Page 16 of The Stranger

“Who said I was joking? Fine. Sheesh!” I give a theatrical roll of my eyes and make the accompanying mime: my murderous lips are sealed.

When we make it to the Eurostar check-in, I can see Emmy is nervous. “Tell me more about the kids,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine.

“Felix is twelve and⁠—”

“A bit of a pain, as we’ve already established.”

“I was going to say he has a really quirky sense of humor. And Sylvie is six,” she says, rushing on.

“Great. No bum wiping.”

“It will only be a couple of couple of days. The agency might even get someone there by tomorrow.” She hitches the strap of her purse higher.

“It’s fine and it’s going to be good news about your dad,” I say, catching her hand briefly in mine. “And you’ll be back in Paris before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

“Trust me. I’m a doctor,” I say. “Call me when you get there,” I say, pulling her in for a quick hug.

At the turnstile, she pivots. “Sylvie can’t sleep without her pink bear, and Felix will give you trouble about showering.”

“Of course he will. He’s a boy.” I make another shooing motion with my hand.

“And the boss…” Her words trail off and she pulls a pained face. “Just remember, his bark is worse than his bite.” With that, she spins away.

Great. So Madeline is lovely, but she’s married to a dick. Isn’t that always the way? But I’ve coped with consultants and surgeons with massive egos and very real god complexes. I’m sure I can survive a weekend with one rich arsehole dad.

6

LUC

“Cancel the call with Nils Marchand and get Arturo to take the CEO of Villiers to dinner tonight.” As the front door closes, the hallway light dips. I drop my wallet on the console, my gaze meeting my assistant’s in the entrance antique Rococo mirror.

“You want your financial director to take Bernard & Marchand’s biggest competitor out to dinner?”

“Somewhere public,” I confirm. “Somewhere expensive. Gigi Rigalatto,” I suggest.

“But you hate that place.”

“I’m not eating there.” Because I neither want to see nor be seen.

“You’re looking to tank the deal.” Jacques’s brow furrows, and his tone carries more than a hint of accusation. I don’t bother to answer as I turn away, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. “I thought you wanted their brand under the du Beaumont umbrella?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” I reply. I’m just not ready to tell him so. Men reveal themselves remarkably quickly when they’re denied something they believe they’re owed. And Nils revealed enough last night to tank the deal himself.

The way he handled himself—the way he wouldn’t take no for an answer makes my blood boil. He made the girl, the woman, uncomfortable. And, apparently, that is where my capacity for compromise ends.

I force my mind way because I shouldn’t have been there. Then I wouldn’t have seen him, and I wouldn’t now be walking away from a hotel chain I’ve had in my sights for eighteen months.

For several years, I’d enjoyed the rare luxury of entering an Ardeo room without being du Beaumont—the acquisitions, the headlines, the money all coming before me. I’m not a father or a widower there. I’m not a target or a threat. I’m just a body, one that delivers and receives pleasure. After not visiting for so many months, of all the people I might have encountered there last night, Nils Marchand is the last I’d hoped to see. It was fucking inconvenient.

Nils knows precisely who I am, and worse, I know considerably more about him than I did a day ago. It feels personal, and I don’t enjoy admitting that.

My decision is nothing to do with the girl. The girl I’d gone to the basement looking for, but only to make sure she was safe. She looked so out of place. Beautiful and good. She might as well have been skipping through the place with a basket, asking for directions to her grandmother’s house.

And I hadn’t expected to find her so… enthralled. The catch in her breath. The delicate shiver that rippled through her and her whispered exclamation that dissolved into something perilously like a moan. The feel of her beneath my hands and the way her nails bit into my skin as though⁠—

I tear my mind away. “Where are the children?”