17. Jasmine
Chapter seventeen
Jasmine
“Jas?”
A gentle hand shakes me awake. I’m having a wonderful dream. It’s me and Alec in a huge fairytale palace with crowns on our heads while his parents sit around the dining table talking and laughing with us. We are the picture of a perfectly happy family. I don’t want to wake up.
“Jasmine!” The shake becomes more forceful, and my eyes drift open to meet Alec’s pretty blue ones. He’s crouched on the floor beside me, smiling into my face with eyes full of affection. My heart expands.
“It’s nine a.m., Jas,” he says softly. “It’s time to get up.”
We tried to sleep on the flight here, but neither of us could catch any rest. We spent the night talking about our childhood and getting to know each other more. I didn’t think I was tired until my body hit the bed .
I sit up, admiring the quiet luxury around me. “Are we in your parents’ house?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I usually stay at their mansion whenever I’m alone in France, but I want you to be comfortable. That’s why I brought you here. It’s my house.”
“It’s lovely.” I hold out my arms, and Alec climbs into bed with me.
“We have lunch with my parents by noon. We must be there on time.”
“Do they know I’ll be there?”
“Yes. I told them.”
A shudder runs through me at the thought of lunch with Alec’s parents, and I squish it again. It’s been a significant source of worry, but I shouldn’t let it bother me. His parents are humans, just like the rest of us. Being a billionaire doesn't grant you god status.
“I should shower then.”
“Yes. There’s a makeup artist and stylist outside to help you prepare.”
“What?” My head rears back with shock. “What did you say?”
“A makeup artist and stylist…” he squints at me.
“What do I need that for?”
“To prepare you for lunch. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but my mother judges appearances also. I want you to make a great first impression. ”
“Oh, so you’re saying I cannot style myself. You’re saying that, by myself, I don’t measure up to your mother’s expectations. I have to conform to what I’m not.”
“Jasmine,” Alec groans. “I’m not saying that, please.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Americans and French dress differently, and even worse, there’s a stringent fashion caste between the French high-class society,” he says. “My mother is very critical about things like that, so we must get that out of the way. The stylist I employed has styled my mother on various occasions, so she knows what my mother likes.”
I take a deep breath and nod, even though I’m still uncomfortable with the idea. “Jasmine, please let’s hold each other’s hands and do this together. We know there may be resistance, but we can get the inconsequential bits out of the way.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Thirty minutes later, I sit in the living room with a plate of chips while the makeup artist, Cleo, works on my face. She’s a friendly lady, and we both agreed on a soft, minimalist look, which suits my aesthetic well. When she finishes my makeup, the stylist takes over.
We spend the next thirty minutes reviewing all the dresses on the rack. I feel like a runway model. We’re about to give up on finding the perfect dress when I try the last outfit, and everyone gasps.
“Jasmine.” Damien walks towards me, his eyes shining with awe. “You look magnificent.”
“Thank you. I love it.” I twirl in front of the mirror, admiring my reflection.
“Madame Lillian will like this,” the stylist says, dousing my mood. I understand we’re doing this to impress her, but I’d rather not be reminded. The stylist completes my dress with an elegant fascinator and matching shoes. Now, it’s time to go.
As we walk to the car, Alec’s eyes won’t leave my body. “You know I’m tempted to call this lunch off just because of you.”
“Stop it.” I swat his arm as we enter the backseat.
“I’ll derive great joy in taking it off you when we arrive home.”
“Well…” I drape one leg over this thigh. “I’ll derive great joy in letting you.”
We both burst into laughter and twine our fingers together. “Are you nervous?” he asks.
“Not anymore.”
“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead. “Don’t let anyone intimidate you, Jas. I’ve got your back, you know that, right?”
“Yes.”
The Ace family mansion is much bigger than I expected, and it throws me off guard. As we drive up the entrance, I peer out the window at the expensive statues, gargoyles, and monumental waterfalls decorating the vast compound.
“This is where you grew up?”
“Yup. It’s where my father grew up, too.” Alec leads me out of the vehicle and up the cobblestone steps to the front door. While the exterior of the building is awe-inspiring, the interior is breathtaking. Everything in it is carved from expensive stones and diamonds, not to mention the pricey artwork on the wall.
Alec leads me past the living room and down the hallway.
“Is no one home?”
He chuckles. “My parents are home. They’re mainly in the other wing of the house.”
“Okay. Where are we going?”
“The dining room.” He pushes a door open, and I walk in. The dining room is bigger than Riley’s apartment in New York, which is not an exaggeration. The dining table is obviously an antique set and is crafted from high-quality wood. I may not know much about wood or furniture, but I know money when I see it.
Alec helps me into my seat before sitting beside me. The table is already full of different meals and drinks that would usually whet my appetite. But right now, my anxiety is returning, and the last thing on my mind is food.
“Where are your parents? ”
“They’ll be here soon. They’re never late.” Alec checks his wristwatch. “It’s already—”
The door swings open, and we both turn to see an older couple walk in.
This is Mr. and Mrs. Ace, Alec’s parents.
While Mr. Ace is a handsome and distinguished man, he doesn’t hold my attention for more than a few seconds. Mrs. Ace, on the other hand, draws me in, and I can hardly stop staring.
She’s dressed in Mulberry silk that whispers against her skin as she walks, with a feather fascinator that lends her an air of elegance and sophistication. There’s a haughty look in her eyes that has bile rising to my throat because I can already tell she will be extremely difficult to please.
Alec rushes to his feet when his parents reach the table. “Good afternoon, Dad. Good afternoon, Mum.”
“My boy.” Laughing, his father embraces him momentarily. His mother doesn’t say a word. She just sits at the table and stares ahead.
“Dad, this is Jasmine. She’s the lady I told you about,” Alec says, smiling at me.
I rise to my feet and hold out my hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Ace. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Jasmine.” Mr. Ace shakes my hand briefly before sitting beside his wife.
“Mom,” Alec calls. “This is Jasmine, the—”
“Servers!” Mrs. Ace claps, and uniformed servers appear to serve our lunch.
My cheeks warm with embarrassment, but Alec’s hand finds mine beneath the table. We intertwine our fingers together, and peace returns to me instantly. For the next twenty minutes, I dig slowly through my food.
“What’s wrong, Miss Jasmine?” Mr. Ace asks with concern. “You don’t like the food?”
“No! I love it.”
Mrs. Ace scoffs. “Americans think they have better food than the French,” she says. “They always think they’re better than the French.”
“That’s not true.”
“Hmm.” Her dull black eyes meet mine briefly before sliding her gaze to Alec. “You always look so stressed whenever you come from New York. You need to be back in France for good.”
Alec doesn’t respond, and his fingers tighten around mine. It comforts me that Mrs. Ace makes Alec uncomfortable, too, and her ire isn’t directed at me alone. Maybe that makes me a bad person…
“So…Miss Jasmine,” Mr. Ace says before sipping from his wine glass. “Tell me, what do you do?”
I freeze because I know it’s the moment of truth, but the irony is that there’s no correct answer. As long as I’m not admitting to them that I’m the long-lost daughter of a billionaire, nothing I say will ever impress them. It will be a tough lunch for me, and I hope the universe shows me a little support.