Chapter 9
Idump my things in my temporary accommodation and make my way back to the chateau when a message pings on my phone.
Luc
Impératrice still interested in coming out with us tonight?
My stomach flutters reading his name on the screen. A smile pulls at my lips reading the message. Aurora from a week ago would totally not believe this was happening to her.
Rory
Yes. Only, just a warning, tequila and I aren’t friends at the moment. So no matter how tempted I am, don’t let me have it *wink*
I hit Send, my muscles coil tighter and tighter as I wait for him to reply. Eventually deciding he isn’t going to, I pocket my phone as I unlock the wrought-iron gate and walk down the driveway. Today is my first full day at the chateau and I need to get to work. Jean-Luc and his silly padlock can go to hell for all I care; I’m not going to wait around for the six-month deadline to creep up. There is too much work to do. A fresh set of goose flesh dancing across my skin makes me shiver in anticipation. Even though I saw the chateau yesterday, it’s still just as breathtaking today, only now that the jet lag has started to wear off, I see just how bad a state it’s currently in. Not that I’d ever really considered how much work would go into fixing up a chateau. But boy, I wonder for the first time if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
My phone pings again.
Luc
Noted. No tequila. See you tonight
I put my phone back in my pocket and practically skip down the driveway overrun with grass. Did I mention I freaking love Carcen?
The farther I walk down the driveway, the bigger the chateau becomes. The turrets peek through the naked chestnut trees, one on each side with chimneys lining the tops of the turrets; the chimney caps form a ring around the roof of the chateau, like a navy-colored halo. The trees lining the driveway give birth to a giant semicircle of gravel leading to the gray stone staircase. The light tan brick walls stand solidly underneath a dark navy slated roof. From here, I count ten windows lining the front of the chateau. All broken, with rotting wooden frames. I find my suitcase tucked away where I left it yesterday, and all my painting supplies are safely still inside. I take the opposite staircase and put my hand on the stone rail. It gives a creak and I quickly remove it before the rail crumbles under my touch. A small pebble of dread turns over in my stomach. In the light of day, it becomes more apparent—it’s going to be a bigger job than I’d first thought, and my renovation skills are about as advanced as my French language skills. The six-month time frame starts to become a tighter noose around my neck.
But the sunlight does offer me one good thing. I can finally appreciate the mason-carved woodwork on the front door. The same flowers that adorned the hilt of the key had been chiseled into the wood. A brass lion’s head door knocker, larger than a dinner plate, sits in the middle of each panel. The lion’s face is dotted with moss from years of disuse. With the toe of my shoe, I hold the door steady and insert the oversized key, waiting to hear the click before opening it. The air seems fresher today and doesn’t set off another round of sneezing.
I need to make a list of things that need to get done straightaway. Pulling out a notepad and pen I’d brought, I note down the main things I need to focus on—water, heating, and electricity being the top three priorities. Internet would be nice as well, I write the fourth dot point down.
“Windows, how can I forget windows.” I roll my eyes and scribble it down on my list. When I was outside, I could tell half of the windows on the upper level were boarded up and various others were speckled with holes and cracks. I had no doubt I would need new appliances, fridge, oven, sinks, and bathtubs. And with the ever-present deadline looming, I take in a panicked breath, reading the page-long list of things that need fixing. I have my work cut out for me if I want to keep this, even from Jean-Luc.
I stop writing, my gaze surveying the giant fa?ade. “Wait, how many rooms do I have?” My phone beeps in my pocket. I pull it out and see a message from Luc. Cue the horde of butterflies in my stomach.
Luc
We will be at Le Margaux at 9
Rory
see you then
I finish sending the message and pocket my phone, a goofy smile plastered across my face. My eyes flick down to the growing list—only a crazy person would take on the restoration of a chateau on their own, especially someone with absolutely no renovating skills. At this point, I have no other option, especially until Jean-Luc decides to show his face; it’s all up to me. Even though I inherited some money from my dad, all of Louis’s money is contingent on Jean-Luc and I fixing the chateau up. There is no way I can live off the money, so my options are: fix up this chateau or move back in with Susan and kiss my somewhat failing art career goodbye…and probably a good portion of my mental health. I choose chateau.
I tuck the notepad under the crook of my arm, pen resting behind my ear, and make my way back outside. There is a whole chateau to discover, and I really don’t have a long time to do it in.
I stare at my newly purchased clothes and do a quick twirl in the mirror. Perfect. I tie my hair up in a high ponytail, letting the long strands rest perfectly down my back, and make sure to slick back any baby hairs that have decided to free themselves from the hold.
I cross the small room and pick my phone up from where it is charging on the nightstand and check the time.
“Oh shoot, I’m going to be late.” I have no clue where Le Margaux is. I type the name into Google Maps, before grabbing my small clutch. Thankfully, Le Margaux is only a short five-minute walk from my accommodation, although I’d prefer to be a few minutes late—it will make me look less eager. No more one-night stands, remember. Until my life is in order, I absolutely cannot fall prey to my bad decisions. Well, maybe.
The moment I step through the bar I see Luc, Pierre, and Madeline sitting at a corner table. Madeline waves at me, and an easy smile plays along my lips and I return her wave. A wall of thick winter coats catches my eye, and I quickly discard mine, add it on a free hook, and cross the distance to the group.
“You made it.” Luc is the first to greet me, planting a kiss on each of my cheeks. The heat of his hands warms my upper arms from the hold. I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up my throat. I’ve been in Carcen a total of forty-eight hours and someone is excited by my presence. Go Aurora.
“Aurora.” Madeline pulls me away from Luc’s grasp and kisses my cheeks.
“Hey, Maddy, move over.” Pierre pushes Madeline aside and kisses my cheeks. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than Luc here said.”
“Oh, umm?” My cheeks heat. He thinks I’m beautiful?
“Here, drink this.” Luc puts a shot in my hand.
“What is it?” I ask, staring at the suspiciously clear liquid.
“Not tequila.” He winks his golden honey–colored eyes at me and my panties flood. “I promise,” he says, and I quickly down the shot, needing the liquid to quench my suddenly dry mouth.
“Yum.” My tongue darts out to collect the drop from the corner of my lip. I watch Luc, Madeline, and Pierre down their own shots. Luc’s honey eyes heat over the rim of his glass while Madeline’s eyes sparkle as she laughs at something Pierre says. A slow hum works its way through my veins, and by the third shot, my inhibitions fade. A warm buzz licks along my skin, and somewhere in the middle I switch to sparkling water. I sneak a peek at Luc from under my thick lashes. Luc reaches across the table and clasps his hand through mine, threading our fingers together. Cue the butterflies.
“What do you do other than bumping into random women in town?” I ask, a flutter traveling across my belly at the way his thumb lightly rubs along my inner wrist. Right over my dad’s tattoo.
“Oh, didn’t you know, bumping into random women is kind of my specialty.”
“Interesting specialty.”
“It’s come in handy a few times.”
“Did they teach you to call them all…what was it?” I search through my jet-jagged mind. “Impératrice.”
Luc laughs and flashes his ridiculously panty-melting smile. It’s not hard to see this guy probably graduated summa cum laude of how to flirt with women. “No. Just you.” The corner of his lips kicks up, making my heart thump in my chest. I grab onto the edge of the table to steady myself. I swear, when Luc smiles, it causes earthquakes.
“And when you aren’t incredibly good at seducing women?” I take a sip from my drink, needing the iced liquid to cool myself down.
Luc shrugs. “I’m an architect.”
“OOOHHH…I wouldn’t peg you as an architect. You don’t look like one.”
“No?” He cocks his head. “What does an architect look like?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Mysterious, alluring.”
“Sounds like I’m some sort of superhero.”
“You’re like the Batman of scoring women,” I blurt. The moment the words leave my mouth, I instantly regret them. They sounded way better in my head.
Pierre whisper-yells, “Now all you need to see is his Batcave and his cover is blown.”
“Good one, Alfred, now I’m going to have to wipe her memory.”
“It’s okay, Batman, your secret identity is safe with me.” I wink at Luc, giving him the Scout’s honor signal.
“I don’t know,” he muses, pursing his lips together. “To protect the people of Carcen, it’s my civic duty to do what I must.” He quirks a finger, using it as a lure. “Come here,” he whispers. Like I have an invisible magnet attached to me, I inch close to Luc, leaning over the table until we are a breath apart. “The only effective way to keep my secret safe is with a kiss.” His eyes never leave my mouth, and I gasp the moment his lips touch mine.
My tongue seems to have a mind of its own, casually sneaking into Luc’s mouth. I expect him to pull away, but instead, he’s taken my invitation to deepen the kiss, his hand cupping my jaw. Luc is one hell of a kisser, and I think I might enjoy spending more time needing to keep his identity a secret. I’m sad when we break apart, his golden eyes on fire as they flick between my eyes and my lips.
“It seems your identity is safe for another day,” I say, breathless, staring at him from under thick eyelashes.
“I think I need to be sure.” He grasps my wrist, and from the little movement, I am already up and out of my seat and straight in his lap. The instant my thighs meet his, he sucks on my bottom lip as his hand moves to cup the base of my head while the other returns to my jaw. I run my fingers through this short hair, lightly tugging on the strands. His clove and warm spice scent wraps around me like a comfortable blanket.
“Luc, you can’t just hog her all night,” Madeline groans, breaking us apart.
“Come on.” She links her arm through my elbow. “I love this song, let’s dance.”
“Mads, no one else is dancing?” Luc scans the small bar, his reluctance to let me go evident.
“That’s just going to make it more fun,” she replies, not caring.
I slide off Luc’s lap, dot a quick kiss on his cheek, and follow her. We dance until my legs hurt. Madeline makes me laugh so hard my sides almost split until I have to tap out in need of some water. A smile so big is plastered across my face. I’ve not even been in Carcen a few days, and it’s already starting to feel like home.
As I walk back into my old seat, Luc grabs my hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To my chair.” I point to the seat.
“Yeah, it’s right here.” He guides me between his open legs and sits me down on his thigh.
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “Don’t tell Madeline this, but she’s a horrible dancer.”
“Oh?” I take a sip from my drink. “I hope I wasn’t as bad?”
“You?” His eyes widen, his teeth lightly pressing into his bottom lip. “Were a vision to watch. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
“You really are an undercover superhero.” I laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever clicked with a guy on the level I am with Luc.
“I think we need to do another mind sweep,” he replies, tucking some of my loose hair behind my ear.
“If you think so.” My breath hitches, and I run my tongue along my bottom lip, excited as Luc tangles his fingers through my hair and his mouth descends on mine. I could get lost exploring him forever. An annoying buzzing sound has Luc pulling his lips from mine, and he looks over my shoulder, talking to someone in French. I scan the room and see that it’s mostly empty. Pierre and Madeline seem to have gone home too. Luc nods, his torso falling a little as his bright honey eyes meet mine.
“It seems the bar needs to close.” He dots a kiss on my cheek, his hands rubbing warm circles up and down the back of my arms.
“What a shame,” I reply, unfurling my fingers from his shirt. Luc’s hair is wild from having my fingers run through it. I giggle, trying to hide it behind my fist, it’s a good look on him.
He cocks his head to the side. “Is it?” Clearly his mind is thinking along the lines of mine. But I want to make Carcen my home, and that won’t happen if I start to become that girl.
I clear my throat. “What’s my share?” I ask, looking between Luc and the bartender.
“It’s already taken care of.” Luc stands, causing me to take a step back so he can have more room. “Besides, Pierre was paying.”
“Didn’t he say you were paying?” My heavy feet take slow steps to the coat rack, where I reluctantly dress.
“Yes. But his football team lost against mine, so he lost the bet. I believe you would call it soccer.”
“Well, I have to thank him the next time I see him.”
Luc finishes zipping up his coat, before grabbing my coat and pulling me to him. “Just one more, I need to make sure tomorrow I’m not going to have the Carcen Gazette running an article with my face on the front.”
“By all means,” I whisper against his lips. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Getting my life in order can be tomorrow’s problem.