Epilogue
Scarlett
I sign the final page of the contract with a flourish.
We pulled it off. My first big acquisition since I became a partner in this luxury hotel group. Pride suffuses me—pride in a job well done. We got a screaming deal with terrific terms, and everyone is pleased.
I set the fountain pen down on the desk in Cole’s office at The Invitation in Las Vegas, where we’ve finalized the paperwork.
“And it’s done, gentlemen,” I say.
Daniel claps. “Congratulations, you savvy, moneymaking businesswoman,” he says with the same kind of sexual innuendo that rolled off his tongue the first time I met him, when he said he wanted me to help him make money turn into more money.
Cole lifts his chin, flashes a big smile, and says, “Congrats. Also, I’m glad you two so thoroughly worked through that little issue of ‘Can business partners date?’ and are now flirting in my office.”
“We did indeed,” Daniel says, dropping a kiss onto my cheek.
We worked through it in the simplest of ways.
By doing it.
By taking a chance.
By believing we could have it all.
We work together most of our days and play together most of our nights. It’s a good life, inking deals, running a worldwide business, making decisions, taking chances, and taking them together.
Meeting family too—tomorrow we go to New York for Daniel to meet my parents.
Tonight, though, we’ll celebrate with friends here in Vegas by going to a concert headlined by the rock star Stone Zenith. We’re meeting Nadia at the show on one of her last nights in town before she relocates to San Francisco.
I grab my purse, shoulder it, and rise. “On that note, I have a concert to go to, so I better get ready.”
“I better go as well, then, since this means I can stare at you while you shower,” Daniel offers.
Cole rolls his eyes. “Really?”
“What? Did you think we’d be chaste?” Daniel asks, as if that’s the height of foolishness.
“No. Not in the least.” Cole pauses, licks his lips, then grins. “Before you go, though, remember how you two knew that Sage was right for me?”
I furrow my brow. “Yes. I do remember Daniel engineering things between you and the love of your life.”
“You played a part too. You knew we were right for each other.”
“Fine. I did play a part,” I acknowledge.
“Well, I knew the two of you were right for each other,” Cole says, pointing at us.
“Sure. You’ve mentioned that before,” Daniel says.
Cole absently twirls a pen. “Remember that waitress in Avignon? At the café next door to the hotel?”
“The one we met at breakfast?” Daniel supplies.
“I remember her,” I say, an image of her freckled face flashing before me.
Where is this going?
Cole grins like a cat. “She wasn’t a waitress. She owns the café. Her name is Solange. She’s married to Colin, our front desk manager at that hotel. I talked to the two of them and I made sure she personally waited on you that morning a month ago. Made sure she planted that tip about the hotels.”
“No wonder he was so chatty that morning. He probably wanted to make sure her shift had started. So she could wait on us.”
Daniel blinks.
Nothing surprises Daniel. But this nugget seems to have knocked the wind out of him. Cole nods, looking supremely satisfied with our reaction.
“I knew about Le Pavillon,” he continues.
“I knew the inns were on the market, that the chance to visit them would be too enticing for the two of you to pass up. And I had a feeling that the more time you spent together away from Paris, with just each other, the more you’d realize that you each had everything that the other person could ever want.
” He says it like Inspector Poirot at the end of a whodunit, revealing how the heist was pulled off.
Daniel’s grin widens, his eyes going bigger, brighter. “You’re a matchmaker,” he says, amazement in his voice.
“Cupid. Call me Cupid.”
I march up to Cole and throw my arms around him. “You are Cupid, and I couldn’t be happier. Thank you so much for sending that waitress to us.”
Daniel offers Cole a hand to shake. “You were right, mate. I’ve never been happier to say you were right. And you were absolutely right.”
“I know,” he says, grinning. “I know.”
Later that night on the way to the concert, I tell Daniel I’ll be right back, then I pop into the ladies’ room in The Extravagant. At the sink, I spot two familiar faces. The couple we met in Giverny who live here in Vegas. The blonde is touching up her wife’s lipstick. They look even more in love.
“Elodie! Hazel!”
They both turn to me, recognition in their gazes. “Violet!” Elodie says with a smile.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Actually, my name is Scarlett.”
“Oh. Did I remember it wrong?”
“You remembered it right. We were doing a little…role-play that day in Giverny.”
Elodie’s bright eyes sparkle. “Is that so?”
Hazel’s smile turns curious, a bit naughty. “Tell us more. You were so inspiring with your stories. My wife enjoyed them quite a bit. As did I.”
“We traveled through France as business partners, all the while pretending to be husband and wife.”
Hazel’s jaw drops. “You’re not married? Are you not together?”
“What about the story about the sex on the desk? The roughness? The pain. Please tell me that wasn’t made up?” Elodie sounds almost devastated.
“At the time, it was fiction. But not for long. It’s been like that for real since then. And we are most definitely together now. Funny thing – it took us playing pretend to fall in love for real.”
Hazel hooks her arm through Elodie’s, tugs her closer, gazes at her with heat and love. “We should pretend to be strangers later.”
Elodie slides her hand down Hazel’s arm. “Oh yes. I’ll pick you up at the bar. See if I can convince you to go home with me.”
“Maybe I’ll play hard to get,” Hazel purrs.
“Maybe I’ll be so persuasive, we’ll be playing other games.”
“Mmm. You’re on,” Hazel says, then turns to me. “By the way, I’m glad you and your man are together for real. Even though it was pretend, it never looked that way.”
“Sounds like it never really was,” Elodie adds.
“It never really was,” I echo, then wave goodbye to the happy women.
I leave shortly after, and a few minutes later, Daniel and I meet up with Nadia outside the theater. My good friend pulls me aside before we go in. “I’ve been dying to catch up with you. You’re never going to believe who called me.”
“Chris Hemsworth?”
She cracks up. “Even better. Crosby Cash.”
My brow knits. “Your brother’s best friend? The guy you’ve crushed on forever? The baseball player for the San Francisco Cougars?”
She nods, wiggling her brows. “That’s who. He’s the best man at my brother’s wedding.”
“Ooh la la. What did he call you for?”
“He wanted to make sure I’d save a dance for him at the wedding in a few weeks.”
“Someone wants to dance with you.”
She scoffs. “He’s just being friendly.”
I grin. “Friendly or not so friendly, sounds like the start of a good story.”
“You never know.”
“You never do. But I’d be willing to bet on it,” I say.
We head into the theater and enjoy one hell of a show.
The next night, Daniel and I are in New York, walking along Park Avenue, heading to a restaurant.
He opens the door for me. I flash him a smile. “You’re okay with this?”
“So good with it.” All I hear in his voice is certainty and excitement.
My parents are waiting for us at a table.
They rise and smile, both at me and at the man I love. They’ve talked to him on FaceTime. They’ve seen photos of him. He’s not a stranger.
But this is the first time they’re meeting him. As we reach the table, my father greets me with a hug, extends a hand for Daniel to shake, then changes his mind.
“Wait. Bring it in for a hug,” my father says.
Then he hugs Daniel, and Daniel says, “So good to meet you, Mr. Slade.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet the man who makes my daughter so very happy.”
Next, my mother hugs him. “The happiest. You make her the happiest.”
When Daniel pulls back, he offers them a smile that warms my soul. “And I intend to do so for the rest of my life.”
Once the food arrives, my father takes a picture of it and sends it to all of us.
When we’re back in Paris, we wander past the Palais Garnier one evening. Daniel checks the program at the window, as he always does. This time, his eyes light up like he’s seen a magic trick.
“Ayo is playing this weekend,” he says, with a childlike wonder I haven’t seen in him before.
“Who’s that?” I ask, figuring she’s some world-renowned star of the classical music circuit.
“She’s a violin student. Worked as a ticket taker the night I realized I’d be a fool to lose you,” he says, then tells me of his encounter with a young prodigy. “She’s doing a showcase with other students performing alongside the orchestra.”
“We must get tickets,” I say.
He practically rushes to the counter to buy them.
That weekend, we sit in the front row, and the man I love is wildly, incandescently happy to be listening to others make music.