Honeymoon in Paris (6 page)

From what I’d seen of Vincent’s older actor son, Nicolas, he was different—more secluded, more reserved, but every bit as handsome as his younger brother. Nicolas hadn’t been in as many blockbuster hits as Marcel, and he seemed to shy away from the press for the most part. It was Marcel’s face which was constantly splashed all over the front of every French tabloid, a new emaciated model or actress on his arm each time.

Like father, like son.

As Vincent talked in hushed tones back in the corner of the bar, I shot a subtle glance over to where Luc and Brigitte had been sitting, but Luc was already on his way back over to me.

Luc leaned down, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulder. “I don’t want Vincent around you anymore, Charlotte. Please go up to the room and wait for me there.”

“Could this have something to do with the fact that Vincent was
married
to your mother?” I whispered. “I don’t know if this is normal in France, but it’s sick that Brigitte would even consider dating your ex-step-father.”

“I never considered him my
step-father
. He was married to my mother for only six months before she discovered that he was cheating on her. I haven’t seen or spoken with him since then. But I am not surprised that he has
chosen
Brigitte.”

“I don’t exactly see this relationship lasting,” I said dryly as I eyed Brigitte flirting shamelessly with the bartender. “Besides the fact that she’s obviously using Vincent to get back at you, I get the feeling that Vincent isn’t actually
in love
with Brigitte either.”

“Of course he’s not. He doesn’t love any of the women he dates. He’s a chauvinist, and he’s only using the women for sex. I don’t want you around him for another second, and I will never allow
Adeline near Brigitte as long as she is dating him. They are up to no good. Now please, Charlotte, go upstairs while I finish talking to Brigitte.”

“How long do you think you’ll be?”

Luc rubbed his forehead in his hands and mumbled a French obscenity under his breath. I’d never seen him this serious or this angry before. “I don’t know. It could be a while. There are some things I have to find out from her. It has to do with Adeline, and it’s extremely important.”

“Will you please fill me in on all of this later, Luc?”

“Of course,
ma chérie
,” Luc said as he brushed his thumb over my cheek and kissed me on the forehead.

Swiveling on my sparkly heel, I stalked out of the bar and focused my gaze straight ahead. I did
not
want to see the triumphant look Brigitte surely had plastered across her perfect little face as she watched me leave the bar alone.

When I reached the lobby, a whiff of the cool autumn breeze rushing in through the front doors of the hotel called to me. I turned away from the elevators and instead charged through the double doors, sucking in the chilly night air like it was water.

Leaning against the side of the hotel, I closed my eyes and tried to process everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. More importantly, I tried to tell myself that I hadn’t made a mistake in tying the French knot so quickly. Clearly the huge secret Luc had kept from me last year—that he had a daughter—wasn’t the only thing he’d been hiding. Yes, he’d told me that his parents had divorced when he was a teenager and that he and his sister hadn’t spoken to their father in years, but he’d never elaborated beyond that.

This latest revelation—that media mogul Vincent Boucher had been in business with Luc’s dad, only to later marry Luc’s mother, and now was dating Luc’s ex-wife—had my head spinning. I thought
my
family was out of control.
This
was a total mess.

What had I gotten myself into?

“You must be cold out here in that tiny dress.” It was Vincent, his deep, cool voice rattling me from my thoughts.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m fine.”

He reached into the breast pocket of his gray suit jacket and pulled out a cigarette. “Would you like one?”

I shook my head. “Don’t smoke. Even though it’s practically a sin in France not to.”

He chuckled. “
C’est vrai.
I like a woman who doesn’t smoke, though. It’s classy.”

“Brigitte smokes, I assume?”

He raised a brow. “Are you implying that she’s not classy?”

“Assume what you will—all I was asking is if she smokes.”

A devious smile peppered his unshaven cheeks. “Only after sex.”

“That’s a detail I could’ve lived without.”

“You asked.” Vincent took a puff of his cigarette, then proceeded to eye me up and down. “You know, I wasn’t lying in there when I said that you wear that dress
quite
well. Better than Brigitte, I must say. She is too thin to wear something like this. But you…” He trailed off, his intense gaze traveling up my body. “I understand why Luc married you so quickly. I would’ve too.”

“As you pointed out before, you don’t have the best track record with marriage. And judging by the way you’re talking to me out here, with your girlfriend just inside, I can see why.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I adore women too much to be with just one.” He took a step closer to me. “I hope I am not making you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’ve been living in France long enough to be able to hold my own with overly forward French men. But since we’re on the topic, what makes me just a little bit sick is that you were married to my husband’s
mother,
and now you think it’s acceptable to date his
twenty-five-year-old
ex-wife.
While
hitting on his current wife no less. As if this were all totally normal.”

Another puff of smoke billowed from Vincent’s lips. “The women in these scenarios have all been willing participants. In fact, Luc’s mother, Michèle, was the one true love of my life. I loved her even before Pierre did.”

“Interesting. Is that why you cheated on her?”

Vincent flicked his cigarette to the ground, a hardness settling into his jaw. “Luc may think he knows everything about what went on between me and his parents, but he is wrong. He was only a teenager then, only a boy.”

“Cheating is cheating.”

“Why don’t you ask Luc about what his father did to him and his family before you judge my actions. You don’t even know me, Charlotte. We only just met this afternoon.”

“I’ve got a pretty clear picture already. And I know that my husband doesn’t want me talking to you.”

Vincent took another step closer, his hard eyes boring down on me. “Is that why he’s inside drinking with his ex-wife, on
your
honeymoon?”

My cheeks blazed with heat. “What are you doing with Brigitte? I can see by the way you look at her that you’re not really in love with her. Don’t you think it’s time you leave the women in Luc’s life alone?”

“Brigitte and I have an arrangement that works for both of us, and as for love, well, she will never love me.”

“Why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious,
chérie
?”

Suddenly Vincent cornered me against the wall, the strong scent of his aftershave making me dizzy as he ran a finger down my cheek.

“She’s still in love with Luc. And she always will be.”

FIVE

A loud car engine revved up behind Vincent, giving me an opportunity to step out from under his powerful hold.

The sleek black sports car came to a stop right in front of the hotel, causing a few giggly French teenagers passing by to stop and stare. Vincent walked toward the car, and within seconds, his ultra-famous, incredibly sexy older son, Nicolas Boucher, appeared.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Dressed in dark, fitted jeans and a black sweater that accentuated his magnificently cut arms and chest, Nicolas gave his father a solemn nod then smiled at me.

Lexi was going to kill me.

“Who’s this?” Nicolas asked in French as he ran a hand through the mop of dark hair that framed his rugged face.

Vincent placed a cool hand on my shoulder. I stepped away. I didn’t care about being polite anymore. I didn’t want that man’s hands on me.

“This is Charlotte. And Charlotte, this is my oldest son, Nicolas.”

Nicolas took a step forward and kissed me on both cheeks. After the second kiss, I noticed the cameras that had descended upon us. The paparazzi were back.

“So it’s finished with Brigitte?” A chill laced through Nicolas’ tone as he stared his father down.

“No, Brigitte is inside talking with your old friend, Luc Olivier. And
this
is Luc’s new wife.”

Nicolas’ face paled as he looked from me to his father.

“
Mais qu’est-ce que tu fous
?”
What in the hell are you doing?
Nicolas growled in his father’s ear.

Vincent gave his son a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “
Calme-toi, mon fils,
” he said sternly.
Calm down, son
.

Nicolas shrugged his father’s hand off of him. “Are you coming to the premiere party tonight? This is a big night for Marcel. He really wants you to be there.”

“I have to check with Brigitte first,” Vincent said. “I have a feeling she may not be available tonight.”

“She’s
starring
in the film,” Nicolas said, his tone annoyed. “She doesn’t really have a choice, does she?”

“A woman always has a choice.”

“Spare me your bullshit, Vincent. Are you coming or not? It starts in an hour.”

“Excuse me for one moment while I go check with Brigitte.”

Vincent and the overwhelming scent of his aftershave disappeared, leaving me alone on the sidewalk with Nicolas Boucher and three picture-hungry paparazzi.

Without warning, Nicolas grabbed my hand and led me to the passenger side of his fancy sports car. He opened the door and leaned into my ear. “You’ll be safe from the photographers in here.”

I hesitated. Luc thought I was upstairs in our hotel room. If he found out I’d been hanging with the Bouchers, let alone climbing into cars with them
while
being photographed, we’d be having serious words later.

“Please, Charlotte. There’s something important I’d like to ask you before my father and Brigitte come back. And it will only take a minute.” Nicolas did not possess the aggressive sleaze factor that his father did. The look in his eyes was sincere, and these camera-wielding maniacs weren’t going to back off any time soon.

I climbed into the tiny car, hoping I wasn’t going to create a massive marriage fight by doing this. But something told me that whatever
Nicolas was about to say wasn’t going to creep me out the way his father had. I was also hoping that he could fill in some blanks as to what else had gone down between his family and Luc’s, since it was becoming clear that Luc wasn’t too eager to tell me the whole story.

Nicolas cranked up the heat, then swiveled toward me.

Suddenly a vivid scene from the last movie I’d seen him in flashed through my head. He’d played a troubled musician with a drinking problem. And in this particular scene, à la
Pretty Woman,
he’d made love to a woman
on
a grand piano.

Oh, God.

Focus, Charlotte, focus.

“
Ça va?
”
Are you okay?
he asked.

“Just a little warm. Could you turn the heat down?”

“Oh, of course. It’s just that you had goose bumps on your arms. I thought you were cold.”

“I was, but…”
But then I had a vision of your toned, naked body and a piano…
I reached for the door handle. “I’m sorry, I have to go find Luc.”

Nicolas laid a warm hand on my arm. “Please, Charlotte. Just give me one minute.”

I took a deep breath and forced the sex scene out of my mind, telling myself that Nicolas was a real person and that was only a
movie.
After Nicolas said whatever he had to say to me, I would get out of this car, find my husband, and we would forget any of this mess had ever happened.

“What do you need to ask me?” I said, registering the stress on Nicolas’ handsome features.

“First, I want to apologize for my father. I hope he hasn’t said, or
done,
anything inappropriate to you. Judging by the look on your face when I drove up, I assume it is too late for that.”

“Your father’s not very subtle, is he?”

Nicolas shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No, my father has never been able to keep his words
or
his hands to himself in the
presence of a beautiful woman, no matter how complicated that might make his life. I am nothing like my father. I’m sure you picked up on this, but we don’t get along very well. Anyway, I didn’t ask you here to tell you the long story of why I don’t care for my dad or for the way he treats women.”

“So what
do
you want to ask me?”

Nicolas cleared his throat, nervously tapping his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure how much Luc has told you about our friendship, or about our family history, but Luc and I were best friends in school—before my father screwed that up. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Luc for years, but he won’t return my calls. He wants nothing to do with me or my family, and there’s something important I found out recently. Something Luc
needs
to know. I’m aware that I am a complete stranger to you, Charlotte, but when my dad introduced you just now as Luc’s wife, I knew I had to try to reach him through you.”

“What is it?”

Regret traced Nicolas’ brow, the lines around his stone gray eyes creasing as he spoke. “Luc’s father didn’t deserve to go to prison. He was innocent, and if Luc will give me a chance, I can prove it.”