Chapter Eleven
ADAM WAS SURPRISED at how tense he felt on his wedding night.
Outwardly, the day had gone well. His mother and sister had warmed to Gisèle, enthusiastically entering into the celebrations, as if their earlier private questions about the rush to marry had never happened.
Gisèle’s brother had been civil if standoffish, but that wasn’t surprising.
Most importantly, Gisèle had been there.
He’d wondered if she’d show up as promised. Especially as he hadn’t had a chance to see her before the ceremony.
He’d returned to Paris to find his mum and sister had arrived unexpectedly from Australia, despite his suggestion they wait for him and Gisèle to visit them in a few weeks. He should have known his mother would insist on attending, even if it was supposed to be an elopement wedding.
So he’d spent last night with his family, unable to track down his bride-to-be. His inability to contact her had unsettled him. He’d spoken to her daily while away, yet yesterday couldn’t raise her.
What if she’d decided to renege? He’d been on tenterhooks until he saw her with her brother, appearing mere moments before the short ceremony.
Adam huffed a breath out of tight lungs, remembering his relief. He lifted a hand from the car’s steering wheel and raked his scalp. Beside him in the passenger seat his bride was a silent presence.
Even in the dark he knew she wasn’t dozing after an evening convincing their families that they were, if not love’s young dream, then at least happy to marry.
He recalled the moment they’d been pronounced husband and wife and he’d leaned in for a kiss. Gisèle hadn’t exactly stiffened but her lips hadn’t moved. Her eyes, a bright accusing blue, had bored into his, and she’d stepped away as soon as possible.
Leaving him regretting his decision to go to New York, knowing he’d erred, yet annoyed that she held a grudge.
Wasn’t she glad to see him?
He’d read disdain in that formal kiss and today’s cool, distant smiles. In her refusal to carry a bouquet or wear a veil. Even in her choice of dress, not bridal white but a deep, vibrant pink his mother called fuchsia, that looked to him like a declaration of independence.
Gisèle was arresting in the colour. The fitted knee length dress with its deep V neckline was perfect on her. It was fashion as a statement.
Look at me, feminine and powerful, sexy and definitely no pushover. My own woman.
It didn’t take a genius to know she wouldn’t make this easy for him.
Even if she’d charmed his family with consummate ease. It was his mother’s first trip to Paris and Gisèle had been warm and engaging, suggesting excursions, answering endless questions about France.
It was only when she turned to Adam, beside her, that her smile grew brittle.
All evening, as they’d dined in the prestigious restaurant high in the Eiffel Tower, she’d held herself stiffly. Oh, she’d laughed with his family and her brother, but with Adam the curve of her lips was belied by the cool blue of her eyes.
He had a lot of catching up to do.
It had been a mistake, leaving her in Paris. An even bigger mistake not to return until the wedding. But at the time it had felt imperative.
The discovery that she’d been a virgin on top of what she’d faced in the past had been a punch to the gut. A punch of conscience.
For once Adam hadn’t thought through his decision. He’d acted solely on instinct that told him to give her space. If he’d stayed they wouldn’t have left the bedroom for days. That wasn’t the way she deserved to be treated.
More, it was clear he’d done badly, pushing a woman who’d already dealt with so much into what she’d called his devil’s deal. He’d felt sick hearing her story of betrayal and sexual predation.
Gisèle might have initiated their lovemaking, but an inner voice told him he should have resisted. She’d been shaken up mere hours before, reliving past horror. She’d been vulnerable.
Adam should have held strong. Better if he’d returned to his suite or hit the pavements of Paris to pound some restraint into himself.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Out of town for a few days. Somewhere the press won’t badger us.’ He was sick of paps snapping photos whenever they appeared in public. ‘Your luggage has gone ahead.’
He felt her sit straighter. Because he’d arranged it without asking her? If she’d been around to ask he would have. But Gisèle didn’t complain. She’d learned to choose which battles she’d bother fighting.
He admired that. Despite the regrettable tension between them, he looked forward to persuading her to forget her annoyance.
‘That won’t be convenient for business.’
‘We’ll have a break.’
‘A honeymoon?’ Did he imagine her voice cracked? ‘That’s hardly necessary.’
Adam disagreed. But he’d choose his way carefully. He’d made errors and had a lot of ground to make up with his wife.
Satisfaction filled him at the word. Wife.
When he didn’t respond Gisèle continued. ‘You’ll go stir crazy without work. You have meetings, conference calls and reports all day. In the evenings we’re always out so you can network or wheel and deal. You never switch off.’
It was true. Adam hadn’t built his success by resting on his laurels. But he didn’t correct her to say their busy social schedule wasn’t all about business. Much of it had been showing off the prize on his arm—Gisèle Fontaine, classy, desirable and socially accepted, the face of his prestigious new acquisition.
‘The change will do me good.’
Angela had been at him for ages to take some down time.
‘Hmph.’
She didn’t sound convinced and he wasn’t ready to admit his priorities had shifted. Success was still vital but it didn’t hold the same urgency as the need to be with Gisèle.
Adam smiled grimly at the fantasies he’d harboured about honeymooning with his new wife. Gisèle had been a lot more amenable and welcoming in those.
They’d left the city when Gisèle spoke again. ‘Tell me more about why you wanted Fontaine’s.’
He glanced across to find her twisted in her seat, watching him. Funny how dissatisfying it was that his bride was more interested in business than in them.
And wasn’t that a change for him?
‘I told you. I saw an opportunity for long-term profit.’
‘Your mother told me how thrilled she was that you were acquiring it.’ Gisèle paused. ‘She said when things were tough after your father died, her big treat was a day trip into the city, window shopping. Getting her makeup done for free by a Fontaine’s representative.’ He felt her gaze on him. ‘She said it was a family day out, trying free samples in the stores and picnicking in the park.’
‘You think I acquired it out of sentimentality?’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps subconsciously that made me consider a cosmetics company instead of dismissing it out of hand. But my decision was based on sound business factors.’
‘Was that all?’
Adam started. She couldn’t know what had convinced him was the film clip of her, arousing every possessive instinct. Making him want.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You once spoke about it being an elite company. About that being important and I wondered...’
When he didn’t respond she turned to stare through the windscreen rather than at him. Much as he disliked being probed, he preferred her attention on him.
‘I should have known better,’ she murmured.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re good at asking questions and demanding answers. But you don’t give much away about yourself.’
Whereas she’d laid herself open with her revelations of past pain. Despite her vulnerability, Gisèle had been strong enough to share her trauma with him. But when she asked the simplest question he avoided answering fully.
Because admitting to weakness or pain threatened the image he’d built of himself over the years as capable, able to overcome any difficulty, always successful.
Your success isn’t doing you much good now, is it? Gisèle isn’t interested in the tycoon, just the man. Which sets her apart from most women you know.
‘You’re right,’ he admitted. He overtook a lorry then changed lane, eyes on the road. ‘When my dad died I told myself I was the man of the family, responsible for looking after my mother and sister. I got in the habit of keeping troubles to myself, dealing with problems alone.’
He paused. ‘You really want to know what drew me to Fontaine’s?’
‘Of course.’
Adam’s pulse quickened as he let himself remember those early days. The perpetual struggle to prove himself with the odds stacked against him.
‘We had some tough years, very tough. Mum didn’t earn much as a cleaner and some families she worked for ripped her off, paying less than they should. I told you about the rich kids at the school near our place and that I didn’t envy what they had. That was true. But I suppose I developed a chip on my shoulder, dealing with some of them.’
He paused before continuing. ‘It got worse when I left school to work full time. I got a job for a wealthy local and worked hard. But he found creative ways to exploit his workers and overcharge his customers. Eventually I left and set up in competition. It was David and Goliath stuff. I wasn’t a threat to him, not then. But that didn’t stop his son and some mates trying to beat me into deciding to stop when I won a small contract he’d assumed he’d get.’
‘Oh, Adam!’ The warmth in her voice was all he could wish for. ‘Is that when you broke your nose?’
He hadn’t realised he’d lifted one hand from the wheel to rub his nose. It was a habit from the old days, one he’d left behind years ago.
‘It is. Three against one wasn’t good odds. But I’d got some of my startup money as a bare-knuckle fighter and knew what I was doing. They were pampered louts.’
Unlike the aggressors, he’d walked unaided from the scene.
‘It made me even more determined to make a go of it. As for the nose... I could have got it reset, but it didn’t bother me. In fact, it was a reminder that I could face anything. That was useful every time I took a big risk, or some privileged git tried to put me in my place.’
‘That happened often?’
‘Enough.’ It was surprisingly easy to share with Gisèle, sitting in the dark together. ‘In the early days I was rough and ready. I didn’t try to fit in or play nice. I was too focused on winning at all costs, to help my family and build the company.’
Because he wouldn’t rest until his family was safe and his mother could stop the draining hours of menial work.
‘Maybe I was too proud, playing up that maverick image rather than trying to fit in with the sleek, self-satisfied oligarchs who dominated the commercial world. I’d go to business functions and hear comments about being uncouth, undesirable, lacking in class. The sort of thing those thugs had said when they tried to beat me into giving up my dream of success.’
His skin burned as he recalled their smug contempt. ‘Now my corporation is thriving and I wanted another challenge. I decided this time I’d find something that stood out. Something with a renowned, revered name.’
‘Something to show the establishment you’d made it?’
Adam shrugged. ‘It wasn’t quite that simple. I had a hankering for something different.’
‘A perfume and cosmetics company is definitely that. It’s nothing like the rest of your portfolio.’
‘Variety is the spice of life.’
‘Do they still call you that? Uncouth?’
‘Still? I have no idea. I don’t pay attention to them. I’ve left most of them behind. But the press like to trumpet my outsider status when it suits a headline.’
The silence extended so long he thought Gisèle wasn’t going to say any more.
‘So you went to the effort and enormous expense of acquiring a troubled French company to prove yourself to people who no longer have influence over you?’
She made him sound needy for external validation. His mouth firmed.
‘Maybe that chip on my shoulder is bigger than I thought.’ He hadn’t thought of it that way before. ‘But the kicker was that their comments reflected on my family too. The first time I went to a big gala after winning a business award I took my mother and sister. They had to run the gauntlet of deliberately audible snide comments.’
Gisèle gasped. ‘That’s awful.’
He nodded. ‘I vowed never to put them in that situation again. But they were magnificent. My mother, ever the pacifier, pretended not to hear. My little sister turned to a few of them and asked what they’d achieved in the last year that outshone my business acumen and performance. She was seventeen at the time.’
He heard a choke of laughter, swiftly curtailed. ‘She’s certainly not bashful. Good on her, standing up for you.’
Like Gisèle, ensuring her brother retained a role in the family company. He admired that about her too.
‘I like that you’re protective of each other,’ she continued. ‘You seem to be a close, caring family.’
Did she sound wistful? By all accounts her family had been close, until her father’s death and her mother’s desertion, pursuing one high-profile love affair after another.
Once again Adam felt sympathy and pride for this indomitable woman.
‘There was another reason I was drawn to the House of Fontaine.’
Was he really saying this? It went against his mantra of not revealing weakness or giving power to an opponent. Yet he’d just shared what some would call a weakness with Gisèle—his need to show he’d made it to the topmost pinnacle, where none could look down on him. It hadn’t felt like weakness. Honesty had its own power.
Besides, she wasn’t an opponent. She was far more complex and important.
‘Let me guess. You want a cosmetics line designed for your mother. Or an exclusive perfume. It can be arranged—’
‘Nothing like that.’
Adam took the exit off the autoroute, heart hammering. Opening up wasn’t easy. This was opening himself as he never had before.
She’d been frank about her past, details she’d kept private for years. It was fitting he be equally as frank. He owed her that.
Besides, he wanted more from Gisèle, much more than he’d imagined initially. He mightn’t be the most emotionally astute man, but he knew she wouldn’t respond to demands.
He didn’t want to demand. He wanted her to want him of her own free will.
Which meant ceding some power to her.
If he stopped to think about the implications he mightn’t follow through. He plunged on. ‘I saw footage of you giving a press conference a couple of months ago.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it. I saw you, Gisèle. And I knew as surely as I know my own name that I wanted you.’