The Exception (Tempt #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“I have a favor to ask,” my sister said as soon as I answered her call.

No “hello.” No “how are you?” Or even “I miss you.” Just… “I have a favor to ask.”

I frowned and set down my scraper and respirator mask before taking a seat on the scaffolding. I didn’t know why I was surprised. Honestly, I shouldn’t have been. This was how it had been ever since Auntie Jackie had died. Ever since I’d inherited $100,000.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my sleeve. After spending a sleepless night adjusting countless buckets and tarps to prevent more water damage to the chateau from the rainstorm, I hadn’t even bothered to put on a wig or apply my eyebrows or eyelashes.

Instead, I’d covered my bare scalp with a colorful scarf, as I often did when I was working. I didn’t want to damage my wigs, and it wasn’t good to wash them more than once every few weeks. Besides, I often got so sweaty while working that my scalp ended up getting irritated from the adhesive.

My sister was still talking, and I didn’t know how much of the conversation I’d missed.

I cared about my family. I wanted to have a relationship with them. But it often felt so one-sided. If I was honest, it had for a long time. But my sudden windfall had magnified that. Sharpened it to the point of pain.

I’d always been the odd one out in my family. I was the only one of my four siblings who had left our small town in Montana. None of them had understood why I’d moved to LA to work as a personal assistant for a hotel mogul. They’d been even more baffled a year later when I’d sold nearly everything I’d owned and quit that stable, well-paying job to start a luxury-travel blog.

It had been a leap of faith to start Gilded Lily , but it had paid off. For the past two years, I’d gotten to travel the globe in style. My blog had millions of views every month, and I gave my honest opinion on everything from designer suitcases to accommodations.

When I was writing as Gilded Lily, my opinion mattered. People from all around the world listened. I’d never felt that way before—not with my family. Nor with anyone I’d dated in the past.

The only person who’d ever been supportive, who’d loved me unconditionally, was Auntie Jackie. Even now, even after she’d died, she was still trying to take care of me. I’d practically memorized the letter that had accompanied her will.

My dearest Liliana,

You and I have always shared a spirit of adventure. I know how practical you are, but you’re a risk-taker too. I’m leaving you this money so you can take more risks. Use it to do something outlandish—something I’d approve of.

Live a big life. Keep chasing your wildest dreams. I’ll be with you in spirit, every step of the way.

Remember, “The only limit in life is the one you set yourself.”

Love,

Auntie Jackie

? * My eyes stung with unshed tears, but I pushed them away. Crying was a waste of time and energy—both of which were currently in short supply.

I missed Auntie Jackie, but I was confident she’d approve of what I’d done with the money. I was definitely taking some big risks.

A year ago, I’d purchased the Chateau de Bergeret for $20,000. It had always been a dream of mine to own a boutique luxury hotel, and Auntie Jackie had given me the means to finally do so.

The chateau was a masterpiece, with distinctive French architecture and an impressive historical pedigree. It needed a lot of work, but it would all be worth it. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I poured blood, sweat, tears, and all of my savings into this project.

“Are you still there?” Iris asked.

“Mm-hmm. Yep.”

Needing to move, to do something, I climbed down from the scaffolding and passed beneath crumbling plaster, stepping over chipped tiles, trying not to let myself feel completely overwhelmed.

You couldn’t ask for a more idyllic setting than Le Jardin de France, and I could imagine hosting weddings and so many wonderful events here. Elegantly dressed guests would cross the stone bridge via candlelight over the dry moat to reach the chateau. It was gorgeous. Majestic. Like something straight out of a fairy tale.

But lately, it felt like more of a nightmare.

There wasn’t a part of the chateau that didn’t need work, most of it major. Read: hella expensive. Masonry repair, landscaping, a new slate roof. But it was the interior that was truly a mess. Extensive water damage. Minimal furniture and most of it was old in a way that wasn’t chic, would never be chic. Outdated plumbing and electrical.

Even though I was resourceful, and I’d been doing what I could between trips for my blog, I was out of my depth. And despite the experienced team I’d hired, progress was slow. At the rate things were going, I’d soon run out of money.

Right. Money. That was likely why my sister had called after all. She was still talking, and I was still drowning in my responsibilities, but Iris was my little sister. So, I tried to lend a supportive ear.

“Did she agree?” her husband, Dan, asked in the background.

“Agree to what?” I asked, hesitancy lining my tone.

She hushed him then asked, “You know how Dan and I are trying to buy that house?”

No. I didn’t know that. But that was nothing new. My family acted like I lived on another planet just because I didn’t live in Small Town, Montana, like the rest of them.

I sighed. I had a feeling I knew where this was headed, but I tried to give Iris the benefit of the doubt.

“That’s great, Iris. Congrats.” I peered around the foyer, looking at all the work left to be done in just this one room. One of forty-five.

What was I thinking?

It had taken weeks to get even half the paint removed—years of white and cream layers applied over the chateau’s beautiful tuffeau stone. I wanted to restore it to its natural finish, with just the original lime render on top.

“It is,” she continued. “But we hit a snag with the financing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, glancing at the time.

I needed to finish up here so I could check in with Luc before I had to leave for the airport. He was one of the qualified heritage artisans and a sort of project manager for when I had to be away. I also needed to pack.

“And I— we ,” Iris said, “were hoping you could loan us the money. We only need about $18,000, and we’ll pay you back in a few months,” she rushed to add.

Only eighteen grand? I wanted to laugh. She acted like it was nothing.

She planned to pay me back in a few months? Where was she magically going to get this $18,000? In such a short time frame?

I mean, shit. I could really use that kind of knowledge.

“Why not just wait a few months and pay it yourself?” I asked, trying to understand.

“Because the seller had several offers on the house, and we’re lucky ours was accepted. If we can’t get the money to make it happen, they’ll move on to someone else.”

“Did you ask Mom and Dad?”

“You and I both know they don’t have that kind of money,” she said.

And she thought I did? I wish!

“I’m sorry, Iris. I wish I could help, but I can’t.”

“Seriously, Lil? You can’t even lend me ten grand?”

“No. I can’t. I’m stretched thin as it is.” And her attitude was pissing me off.

“Oh yeah.” Her tone was full of skepticism. “It must be really hard—flying first class, staying in all those luxury hotels. You live in a freaking castle, for crying out loud.”

My skin was hot. Tight. “First of all, traveling is my job. And I worked hard for those opportunities. My blog didn’t just explode overnight. I had to cultivate those brand relationships.”

“Whatever,” she huffed. “God, you’re so selfish.”

Excuse me? I jerked my head back, feeling as if I’d been slapped.

Selfish? She was calling me selfish?

In the past, I would’ve brushed off her comment. I was used to my family’s snide remarks. And maybe it was the exhaustion, the feeling of defeat weighing down on me after another intense rainstorm that had increased the damage to the chateau, but I couldn’t just let it go. I couldn’t.

“Maybe if you ever asked how I was or how the restoration was going, you’d know that I live in a tiny, outdated apartment in the basement of the chateau. I cook my meals on a hot plate. I don’t even have hot water.”

Nor did I have a shower; I had an old cast-iron tub. It was a far cry from the luxury experience I hoped to one day provide my guests. And every day, it felt as if that dream slipped a little further away.

“You only have yourself to blame. You were the one who decided to waste all that money on that stupid ruin,” she sneered. “So don’t complain about it now.”

“I’m not complaining,” I gritted out, trying not to lose my cool completely. But honestly, I’d had enough. This wasn’t the first time my family had tried to guilt me into giving them some of my inheritance. I wasn’t trying to be selfish, but the money simply wasn’t there.

And even if it had been, I was under no obligation to give it to them. Nor did I care to, not when they acted like this. Self-centered. Demanding. Entitled.

“It sure sounds like you are,” she said.

Enough. She had no right to lecture me about my choices. None of my family did. I was over it. Done.

Before I could think better of it or stop myself, I said, “I’m merely pointing out the fact that you don’t seem to give a shit about me—none of you do—unless you need something.”

“If that’s how you feel, then never mind. I don’t want your money anyway.”

“Great!” I chirped.

“What? No, wait.” Iris tried to backtrack. “I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”

Unbelievable. I scoffed. “Too late.” I ended the call.

My hands were shaking, but damn, that felt good.

Fuck her. Actually, my whole family could go fuck themselves.

Just last week, my younger brother had called to ask for money to fix his car. Before that, it was my mom asking for help with a credit card bill. I was sick of everyone calling me for money. Simply expecting me to fork it over without even asking how I was.

Every day, I checked the dwindling savings in my bank account. And every day, I tried to figure out how the hell I was going to generate enough revenue to get me through such a massive restoration.

I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I couldn’t continue to do it all—travel, maintain my blog, create content for my YouStream channel dedicated to the chateau restoration, actually restore the chateau. It was too much. Something had to give.

But did I ask them for help?

No. I knew I only had myself to rely on.

No bank wanted to lend me the money. And since I was a self-employed luxury-travel blogger, they’d deemed me and my project too much of a risk.

Fortunately, I’d done some research before signing the papers to accept ownership of the chateau. I’d received an affirmation from the French government that they’d help support the project. And they’d been true to their word. I’d received forty to sixty percent of the funding for various projects around the chateau, depending on the element of the property. It had to be heritage listed, and I had to use a qualified heritage architect and artisans. It didn’t cover everything—far from it. But I would’ve had to stop long before now without that assistance.

Even so, I was struggling. We were still so early in the project because of the enormity of the scope of it, and any non-heritage elements like plumbing and electrical would need to be completely funded by me.

I kept applying for grants from cultural and heritage societies, prizes. Anything. I just kept hoping and brainstorming. And trying. I’d add even more advertising spots to my blog if I had to, as long as it wouldn’t sacrifice the amazing community I’d cultivated.

As the French would say, Quand le vin est tiré, il faut le boire.

When the wine is poured, one must drink it. In other words, once the first step is taken, there’s no going back.

And there was definitely no going back at this point. Not with my family or the chateau.

* ? The quote "The only limit in life is the one you set yourself” has been attributed to Felix Baumgartner, an Austrian skydiver, daredevil, and BASE jumper.