23. Luc
23
LUC
I drummed my fingers against the leather of the car’s interior, my heart beating faster than usual. I’d just received an ominous text from my sister. Her words had left the pit of my stomach churning.
Delphine: Grand-Mère has just told me all about your new fiancée. My, my, what a surprise. You kept that very quiet. I can’t wait to meet her.
The hair on the back of my neck bristled. She knew about Iris.
Thanks to my sister’s emergency business, Delphine and our grandmother hadn’t met for dinner last night. And even though we’d been on the same calls today, my sister and I hadn’t spoken together privately without a team of lawyers present. On the surface, her words sounded reasonable. Friendly, even. But the business press often described Delphine as “Brutal”, and I knew it firsthand.
She could be more conceited than my father, putting our family name and standing before everything. As a result, she’d married some boorish industrialist whose bank balance rivalled ours. I’d never seen the two of them actually smile at each other. Sometimes I couldn’t believe we had the same mother. Where my Maman had been gentle and sunny, Delphine was steel and storm.
And based on her message, my grandmother had let the tornado out of the bag.
The streetlights of Paris flew by the window as couples and tourists mingled outside the cafes that lined the street. After the passion of this afternoon, I’d loved to have taken Iris to dinner tonight on our own. To have walked along the river together, hand in hand. I hadn’t done it for years. Unfortunately, trips out in public often ended in photographers following me, and I didn’t have the energy these days. Besides, I doubted being trailed by paparazzi was on Iris’ “top ten things to do in Paris” list.
Iris. My brain buzzed with her name, and I glanced over to see her elfin-like profile lit up by the glow of the streetlights. She looked about as excited as me to be entering the lion’s den. Why, oh why, had I involved her in my marriage mess? But after the way she bit into my neck as we came together earlier, it was harder and harder to regret what we’d done.
She gave a gentle sigh, and my chest pulled. She looked so utterly beautiful. Natural. Her hair fanned over her shoulders and she wore only the simplest of jewellery. She’d strike a contrast to the other partygoers tonight. Most of my grandmother’s friends wore enough diamonds to put a lighthouse out of business.
Iris brought a hand to her mouth, her teeth hovering close to her thumbnail, as if she’d take a bite at any second. Occasionally, she’d smooth down the material of her dress, running her hands down her thighs.
The corners of my lips bowed at the memory of Iris’ thighs. They’d been long, tanned, and in my hands when I’d kneeled at her feet last night. And wrapped around me only an hour ago as she came hard against my tongue. The two of us had made the most of the afternoon. My dick nudged against my fly at the memory.
I shifted on the leather upholstery. This afternoon we’d crossed a line we couldn’t come back from. I could hardly believe we’d been so reckless, but every kiss, every brush of her skin, had been worth it. Every second with Iris was an adventure, like taking a step along a fresh path. How would I ever turn back? And did I even want to?
Ever since we’d stepped into the car, though, Iris had been quiet. Distracted.
My phone beeped, heralding a text, and I dug my hand into my pocket to read it.
Esmé: Where are you? I’ve just arrived. Your grandmother is playing court already. You better warn your fiancée. There’s going to be a pack of curious opera-lovers, not to mention a few disgruntled women.
I huffed a dry laugh. I could imagine the gossips discussing me. Talking about my unexpected engagement. My attendance in the Paris social circle was an oddity these days. Like a lunar eclipse it was rare and a little gloomy. But with Iris by my side, for once I wouldn’t feel like a piece of meat left out for the hyenas.
I pocketed my phone and as I dug into the lining of my jacket, my fingers brushed something solid. I pulled in a breath. “Merde.”
Iris’ head turned to me, her eyes wider than usual. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“I forgot to give you something.” Reaching deeper into my pocket, I pulled out a small velvet pouch and held it in my palm. I hesitated, unsure if its contents were a token of my regard or something akin to silver bullets or a clove of garlic. There’d be a few blood suckers at the opera tonight.
“I wanted to give you something to wear.”
Iris turned in the seat, leaning toward me. “But you already did, and my dress is beautiful.” The sea green gown she wore knotted at one shoulder, and the pool of her collar bone glowed in the streetlight. She looked incredible. Like a mermaid. I didn’t deserve her.
“Something more. Something… special.”
“Show me,” she said, her head tipped to one side.
I opened my palm, emptying the pouch into her hand. Iris leaned in closer, and a wave of clean hair and spring flowers washed over me.
In the dim light, she leaned in closer to her hand. “What is it?”
“It’s a pin. It was my mother’s, and I wanted you to have it.”
Iris widened her eyes as she looked down at the brooch I’d laid in her palm. She ran her fingers over the three enamelled iris blossoms set in gold, tracing their intertwined stems with her fingertips. “This was your mother’s? It’s so beautiful. Are you sure you want to give it to me?”
I gave her a wry smile. How could I tell her I’d give her so much more if she’d let me?
“I wanted you to know how grateful I am for your help. Besides, my mother would have loved you. She couldn’t stand rules and regulations, either. She lived life to its fullest. You’d have been friends.”
The high beam from a passing car flashed across her face, lighting her up. “Even after leading you astray, down at the fire pit?”
I shrugged, wanting nothing more than to kiss the dimples on her cheeks.
All too soon, Iris’ smile faded. “Seriously though, I can’t take the gift. ”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s something so precious. If anything happened to it, I’d be devastated.”
“Nothing will happen to it. There’ll be enough security tonight to assign the pin its own detail. Besides, if you reject his gift, this groom-to-be will feel very offended.”
She drew her brows together as if contemplating something very serious, but just as soon, her face relaxed. “Okay, I’ll wear it, but only for tonight. I’ll have to return it to you in the morning.”
My chest tugged at her words, but I nodded, pinning the brooch to the knotted shoulder of her gown. When I finished, I ran my eyes over her. “You look stunning. Fresh. Beautiful.”
She chuckled, and the sound tugged at the pit of my stomach. “You’re describing me like a bowl of salad.”
I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Or perhaps I just consider myself the luckiest fake fiancé in the world.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I’m so sorry, Luc.”
“What for?”
Iris pulled her lips tight before she sat back in the seat. “I’m sorry I made up so many silly stories when I first met your grandmother. It’s going to make tonight that much harder.”
I mulled over her words, resisting the urge to reach out and pull her into my body. Hadn’t I thought the same a week and a half ago? Right now, though, even her most elaborate lies didn’t bother me. I swallowed down the ball that sat at my throat. A week and a half. That’s how long we’d known each other. That’s how long it had taken for her to creep into my heart. Under my skin.
A burn seared up my chest. “Iris, why are we pretending?”
Her head snapped towards me. “Sorry? I thought because your grandmother…”
I took her hand, running my thumb over her knuckles. “No. Pretending we don’t feel something for each other. We could tell the truth about that. At least to each other.”
Iris opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed her eyes for the longest beat. “But Luc, no matter what’s happened between us. Nothing else really changed.”
A bitter taste crept into my mouth. “What do you mean?”
Iris’ brow creased a little. “I mean that although last night and this afternoon were incredible, when all’s said and done, we’ve lied. You’ve lied to your family. Even if, by some miracle, they forgave you, the circumstances for us being anything together are completely wrong.”
I shook my head, wrestling to understand her reasoning. How could the two of us be wrong?
“I’m not what they want for you, Luc. One of the first things you told me about your family is that they expect you to marry your equal—not just in social standing but with money, too. I’m no heiress. I don’t know how to behave at fancy parties. Hell, I’ve spent the last few years asking people to spit pink water into a little cup. I’ve got nothing to offer your family.”
My chest tugged. Iris had so much to offer me , though. “What if I don’t want who they expect me to be with?”
“You want to fall in love.”
I looked down at our hands clasped together. I suspected I already had.
“And it’s not just your happiness on the line. There’s Thierry’s, there’s mine. What would your sister and your grandmother say if they found out who I was? They’d hang me out to dry and kick me out of Marsan quicker than you could blink. They’d never let me into your world, alpacas or not.”
I straightened up in my seat. “I’d follow you. Find you.”
Iris smiled, her eyes full of warmth. And something else. Pity?
“But you’d lose your birthright and maybe even your family. And Thierry would lose, too. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”
I stared straight ahead, the facade of the Palais Garnier coming into view like a giant, lit-up gravestone. “What if I’m not ready to say goodbye?”
Iris closed her other hand around mine. “I don’t think we have much choice.” She leaned in, laying the gentlest kiss on my lips, her breath sweet and warm at my mouth. “You’re incredible. In another life, things might have been different. But right now, we’ve got work to do, people to convince, and I’m going to be the best fake fiancée in history.”
My heartbeat surged, and I swallowed hard, about to argue. To convince her we could still see each other after tonight. But before I could speak, we pulled up outside the opera house.
The shouts from the jostling crowd of photographers outside seeped into the cocoon-like interior of the car. Iris swallowed, the gentle bob of her throat achingly close. “I guess lots of people enjoy singing, after all.”