Chapter Six
Allegra
The clinic’s small conference room buzzed with conversations as we gathered for our weekly staff meeting. I squeezed into a spot next to Joanna, who was practically vibrating with excitement. She’d been like this ever since Dr. Lefèvre, our clinic director, had announced our participation in the upcoming hospital fundraiser.
It was clear, to me at least, that Joanna was a talented event planner. I’d mentioned to her multiple times that she could easily run a side-business if she wanted, but she said she loved working at the clinic and didn’t have enough free time. But this project was perfect for her.
“Alright, everyone, settle down,” Dr. Lefèvre called out, his authoritative tone cutting through the casual chatter. “Let’s get started. Joanna, I believe you have an update on the fundraiser?”
Joanna jumped to her feet, her enthusiasm infectious. “Yes, thank you, Dr. Lefèvre. As you all know, the Saint-Antoine Hospital Annual Gala is just two weeks away. This year’s theme is ‘Healing Hands,’ and it’s going to be spectacular!”
I couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance. Joanna had a way of making even the most mundane tasks sound fun .
“Our clinic has been asked to set up an information booth and provide mini-consultations during the cocktail hour,” she continued. “It’s a great opportunity to showcase our services and potentially attract new clients. Plus, all proceeds go towards improving the hospital’s rehabilitation wing.”
Dr. Lefèvre nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Who would like to volunteer for the booth?”
My hand shot up almost involuntarily. I’d been looking for ways to become more involved in the community, and this seemed perfect. Plus, if I was being honest with myself, the idea of getting out for an evening was slightly appealing. Ever since my altercation with Tomas, I’d been pretty much a couch potato. Even with him behind bars, I was still shaken at how easily I could have been hurt or abducted. Especially if Cooper hadn’t been there. Unbidden, an image of him flashed in my mind, covered in sweat and laying on the mat in the gym, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. I quickly fought to clear the impropriety in my head and brought myself back to the meeting.
“Wonderful, Allegra,” Dr. Lefèvre said. “Anyone else?”
A few more hands went up, and soon we had a small team assembled. As the meeting wrapped up, Joanna pulled me aside, practically bubbling over with excitement.
“This event is going to be amazing, Al! And just wait until you see the guest list—it’s a who’s who of Paris society. I even heard the mayor might make an appearance!”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Jo, you know I don’t care about all that. I’m just excited to help out and maybe enjoy a glass or two of champagne.”
“Oh, come on,” she teased. “You can’t tell me you’re not even a little curious about who might show up. I bet there’ll be plenty of eligible bachelors there.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “You know I’m not looking for anyone right now. After Tomas...”
Joanna’s expression softened. “I know, sweetie. But not all men are like him. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone who’ll change your mind.”
As we walked back to the reception area, Joanna’s comments made my thoughts drift back to Cooper Moreau. Despite my best efforts, he’d become implanted in my head, like the king of my daydreams. It wasn’t fair that someone that good-looking was allowed to walk around on the streets.
The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of preparation. Between our regular patient load and getting ready for the booth at the gala, I barely had time to breathe. Even my sessions with Cooper were strictly business.
But finally, the day of the event arrived.
Joanna had freed up my late afternoon, so I didn’t have any patients past 3:00 p.m. After I finished up with Mr. Harrison, a sweet sixty-year-old man recovering from a stroke, I headed home.
Bianca met me at the front door, extremely happy that I was home early. I ate a quick snack, and then went to my bedroom.
I stood in front of my closet, staring at the contents with a growing sense of despair. I quickly called Joanna. “Jo,” I whined, “I have nothing to wear! ”
Joanna’s laugh echoed through my cell phone. “Don’t be dramatic, Al. I’m sure we can find something suitable. I’ll be over as soon as I close down the clinic for the evening.”
An hour and a half later, Joanna appeared in my bedroom doorway, already looking stunning in a sleek black dress that hugged her curves perfectly. I felt a pang of envy—Joanna always seemed to know exactly how to dress for any occasion life threw at her. Her arms were weighed down with several garment bags. She laid them down on the bed carefully.
“Did you just forget to buy a dress?” she asked, half-laughing, half-scolding.
“I thought I had some things, but when I put them on, none of them seemed right.” This was a big event, and I wanted to represent myself and our clinic well. Most of the garments I owned were either practical clothes for work or a few dressy outfits for nights out. Nothing that would work for this event.
Joanna nodded, grabbing the first garment bag on the bed. “Here,” she said. “What about this?” She pulled out a deep emerald-green dress out of the garment bag. It had a sweetheart neckline that plunged quite a bit, but delicate lace allowed for more modesty. It was backless, and a bit more daring than anything I’d worn before.
“I don’t know,” I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek. “Isn’t it a bit...too much?”
Joanna shook her head firmly. “It’s perfect. Everyone is going to be dressed the same way. Try it on.”
Reluctantly, I slipped into the dress. The silk felt cool against my skin, and as I turned to look in the mirror, I had to admit Joanna was right. The dress fit like a glove, accentuating my curves in all the right places. The deep green complimented my olive skin tone, making my eyes look larger. The dress was a tad longer than it should have been, given the fact that Joanna was taller than me, but with the right heels it would work.
“See?” Joanna said smugly. “You look incredible. Now, let’s do something about that hair.”
An hour later, after much fussing and a minor mascara crisis, we were finally ready. Joanna had worked her magic, transforming my usually flat and boring hair into soft waves that framed my face. With lots of smoky eyeshadow and a swipe of red lipstick, I barely recognized myself.
Joanna came up behind me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Look at you, Al. Beautiful, confident, and ready to take on the world—or at least a roomful of Paris elite.”
I giggled nervously, a bit taken aback by how I looked. I hardly wore make-up to begin with, and I couldn’t remember a time I’d had so much on.
As we made our way downstairs to the waiting taxi, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in my stomach. This wasn’t just about looking good or mingling with the upper crust of Parisian society. Tonight was about making a difference, about contributing to a cause I believed in.
The cab ride to the venue was filled with Joanna’s excited chatter about who we might see and what the night might hold. I half-listened, my mind already at the information booth, running through the talking points I’d prepared.
As we pulled up to the hotel where the gala was being held, I took a deep breath. “Ready?” Joanna asked, squeezing my hand.
I nodded, summoning my courage. “Ready.”
We stepped out of the taxi, the cool evening air kissing our skin. The hotel was lit up like a fairytale castle, with spotlights illuminating its ornate facade. A red carpet stretched from the curb to the entrance, lined with photographers snapping pictures of the arriving guests.
“Remember,” Joanna whispered as we made our way inside, “you look amazing, you’re brilliant at what you do, and you’re here to make a difference. Just be yourself.”
I smiled gratefully at her. “Thanks, Jo. What would I do without you?”
As we entered the grand ballroom, I was momentarily overwhelmed by the sight. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. Tables draped in pristine white linen were artfully arranged around a dance floor, each centerpiece a small work of art. The air was filled with the soft strains of a string quartet and the buzz of conversation.
As we made our way to our assigned booth, I scanned the room, taking in the glittering crowd. That’s when I saw him, and my heart nearly stopped. Fear gripped my stomach, and I fought the urge to turn and run.
My father, Laurent Rousseau, stood near the bar, looking every inch the successful businessman in his expensive suit and neatly combed hair. To anyone else, he would appear to be just another wealthy donor. But I knew better. I knew the truth behind his carefully cultivated image, the truth of backhanded deals and the trail of carnage he left behind.
“Al? What’s wrong?” Joanna asked, noticing my sudden silence.
I forced a smile, but I knew my face must be full of tension. “Nothing. Just a little overwhelmed.” I tried to quickly move away from his line of sight.
But it was too late. My father had spotted me and was now making his way through the crowd towards us. I straightened my spine, preparing myself for the inevitable confrontation.
“Allegra,” he said smoothly as he approached, his voice carrying just a hint of his disapproval. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Father,” I replied coolly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Joanna’s eyes widened at the word ‘father,’ but to her credit, she didn’t say anything.
I never spoke about my father. Most people assumed he must have died along with my mom, and I had never bothered to correct them. I used my mother’s surname, the name I shared with my grandparents, who raised me after the man standing in front of me fell short.
“And miss an opportunity to support such a worthy cause?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You look lovely, my dear. Your mother would be proud.”
The mention of my mother sent a pang through my chest. “Thank you,” I managed to say, but I could feel my teeth grind together as barely controlled rage rippled through me.
“And who is your charming friend?” he asked, turning his attention to Joanna.
“Joanna Chen,” she introduced herself, extending her hand. “I work with Allegra at the clinic.”
“Ah, yes,” my father said, shaking her hand. “Allegra’s...career choice. Still enjoying playing nurse, are we?”
I felt my cheeks flush with even more anger. “I’m a physical therapist, Father. I help people recover from injuries and improve their quality of life. It’s not ‘playing.’”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Of course, of course. Still, I can’t help but think your talents could be better utilized elsewhere. The family business, perhaps?”
“We both know that’s never going to happen,” I said firmly.
An uncomfortable silence fell between us. Joanna shifted nervously beside me, clearly sensing the tension but not understanding its source.
Finally, my father spoke again. “Well, I suppose I should mingle. It was...good to see you, Allegra. Miss Chen, a pleasure.” With a nod, he turned and blended back into the crowd, disappearing into a sea of tuxedos.
I let out a shaky breath, trying not to give into the tears I felt pooling in the corners of my eyes.
“Al,” Joanna said quietly, “I had no idea your father was—is…” she trailed off, clearly not understanding this new development, before checking in on me, as she always did. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. We made our way to our booth, and I quickly busied myself arranging our pamphlets and display materials, grateful for something to do with my hands. I tried to calm my breathing, but I kept glancing around, as if waiting for my father to suddenly ambush me.
However, as the room began to fill with additional guests, I found myself relaxing slightly. This was familiar territory—talking about my work, explaining the benefits of physical therapy, offering advice. Physical therapy was truly my passion, and the opportunity to share my work filled me with purpose. I got so caught up in a conversation with an elderly gentleman about the importance of maintaining mobility that I almost didn’t notice Jo’s gasp of surprise.
I looked up, curious about what had caused her reaction, and partly terrified that my father had come back over.
But it was another man who claimed my attention.
Cooper Moreau had just entered the ballroom, looking impossibly handsome in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. But it wasn’t his appearance that had caused a hush over the ballroom. It was the woman on his arm—a striking brunette with a radiant smile. Even from across the room, I could see the gentle way Cooper guided her, his hand resting on her lower back.
As they moved farther into the room, I caught a glimpse of her profile and felt my breath catch in my throat. She was pregnant, maybe three or four months along, her flowing black gown doing little to hide the soft swell of her belly. The light caught something on her left hand, and I realized it was an enormous pink diamond ring.
I felt an unexpected pang in my chest, followed by a wave of shock. Cooper was married? Or engaged? And about to become a father? The thoughts hit me like a physical blow, rapid in succession. Why hadn’t he mentioned it during our sessions? And why did it bother me so much? I felt my face go red, and a pounding seemed to radiate in my ears. For a second, I thought I was having a stroke.
I blinked quickly, trying to steady my thinking. Of course, Cooper had a wife or fiancée, a family on the way. Why wouldn’t he? He was successful, judging by his car, and attractive; charming when he wanted to be. And I was...what? His physical therapist. Practically below his notice. Basically, an employee. Nothing more.
I watched as Cooper leaned in close to whisper something in the woman’s ear, making her laugh. They looked so comfortable together. I tried to look away but couldn’t.
“Al?” Joanna’s voice barely registered through my intense observation of the radiant couple. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
I forced a smile, finally dragging my gaze from Cooper and his apparent fiancée. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just surprised to see Mr. Moreau here. I didn’t expect it.”
Joanna frowned. “He wasn’t on the list, or I would have told you. He must be a guest. Several wealthier clients bought tables to fill, he’s probably here on someone else’s invite.”
I nodded, then turned back to our booth, trying to focus on the task at hand. But as hard as I tried, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that this night had just become far more complicated than I could have ever imagined. And why did the sight of Cooper with his beautiful, pregnant fiancée make me feel so...disappointed?