you, though, Fiona. No matter what his mother thinks.”

“That’s the thing. For the entire time she’s been staying with us, Marc has allowed her to get away with
everything.
She bosses him around like he’s still a little boy, and he barely ever stands up to her, even when it involves me. Marc isn’t like this with anyone else, but with her, he has absolutely no backbone.”