Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I’ll get him back, and I’ll find whoever did this.
“I read all about the differences between American and French weddings in a magazine,” Nicolette explains as we head downstairs. “I’m looking forward to the wedding procession.”
On the day of a wedding in Paris, the groom typically picks his bride up from their future home before the ceremony. The procession is led by musicians, the bride, and the bride’s father. As they head toward the church, children lead the way with white ribbons they stretch across the road, a would-be barrier for the bride. She cuts the ribbons with scissors as she heads to the church, symbolizing her cutting her way through obstacles that could threaten the wellbeing of their marriage. When my cousin Ambre was married, she used a blow torch, but her younger sister Céline ducked under the ribbons.
Ambre is the one still married.
“I’m looking forward to the croquembouche,” Nicolette says with a wink. “We have cake in America, but a pyramid of cream puffs sounds so much better. Oh! Did they decide to do something more modern like macarons instead?”
I shrug. I have no idea. “My family’s pretty traditional.”
“I gathered that.”
I don’t like that I’ll have to share her this evening, that others will get to feast their eyes on her. Before we enter the ballroom for the rehearsal, I tug her into the doorway to my father’s study. I frame her face with my hands as voices come closer. Instead of admonishing me or flushing with embarrassment, she grins in excitement.
“Kiss me, then.”
I tip her chin up, my mouth a mere breath away from hers. I relish the way her lips part and her eyes flutter closed like the batting of butterfly wings. I kiss one lid then the other. The voices draw nearer. I brush my lips across her cheeks. She tenses. Just as the sound of voices seems nearly upon us, I close my mouth over hers.
Then…nothing.
“Where’d they go?” Nicolette asks, her eyes wide and probing.
“To the entrance to the hall, which is right….” I point my finger over her shoulder. “Before you get here.”
“You knew we wouldn’t be caught.”
I shrug. “More like I don’t give a fuck if we are.”
“Ah,” she says softly, almost to herself. “Maybe I need more of that in my life.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
I don’t tell her what I really think, that what I need more of is her in my life.
We have people to talk to, plans to lay, and information to find out.
We step back into the main foyer.
“It’s a small gathering tonight,” I tell her. “Tomorrow, we’ll have hundreds. So this works out well because it’ll be easy to talk to my cousin.”
“Hundreds?” she whispers. Maybe we’ve finally found something Nicolette is afraid of.
“Hundreds don’t matter,” I whisper to her. “All you need to do is focus on me and behave yourself.”
Her eyes sparkle at me. “You say that as if it’s so easy.”
CHAPTER TEN
Nicolette
I suppose I should be afraid, or scared, or at the very least, apprehensive.
But I’m not. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a glamor magazine. I still can hardly wrap my brain around two million dollars.
I’m not proud of the fact that there are a lot of things I’d do for much less than that, but it’s true. I need this money, and it isn’t just about me, either.
Savannah needs me. She needs our money. If I only stay this course, and do what I promise, I can improve our future forever.
Sleep with one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever met? Not too difficult.
Make his family believe we meet innocently and we’re a couple? Piece of cake.
Steal an artifact worth two hundred and fifty million euros as Fabien’s accomplice? Well, now we’re complicating things, but every time I take a new client, I become whoever they want me to be.
I can do this.
The thought of actually being an accomplice in a crime that could send me to jail for years… nah, I won’t think about that.
Think of Savannah. My younger sister with the ready grin and softest heart, who depends on me for everything, deserves a home she can call her own. A safe car to drive. Clothes that don’t have holes, that weren’t bought at a thrift store or donated to a shelter.
Savannah likely hides much of what she does to survive—as do I—but I know she needs this money.
I imagine I’ve been hired to play a role. No more, no less.
He doesn’t love me, but we can pretend to be lovers.
I don’t love him, but I can feign affection and fondness, even passion.
I’m not a thief, but I can pretend to be savvy and professional.
I repeat to myself, I can do a lot for two million dollars.
His family home takes my breath away. It isn’t just the fastidious attention to detail from the thick, plush carpet beneath our feet to the decadent bouquets of flowers on every surface, the abundance of staff inside and on the grounds, or the exquisite artwork everywhere I look. There’s a certain air about the place that speaks of comfort and luxury.