Chapter 39
CATELINE
After Connor’s thirty days in the Blancbourg program are up, we travel to the United States to do paperwork and for the First Annual Boston Bruisers Charity Ball.
I’ve never been to Los Angeles and as the plane descends, the city lights sparkle before they abruptly stop at the sea.
The air is warm even though it’s after nightfall. The pace is the opposite of where we visited in North Carolina and I feel like a cat watching someone bounce a ball back and forth. There is so much to see, to hear, to do.
A car service brings us to a fancy hotel where the other players are staying.
Connor is at ease, yet he carries himself with more pride than he did when we first stepped through the doors at Blancbourg.
His smile comes a little easier and when a gaggle of women who call themselves the Bruiser Babes strut by, he doesn’t even look their way.
No, Connor’s gaze is fixed on me and remains there when we go shopping for a blue gown the next day, when we eat at a famous sushi restaurant, and when he takes me on a tour of the off-season Bruisers’ training facility.
And it’s hard not to admire a man of his stature when he meets me after a spa day of pampering in preparation for the ball. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His hair is trim and he’s freshly shaved, but it’s the way his muscles tease the tux’s fabric that has me aflutter.
“Like what you see? I do.” Eyes combing me, he plants a kiss on my cheek, takes my hand, and spins me in a circle.
My dark Boston Bruisers blue floor-length gown in a mermaid fit flares at the bottom.
The ruffles lift a little, revealing my silhouette.
It has a V-neck in the front and a V-cut in the back, providing me with some air conditioning, because Connor’s eyes eat me up, making me warm all over.
“What did you do all day?” I ask.
A couple of guys pass, and their eyes land on me. Connor draws me close. He’s an alpha, a wolf through and through. It’s a little possessive and I like it.
There’s a growl in his voice when he answers, “Thought about you.”
“What else?”
“Worked out. Played football. Thought about you.”
I kiss him on the cheek and say, “You mentioned.”
After taking a limousine to the First Annual Boston Bruisers Charity Ball, we sweep along the blue and black carpet, past photographers taking photos and reporters asking questions.
Connor flashes his smile and wedding ring, confirming that he’s no longer on the market. “The only Wolfe you’ll see is on the field.”
He squeezes my hand as we go inside.
I’ve been in countless ballrooms in my life, but the charity ball is by far the most upscale and formal event I’ve ever attended.
It’s all glitz, glamour, and a long list of who’s who, consisting of athletes, celebrities, and public figures.
I’m thankful for my background in etiquette and how to interact in this kind of setting. But instead of spending much time making small but meaningful talk with strangers, Connor whisks me onto the dancefloor.
We slow dance and pick up the tempo to the fast songs. He even knows the pasodoble. I’m a bit rusty and it wasn’t part of my classical training, however, I picked up a lot over the years. But where did he get these moves?
When we return to a waltz, I say, “Who knew you enjoyed dancing so much?”
“Only with you, Kitty Cat.”
And there we remain for most of the ball before getting in a limo and going for burgers and milkshakes at In & Out. Of course, we share.
We end the night on the beach with the waves washing to shore and a kiss under the stars that threatens to cause a blackout in the city at our backs.
Upon returning to the manor in Concordia, Arthur greets me with a gracious smile as always.
“You gave us a bit of a fright after we learned about your visit to the hospital,” he says, helping me with my bags. “I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better because I don’t know what we’d do here without you. You run a tight ship.”
The sincerity in his eyes makes me feel appreciated. In a way, Arthur and his wife are like grandparents to me. I spend holidays with them and always bring Arthur a pretzel when I shop in the village.
“Thank you.” I can only manage a smile because I’m not sure how much longer any of us will be there.
During the flight back, I caught up on emails and notices. The budget looks graver than ever, but I also had a chance to dig deep into the various accounts owned by the school and discovered some unusual discrepancies.
“How is Mrs. Fitzgerald faring?” I ask.
“Quite well—” Arthur holds up his finger to say something else, but someone cuts across him.
“The world traveler decided to return.” Regina approaches, appearing as if she’s ready to pounce.
“You know, instead of you and the other teachers gallivanting all over hill and dale with your pupils, had you been smart, you would’ve redirected the travel expenditures back to the school, kept those football jerks, I mean, jocks, here for the remaining weeks, and spared me from having to let A—”
What Arthur said about running a tight ship reminds me of Connor’s story about burning the boats. “Actually, Regina, I was hoping to have this conversation with you in my office. Surely, you’re familiar with those four walls.”
A shadow of guilt crosses Regina’s eyes, but she lifts her chin, defying any further acknowledgment.
I smooth my hair as I settle behind my desk.
Regina takes the seat opposite me and says, “Arthur has to go.”
“During my time gallivanting, as you said, I’ve had some time to think about our mission at Blancbourg and our approach.
In fact, it concerns me that we’ve been so preoccupied with cutting the budget instead of coming up with ways to earn more money.
” I jiggle the computer’s mouse to bring it to life.
I half expect one of Connor’s pranks, but we called a truce.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one in charge of the fiscal duties.” Regina huffs.
“No, but I am in charge in general and what’s of great concern are several accounts I found in the expenditures section of our budget.
There’s Cameo Advertising. I’m not familiar with their work.
” My gaze flits from one of Regina’s many signature cameo brooches pinned to her blouse.
I lift my eyes to meet hers. She looks away.
“Perhaps you can give me their contact info.”
Regina blinks a few times.
I angle my computer monitor so the bursar can see. “There are several other accounts with high advertising budgets and yet when I looked them up online, I couldn’t find their websites or credentials.”
“They’re privately owned.”
I nod. “I’d like to talk to whoever your contacts are and discuss the return on investment.”
“You can’t. I’m the bursar.”
“As the headmistress, actually, I can.”
“They’re out of town.”
“Gallivanting, I suppose.” I didn’t want to think the worst, but when I pored over the files and accounts during my flight, red flags raised my suspicions.
“It’s not my fault that you’re ill-equipped to run this school. Ever since you’ve been the headmistress, you’ve been running it into the ground. I knew you were a clueless—”
I get to my feet. “Excuse me. As an employee of this school, I expect you to uphold our rules of etiquette. Speaking disrespectfully is not what we do here. If you have a problem with me as the headmistress, you can bring that up with the Board of Regents.”
“I have. I told them you’ve been cavorting with your pupil and stealing money.”
I sit back down. There is no denying I overstepped with Connor. However, I’d never steal.
“We all remember when you came here with nothing. It makes sense that you’d sneak your way in and then pilfer from our coffers.” Regina glowers.
“That is a serious accusation.” I keep my tone even.
“We all know about your character. Poor girl. Finds her way into a posh job—what was rightfully my job—and gets greedy.”
An ache that’s been present in the pit of my belly since I left France grows. “It would be better to have this conversation with the Board present,” I repeat.
“I agree. That’s why I called an emergency meeting as soon as I learned you were returning. They should be here any moment.” Regina sweeps from the room.
I feel like crumbling, retreating. But I burned the ships. There is no going back. No choice but to win. I square my shoulders and march to the meeting room.
The Board of Regents, consisting of three men and one woman, sit expressionless at a long wooden table with Regina in their midst.
Following the usual formalities, they bring the meeting to the first order of business. Regina’s accusations. The bursar makes her case, accusing me of stealing funds.
“I’ve told her time and time again that if something doesn’t change, we’ll have to close the school.
She doesn’t care about this place. Rather, she pursues her single-minded quest for riches.
She’s a liar and a thief and not fit to be the headmistress.
I move that we fire her. Who’s in favor? ” Regina raises her hand. “Aye.”
“Mrs. Harrow. You know our process. Ms. Berghier, please state your case.”
I take a deep breath. “I refute these claims completely except for my involvement with my pupil, Connor Wolfe. We unexpectedly developed a relationship. However, our contract was over when we made things official.”
“We will consider whether to suggest you resign.”
“I understand. But did you have the opportunity to review the emails I sent each of you earlier?”
The four members of the Board nod and one opens a laptop.
“Yes, we did and are surprised Mrs. Harrow made such outrageous claims against you when it is clear she is the one diverting advertising money from the school, funneling it into fake accounts registered under false names, and then forwarding it to her private foreign accounts.” The board member looks up over wire-rimmed glasses.
A second board member adds, “We were able to confirm the paper trail.”
Regina blanches, sputters, and then pushes from her chair and hurries out of the room.
That woman is a troll. How delusional could she be to think she could pass off thefts like those to me?
A little twinge of victory sparks inside, but the ever-widening pit of worry that threatens to swallow me whole surges.
I may no longer have a job. Despite Connor’s salary, I need something of my own.
The board assures me they’ll be taking legal action against Regina.
“If I were to resign, may I recommend a replacement?” I ask.
“Gemma Forbes, my previous assistant, is brilliant, knows everything about my role, and has some forward-thinking ideas for how to move the school into the global, internet-based community.” Gemma and I spoke again and I gave her the heads up that a position might be opening soon at Blancbourg.
“Ms. Berghier, in light of all of this, we have to commend you for many years of loyal service as well as successfully registering the manor as a historic site.”
I nod at the triumph that’s mostly thanks to Connor. Had he not thought of that, I wouldn’t have been able to help in such an impactful way. As I get to my feet, the reality of being free, of having the opportunity to do whatever I want, battles against the emptiness of the risk I’m about to take.
“Ms. Berghier, we want to thank you for fighting for Blancbourg,” one of the regents says.
“And may I ask,” the lone woman on the board says, “If you don’t remain here, what’s next for you?”
A familiar, excited tingling works its way across my skin. Unable to help it, I sashay toward the door and do a grand jeté. “I’m going to dance.” I gave it up to find myself and it’ll be the thing that brings me back to myself.
Connor waits for me in the hallway. He extends his hand for me to take. It fits perfectly inside and we step into the sunny afternoon.
“Where to first?” he asks as we begin our homey-moon—our house-hunting adventure in Concordia.
I learn that a homey-moon is not to be confused with moon-gate or what Connor said is a trip with his homies, aka the guys.
It’s a stay-at-home honeymoon, kind of like a staycation, but ours has a little twist.
“I can’t wait to play tourists, visiting the regional sites as well as looking for a nest to call our own. There are so many options—a home in the mountains, the seaside, or in the village...”
“And some of the historic buildings,” Connor adds, confirming an appreciation for Concordia’s history.
“But when we find a house we love, we’re going to settle in and make it our own.”
“I like the sound of that. First, how about we go get a pretzel, Mrs. Wolfe?”
“Didn’t expect you to be hungry, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Everything changed that afternoon we stopped by the bakery.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It’s when I realized you’re the only woman I want.”
My smile reaches my eyes. “And you have me. I’m all yours.”
Our lips dance together in a kiss that promises many to come...and yes, they still make me weak in the knees.
When we part, Connor smirks because he knows the effect he has on me. But my grin isn’t far behind because he knows he finally won by making me Mrs. Wolfe.