Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Nicolette
I suppose I should be afraid, or scared, or at the very least, apprehensive.
But I’m not. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a glamor magazine. I still can hardly wrap my brain around two million dollars.
I’m not proud of the fact that there are a lot of things I’d do for much less than that, but it’s true. I need this money, and it isn’t just about me, either.
Savannah needs me. She needs our money. If I only stay this course, and do what I promise, I can improve our future forever.
Sleep with one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever met? Not too difficult.
Make his family believe we meet innocently and we’re a couple? Piece of cake.
Steal an artifact worth two hundred and fifty million euros as Fabien’s accomplice? Well, now we’re complicating things, but every time I take a new client, I become whoever they want me to be.
I can do this.
The thought of actually being an accomplice in a crime that could send me to jail for years… nah, I won’t think about that.
Think of Savannah. My younger sister with the ready grin and softest heart, who depends on me for everything, deserves a home she can call her own. A safe car to drive. Clothes that don’t have holes, that weren’t bought at a thrift store or donated to a shelter.
Savannah likely hides much of what she does to survive—as do I—but I know she needs this money.
I imagine I’ve been hired to play a role. No more, no less.
He doesn’t love me, but we can pretend to be lovers.
I don’t love him, but I can feign affection and fondness, even passion.
I’m not a thief, but I can pretend to be savvy and professional.
I repeat to myself, I can do a lot for two million dollars.
His family home takes my breath away. It isn’t just the fastidious attention to detail from the thick, plush carpet beneath our feet to the decadent bouquets of flowers on every surface, the abundance of staff inside and on the grounds, or the exquisite artwork everywhere I look.
There’s a certain air about the place that speaks of comfort and luxury.
When I was a little girl, my mother once got a temporary job as a maid.
During a day off from school, she took me with her to work.
I still remember the home we cleaned. Four stories from top to bottom, two kitchens including an eat-in kitchen where the staff took their meals, a dining room, and an office.
She let me explore the second floor while she cleaned the bathrooms—three in total on that floor alone.
I remember one of the guest rooms used to belong to one of the daughters who grew up and moved away.
On a table in the corner of the room sat the most stunning dollhouse I’d ever seen with real tiles on the roof, real carpet on the floors, and when you flicked the tiny switch, real lights that lit the hallways and rooms. I spent hours just looking at every single detail, closing the doors, and imagining I lived in that house.
To me, even now, I’ve always held that house in my mind as the pinnacle of luxurious homes.
Until now.
“Fabien,” I whisper as I hold his elbow and we make our entrance. “Your family home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile.
I don’t know why, until I see a tall, thin man with a ruddy complexion heading our way.
Everything about him is hairy, from the top of his head to his knuckles.
Unlike Fabien and Thayer, he wears a white suit that makes him look the part of stereotypical mob.
I half expect him to talk like a thug and walk like an ape.
“Fabien, you made it,” he says when he’s within earshot. “And to whom do I owe this pleasure?” He gives me a smile that makes my skin crawl. Fabien holds me tighter.
“Chance,” Fabien growls without even pretending to be civil. “Meet Nicolette. Nicolette, my cousin Chance.” Chance reaches his hand out as if to shake mine.
“Touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Fabien snaps.
Chance grins, revealing yellowed teeth and a flash of gold. “Now, now, Fabien, let’s play nice.”
“I am playing nice. That’s why you’re in my home.”
Oh, my. I hope this isn’t the cousin we’ll be bribing.
“Always a jokester,” Chance says, though he narrows his eyes at me while his smile grows cold.
I give him a smile back. “Oh but he isn’t laughing.”
Fabien snorts and leads us toward the bar. Leaning in, he brushes my hair behind my ear. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I prefer beer,” I whisper back. “Wine isn’t bad, but beer is my absolute favorite.”
“Ah, that doesn’t surprise me.” He orders two drinks and hands me a frothy glass.
I take a long gulp and polish off half. The room seems to soften a little under the lights, the voices a bit less grating. There, that’s better.
The next thing I know, he’s introducing me to men that work for him, cousins, aunts, and uncles.
I can hardly keep track of all of them as he introduces them one after the other.
Some are pleasant and nice, others look at me warily, still others with downright animosity.
I can’t help but be a little jealous. Some of his family might be crazy, but at least he has family. I only have Savannah.
Still, I breathe a sigh of relief when Thayer enters the room and announces the arrival of the bride and groom. I don’t recognize either of them. It’s a strange, vivid reminder that I don’t really belong here.
Since there are no groomsmen or bridesmaids for French weddings, only children that function like flower girls and boys, the rehearsal is a simple affair, a definite nod to the American bride.
Soon, we’re sitting at a long table across from a portly woman with a pile of gray hair on top of her head that resembles a ferret.
“And you are?” she asks me.
“Nicolette.” I polish off my beer and realize I really need some food, and soon. Fabien holds my hand under the table.
I love how affectionate he is, as if he knows I need a little reassurance right about now.
Again, my friends’ admonitions rear their ugly heads, and again I silence them.
I’m not going to turn down affection from the man who’s not only paying me two million dollars, but supposedly pretending to be my date or something.
I’m going to lean into this role as best I can.
“Grand-mère, meet Nicolette. Nicolette, my grandmother.”
His grandmother lifts her chin and gives me a piercing look. “And how did you two meet?”
Avril turns to face me and smiles, curious as well. There’s something about the scrupulous look his grandmother’s giving me that gets under my skin. I decide to toss caution to the wind.
“We met at a modeling show,” I tell her with a smile. “Fabien was wearing a Speedo. I’ve never met a man so confident in his own skin. I was completely enamored and decided to make his acquaintance.”
Thayer knocks over his wineglass, drawing the attention of the table his way. Fabien pinches my leg but his lips twitch.
I giggle at her narrowed-eyed look of disapproval.
“I kid, I kid,” I say with a smile.
“We met at a coffee shop in a bookstore in Sartène,” Fabien supplies. “I’d stopped for a break and was doing a bit of reading.”
“Ah. Fabien, I didn’t know you could read,” Thayer says from a few seats down.
He grunts. “Books, Thayer, and people and relationships and rooms. I’m pretty damn literate.”
His brother snorts. He turns to me. “Your French is perfect, Nicolette, but you’re not from around here.”
“I’m not,” I say. “I’m American.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to travel to America,” Avril says. “Fabien, we should go.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “We should.” He sips from his beer as he pinches my knee under the table. One tap, then two. I look over at him to see him staring at the doorway. A guy that looks like creepy Chance but a little older and less ape-like enters the room.
He’s the cousin we need to talk to. I give Fabien a little nod.
I want to do my research. I don’t know enough about what we’re doing to really begin to prepare, but I know our time is limited and we’re basically under a microscope.
Fabien leans over and whispers in my ear, “He will talk to me if I pay him, but he’s a lot more likely to give you information than me. With our combined efforts, we’ll get what we need.”
“From where does your family come?” his grandmother asks as she stares at me.
“Chicago.”
“And are they good stock?”
“Maman,” Avril groans. “How do you tell good stock?”
“You know when you see it.”
Avril shakes her head. “Please. Stop.”
“No.”
I don’t want Fabien or Avril to worry about me. “I’m not sure how you define good stock, but both of my parents are dead, so unfortunately you won’t be able to see them to judge for yourself.”
Fabien brushes his thumb across my thigh. I shiver.
Music begins to play, and couples get up from the table to head to the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” Fabien says.
“Are you asking me?”
“No,” he says in my ear. “Telling you. Dance with me. We’ll head over to my cousin and get what we need.
” He turns to face his grandmother. “And Grand-mère, you let Maman marry a peasant, and didn’t stop her, so I’m sure you have it somewhere in you to grant a boon to someone regardless of their stock. ”
She grumbles as we take our leave from the table. Avril wiggles her fingers at us.
“Enchantée,” I say to her as we leave. I notice Chance giving me a curious look and the man next to him—
I do a double take.
“Fabien,” I whisper. “Don’t look now, but who’s that guy sitting next to Chance?”
“His father, my uncle.”
Oh, Lord. I’ve seen him before on the evening news. I find the news typically affects my ability to sleep, so I rarely watch it, but the local tavern had it on one evening when the girls and I went out for a drink there.
For some reason, realizing his uncle made the news makes the stakes that much higher.
I can do this, I can do this.
“Why?” Fabien leads me to the dance floor with effortless ease for a big guy like him.
“I’ve seen him before,” I whisper in his ear.
“You’ve seen him before where?”