Two Nights in Paris Page 5

  Uh-oh. He turned slowly back around but couldn’t read her expression.

  “Roselle, close the door on your way out, please.” Sylvie leaned back in her chair and watched Stephan.

  Roselle did as she was asked, and Stephan came to stand before his mother like a man before a tribunal.

  “I was told that you and Roselle have been eating lunch together every day. Is that correct?”

  “Not every day. We’ve only eaten together twice,” Stephan said defensively. Who was talking to his mother about him?

  “Only lunch?” She arched a groomed brow.

  “Of course, Mother. We only have an hour.” He flashed a grin.

  “A lot can happen in an hour.”

  His grin disappeared. He didn’t want to think about what she meant. Despite his mother having four children, he preferred to think neither of his parents knew anything about sex, especially with each other. “True, but we only have lunch.”

  Sylvie stood and came around the desk to stand before him. “I like the idea of you traveling to France to work with Roselle. It will be a good experience for you, and you can make sure she has a good time—sees the sights and all that, as much as one can see in such a short period of time. I like her and want to make sure she takes time to enjoy herself. I don’t get the impression that she does that very often.”

  Interesting how both women admired each other.

  “Please be on your best behavior.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “No, you’re not. Don’t make me regret sending you on this trip.”

  “I’m shocked you’d say that.”

  She arched her brow again, making it very clear that she did not fall for his phony act of being offended. “I love you, Stephan, flaws and all, but make no mistake, I do know what your flaws are. I should have told you this before, but keep away from the models.”

  “You make it sound as if I can’t control myself. And by the way, I haven’t seen any models since I’ve been here.” Sadly.

  “Tell me you will not sleep with the models.”

  “You will not sleep with the models.” Sylvie’s lips tightened. “Oh, you mean me. I will not sleep with any of the models,” he amended.

  “I will not sleep with any employee of SJ Brands or SJ Media.”

  His smile wavered, and his mind immediately went to Roselle. He had plans for her. “Not any? That’s a lot of people.” At her stern expression, he reluctantly recited, “I will not sleep with any employee of SJ Brands or SJ Media.”

  “Good. And to make sure that you don’t do any of the above, I’ll add a condition to our agreement. If you break your pledge to me, I will change the date on the disbursement of the money in your trust fund.” She walked around her desk.

  “What! That’s my money. January first, after I turn thirty, I get my money.”

  In addition to being a savvy businesswoman, Sylvie was a calculating investor, hiring only the best minds to manage her assets. She had set up trust funds for each of her children, which ensured that on January first after they turned thirty, they each received over a billion dollars in cash, real estate, stocks, and other assets. He’d been counting on that money to make him independent of her purse strings.

  She crossed her legs and tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. “It’s not your money until it’s disbursed to you. One call to my attorney and I can have the date changed.”

  “But you won’t do that,” Stephan stated, though it was really a question.

  “When have you ever known me to make idle threats?”

  Never. His stomach heaved in panic mode.

  “Behave yourself, and you won’t have anything to worry about it. I especially want you to stay away from Roselle, is that clear? She’s a nice young woman, and I like having her around.”

  “I heard you, Mother,” he grumbled.

  “Excellent. All you have to do is exercise self-control, Stephan. If you have no control over your impulses, how can I trust that you’re mature enough to handle that amount of wealth? You may squander it. Prove to me that you’ve changed, and you’ll get the proceeds from the trust on January first, as planned.”

  She was serious. He saw it in her eyes. Goddammit.

  “I can do that,” he said evenly, smiling through gritted teeth.

  “I know you can. Now, you should get home and prepare. Maybe take the day off tomorrow. You’re leaving for Paris tomorrow in the evening.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night, my darling,” she said cheerily.

  Stephan stalked out of her office, muttering a stream of curse words under his breath.

  As much as he wanted Roselle, no way was he missing out on a partial disbursement of his inheritance. His sisters had already collected theirs, and he was damn sure going to collect his, too.

  “Hi, auntie,” Roselle said to her great-aunt, Betty Parker.

  “Hey, baby,” her great-aunt said.

  Her clothes were much looser on her now, and her eyes weren’t as bright, but that smile could light up the darkest night. People said Roselle had inherited her great-aunt’s smile, which was a huge compliment if that were true.

  She bent down and hugged the older woman’s frail body in the wheelchair. Betty sat by herself on the back porch of the nursing home where she been living for the past four years. Roselle knew it frustrated her that she was no longer able to take care of herself, but the facility became a necessity after she fell at home and was unable to call for help. Roselle found her over twenty-four hours later, dehydrated and stinking of urine.

  Thanks to a good salary and strict budgeting, she was able to place her great-aunt in Covent Gardens and no longer had to worry about her when they were apart. She usually came to visit on the weekend but made a special trip today because she was leaving the country tomorrow.

  Her relationship with Betty was more that of mother and daughter. Betty had taken care of Roselle since she was sixteen years old when her mother sent her away after the sexual assault that rocked their community. Betty had held her while she cried and wiped her tears. If it weren’t for her Aunt Betty, she’d have no one in the world, so she treasured their relationship, holding onto it tight.

  She’d only seen her mother a few times since she left, and not at all in the past five years. Their relationship was irretrievably broken, and her heart grieved that it would never be repaired.

  “What you got there?” Betty asked, pointing her finger at the box in Roselle’s hand.

  Roselle sat down and crossed her legs. “A little something for you.” She lifted off the cover and pulled out a colorful silk scarf. Her aunt loved scarves.

  Betty’s eyes widened in excitement. “Is that a Sylvie design?”

  Roselle nodded. “This one I designed myself, and it’s only in the most exclusive boutiques around the country.”

  “Oh, my, my, my. Ethel is going to be so jealous.”

  Roselle laughed.

  Until Betty came along, Ethel won bragging rights at the nursing home in the grandchildren department because her granddaughter was one of the youngest Superior Court judges in the country. However, there wasn’t much to show off except the occasional times her granddaughter’s name appeared in the newspaper.

  On the other hand, Betty continuously bragged that her grandniece was first a fashion designer and now a fashion director at one of the top brands in the world, and occasionally she gifted Betty with items from the various lines. Roselle had to admit that she thought their rivalry was hilarious and enjoyed fueling it by bringing in clothing and accessories her aunt could show off to her friends.

  “Don’t rub it in her face too much.” Roselle looped the scarf around her aunt’s neck.

  Betty lifted her shoulders into the delicate cloth. “It’s so soft.”

  “It’s pure silk.”

  Betty took one end and rubbed her cheek. “This is so nice. Thank you, baby.” Her thin fingers reached over and patted Roselle’s hand.
<
br />   “Glad you like it.”

  It gave her so much pleasure to do something so small for her aunt, particularly after everything she had done for her. Thanks to Betty, she earned a degree in fashion design. Thanks to Betty, she didn’t wilt away into depression.

  Her stint at SJ Brands started only five years ago as an in-house designer. She’d been nervous and unsure of herself, but a couple of years in, Sylvie had shown particular interest in her and changed her whole life. Now she oversaw two of the fashion lines, and she was on her way to Paris to work on a deal Sylvie had handpicked her for.

  Aside from visiting her aunt, her job was her life, and she flourished in a career that she loved. But there were times she yearned for more, yet didn’t dare reach for what she wanted.

  “You ready for Paris?” Betty asked.

  “I’ve been ready. I asked Miss Sylvie if I could stay an extra day, and she said that I should definitely do that and do some sightseeing.”

  “That’s so exciting! I can’t wait to see your pictures. So it sounds like you’re ready to go.”

  “Yes. I have my passport, and I’m staying in the company apartment.” Roselle pulled up the photo gallery on her phone. “This is the apartment I’ll be staying in.”

  “That’s so beautiful.” Betty squeezed Roselle’s hand. “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. I know there is much more for you to do.”

  “Miss Sylvie’s son, Stephan, will be coming with me.”

  “I thought his name was Reese?”

  “Reese works in IT. Stephan is her older son. He’s new to the company and started in business development.”

  “Well, that’s nice. What’s he like?”

  Roselle shrugged nonchalantly though her pulse rate had picked up. “We get along fine. We’ve had lunch together a couple of times. I won’t need a translator with him there, and he’s been to Paris before, so I’ll practically have my own tour guide.”

  “Sounds like everything is working out perfectly. You’re going to have a wonderful time!”

  Roselle laughed, the thought of Paris invoking excitement and a sense of adventure. “I know I will. It’s Paris!”

  Chapter 8

  Stephan tucked Roselle’s carry-on bag into the overhead storage compartment. He wore dark denim pants and a fitted gray T-shirt that stretched across his chest and cupped the biceps in his arms. Roselle struggled not to stare. He looked good in anything.

  He stepped aside so she could sit down next to the window, and she settled into the spacious first-class seat. She was on her way to Paris! The City of Light, the City of Love. Excitement thrummed through her veins as she looked out at the tarmac where airport employees hustled around, directing air traffic or loading luggage onto the planes.

  Beside her, Stephan grumbled something. “What did you say?” she asked.

  He leaned away from the aisle as other passengers came aboard and walked past.

  “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

  “What’s ridiculous?”

  He stretched his legs and moaned. “Having to fly commercial.”

  She gave him her full attention. “How do you normally fly?”

  “One of the family’s planes or I charter a flight.”

  “Why didn’t you charter a flight this time?” Roselle asked.

  Stephan gave her a sidelong glance. “Honestly, because I can’t afford to throw around money like that anymore. I’m on a budget.” There was quite a bit of bitterness in his voice.

  “I guess this isn’t a self-imposed budget?”

  “Smart and funny. You’re quite the catch.”

  Roselle rolled her eyes. “You’re always joking. Are you ever serious?”

  “Who says I’m joking? You are smart, and you are funny. You don’t think so?”

  Was he making fun of her? “I’m not funny.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Oh, so you think you’re smart?”

  “I—”

  “I’m kidding. I’m picking on you.” His face grew serious. “In case you didn’t know, you’re smart, funny, pretty, and sexy, and I’m dead serious about that.”

  His voice had dropped so low, she felt the vibrations deep between her thighs as if he’d rested his mouth there while he spoke.

  Roselle swallowed. “Nice line,” she said quietly.

  He trapped her with his gaze, and her heart raced as she waited for his reply. His response shouldn’t matter so much, but it did.

  “I say a lot of things, sometimes true, sometimes not true. I’m not perfect, I’ve done a lot of crap I’m not proud of. But I’ve been honest about my interest in you from the beginning. And you’ve made it plain that you’re not interested. I have to admit, it bruised my ego because I’m not used to being turned down.”

  “So have you finally given up?”

  He rested the back of his head against the seat and closed his eyes. His jaw grew tight. “Yeah. It’s in my best interest to stay away from you.”

  Roselle blinked. She hadn’t expected that answer. Flooded by unexpected disappointment, she returned her attention to the activity outside. Airport employees continued milling about, and a plane came cruising in and landed on the runway.

  She had wanted him to give up, but now that he had, she didn’t feel as relieved as she should.

  “Got any big plans for tomorrow?” Stephan asked.

  Roselle shrugged. “Nothing much. My birthday is the day after tomorrow, and staying an extra day in Paris is my gift to myself.”

  “Your birthday is the day after tomorrow?” Stephan stared at her in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “How old will you be?’

  “Thirty.”

  He gaped at her. “That’s a milestone birthday. Why didn’t you say something before?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t make a big deal about my birthday.”

  “What does that even mean? No party? No cake?”

  “I don’t need any of that.”

  “Come on. We could have made plans.”

  “These are my plans. I’m going to spend the day in Paris.”

  His eyebrows elevated. “My birthdays are a week-long celebration.”

  “That’s not too bad. I know people who celebrate all month long.”

  “So do I, but that’s too much celebrating, even for me.” He frowned. “But you have to do something for your big day. I know, why don’t you come out to the club with me tonight? I’m meeting a friend at a popular nightclub. Great place, lively music, fine crowd. You’d like it.”

  She wasn’t much for going to clubs and partying. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Come on, you can’t stay in the apartment all night.”

  “I don’t plan to, but I want to at least take a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Of course. You can’t go to Paris without seeing it up close, but our apartment is in the seventh arrondissement, in the heart of the Left Bank. From any of the windows, you’ll be able to see La Tour Eiffel. Come with me to the club, and I’ll make sure you see La Tour Eiffel up close tomorrow.”

  La Tour Eiffel. That was the first time Roselle had heard him speak French, and with a perfect accent. It was so darn sexy.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said again.

  “I’m not giving up until you say yes.”

  He angled his head toward her a little bit, and a mischievous smile crossed his face, and of course, she blushed. He unnerved her and made her feel out of sorts, as always, without trying.

  “I’ll think about it,” she repeated.

  Stephan sighed. “All right. Make sure you get some sleep on this flight. The time change will mess you up. When we arrive in France, it’ll be six in the morning, and our first meeting is at nine.”

  “I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

  “Trust me, even a short nap will help.” He rested his head against the seat back again and closed his eyes.

  Roselle studied his profile. She di
dn’t think she’d be able to sleep on the trans-Atlantic flight. Not when she was so eager to see Paris, and certainly not with the man beside her taking up so much of her thoughts.

  Roselle did sleep on the plane and snapped photos from the airport to their final destination.

  “We are here,” their driver Sébastien said. He was a tall, swarthy-skinned man with prominent muscles under his black uniform, who looked like he doubled as a bodyguard and probably did.

  They rolled to a stop in front of the building. Sébastien exited the vehicle and opened the door on Roselle’s side, giving her a helping hand as she descended from the car. As Stephan also climbed out, the driver retrieved their bags and escorted them to the front door where he punched in a code.

  Inside, he left them after a thin man about Roselle’s height immediately approached. He wore a black vest, black slacks, and a white short-sleeved shirt. From the briefing she’d received, she knew he was their butler.

  “Monsieur Brooks, Mademoiselle Parker, welcome.” He clasped Stephan’s hand and then hers.

  “Giles, you haven’t changed a bit,” Stephan said.

  The other man laughed. “You are kind. I have a few more gray hairs since the last time I saw you, and I’ve had too much bread and pastries.” He patted his flat stomach.

  If that’s what bread and pastries did to one’s body, she should incorporate them more into her diet.

  Giles lifted their bags.

  “Never too much of that,” Stephan said, following behind Giles.

  The three of them squeezed into a small elevator, and Roselle stood in front of Stephan. She was acutely aware of him—his presence, his height. When they exited, they walked down the hall, and Giles let them into the apartment. When Roselle walked in, her mouth fell open. The apartment had apparently gone through a renovation.

  The decor was classic French, light and bright with white or cream-colored chairs and sofas, gold drapes at the windows, and gold-framed mirrors on the walls.

  “It’s two floors?” she said, turning to look at Stephan.

  He nodded. “One bedroom upstairs and one downstairs. Which do you want?”