Second Hearts (The Wishes Series) (40 page)

“I’m a little upset actually,” I said, continuing with my brutal run of honesty. “You asked me to meet you here at nine. It’s almost half-past.”

The receptionist must have thought this was compelling viewing because the incessant tapping of her long nails on her keyboard halted immediately. Jean-Luc smiled at me but I held my ground. I’d come too far to back down and apologise for my Décarie-strength arrogance. “I apologise for my tardiness.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words very carefully. “If you don’t have time to meet with me now, perhaps we could reschedule for another day.”

“No. I’d like to get this over with now.”

I didn’t even know what
this
was but I knew it wouldn’t be good. Fiona’s recollection of the vicious run-in with her son would have been an Oscar-worthy performance. And all blame would have been lumped squarely on me.

A frown flashed across Jean-Luc’s face but he recovered quickly, opening the door of his office and ushering me in ahead of him.

It was impossible not to be impressed. The large room was as big as our whole apartment. The floor to ceiling windows boasted a view almost as good as the one from the roof.

“Take a seat, please,” he said motioning toward a big leather chair opposite his desk. “If you can draw yourself away from the view.” He sat in his chair and pulled it closer to his desk. He picked up a pen and began writing something on the stack of papers he’d brought in with him. “I am constantly distracted by the window,” he complained jokingly. “It’s hard to get any work done in here.”

I found it hard to believe anything distracted him. Even as we spoke, he was preoccupied with the work on his desk.

Ditching the scenery, I crossed the room and sat opposite him, immediately noticing an envelope on his desk that
almost
had my name on it.

Charlotte Blake-Décarie.

I wondered who’d decided to hyphenate my surname. I hadn’t even made that call yet. “Is that for me?” I asked, pointing to it. “Is that what you summoned me here for?”

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed, smiling the killer Décarie grin. My mind went in to overdrive, imagining what was in the envelope. Divorce papers, perhaps? Maybe he planned to dangle me by my ankles from his office window until I agreed to sign them. Or money. That seemed more like the Décarie style. He was about to try paying me off. I wondered how much he thought it would take to get me out of his son’s life.

Being constantly on my guard was beginning to take its toll. I sank back in my chair and stared at the patriarch of the most evil family on earth. “I don’t want it. I’m not taking it.”

“Charli, I –”

“Please, please just stop this,” I begged. “I love Adam. I came from the other side of the world to be with him. Surely that proves that my intentions are good.”

Jean-Luc pushed his chair back slightly, putting more space between us. He didn’t seem angered or offended by my outburst, just confused. “Who doubts your intentions?”

I groaned at his stupid play at obliviousness. “I’m so much smarter than you all give me credit for but I don’t want to fight with you people anymore.” The words hitched in my throat and I fought against crying. Even I was worried that I was having some kind of breakdown. I buried my face in my hands, wishing I’d stayed in bed that morning.

“Charlotte, what is wearing you down?” he asked gently.

Jean-Luc Décarie was a lawyer at the very top of his game. I was probably the easiest hostile witness he’d ever cross-examined. I was so beaten down, I would have told him anything he wanted to know.

I forced myself to lift my head and look at him. “I just want to love your son. I shouldn’t have to fight his family for the right to do that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed. “My wife took it upon herself to draw some very unreasonable lines in the sand.”

“Look, I realise I’m seriously flawed. I don’t have the education or the upbringing you wanted Adam’s wife to have. And I’m certain you didn’t even want him to have a wife at twenty-two, but I love him. I can’t even begin to tell you how much – “

“I understand that, Charlotte – “

“No, you don’t.” I shook my head, drumming my finger on his desk. “I’ve given up everything to be with him. I haven’t seen the ocean in months… and I miss the ocean. I miss my father dreadfully. For the time being, I’ve given him up too. And yet as long as I have Adam, I’m still ahead.”

Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head while he mulled over my rant. I didn’t care whether I’d managed to change his opinion of me or not. At least I was putting up a good fight. “Would you like to know what’s in the envelope?”

“You mean, would I like to know
how much
is in the envelope?”

He laughed loudly, in a way that reminded me of Adam. “Do you think I’m about to try paying you off? Oh, dear girl, your opinion of me is incredibly low.”

“You haven’t given me much to work with.”

He smiled slowly. “I see what my sons see in you.”

It bothered me that he referenced both sons, but I let it slide. “Please, just tell me what’s in the envelope.”

He picked it up and dropped it in front of me. I wasted no time, roughly tearing it open to access the letter inside. Jean-Luc explained it before I’d even got through reading it. “Your visa has been approved,” he announced. “I pulled a few strings.” Bizarrely, I began to sob as if I’d just found out I was being deported. “My son’s happiness is paramount to me, Charli,” he said, pulling a black silk handkerchief from his pocket and thrusting it at me. “My wife didn’t handle the situation well, but her priorities are the same as mine.” I nodded but said nothing, prompting him to continue. “I implore you to work this out.”

“I’ll try,” I promised, eliciting another brilliant smile from him.

“Outstanding.”

***

I’d been home for over an hour before Adam arrived. Too antsy to show any form of restraint, I hurled myself at him the second the door opened, flinging my arms around his neck
and hitching my legs around his waist. He groaned, but the protest was weak. He responded to the ambush by kissing me, just as urgently as I’d thrown myself at him. By the time he’d walked us down to the end of the short hallway, we were in danger of never speaking again.

“Stop for a second,” I breathed, giving no indication that that was what I really wanted him to do.

“Stop what?” he murmured, kicking the bedroom door open with his foot.

“Adam, please. It’s important.”

He surrendered by dropping me on the bed in a messy heap. I took a few seconds to try and steady my breathing. His tactics were a little different. He paced around the bedroom, ruffling his hands through his dark hair, trying to pull himself together. “What could be more important that this?”

I doubted I was in any fit state to answer him. I held the letter out to him.

Adam grabbed it and quickly read through before tossing it aside and lunging forward. I couldn’t have escaped if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to.

“So, you’re stuck with me,” I told him, murmuring the words into his ear.

“It’s a mutual predicament, Charlotte,” he breathed.

33. Billet-doux

Adam wasn’t exactly renowned for off-the-wall ideas. In fact, I imagine the one he came up with over breakfast the next morning was his very first. It involved a trip to the offices of Décarie, Fontaine and Associates, and a meeting with Ryan at Billet-doux.

We arrived at the restaurant just after three – ten minutes late, just to be annoying. Adam pounded on the door and Ryan eventually appeared to unlock it. “Nice of you to make it,” he chided, stepping aside.

“Nice of you to fit us in,” replied Adam, still sore that he’d made us book an appointment to see him.

I loved being at Billet-doux when it was empty. It was pretty and grand and always smelled like fresh flowers. Maybe that’s why Ryan belonged there. He was pretty and grand too.

“What’s this all about?” Ryan asked, pulling out a chair at the nearest table. “I get the feeling that it’s going to be as ridiculous as always.”

We followed his lead and sat. Adam’s poker face was impressive, but something about my expression made Ryan nervous. “What did you do this time?” he asked, squinting at me with suspicion.

Adam answered for me. “She hasn’t done anything. Her visa has been approved.”

Ryan’s expression relaxed a little, and he smiled. “I heard. Congratulations, Charlotte. I guess that’ll make mother’s attempts at getting you thrown out of the country a little trickier.” Adam’s glare had no effect. “Sorry, fairy pants,” he said insincerely. “Too soon?”

Ignoring his comment, Adam forged ahead. “We’ve decided to make a few changes. I’ve got next to no time on my hands and Charli has plenty.”

Pre-empting his next sentence, Ryan looked at me and groaned. “You want your job back.”

Even from the corner of my eye, Adam’s grin was blinding. “She doesn’t need her job back. She now owns my half of Billet-doux.”

Ryan nearly choked. I’d never seen him stunned in to silence before, and I knew just how much fun rattling his cage could be.

Adam pushed a stack of paperwork across the table toward him. Ryan thumbed through them too quickly to have read any of them. “No, no, no,” he protested. “I
like
working with you, Adam. You never come here. You don’t argue. You’re a
silent
partner. I
like
silence. Charli doesn’t do silence.” He pushed the papers back to Adam as if that was all it would take to make them go away.

Adam slid them straight back. “Charli will be good for this place. She has some great ideas.”

He was lying. All I had was a couple of half-baked ideas and an urge to do something productive.

Obviously realising he wasn’t making any headway with Adam, he turned his attention to me. “Look, Charli, sweetheart,” he began, in his usual superior tone. “You’re very pretty.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” asked Adam gruffly.

“Let me finish.” Ryan’s eyes never left mine. “You’re very pretty and you’re very arty. But those attributes aren’t applicable to the running of a successful restaurant. You need to broaden your horizons.” For some strange reason, he started flapping his arms like he was trying to fly. “Find a glitter shop somewhere and make Adam buy it for you. Please, just tear up the papers and hand ownership back to your husband.”

“No,” I said simply.

Ryan dropped the calm demeanour instantly. “You and I are never going to work.” The words raged out of him.

“Why not?” asked Adam, grinning like an idiot.

“Because I am not enamoured by her like you are. She’s going to show up here and torment me on a daily basis.”

“I’ll make a deal with you, Ryan,” I suggested.

He gestured wildly at the stack of papers. “You’ve made enough deals for one day, wouldn’t you say?”

“Just hear her out,” urged Adam. “Let’s face it, you really don’t have much choice.”

Ryan slumped back, looking close to beaten. I seemed to have that effect on a lot of people lately.

“Billet-doux closes at two and opens again for dinner at six,” I said, in my best businesslike voice.

“It does,” he agreed wearily.

“Let me run service for those few hours, just for one day.”

“And serve what? Fairy food?” He thought he was being witty but he was closer to the mark than he could ever have anticipated.

“Yes,” I agreed, deadpan. “Fairy food.”

“Oh my God.” Ryan slapped his palm on his forehead. “You’ll bury us in a week.”

“Just give me a chance, Ryan. It’s only four hours.”

“I’m going to get this contract checked out,” he said waving the papers at both of us.

“It’s perfectly legal,” explained Adam, shrugging his shoulders and grinning like a complete villain. “Dad drew up the paperwork. Face it brother, you have no choice but to let her in.”

Ryan folded his arms across his chest, staring at me like I was his worst foe. “When do you plan to put this ridiculous plan into action?”

“Give me a week. All you have to do is show up here one week from today at two o’clock.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“None whatsoever,” replied Adam, smugly.

***

It only took a day for me to come to the realisation that I might have bitten off more than I could chew. Ryan had demanded a silent partnership. I learned pretty quickly that it was a one-sided arrangement. He’d called me at least five times, wanting to know my plans for Billet-doux. I assured him that everything was under control and then hung up on him, like a true New Yorker. My bravado was a complete act. I had a potentially awesome plan but seemed to flounder when it came to putting it into action.

Desperation makes you do strange things, which is the only explanation I could come up with for ending up at the queen’s door.

Mrs Brown looked positively alarmed when she saw me – so unnerved that I found myself promising that I wasn’t up to mischief. “I just need to see Fiona for a minute.”