Chapter Four
I awoke with a start to a sound—something like a door slamming—and promptly sat up.
I wiped a little stream of drool that had made its way along my cheek.
Daylight was pouring in the windows; according to the clock on the mantle, I’d slept for nearly five hours.
And I no longer had the office to myself.
Benoit Levin was standing there, leaning against the doorway, with a poison scowl on his face.
“What?” I said, smoothing my hair. Waking up was a disorienting, embarrassing endeavor. “I fell asleep.”
“That’s obvious.” His words were tight and venomous. “One question: are you sleeping with him?”
“What? No! Who?”
“Is that your plan?” His eyebrows were tightly furrowed and his arms were crossed.
“Eww, no.” I had never been more offended by a suggestion. “What plan?”
“For keeping your job.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you are waiting here for Paquin, aren’t you?” His face reddened. He was mad. Why in the world did he care where I slept?
“I’m not waiting here for anyone. I came in early and got tired.
I didn’t sleep last night—and not because I was with Paquin or anyone else.
” I stood up and shook out my skirts. My actions were quick and self-righteous, even though I was deeply embarrassed about sleeping at work.
I should have had myself better together, not that I would ever admit it to him.
I charged toward the door. He was still standing there, effectively blocking my exit.
When I ducked to squeeze around him, he moved to stop me.
I took a step back and stood tall, facing off with him.
My shame at having been caught asleep by the least sympathetic person in the world burned on my skin.
And the way he was standing there, like he’d caught me in some unseemly act.
Sleeping on my boss’s couch was, arguably, unseemly.
At least unprofessional. But if I were a man, he’d think nothing of this.
I wanted to push him out of the way, all the way out of the building. Forever.
I swallowed hard. And then I drew back my right hand to smack him. I wasn’t fast enough because he caught my wrist and held it—not hard but firm.
Oh, to be denied the sensation of my hand hitting his smug face! It was agony. Our eyes met in a fiery stare down.
Well, my end was fiery. His stare was more amused. One of his eyebrows quirked. “That’s cheating, you know. Sleeping with the boss.”
“I could say the same to you. Maybe that’s why you’re so suspicious of me. You’re doing it yourself. Are you sleeping with Vartre? Maybe that’s how you got your job.” I pulled my arm free and fisted my hands at my sides. “Please move out of my way.”
“I’m not sleeping with anyone.”
“I don’t care.” I didn’t. But I can’t lie: my first reaction to this unsought admission was relief.
He was close enough that I could smell the cedar in his cologne.
It was earthy and vaguely floral and appealing in the most unwelcome way.
This was the man I hated; not the man who smelled good.
“Now I’d like to end this unpleasant little exchange and get to work. ”
He narrowed his striking blue eyes at me, and then moved aside.
But when I stepped into the hallway, Paquin and Vartre were heading toward their office.
They were smiling and walking close. Why were these two always together now?
Shared office aside, they came and went together.
They both referred to themselves collectively.
We. A real team, suddenly. It occurred to me that I had perhaps been sleeping on the surface of their sensual encounters, but I quickly pushed that out of my mind.
I could only hold so much rage at a time.
Benoit and I stood frozen there in front of the door. Paquin’s eyes brightened when he saw us. “Just the two people we need to see today. Please, come in for a minute.”
“Bonjour,” said Vartre as she filed past.
“Bonjour.” I shot Benoit a questioning look. What could they possibly want?
Benoit shrugged. He had no idea either.
Back in their office, the scene of my petty crime, I avoided the couch, choosing to lean against the bookshelf instead.
“First of all, this isn’t going to be easy,” Vartre said. She wore a linen skirt and a bright red blouse that was ruffled and frilly; a contrast to her cool personality. She settled into her desk chair and looked at Paquin, as if she were sending the ball his way.
“Some additional changes are coming on the horizon, as we’ve all expected. One of them will be in this office.”
My mind raced to fill in the gaps of their diplomatic opening.
So one of them was leaving? Her, most likely.
She’d said from the beginning that she was looking for something else.
Paquin and Vartre were gazing at each other with such open admiration, like they were about to break into song and dance.
Then Paquin reached out and touched Vartre’s arm so tenderly and with such familiarity that it was obvious they were sleeping together. A chill ran up my spine.
“We’ve grown quite close over the past week or so,” Vartre said carefully.
“And worked so well together.”
“So well.” She beamed at him. They were going back and forth with their mutual affection like Levin and I weren’t even in the room.
“But we’re doing what’s right for the paper.”
“And what’s right for us.”
A vomitous feeling rose in my throat. Were they announcing their engagement or getting ready to fire one of us?
“I’m stepping down as editor,” Paquin said, snapping up all the attention in the room.
“You?” This was doubly bad for me. He was the one who’d hired me and taught me half of my best tricks. If he left, then that increased the likelihood I’d be eliminated too.
“I’m leaving the paper. I’m done at the end of the week. Vartre is now the one and only editor of the culture pages.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m taking a few weeks in Italy. Then I’ll be launching a garden and lifestyle section for Le Nouvel Francais .”
“This is news,” Benoit said. “Definitely news. But what does it mean for us?”
“Nothing. No one is getting fired, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re keeping you both.”
“I’m keeping you both,” Vartre corrected, shooting Paquin a look that was definitely sultry. She looked back at us. “And I want you to work as a team.”
I gasped, then tried to cover it by clearing my throat.
“Work as a team how?” Benoit asked tentatively.
“I’m sending you both to the beach for three weeks. I want you to cover all the Paris beau monde who are flocking there for the summer.”
“Three weeks?” Benoit Levin spoke directly to Vartre. “You know how difficult it is for me to travel.”
“Yes. But you said things have stabilized,” Vartre said with a flick of her wrist. “I promise it will be the last time. We’ll put you up. Don’t worry about that. And there’s a new casino opening that I want you to focus on first.”
“The two of us?” He seemed as frightened by this proposition as I was.
“Yes. And Apolline Trouvé. She’s going to do the sketches and photography.”
Vartre looked at me, ready for my arguments.
I didn’t object to going to the beach, especially if the paper was paying for it.
But traveling with Benoit Levin, being part of the team with him, would be disastrous.
I might end up quitting in a fit of rage, and then all of my work would have been for nothing.
And this felt suspiciously like another case of my not being taken seriously because I was a woman.
As a woman editor, the only one in the building, she should have understood.
“I can do it by myself. Apolline and I can do it. We won’t need him. ”
Vartre examined me, reassessing. I could never tell what she thought of me.
I’d even hoped that, being a woman, she’d be even more helpful than Paquin had been.
She pursed her lips. “I disagree. If it were just the casino opening, then maybe. But everyone in Paris is going to be there. We all know nothing happens in the city from July to September. So this is what we’re doing.
We’re sending a team to where the people are. Making it a whole thing.”
“The focus feature.” Paquin gazed at her admiringly.
“Is this another delayed decision about which one of us gets to stay, or does it mean we both get to keep our jobs?”
They exchanged looks and shrugs.
“Listen. You can’t repeat this, at least not yet,” Paquin said conspiratorially. “But if things go well for me at Le Nouvel Francis , then I’ll be stealing Vartre away at my first chance.”
Vartre smiled and nodded. “Everything is temporary. And you two will be the only ones left who could potentially step into the section editor position.”
“Just something to keep in mind.”
“When do we leave?” Levin said.
“Monday. Marie is making the arrangements now.”
I had not been to the beach in many years, and perhaps I should have been excited by the opportunity. The paper had never sent me anywhere outside the city for an assignment. But this particular assignment did not make me happy.
I had potentially wrecked my home life to prove myself at work, and now I had to work on a team.
With Benoit Levin. The man who found me sleeping on a couch in the office, for goodness sakes.
It was like nothing in the world made sense anymore.
Nothing was happening the way it was supposed to.
And now our bosses were sleeping together.
This was too many revelations for so early in the day.
“Oh, don’t look so glum,” Vartre said. “This is a tremendous opportunity to prove your ability to work as a team. And it’s the beach!”
“Thank you,” Paquin said, dismissing us. I scowled at Benoit as I left the office.
When I got back to my desk, I wrote to Nadine asking if she could meet me, and sent one of the newspaper’s messenger boys to take the note to her. To my relief, he returned with her response: Yes, of course. Bouillon Juillet at 6.