Ménage Material [La Belle sans la Bete Ménages] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (30 page)

“If you could guarantee that you wouldn’t mess around with our providers as well as the way we go about manufacturing the products, then that would be perfect.

“As it is, I don’t think you’ll agree to that. I need to have the authority to make the board change their ways if I see your company taking this one down a path that goes against everything the brand stands for.”

It was the longest he’d spoken to either representative since the talks had commenced, and Emma pondered the lengthy speech before saying, “I can understand your misgivings. But you have to understand, the very reason we wish to purchase the company is for its moral standing. That is half the product you’re selling. Were we to make any substantial alterations to the workings of the company, the product would change, and so would the market. Surely you can see that?”

“All I can see is that you would tell me blue was black to try to urge me into signing your contract. While yes, it is true, there would be a butterfly effect were you to mess around with the providers and the manufacturing process, that doesn’t mean my methods are protected.”

“If you’re so insistent on retaining control, then why are you interested in stepping down?”

Bastien’s eyes flared at the remark. He had to quash that particular train of thought in its early stages before it flowered and undermined his bargaining position. “I’m not interested in stepping down. When I noticed Hickle Corp was gearing up for a hostile takeover, I extended an invitation to talk. Nothing more. These negotiations have come into play, because your company requested it. Not us.”

Emma Roberts merely pursed her lips and nodded. “I shall have to discuss this with my superiors.” She looked down at the proposal Rozen had given her at the start of the meeting. “I don’t have the power to say yea or nay to the requests you’ve made. My team will need time to work through your requirements. Can we break now and I’ll contact your team in a few days to reschedule after I’ve spoken to the board?”

Bastien nodded. “Of course. You do what you see fit. I am willing to bend so far, Ms. Roberts. But this company will not be swept from under me. If your side thinks to return to the MO of hostile takeover, I’ve since taken steps to protect myself and my place of business from such an attack.

“Be warned, the only way to get a foot in the door is through the proposal in your hands.”

With that, he stood, nodded at the Hickle Corp’s representatives, and departed the boardroom.

He had things to do, and being stuck in his offices wasn’t one of them.

Regardless, he returned to his suite of rooms, checked his e-mail and the messages his PA had left for him, before sending for the car.

As he checked his e-mail, a reminder from his calendar popped up. The deadline had hit. Today, he either had to pack a bag with a hundred thousand Euros in small bills and leave it at the Saint-Laurent church over in the tenth arrondissement or something about his relationship with Alexei would appear in tomorrow’s papers.

Goddamn blackmailers. Dismissing them as scum of the earth was a complete and utter understatement. And in this case, the timing of it all couldn’t have been much worse.

Were anything untoward to appear in the papers regarding his personal situation, a situation that was most definitely unorthodox even for the most liberal of the French population, he knew it would undermine his leverage with Hickle Corp.

At the same time, kowtowing to some anonymous schmuck’s demands didn’t sit well with him.

Being threatened was hardly a new experience for him. The only difference this time being he’d been handling this particular threat himself, and had not handed it over to the company’s security department as he’d done in the past.

That alone told him he was treating this differently to the other threats he’d received over the years. But, he knew he’d be dealing with it in the same way.

No pay off would be made today. At least, not from his point of view.

The idea of having to tell both his lovers of the situation made him grimace. The knowledge that personal secrets could be in tomorrow’s press was abhorrent to him, and so was the idea of having to pay for those secrets to be kept.

He could afford any number of payouts. It was the principle of the thing. He had to wonder if Devvy was strong enough, if she was secure enough in this new dynamic of theirs, to ride the waves.

What concerned him more than anything was the idea of what would happen on the other side of the pond. Miranda Nelson, Devvy’s mother, already had her claws flexed into his wife’s hide. As soon as any news about him having a male lover hit, she would make Devvy’s life miserable. Or as miserable as she could when the Atlantic Ocean separated them.

He had the whole day and the evening to make payment. The church closed its doors at ten, and he had the money in his home safe if, upon revealing the truth to the pair of them, they decided they wanted to make the payout.

Well, that calendar reminder fucked up his original plans royally! From toying with the desire to play hooky to being forced to discuss some bastard’s extortion attempts…this day was
not
going to end the way he’d imagined in the boardroom.

He spent a further twenty minutes in his office, half-expecting Rozen to come in and demand to hash over the talks with Hickle, but Bastien was in luck. He made it out of the glass revolving doors without coming into contact with anyone requiring his attention.

He had some bad news to share with his lover and wife.

He now knew what it felt like to be the Grinch.

To Alex, the world outside the doors of his apartment heralded chaos.

Noise. People. A manic, frenetic energy that sucked him in and spat him out, leaving behind a tangled, befuddled mess in both mind, body, and spirit.

The immensity of Paris should have been a repellent. As soon as he’d finished his studies at the Sorbonne, as well as the other myriad universities he’d attended, he should have escaped to a lab in the countryside. Tucked away in the middle of nowhere, nobody to bother him, no reason to enter the craziness of city life.

Those plans had changed the day he’d served Sebastien a cup of coffee to the sounds of trains screeching and braking.

That moment, the very first time his fingers had brushed Bastien’s as he passed over the throwaway cup, his life had been set on a completely different path.

He hadn’t been a virgin. His “uncle” had seen to that. But he’d never been taken with the gentleness of a lover, and Sebastien, in that sense, had been his first. The first to touch and kiss, to caress and cherish.

After his uncle’s attentions, men should have repelled him. For the most part, neither sex had caused a spark in his adolescent sex drive. He didn’t think of himself as asexual, merely relieved to be away from sex. For the first time in too long, he’d been free from sexual abuse and adding another relationship of the same, if less disturbing, nature had been the last thing on his mind back then.

At seventeen, he’d been six months or so into his Masters of cytopathology—the pathology of cellular diseases. Even at such a young age, he’d known what he wanted to do. His entire college career had had him studying up until his thirty-second year, a career that left him with a list of letters after his name and the ability to work anywhere in the world in a multitude of different positions in the scientific community.

When he’d first met Sebastien, his future had been all that concerned him. Gaining his degrees, attaining the requisite knowledge to dissect the disease that affected so many…. They had been his goals, and he’d striven for them. Worked night and day, took on extra jobs to fund his degrees. Ran himself ragged.

Then, Bastien Jacques had appeared and tilted his flustered, if structured, world on its head.

At that age, his hatred of entering the outside world had been a daily chore. He’d known it would have to be kept in check until his studying was complete, and until he had made enough discoveries to warrant a personal laboratory on the premises of his choosing. It had been hard, a struggle to get out of bed every day, knowing he had to penetrate a world that wasn’t to his liking. Bastien had added to the pros, and eventually he’d transformed Alex’s life to the point where leaving to live in the countryside had been an impossibility, as Bastien’s work had been and always would be firmly entrenched in the city.

He had no regrets about living in Paris. After so many years, it was his home. He just preferred to see it from the safety of his own apartment. He couldn’t deny, however, that the instant he walked into
Les Fenêtres
and the door closed behind him, that same sensation of peace overcame him as it did when he walked into his penthouse.

That boded well.

Especially considering Devvy was on the warpath.

Eventually, he would concede to her wishes. He
would
move into
Les Fenêtres
if that was what she and Bastien wanted. Not that he’d make it easy. Giving up his penthouse was to give up more than just his solitude. It was to give up a place that had been his haven for so many years.

But he understood her argument.

How could he expect this complicated relationship of theirs to function if he wasn’t there? And considering how he’d toiled to convince her that this
ménage
wasn’t about the sex, how could he now shift that around to his own advantage?

He couldn’t.

Not without nullifying his every word.

It wasn’t about sex. It was about the connection. It was also about providing Bastien with a peace, a harmony that he himself couldn’t provide. Alex was broken. Deep inside. Irreparable. He knew that, and knew Bastien’s love for him would make him try to patch Alex up. He’d never stop. In all their years together, he’d always been a stalwart support, but Alex wasn’t what Bastien needed. By introducing Devvy to the fray, he’d changed that.

Their little threesome would eventually be symbiotic. Each member of the trio drawing strength from each other. Alex looked forward to the day he could be an active partner, rather than a lead weight around Bastien’s neck.

Devvy was the harbinger of change. She would be the one to forge a new Alex out of the wreckage of before.

She’d do as she’d done today.

Drag him out of himself, convince him to enter the chaos of the city by propositioning him with sex. She’d tease and entice, mock and amuse…be what he needed and when.

It was when she’d made that proposition that he realized he loved her.

The feeling had been there for a while. A slow burn in the pit of his soul. He’d known of its existence, but he’d pushed it away, believing it to be too soon even though he’d told her otherwise. She’d given herself to him. Prodded and chided, showered him with her concern, then shocked him with her suggestion.

How could he not love such a woman and be proud of that love?

The words had burned a hole on his tongue. The need to tell her, to gift her with his heart, imperative. Only the knowledge that he had the charade of a meeting with his mother enticed him to keep quiet.

And that particular rendezvous had been as terrible as he’d imagined.

His mother, in all the years, hadn’t changed. Still insanely possessive, still a little unhinged. She was out of touch, still wearing widow’s weeds even though her husband had only divorced her, not died and been buried away to disintegrate into the earth. Instead, he’d remarried and created a new family with a woman from Marseille. Alex knew because he’d had his father investigated the instant he’d earned enough money to pay for a private investigator.

His mother’s traditional views extended to homosexuality. A sexual congregation practiced by perverts, was her belief. The irony being she’d invited a sick bastard into her home and life, enabling him to abuse her son…but Alex was the pervert for being attracted to a man. That is, she’d label him as such if she knew.

He could have told her. It would have divorced her from his life, but something…he didn’t know what—maybe a sense of filial duty?—had kept him from doing so. He’d protected her from the truth, and would continue to do so. Just as he’d never told her about Pierre Defreine’s attacks, he’d hide this from her as well.

Had he taken Sebastien to meet her and introduced him as his lover. Alex could easily imagine the beginnings of some kind of psychological meltdown. That would have been a barrel of laughs.

As it was, her reaction to Devvy had been atrocious, but a damned sight better than the alternative.

He’d heard Bastien’s hurt the other week, though.

Bastien’s parents were alive, well, cared about their son, but for the most part, led their own lives. He’d been introduced to Henri and Suzette eighteen months after their relationship had begun. Sebastien had never said anything about wanting a reciprocal meeting with Alex’s own mother, but then, the little Alex had had to say about Antoinette, had easily described the fragility of her mental state.

That didn’t make it right.

He hated having to deny the man who had kept him glued together for so many years. He wasn’t just denying Sebastien. He was renouncing his very self. Just as he’d keep on doing until his mother died.