Chapter 40
40
19 DECEMBER
Loud banging wakes me up. Squinting, I check the time. It’s not even six. Our first guests aren’t due to arrive until later in the day. I throw a jumper over my PJs and slip on my boots and head to the lobby to see who is making so much noise so early in the morning.
Is that Margaret and Francois-Xavier?
Mon Dieu. Margaret’s arms are flailing and Francois-Xavier has his crossed tight against his chest. Uh oh, my literary agent is giving him a mouthful and by his scrunched up features he doesn’t like it one little bit.
I twist the lock and they spill inside.
‘Now you listen to me, you snivelling, snide sex fiend…!’
Sex fiend? I press my lips together to stop laughter escaping.
‘ Excusez moi! You cannot talk to me in such a way. I demand you stop.’
I stand between the pair. ‘Francois-Xavier, what are you doing here? And Margaret, I didn’t realise you were arriving so soon.’ Although, I should have expected it. She wants to read Chloe’s manuscript.
‘I’m here because this is my hotel, my dream, my…’
I sigh. ‘Don’t start all that again.’
‘But I love you,’ he says, in his best beseeching tone that used to sway me and now makes me cringe.
‘Where’s the manuscript? Point me in the direction of the secret library,’ Margaret bellows. ‘I’ll take a café crème.’
I shoot Margaret a look. The very last person I want to know about any of this is Francois-Xavier.
‘What do you mean, secret library?’ he asks, calculation shining in his eyes. He’s probably already counting euros in his head.
‘It’s nothing,’ I say. ‘It’s, uh… the new name of the hotel.’ Margaret gives me a tiny nod to acknowledge her mistake.
‘And the manuscript?’ He laser-focuses his gaze directly at me. How did I not see this shrewd side of him early on?
‘ My manuscript, obviously. Margaret is my literary agent, as you well know.’ I keep my voice modulated so he doesn’t pick up on my lies. If he knows there’s the potential for a pay day, I’ll never get rid of him. If all goes according to plan, he’ll hear about it in the press, but that’s a worry for another day, a less important day.
‘Is that so?’
Margaret purses her lips as her complexion pinks. She’s going to blow if I don’t put a stop to this and get him on his way.
‘Today is a very big day. We’re welcoming our first guests, so if there was nothing else?’
Francois-Xavier leaps forward and pulls me into his arms. I let out a surprise bark of shock. ‘What are you doing !’
‘Please, give me another chance.’ He nuzzles my neck, a move that used to drive me wild and now makes my skin crawl. Suddenly my family’s warnings all make so much sense! Did he act as smarmy as this when I fell for him? It’s so obviously a ploy.
‘Get your slimy hands off her!’ Manon yells. Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better. ‘I warned you about the chokehold, did I not? Now you leave me no choice but to…’
‘Everything OK here, Anais? I heard yelling?’
I want to cup my head and scream. ‘All OK, Noah. This guy is just deciding whether he’ll leave or suffer a chokehold.’
‘Ooh, this is Noah,’ Margaret says, winking at my neighbour.
Kill me.
Manon grabs Francois-Xavier and has him on the floor in one quick sweep. She loops her arms around his neck in the next breath. Not long after, his eyes pop out of his head. Do I look that unattractive when Manon practises her submissions on me? It’s not a good look, but I worry she’s going to cut off the oxygen to his brain, and violence is never the answer, so I say, ‘Tap out or she won’t release you!’
Francois-Xavier reluctantly taps the parquetry floor and Manon pulls her arms from his neck.
‘Who is he?’ Noah asks with a curious frown.
‘I. Am. Her husband,’ Francois-Xavier sputters as he pulls himself up, trying to catch his breath.
What is he playing at? ‘Ex-husband. The one who drained my bank accounts and slept with half the women of Paris, that ex-husband.’
‘Ah.’ Noah gives me an understanding nod. ‘I’d offer to escort him out for you, but Manon has this covered, more’s the pity.’ He gives me a cheeky smile.
‘Would you like an arm bar next, Francois-Xavier? Or a foot lock?’
‘Manon!’ I’m all for getting rid of him but she’s enjoying this far too much.
‘I’m leaving,’ Francois-Xavier says, ‘I’m leaving.’
Manon can’t help herself and has one more parting shot. ‘Anais has already replaced you so there’s no point trying to win her back.’
His eyebrows pull together. ‘Replaced me with who?’
Manon jerks a thumb at Noah.
‘That guy?’ Francois-Xavier explodes. ‘He’s a misogynist of the finest order.’
What? ‘You don’t even know him,’ I say, hoping I’m right.
‘ Oui, I do. After my last visit I went into his bar. You know to take the edge off, because you… you broke my heart, Anais.’ His voice cracks with emotion that I presume is all fake. ‘And I got into everything with him. He agreed that women are not worth it. That the world would run more smoothly if women kept quiet and did as they were told.’
‘ Noah? ’ I ask, my heart dropping. If this was a romance novel, this would be the misunderstanding that drives the couple apart while the reader rolls their eyes at their stupidity. This is real life and Noah isn’t that type of guy. No one who cares about Chloe the way he does, about a love story as special as hers, would say such a thing. ‘Actually, don’t answer that.’
Noah gives me a reassuring smile, like we’re already a team, a team of two. I get a flutter deep in my belly at the thought. ‘No, let me explain. He did come into my bar, but I didn’t know who he was, and I didn’t recognise him today either until he spoke about the misogynistic stuff, which I hate to say happens every now and then. There’s a certain type who prop themselves up at the bar and drink to forget their mistakes. They get sad and sloppy or mean and nasty. I learned early on to let them talk, to be agreeable for the sake of other patrons in the bar. They’re mostly itching for a fight and I’m not there for that, and so the best way to handle it is to nod and water their Scotch down with soda water.’
‘You watered my Scotch down? That’s criminal.’
‘So sue me.’ Noah gives a lofty shrug.
‘You can’t fight stupid,’ Manon says with a laugh. ‘But you can take their money. Very clever, Noah.’
We’re interrupted by a woman wheeling a suitcase towards us. ‘Hello, erm, everyone. Is this The Secret Library Hotel?’
‘ Oui .’
‘I’m Renee. Checking in for the next few weeks.’
Our first guest! ‘Welcome!’ I motion for her to walk with me towards the reception desk, but she’s rooted to the spot, gaze going from face to face. ‘You’re staying in the suite called Meet me in Paris . On the bookshelf in your room, you’ll find the book by Juliette Sobanet.’ It’s such a sweet touch, I hope the guests get as much enjoyment out of the themed suites as we’ve had searching for the perfect Paris memoir to highlight their stay.
‘Great. I hope I do meet someone in Paris. Maybe a hot French guy.’ With that, she gives Francois-Xavier a wink.
The smoke alarm goes off in the middle of the night and I wrench the covers from my bed and race downstairs, tumbling into our guest, Renee, who wears a sheepish look.
‘Sorry, I lit a cigarette in the dining room, figuring everyone was asleep, and doesn’t everyone smoke indoors in Paris?’
‘Ah.’ I grimace. ‘Not any more. And we do have other guests staying here. The dining room is a smoke-free zone.’
‘Right. Can I have one of those cheese platters brought to my room? I am allowed to smoke on the balcony, am I not?’ Her voice is suddenly clipped.
I check the time; it’s almost three in the morning. Why does everything weird in the hotel happen then? ‘Erm – sure, cheese platter coming right up. And oui , you can smoke on the balcony if you want, but not in the suite.’
‘Yeah, yeah. And a bottle of wine.’
‘A bottle of wine what?’
‘To my room.’
‘Oh, right, OK.’
Merde! I make a note on the computer system Manon has set up so the cheese platter and wine are charged to Renee’s room and start preparing it. The life of a hotelier is really a twenty-four-seven gig. I only hope the noise of the alarm didn’t wake the family of six who are staying on the third floor.