Chapter Five #2
“I was still about nine years old last year. I don’t think I grew up until I went to Paris,” she added. “I was so… helplessly…”
“Helplessly what?” he asked, after her voice had trailed off.
“Helplessly confused and poorly dressed,” she settled.
He laughed.
“Was that funny?” she asked, eyes wide.
“I thought so, but I also have a lowbrow sense of humor, or so I’ve been told.”
Flora laughed.
This was all too much like a fairytale to be real.
About twenty feet away, Clara was talking with Tyson and Anna Brooks, Jane’s parents. The new and unwanted dog—who came with the name Precious—was yapping at their feet.
Clara was complaining about Finn’s work habits when Tyson paused mid shrimp bite and narrowed his eyes.
“Who in the world is that?” he asked, locking in on something he saw in the distance.
Tyson was an imposing man—his scowl could have frozen the Great Lakes in summer—and he would do anything to protect his princess, Jane.
Clara turned and saw Roman on the dance floor with someone. At first, she didn’t know who.
Her mind was racing.
She had seen that girl before, but where?
“I think I’m getting senile,” she muttered to herself.
Then it hit her.
“Oh dear Lord,” she breathed, hand to her chest. “It’s Flora!”
Flora Fairchild.
Clara nearly choked. Flora looked like a completely different person. This was all well and good—Clara loved to see improvement—but Roman’s hand was on Flora’s lower back.
A wave of heat came over her.
She mustered a smile. “Oh, that’s just Flora, the chauffeur’s daughter! She’s known Roman since she was a little girl.”
Tyson paused and swallowed his shrimp. “She didn’t look like that when she was a little girl.”
Tyson and Anna were watching Flora and Roman like it was a performance. No one could look away. A trainwreck, perhaps. A sinking ship.
Clara, feeling faint, pressed her hand to her head, and began a desperate search for her eldest son.
“Finn!” she cried in no apparent direction. “Finn! Have you seen Finn? Has anyone seen Finn?”
Finn was inside with investors from Tokyo. Ignoring Mrs. Kent’s advice to take the night off, he’d turned it into a business opportunity. There was a reason Woodhouse was doing so well.
Finn worked.
Clara passed the office window. He was inside taking a blowtorch to their newest phone launch, crowbar in his other hand. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, a pair of goggles strapped across his face.
“Now, take this crowbar to the VR headset,” he was saying. “It won’t break.”
She hurried inside.
“I like your mom’s idea for the chandeliers outside,” Flora remarked. “She really has a knack for this sort of thing.”
“You’re changing everything,” Roman replied.
“What do you mean?” Flora asked, furrowing her brow. “Changing everything?”
“I am finally seeing things clearly.”
He leaned in closer.
Flora backed away. She was more entranced with the party decorations than him at that moment.
“What are you doing later?” he asked.
Finn and his mother were at the window of the office.
“Do something, Finn!” Clara shouted, a nervous wreck. “Tyson and Anna are right there! The entire merger could blow. We have investors who are counting on this, the company is counting on this.”
“Get him in here. Now.”
Clara hurried outside to get Roman away from Flora and into Finn’s office. She found him at the bar and dragged him from the scene.
“Roman, what do you think you’re doing?!” Finn snapped as soon as he walked in. “Right in front of your paranoid future in-laws. You are flirting with Flora Fairchild. Do you have no sense?”
“I can’t marry Jane!” Roman said immediately, in an all too convincing voice.
“Roman—”
“I can’t do this! I wasn’t sure I wanted to anyway. You’ve both pushed me into it.”
“You proposed on your own accord, Roman,” Finn fired back. “No one held a gun to your head.”
“Flora is standing right there and boom! It hits me. Flora Fairchild. I’ve been blind all along. Have you seen her?”
“Yes, I’ve seen her, you idiot. We grew up together!”
“No. I mean have you seen her? She’s gorgeous. She’s like an angel. Where did she get that hair? And her eyes—they’re like sea glass.”
“She has always been pretty, you were just blind,” Finn replied evenly.
“You do not get to flip sides this late in the game. You had twenty-three years to figure it out. It wouldn’t be a big deal if you weren’t engaged to Tyson Brooks’ daughter, whose company we are essentially taking over.
This is bigger than your sudden epiphany. ”
“I think I love her.”
Finn groaned and shoved him into the nearest chair.
The champagne flutes in Roman’s back pockets shattered.
A cry of agonizing pain, shards of glass all over the floor, Clara screaming, Finn dialing 911.
Roman fell forward with a thud, shouting that he was dying.
The ambulance showed up and took him before anyone could even process what had happened.
Thirty minutes later, Finn stood at the window, contemplating how long Roman would be out for and watching Flora. She was sitting outside, still waiting for Roman. Loyal to the end.
Loyal or not, Finn knew she was now a problem.
A problem he had to deal with.
A very pretty problem, but a problem, nonetheless.
He’d always liked Flora as a person—she had something about her—but now she was in the way.
Of the biggest takeover of the century.
“Finn,” his mother said behind him, “go tell her that Roman had an accident. Be nice. She’s a dear sweet girl and I shouldn’t like to see her upset. Just take care of it as best you see fit.”
She disappeared.
Finn was left to solve the growing crisis.
He was much better at business than people. He wasn’t particularly sentimental—feelings had been squashed early, after his pet rabbit, Aragorn, died and he wasn’t allowed to have a funeral. Things had spiraled from there.
He grabbed his jacket and made his way to where Flora sat reading.
“Flora,” he said, approaching from the side. “Hi. Roman has had a bit of an accident.”
He knelt by her chair, and she got that same frightened look she always did when he was around.
“He sat on glass. He’s at the hospital.”
“Oh my goodness! Should I go? Is he alright?” she exclaimed, reaching for her purse.
“Roman wanted you to enjoy the rest of the party,” Finn replied, gently stopping her hand. He felt her go still at his touch. “We aren’t visiting him until tomorrow. Doctor Freedman is there, and he’ll be fine.”
“My goodness, how horrible…” Flora winced. “I can’t imagine. Glass in your—” She smirked for half a second, then stopped. “Terrible.”
“Yes, well,” Finn said, faintly amused, “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Right…” she said, clearly not interested in sticking around.
“Finn!” someone called. “You’re outside. Are you feeling alright?”
Finn turned for a moment to acknowledge the person. When he looked back, Flora was gone—a flash of red rounding the corner near the old sycamore tree.
As he watched her go, an idea formed.
He knew it was going to be difficult to execute, especially with Flora’s behavior towards him—which was stiff at best—but he thought there may be no other option.
“Did you tell her?” Clara asked, approaching from the side.
“Yes, Mum,” he replied. “She took it… well enough, I suppose.”
“Be nice, Finn. She’s a young girl who’s been following Roman around for the better part of her life.”
“I will be nice. But I’m not about to lose a merger worth billions. I don’t care what she did to her hair.”
***
The next morning, Finn was in the kitchen pantry rummaging for cereal before a business meeting when Rosa and Flora rounded the corner.
Flora sat at the table and opened a box, Rosa peering over her shoulder. Finn was hiding, not wanting to get caught in conversation, but interested to see what Flora might say about last night. He needed as much information as he could get if this was going to work.
“This is the Seine, but I assume you knew that,” Flora said, “and all my friends and I walked across it almost every day. It’s the most famous river, the one you see in all the movies, you know?”
“Who’s this?” Rosa asked.
“Uh…” Flora’s voice hitched a little. “Alexandre.”
“Alexandre!” Rosa cried, ignoring her comment about the Seine entirely. “Was that your friend while you were there?”
“Yes,” Flora replied quickly. “For a time.”
“Oh, he is very handsome,” Rosa said, holding the photo up. “Such a beautiful man! What a mustache! And you were very in love?”
Rosa was known for asking everyone intruding questions about their love life. She once asked Finn if he ever planned to make babies to keep the company going. He’d just stared at her like a deer in the headlights.
“Um…” Flora shrugged. “Well… I’ve never been in love before, and while I don’t profess to be an expert, I don’t think that was it. Plus, we broke up pretty quickly.”
“Why?” Rosa asked, sounding mortified.
“Well, he really liked me and I was leaving. It was too hard for him to stay knowing I was coming back here, and that he couldn’t be with me… permanently.”
“Oh, how romantic!” Rosa cried.
“Not really.”
As far as he knew, Flora had never once had a guy around, so this was interesting news. Especially considering the current situation.
Flora continued through her photos, showing Rosa all of them. Finn could only see slivers of her work through the pantry door, but she was incredibly talented.
He thought briefly about bringing this Alexandre character to the US.
He’d hire him as Woodhouse’s PR photographer or something, pay him handsomely.
Alexandre was the most logical step in getting Flora away from Roman, and typically, Finn was all business, but the idea didn’t stick for some reason.
Maybe because there was a chance that Alexandre wouldn’t be enough to keep Flora away from Roman.
Finn needed something airtight. Something he could control.
So, his plan would have to move forward as is.