The Paris Trip: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After he’d released Maeve from the studio, sure that she must be heartily bored now of sitting for him, not to mention starving, Leo returned to stare at the painting he had been working on. It was not finished. But he’d made a good start. At least, he had felt good about it at first, painting like fury. Then, slowly, energy had drained out of him, and he knew it was partly the news about his father that was to blame.

Why the hell had he shared such private information with Maeve? It was none of her business. She wasn’t one of the family. Yet, in that instant, it had felt like the right thing to do. The only thing to do, in fact.

Maeve was a sympathetic person. But not overly emotional, thankfully.

He couldn’t have handled more emotion on top of the churning turmoil he already felt inside.

Telling Maeve about his father’s marriage had made his own emotions easier to bear, at least for a short while. It had acted like a safety valve, releasing a little pressure before it could build to bursting point.

Leo stood in front of the painting for another half hour, fiddling with it, lightening areas that were too dark, shading areas that were too bright, and making the colour more subtle, especially around the face. He wanted a certain look, Maeve’s lightness of being…

A knock at the door disturbed this intense work.

He felt aggrieved by the interruption. But he also knew he still had responsibilities. He couldn’t simply shut out the world while he became a painter again.

‘Come in.’

Liselle appeared in the doorway, glancing about the studio. ‘Has she gone?’ she asked, semi-ironic, flicking back her hair.

‘As you see.’

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Liselle these days. On the one hand, she was a good manager, and he needed someone to take charge of his painting career. It would be stressful and a waste of his energy to find someone new. Someone trustworthy. And Liselle was trustworthy, he had to give her that. At least, she had been so far.

But her unpredictable nature and petty jealousies were becoming an issue. He had dismissed that side of her in the past, too intent on the family business to worry about such trivialities. But then, he hadn’t shown any interest in other women during that time either. So Liselle’s behaviour had remained within reasonable bounds. She had occasionally attempted to seduce him, and he had rebuffed her advances, and thus a state of uneasy tension had existed between them. But never outright war.

Now though, with Maeve sitting for him, Liselle was probably angry. No doubt she must be furious that her long patience had not paid off,

She probably also suspected that Maeve was his lover.

Maeve, in his bed…

Everything inside him tightened at the thought. He wanted the Englishwoman. But he also knew he couldn’t have her. She might have kissed him back outside her room, but only because she’d been so tired and the kiss had taken her by surprise. She wasn’t his type, he reminded himself again, irritated that he needed to drum that fact into his brain. Besides, Maeve would be going back to Britain soon and he would never see her again. He could do without that kind of emotional complication in his life. And if he acted on those urges, Liselle might lash out at Maeve, and that would be devastating too. He couldn’t bear the thought of Maeve being hurt because of his stupidity.

‘Are you sleeping with her?’ Liselle demanded, her gaze sharp on his face, flagging up that she knew what Leo had been thinking.

The woman was a human X-ray machine.

Balancing the paintbrush carefully on the palette, he thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Of course I’m not. I’ve only just met her. Besides, what kind of question is that?’ He paused, frowning. ‘Even if I were, it would be none of your business. You’re my manager, Liselle, not my keeper.’

‘A good manager keeps an eye on their clients’ private lives as well as their work,’ Liselle snapped back, and tilted her head to one side, a deliberate move that drew attention to the locks of glossy Titian hair tumbling over sun-kissed shoulders. She had bare feet and was wearing a tight white tank top coupled with minuscule shorts. He was aware of how sexy she looked. Yet it was strange how Maeve in some shapeless tent of a dress was a thousand times more desirable than Liselle in next to nothing…

‘And I’m worried about you, Leo,’ she went on, her voice coaxing now. A change of tack, no doubt designed to distract him from her true purpose in visiting the studio. Because he was sure she had some hidden agenda; it was in her eyes, the look of someone with a secret to share. ‘You’ve not been yourself since that woman arrived.’

‘I thought you’d be happy that I’m painting again.’

‘I am,’ she said hesitantly, and came in closing the door behind her. ‘I just don’t want you getting sidetracked.’ Her gaze shifted to the canvas, which was not visible to her, but she didn’t ask to see. She knew him better than that. ‘Paint her, yes. Fall in love, no.’

‘Fall in love?’ he scoffed.

‘You forget… I know what you’re like, Leo, and how your heart works.’ She paused. ‘Maeve is vulnerable. She’s lost and alone. She need someone to help her.’ Her hungry eyes devoured him. ‘That ticks all your boxes, doesn’t it?’

There was enough truth behind that accusation to make him flush with annoyance. ‘Was there something you wanted? Other than to disturb my work?’

‘Actually, yes.’ The malicious look in her eyes died away, replaced by something like wariness. ‘I’ve got something to show you. You’re not going to like it. But you need to be aware.’

‘If it’s about my father getting married and coming on honeymoon to Paris,’ Leo drove back at her, ‘you’re too late. I already know.’

She blinked, looking taken aback. ‘Your father got married?’

‘Yes, to a woman half his age. Some young model called Chanelle, for God’s sake.’ He stared at her, perplexed, his brows tugging together. ‘If that’s not why you’re here, then what are you talking about?’

Liselle messed with her already perfect hair, a sure sign that she was agitated. Then scrolled through some screens on her phone and thrust it towards him. ‘I’m here about this.’

He didn’t understand. She was showing him a report in some online magazine. He came closer, and stopped dead on seeing his own face there. And Maeve’s too.

It was a photograph of them sitting close together in the booth at Chez Jean, their hands almost touching. The caption under the photograph read, Popular artist Leo Rémy dines out with his new English girlfriend, Maeve Eden.

Swearing, he seized the phone and read the rest of the scurrilous report. ‘Pictured together at popular city bar Chez Jean… The couple enjoyed an intimate dinner before returning to Chateau Rémy, where Mademoiselle Eden is staying while in Paris.’

He tossed the phone back to her and stalked to the window, glaring out across the rooftops of Paris. ‘I’m going to strangle Jean,’ he said thickly. ‘I saw him take that photograph. He swore he hadn’t but clearly he lied. And this is the result.’ Fury rocked him. ‘How could he do this to me? My own cousin. Well, he can kiss goodbye to his job. Chez Jean is no more. It can be Chez Alphonse, for all I care.’ He gave a hoarse crow of laughter. ‘Or Chez Bernadette. Yes, my sister might do a good job.’

‘Jean must have been desperate for cash, that’s all I can think. Or desperate for publicity.’

Leo sucked in a breath, remembering that evening at the bar. Had he brought this situation on himself by not being sensitive enough to his cousin’s problems?

‘I’m going down there to see him.’ He ushered her out of his studio and shut the door behind them. ‘I can’t simply let this go. I need to have this out with Jean right away.’

‘Let me go with you,’ Liselle said, following him along the corridor.

‘No.’

‘I’m your manager, Leo. Remember? This kind of publicity… It’s good for you in some ways.’ She ignored his furious protest, speaking over him. ‘Look, I agree Jean should never have taken that photograph or released it to the press. But if this drums up public interest in the exhibition –’

He spun on his heel. ‘Did you put him up to it?’

‘No, God, no. But I do need to find out who else he’s spoken to about you and Maeve, if anyone. So we can be forewarned.’

He wasn’t sure he believed her. She loved publicity and he wouldn’t have put it past her to coax Jean into sneaking a shot of him with Maeve… But he had no proof of that. Besides, as she’d pointed out, she was still his manager, so this business concerned her too.

‘Fine, then come along,’ he said reluctantly.

Chez Jean was half full. He found his duplicitous cousin laughing and chatting with customers as he served them dinner. Leo stood a few feet away, glaring at him, arms folded, until Jean caught sight of him and straightened, his look nervous.

‘I want a word with you,’ Leo said grimly.

Wishing the customers, ‘Bon appétit!’ Jean hurried towards the kitchen, pushing through the double swing doors just as Leo strode after him, catching his arm.

‘I… I can’t talk now,’ Jean insisted, trying to pull free. ‘We’re too busy. We’re short-staffed today.’

‘I don’t care if you’re running this place on your own,’ Leo told him bluntly, ‘you’re going to sit down and talk to me right now.’ He propelled him back towards an empty table and pressed his cousin into a seat. ‘Wait there.’

Flagging down a passing waiter, he ordered three cognacs.

As he turned back, he found Liselle already seated beside Jean, whispering in his ear. Taking the seat opposite them, Leo tried to suppress his temper. What was she saying to him? Had she secretly organized that photo finding its way to the press?

He leant forward so he could keep his own voice discreetly low too. ‘Liselle showed me the photograph you took. She says it’s all over social media. Why did you do it, Jean?’ His cousin flinched, glancing at Liselle. ‘I understand your resentment towards me. That’s always been obvious. But Maeve? She’s a victim in all this. She’s been stranded in Paris with no passport, no money, not even any clothes. I took out to dinner to make her feel better. And you’ve built that up into be some grand romantic gesture.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s our guest. How could you behave so badly towards her?’

‘I never said you and her were together… I sold the photograph to an online magazine, yes. And maybe a few other places too.’

‘What?’ Liselle exclaimed, looking annoyed.

‘But I only gave them her name,’ Jean finished hurriedly, seeing Leo’s face harden. ‘I didn’t suggest that you and Maeve were an item. That’s just the spin they put on it.’

‘You’re lucky I don’t beat you to a pulp,’ said Leo.

‘Do it,’ Liselle muttered.

‘What, and give him another photo opportunity? He’s trading on this situation, on my name, in order to promote himself. And why? Pure jealousy.’

‘Me? Jealous of you?’ Jean gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head. But there was a glint of temper in his eyes. ‘You’re talking rubbish, Leo. As usual.’

‘Is that so?’ Leo had himself back under control. He surveyed his cousin coolly. ‘You think you’re better than this place, don’t you? You think you should be running the wine-tasting at the vineyard, not a corner bar in Paris. That’s what this is all about.’

Jean didn’t reply at first, but pulled a face, looking away. His earring caught the light. Then he exploded, ‘All right, you’re not wrong. I do think I’m better than manager of a café. I’ve taken Chez Jean as far as it can go. Is this it for me now? Am I going to be here for the rest of my life?’ He slammed a hand down on the table, his lips drawn back to bare his teeth. Leo thought his cousin looked almost feral. ‘You have everything, Leo. You have power and money and influence. But me? I have a few waiters to boss around, some kitchen staff to keep in line. It’s not enough. I’ve got so much potential. You need to trust me more. Give me work that fits my abilities.’

‘What he needs to do is kick your backside around this bar and out into the street,’ Liselle snarled. ‘You could have materially damaged Leo’s public profile with that photo.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Jean jerked back in his seat a little too violently. The chair fell backwards and his cousin disappeared below the tablecloth.

Leo half-rose and leant over, watching with a frown as Jean struggled to get back up. ‘You okay there? You need a hand?’

‘No, I’m fine.’ Flushed with embarrassment, Jean set the seat upright and sat down again, though with marked care this time. ‘The thing is, people have been talking about you, Leo. Saying you’re washed up. That you haven’t had a real exhibition in years.’ He glanced angrily at Liselle. ‘I did him a favour, selling that photo to the press. Now everyone’s talking about him again. And that exhibition you’ve got lined up? You watch, it’ll be a big success now.’

Leo regarded him coldly. He couldn’t deny that what Jean said was true. Notoriety did publicise an artistic exhibition more than good behaviour. But his temper wasn’t lessened. ‘Maybe so. But Maeve didn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. They put her name on that press report.’

Jean shrugged. ‘So?’

‘There may be people back home in the United Kingdom who’ll see that. As you said, it’s doing the rounds on social media. She works as a teacher. Did you never think that photo might be damaging to her career? Being seen with someone like me? I’m hardly respectable, am I?’

‘Ha, nobody cares about that kind of thing anymore.’ Jean dismissed his criticism with a rude gesture. ‘She’s more likely to be promoted.’

‘Nonsense,’ Leo said flatly. ‘And what if she has a boyfriend back home? What’s he going to think when he sees that?’

Jean lowered his gaze to the table. ‘Okay, I get your point.’ He hesitated. ‘Though Maeve doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who has a boyfriend, if you see what I mean.’

‘Actually, I don’t.’ There was a dangerous note in Leo’s voice.

The waiter arrived with their order. Liselle accepted her cognac from the waiter, her gaze fixed on Jean’s averted face.

‘The real point, Jean,’ she said, ‘is that you worked against the family by putting out that photograph and making it look as though Leo and Maeve are having a relationship. Not only against the family, but me too.’ Fury flashed in her eyes. ‘That wasn’t very friendly, was it?’

Jean said nothing.

‘Now we have to decide what to do about it,’ Liselle went on.

‘There’s no we. I shall decide,’ Leo told her.

Jean gave a burst of disbelieving laughter. ‘You can’t sack me, Leo. Your grandmother would never allow it.’ His look was almost gloating, for it was true that Grandmère had a soft spot for Jean.

‘My grandmother doesn’t run the business,’ Leo pointed out softly, ‘I do. And while, yes, she may favour you as her brother’s only son, that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy when she sees that photograph you took. You know how highly she prizes the Rémy family name. In fact,’ he added deliberately, ‘I’ll be surprised if she ever wants to talk to you again after this.’

His cousin was looking troubled now. He shifted uncomfortably, taking a deep gulp of his cognac. ‘All right, yeah, let’s say it was a mistake. But you can’t blame me. I was angry because you’d spoken to me so sharply. I… I wasn’t thinking straight. But you can’t sack me for it, Leo.’ He leant forward, bitter desperation in his face, ‘What would I do? How would I live?’

‘You should have thought of that before you sold my private life to the press.’

There was a stir behind him. Leo saw people’s heads turn towards the door. Liselle choked on her cognac. Jean stared over Leo’s shoulder, his eyes widening, a look of sudden trepidation on his face.

Before he could turn to see what was happening, a familiar voice called across the bar café, ‘Leo, my son!’ It was his father’s voice, deep and authoritative. ‘Just the man I came to see. Come, let me shake the hand of one of Paris”s most infamous artists... How long has it been, eh?’