6. Iris
6
IRIS
“ W hat the actual hell? Your fiancée?” My voice trembled–literally trembled.
“Shh.” My boss held one finger to his lips, his brows pulled tight together. He stared at the door for what felt like an age, until finally, he sank back into his chair, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. My grandmother had me on the spot. I didn’t know what to say.”
And neither did I, other than “thanks, but no thanks.” I mean, it wasn’t every day that one of the most notorious ladies’ men in Europe announced he was marrying you without proposing!
I ran my eyes over his face. There wasn’t a hint of his “smoulder” now. Instead, his eyes were wide. Feverish. “For a start, you could explain exactly what just happened,” I said.
Luc Du Comtois sighed and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. When he opened them again, the lines on his forehead lessened. Still, he had the look of a man about to do a trust fall with a troop of clowns. He reached a hand towards me. “Come, sit down. ”
A fizzing rose in my chest. “I don’t need to sit down! I need to know what the hell is going on!” The pitch of my voice rang out against the stone walls.
He shook his head. “Please, at least join me for a drink. Allow me to explain.” His piercing blue eyes met mine. Grey shadows clung to the skin underneath his lower lashes and a muscle jumped in his jaw.
I gave my head a little shake. “Fine. But make your explanation quick. I’ve got work to do.” That wasn’t strictly true. After delivering the flowers to Agnes, Thierry had given me the rest of the afternoon off. But after the last few minutes, how could I concentrate? My boss had introduced me to his grandmother as his fiancée. He and I hadn’t even had a formal introduction!
He held a hand towards the table and I sat on the still-warm chair his grandmother vacated.I ran my eyes out to the garden, down towards the pool.
Luc sat, too, before emptying his glass and letting out a long sigh. “Despite appearances, there are some things beyond even my reach.”
I scoffed, and he sent me a sharp glare.
“Okay. Like what?” I asked.
He shrugged, his crisp, white shirt hugging his broad shoulders. “Freedom.”
I pulled my brows tight together. How ridiculous. This man had cars, money, and a fleet of private jets at his disposal. He had staff, for heaven’s sake. He even had a castle! If he wanted freedom, he only had to click his fingers. “But you can go anywhere at the drop of a hat. Do anything.”
He gave a low growl. “Maybe, but there are some things I can’t escape. Responsibilities I’m expected to fulfil.”
I rolled my eyes. “Umm… forgive me, but to the casual observer, your responsibilities look thin on the ground. Other than picking the right suit to wear and attending the best parties, of course. ”
He scowled, his dark brows meeting in the middle. “My grandmother expects me to marry… marry someone suitable.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean, suitable?”
“Rich,” he ground out.
I blew air out between my lips, almost like I blew a raspberry. “That’s crazy. You must have enough money already. Why do you need more?”
Luc picked up his glass and moved to a small table at the side of the terrace. He pulled the stopper off an elegant decanter and refilled his glass. “Brandy?” he asked.
Why not? Brandy was reportedly good for getting over a shock, and my heart was currently thumping like a pile driver. “Please.”
As he poured our drinks, I ran my eyes over his back, lingering at the hint of tanned skin where dark hair met his collar. Then the trousers that hugged his thighs. Nobody had access to such precise tailoring unless they had piles of money.
As if he read my mind, he put the stopper back on the decanter and carried our drinks to the table. “Money means position and power. It adds to our family’s standing and reputation.”
Luc arrived back at the table, settling into his chair, one foot resting on the opposite knee. “After my father passed away, I became the patriarch of the family.”
I scoffed. From the little I’d read, he was hardly a paragon of leadership in any way, shape, or form—unless, of course, you included looking handsome and simmering on the pages of magazines. In those skills, he was a grandmaster.
Luc looked across the garden, running his thumb over his glass. “Look. I’ll be candid with you. I’ve been lucky enough to escape any real responsibility for the family business. In an ideal world, I’d pass the familial responsibilities to my sister as well. But as a woman, she can’t carry on the family line. ”
“Yay for years of feminism and progress!” My comment was snarky, but his attitude belonged in the Middle Ages.
Luc shook his head, pulling his lips together in a pout before turning to me. “I would prefer it otherwise, but the fact is, according to my late father’s will, I need to marry before my thirtieth birthday, or Marsan and the entire estate will be sold to the highest bidder.”
I swallowed. The family must have owned this estate for generations. I couldn’t imagine anyone would happily part with it. But what did this have to do with me?
“I’m sorry. I’m not following. Why involve me? How did I suddenly become your ‘betrothed’?” I threw air quotes around the word, putting on my best plummy English accent.
Luc sighed, swirling the deep ruby liquid around in his glass. He closed his eyes, his dark lashes trembling against his cheeks.
“My grandmother is pressuring me to marry as soon as possible. She’s parading potential brides under my nose. Asking me to pick. But if I have to marry, I’d rather it was for love, and with someone I chose.”
His shoulders sank and his lips turned down. My mouth ran dry, as if somebody had pulled out the plug, and my fingertips prickled to reach out and touch his arm and comfort him. “And you haven’t found anyone?”
He shook his head. “No. So I need more time. A way to take the pressure off. Give me a chance to look without constant interference.”
The air crackled between us. “And that’s where I come in?”
“Yes. I’m sorry for the surprise, but I just saw you and… If my grandmother thinks I’m engaged already, perhaps I’ll buy more time. A little breathing space. I only ask for one night. She’ll leave tomorrow and I can travel again–avoid her for a little longer. I know it’s a lot to ask a stranger, but losing her family home would break my grandmother’s heart, and.... ”
“You want to fall in love?”
He nodded, and I fought the urge to give him a hug. He looked so desolate. So sad.
“But these sorts of situations don’t happen in real life,” I said. “This isn’t a fairy tale. It’s the twenty-first century, not the renaissance.”
With a laugh, Luc motioned towards the open door to the grand salon. “Look around. None of this belongs to the twenty-first century.
I ran my eyes over the beautiful antiques that adorned every surface. The ancient, faded tapestries hanging on the walls, and the suit of armour standing just inside the door. I swallowed. “But why me?”
He closed his eyes for the longest beat. “Forgive me, but I panicked, and you were on hand.”
My gut tugged a little. I mean, it wasn’t as if I expected him to tell me I was his ideal woman, or just the sort of person he wanted to be fake engaged to. Still, his reasons were a little too matter of fact, even for my low-level of vanity.
I straightened up. “So, let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be engaged to you for one night only? Lie to your grandmother?” It all sounded so simple. So underhand. I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure you’re not just buying more time to party before you have to settle down?”
With the force he shook his head, it was a wonder his brain didn’t fly out his ears. “I don’t want to lie. And despite what you may read about me, I don’t live to party.”
I gripped my bottom lip with my teeth. His scowl rivalled the Grand Canyon, but when he groaned out a heavy sigh, his head dipped.
“Forgive me. I wouldn’t suggest this course of action if I weren’t desperate. I only have six months until my thirtieth birthday. In my experience of the world, the chance of finding love at all is low, but I have to try. ”
I ran my eyes over his face. Over his smooth, dark skin and his firm jaw, and the tiny cleft in his chin. The long black lashes that fringed his down-turned eyes. At this moment, he defied all my expectations. Nothing I’d read about or any picture I’d seen captured the man I saw sitting before me. His broody arrogance had all but disintegrated. Instead, he was utterly beautiful.
I spoke, my voice low. “And there’s no other way out of your father’s will?”
He growled out a bitter laugh. “No. And if it were my choice alone, I’d suit myself. Live as I chose. But there are other people to consider. Other people my actions will impact.”
In that moment, I swear his lip trembled a little, and the supposed proud man I’d seen in Chloe’s pictures reminded me of a young boy. Something in my chest tugged, and I don’t know what possessed me, but I reached out and touched his sleeve. He sucked in a breath and stared at my hand as if it were radioactive.
“So, you just need me to pretend to be rich and engaged to you?”
He nodded, eyes still on my fingers.
“Won’t your grandmother be a bit suspicious if we never marry? When you eventually fall in love with someone, she’ll wonder what happened to the dusty woman in the flip-flops.”
One side of his mouth lifted a fraction. “Perhaps I’ll tell her you ran away with the chauffeur.”
“The chauffeur? If you’re going to paint me as a scarlet woman, please make it count. Couldn’t I run off with one of your ridiculously rich friends? Maybe a prince? At the very least, they need to own an island.”
At that moment, his face completely changed. The cheekiest grin took over, and the corners of my lips bowed in response. Warmth spread through my belly. Even if he was known for his pout, his smile had the power to stop traffic .
I removed my hand from his arm and his bright blue eyes found mine.“I know I’m asking a lot, but I only need your help for twenty-four hours. And…” Luc swallowed, bowing his head. “And I can make it worth your while. Name your price.”
“Excuse me?”
“What can I do for you in return?”
I drew my eyebrows together. I had absolutely no idea. Figuring out what to demand from an aloof billionaire for pretending to be his fiancée wasn’t on my mind when I’d brushed my teeth this morning. Or any morning in my life thus far. And I didn’t like his assumption that he could buy my compliance. “I’m not for sale,” I said, taking a sip of my brandy.
He brought a hand to his nape. “I’m not trying to buy you. I’m buying your time. It’s a simple transaction, Iris.”
As he said my name, an involuntary shiver ran through me. With his deep voice and thick accent, the word sounded so different. Exotic, even. I swallowed hard. I could do this. He’d be buying my time, just like any normal job. That’s all his proposal was. An offer of employment with a very short-term contract.
“If you’d prefer, your compensation needn’t be monetary,” he said.
My belly fizzed. What was he suggesting? I looked at him, but at the vanilla look on his face, I guessed he wasn’t offering anything too risqué. Pity. A lifetime supply of Marsan’s delicious Shiraz and one night alone with his delicious forearms was an attractive compensation package. But this whole situation screamed ridiculous. His grandmother would never believe me and Luc were engaged. Nobody would. We were so different.
“What about Agnes?” I asked. “She’s never going to agree to the pretense. She hates my Crocs for a start. There’s no way she’ll play along.
Luc made a gruff sound in the back of his throat. “You forget. I pay Agnes. She works for me and I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause a problem.”
I shifted in my chair. “But there’ll be questions from your grandmother.”
“I’ll deal with her questions.”
At his gruff tone, I pulled at a strand of my hair, rolling it around one finger. “I’m not sure I can do dinner tonight. Some of the pickers planned to have a campfire. I’m the only one between us who can start a fire from scratch. They’d miss me.”
Was I playing with him a little? You bet. But who wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a rich playboy at their mercy? Even if just for a few minutes.
He swirled the remains of his brandy around his glass. “Name your price.”
His eyes bored into me, and my skin prickled. I owed Nathan a thousand pounds for rent, plus half the deposit on our flat. If I didn’t repay him, I’d never get Stuart back. I also had to cover the train fare to London. And Chloe and I planned on finding a flat together when we arrived. Currently, I didn’t have the money to pay for any of it.
I ran my eyes to his glass and the white knuckles surrounding it. The poor man seemed desperate. And what did I have to lose, really? For me, the whole idea was a win-win. A bit of a distraction from the grind of the winery and a chance to get my cat back.
I swallowed. “Money will be just fine. I’ll do it for three thousand pounds.” That amount would be pocket-change for him, but I didn’t want to be greedy.
Without a millisecond’s hesitation, he nodded once, his shoulders settling.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the sultry breeze from the garden wash over me. Maybe I should’ve asked for more.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked. “How do we pass ourselves off as convincing lovers? We know nothing about each other.” That wasn’t strictly true. I’d spent a few minutes reading about him online. For research. Knowing a little about your employer made sense. Everything I’d seen had confirmed my suspicions. My “fiancé” was an aloof elitist who happened to look amazing in and out of a suit.
“I assume you’re staying in staff accommodation. You’ll have to move into the Chateau.”
I spun my head to face him. “Sorry, what?” What the hell was he talking about?
“Just for one night, while my grandmother is here. She can’t suspect anything. We need to look like we’re together.”
I mulled over his suggestion, taking a healthy slug of my brandy. The thick liquid hit the back of my throat, sending a cascade of warmth down my chest. It would be nice to sleep on a mattress that didn’t resemble a bean bag. And I could have a bath. Alone.
His gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts. “Are you sure three thousand pounds is all you require?”
I nodded, already imagining sinking into a bank of sweet-smelling bubbles.
“Then we have a deal.”
“Okay. Let’s shake on it,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes and gave me an odd look, like I’d asked him how to circumnavigate the Pacific Ocean in a teacup. Maybe super-rich people didn’t need to shake on deals, but if he could lie to his grandmother so easily, I wasn’t willing to risk it. “And you haven’t even properly introduced yourself. I can’t marry someone I haven’t actually met.”
The corners of his lips peaked and something flashed in his eyes. “Then let me accommodate both requests.” He stood and offered me his hand. After a long beat, I took it and his warm fingers wrapped around mine, solid and firm.
“Luc Du Comtois,” he said .
“Iris Hawthorne,” I replied, conscious that the pitch of my voice may have raised a touch. “Pleased to meet you.”
He gently rocked my hand, and I swear my skin scorched under his touch. “The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine.”
I met his eyes and damn if the devil wasn’t staring back at me. I pulled in a shaky breath under his scrutiny. Chloe had been right. Luc Du Comtois really did have the power of smoulder and for the duration of our brief engagement, I hoped he wouldn’t singe me to a crisp.