Page 30 of Her Forbidden Bargain

“Tristan, you slept with an employee?” his mother asked.

“Enough. I’m not discussing my personal life with any of you.”

“This isn’t personal. It’s business.”

“How do you figure, Rene?”

“If it involves someone who works for the Sabina Group, that does involve us. She’s not some heiress used to the paparazzi and she would never have been exposed to them if not for Tristan,” Rene said.

“I agree. We’re going to have to do something. Maybe transfer her to the London office,” Louis said.

“We’re not transferring her anywhere. She’s always lived in Brooklyn and I don’t want her life disrupted,” Tristan said.

“It’s a little late for that,” Blanche said.

Everyone joined in the discussion on what should be done with Sheri and how Tristan should have shown more sense, and he shook his head. He was tempted to grab Sheri and leave. Just walk away from his family and his position at Sabina Group, but he liked the magazine he’d started. And he wasn’t a quitter. Never had been, even when the odds were stacked against him.

So he pushed away from the fireplace and waited until everyone stopped talking at once.

“Sheri isn’t your concern, Rene.”

“How do you figure?”

“She’s my fiancée, so I’ll be the one to look after her.” The words came out of nowhere and stunned everyone into silence. He heard his mother gasp, and Blanche’s expression—a cross between disbelief and shock—was comical.

“Fiancée? You’re going to marry this girl?”

He felt trapped by circumstances and his own desires. He wanted Sheri and wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. But he knew he had to do something to protect her from the tabloid press. As his fiancée, she’d be in the society pages for the right reasons.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of the last time he’d told his family he was getting married. Cecile had been standing at his side, but otherwise the stunned disbelief of his family was exactly the same.

He tried to find the humor in it, but it was difficult. “Now that everything is settled about Mademoiselle Donnelly, I’m going to my townhome in Paris.”

“Everything isn’t settled, Tristan. Bring your fiancée in here so we can all toast the new couple,” Rene said.

“And I want to talk to her about planning a party,” Blanche said. “We can do it in conjunction with the launch of our summer fashion guide. I think that will be the best way to introduce her properly to the world at large and as one of us, don’t you think?”

Tristan shook his head. “She doesn’t have time to plan a party. She’s my assistant.”

“Nonsense, Tris, she’s your fiancée now, that takes precedence.”

“No, Blanche, it doesn’t. You and Maman can plan a party for us if you want to, but Sheri will continue working for me.”

“Why?”

“Because that is her desire. That’s the reason we’ve kept our engagement secret all this time.”

Chapter Eight

Sheri had changed into a red-and-white maillot and a wraparound sarong. She sat in the dappled sunlight that filtered into the glass-enclosed pool. There was a sense of peace that reminded her of the quietness of her own small backyard garden in Brooklyn, although the indoor pool was heavily landscaped and looked like paradise, while her own garden was little more than a few fruit trees, bare now that it was the middle of February.

Aunt Millie had been a big believer that being outside could soothe the soul as nothing else could. When Sheri had been upset by her father once again missing a birthday or scheduled visit, Aunt Millie would lead her to the backyard and tell her stories of fairy princesses who lived in the garden under Sheri’s bedroom window.

She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind to her aunt. She wished she could feel Millie’s arms around her once again. She was so tired of being alone. Of facing every situation on her own.

She heard the sound of footsteps and glanced over her shoulder as Tristan approached. He looked grim, and she wondered if the paparazzi had followed them and were now camped out on his parents’ doorstep.

She stood up. “Is something wrong?”