Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Independence Day in Paris. It wasn’t the first time she experienced the anomaly.
This time, however, William was with her, even if she wasn’t sure what he had planned for the day, given his shocking three a.m. declarations and raging erection.
But, oh my, how she silently thrilled, feeling it press against her hip when he took her into his arms. She’d barely escaped succumbing to his passionate words and need, but held onto her dignity and refused to be a sexual outlet for his pre-wedding jitters.
Still ... she wanted to be with him, and his proclamation touched her heart while other statements made no sense at all.
Deep down, she knew he sought more than a meaningless hook up.
The William she knew hadn’t been wired for shallow intimacy, but was he still the same man she left behind?
Then, there was the daunting reality that he recalled the beach. That was going to be a problem. All she could do was keep denying it.
Brushing her teeth, she looked at her reflection in horror.
Her hair stuck up in a million directions, and she hoped she didn’t look like that last night!
She ran the hairbrush through the mess, donned her robe, and then leisurely walked out into the morning sunshine streaming through the open balcony door.
Gazing out at the city’s landscape beyond and the lush Grand Jardin below her fifth-floor suite, she admired the amazing view.
A freshness hung in the air after last night’s rainstorm.
Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the sweet, fragrant flowers mixed with the tell-tale scent of coffee wafting in the gentle breeze.
“Good morning, Paris. I missed you.”
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” William answered back from the opposite side of the railing, causing her to startle. Embarrassed, she wasn’t sure if she should be happy or sad that he was back to calling her Elizabeth.
Seated on his suite’s luxury terrace, his right hand cradled an open book and his left clutched a white demitasse cup.
Wearing a light blue polo shirt, which matched his eyes, he appeared altered: lighter, happier, relaxed, and enjoying the quiet morning.
Before him, the table was set for breakfast for two. Had he been waiting for her?
“Howdy,” she replied, trying not to appear affected.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“No. Did you?”
“I did, thank you,” he nonchalantly replied.
“You’re up early.”
“I’ve been up since five, swam thirty laps, and ran ten miles on the treadmill. Would you care to join me for breakfast? Strictly business, of course,” he offered with teasing sarcasm.
“I ... um, don’t eat breakfast anymore,” she lied.
“Not even brioche feuilleté from René’s? Ritz espresso is excellent.”
She grinned, impressed by how he executed feuilleté. “I’ll be right there.”
Racing through the suite, she chanced a glance in the mirror, pinched her cheeks, then, barefoot and still in her nightie and robe, bolted into the hallway, making sure to leave her mobile phone in the room.
There was no way in hell she’d allow Jane to interfere on her time with William!
Too much needed to be discussed with him before their departure home tomorrow, and truth be told, she just wanted to be near him in the quiet morning.
Her heart pounded and her hand trembled when she pushed the ajar door open.
Stunned, she abruptly halted, taking in the impressive, fresh floral arrangement on the center table.
The Belle époque décor and regal gold appointments blew her away.
There must be four or five rooms to the suite, and for the first time—even more so than he having spent fifty-five million on a painting—it truly hit her that William was no ordinary wealthy guy.
Those types were a dime a dozen in Manhattan!
Her ex was living in an entirely different class of affluence to afford something like this at the Ritz.
“William?”
“To your left.”
She found him standing at the edge of the terrace, backdropped by the Paris skyline.
“Did you say espresso?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Another thing that hasn’t changed.”
“I may have quit martinis, but I’m still the bean-loving Lizzy you remember. Not everything about me has changed.”
“I know. But you seem to think that it is a bad thing for me to recall all the things I adored about you—even a coffee addiction.” He grinned.”
“It’s only inappropriate when you recall certain things. The bean is not one of them. Ha! Maybe my nickname should have been Beanz.”
“Um ... no.”
“How did she get that name?”
“Because she was so skinny, her legs looked like two string beans.”
“And now she has a lovely figure. I’d die for calves like hers.”
He didn’t answer, just shook his head, obviously perplexed that, again, she reminded him of the beautiful fiancée waiting for him.
Taking a seat, she smiled, breathing in the scent of her morning drug. “I consider this gallery business, Mr. Darcy,” she said, pouring a cup and refilling his.
Chuckling, he walked to her, trailing that intoxicating cologne in his wake. “Taking breakfast in a sexy nightie with your client is gallery business?”
“Stop pretending that last night didn’t happen. I should terminate our working relationship after your visit.”
“Is that what I’m doing, Miss Bennet? Pretending you didn’t answer the door wearing practically nothing, not even shame?”
He had her dead to rights on that one. She didn’t care what he saw. “Are you sure you weren’t drunk last night? The Mr. Darcy I know would never do such a thing as to show up at someone’s hotel room in ... the condition you were in.”
Bending, he spoke into her ear, voice deep and seductive. “I assure you, I was not drunk on alcohol. I want to remember with vivid clarity every moment I spend with you in Paris, especially your sexy nightie.” He was back to inappropriate again.
Taking the seat across from her, he sipped his coffee, then said, “You know, perhaps, you’re not as outraged as you profess. Maybe you wore said sexy nightie because you secretly wished I’d show up on your doorstep so you could test the waters of my desire and your feigned restraint.”
“For the sake of your upcoming wedding, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear such nonsense.” Of course, he was—maybe just a little—correct in his hypothesis. “What are you reading?” she changed the topic, tearing off a piece of the flaky bun.
“French for Dummies.”
“Interesting. And what have you learned apart from the masterful pronunciation of my favorite brioche?”
“That I would rather do other things with my tongue than practice mouth position.”
Mouth full, she said, “I know for a fact that you are quite articulate in the placement of the tip of your tongue,” then saucily grinned at his humored expression. Oh, how she missed this banter with him.
Resting his chin on his index and middle finger, he silently drank her in before stating. “God, I forgot how intoxicating you are in the morning.”
“That could be construed as another sexist violation of our client-broker relationship, Mr. Darcy.”
“Well, Miss Bennet, how is voicing—I assume—fond memories of our foreplay not a violation?”
“If memory serves, yes, very fond, but I was referring to your ability to adeptly attack a melting gelato.” She smirked then sipped her espresso.
Sighing defeat, he said, “Since you are so determined to keep this conversation on the business side of our ever-evolving relationship ...” He opened the book resting beside him, withdrew an oversized business check, then slid it across the table.
“I wired the money to your account, but I thought you might like the check to frame or something.”
Her chin dropped.
“Once I resigned to the fact that you were remaining our broker, my pleasure over Caroline’s shrewd commission negotiation weakened.
A measly two percent commission for a twenty-million-dollar painting reeked of vengeance, not astute deal-making.
I’m sorry for that because it was at my drunken prompting at the wedding that she proceeded with a relationship with La Tempera. ”
“But I’m okay with two percent.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Five percent is customary, and you should, at the very minimum, be paid that for a fifty-five-million-dollar acquisition. Hell, I still owe you for saving me from that eco clothing disaster.”
“William ... this is for two and three-quarters million dollars.”
“I thought I was Mr. Darcy.”
“Fine. Mr. Darcy, you’re paying me too much for services rendered.”
“You earned that and more. You’re a very wealthy woman now, and by my calculations, completely out of debt.”
Shocked, she asked. “Would you do this for anyone else?”
“Nope.”
“Then why do it?”
“Could we please stop this game and admit what we both feel for the other? I promised you once—years ago—that I would always have your back, whether you asked for it or not. I may have failed you then, but I won’t ever again.”
Shaking her head, she looked down at the check lying on the table. “Why?”
William came to her, kneeling beside her chair. “Because I love you. Lizzy, I would give you the world if you asked.”
“How could you possibly still love me after what I did to you?”
Taking her hand in his, he searched her eyes. “The past doesn’t matter. I can’t deny my heart any longer. I have fallen in love with you all over again.”
“Just because we are in Paris doesn’t mean we should fall in love.”
“Stop it. We’ve always been in love, and we will continue to be, whether in Paris or not,” he replied, noticeably frustrated by her denial. “We’re meant to be together.”
“Don’t say this. I told you last night, we can’t go down this road. It’s not right. There is another heart to consider in this equation.”
“If you say you don’t love me, then I’ll accept it and go forward in the meaningless life I’ve carved out these many years. Is that what you want? Answer me this—would your life without me bring you the joy you deserve?”