The Paris Connection (12 page)

She arrived ahead of her friend and took the time to order them both their usual, café au lait with the coffee served in a pot and a pitcher of milk on the side with two cups. As she waited for their order, she found a table near the back of the establishment. The business was slow this time of day, but she preferred it. She wanted a relative amount of privacy for the conversation she had to have with her friend.

She settled into a seat to wait and checked her phone to make sure she had no missed messages. As she looked up, she caught sight of Solene just entering through the door, and she stood, waving to get her attention. Solene’s face broke into a smile as she made her way around tables and chairs to the back.

“Why are we seated back here? I feel as though this is a secret rendezvous.” She placed her cheek against each side of Emma’s face in her usual greeting before sitting. Emma sat across from her, facing the door.

“I just liked the view from the back of the room. And I thought it would be nice to have a little bit of privacy.”

Solene seemed to sense something in her tone because she dropped her bag to the table and eyed her speculatively. “Privacy? This sounds more clandestine with every minute.”

“I’m hardly an international spy, Solene.” But given the corporate espionage that was taking place at Aquitaine, this statement only served to make Emma more uncomfortable.

Before they could say anything further, a server appeared with their order and placed it on the table between them. They each took a minute to prepare their coffee before conversation continued.

“Thanks again for watching Avery this weekend, after everything that happened.”

Solene fluttered a hand in dismissal. “I only hope Jacqueline makes a complete recovery. I never got to ask, though, how the corporate retreat was going before you had to come home early.”

Emma took a sip of her coffee and scalded her tongue. “Ah.” She took a second to recover. “It was...good.”

Solene paused with her cup halfway to her lips. “Good? You sound unconvinced of that statement.”

“No, not at all.” It
had
been good, in her mind. But she also didn’t know how she could explain things to Solene, about Cole’s insinuation concerning her and Julien and the conversation at the chapel, without her friend casting a negative light on the weekend.

“And the new CEO? How are things coming along with him?”

To her horror, Emma felt her cheeks flaming, the heat spreading outward toward her jaw and neck. Solene watched with interest.

“Emma. You are smitten, aren’t you?”

“Wh-what? You’re crazy.” She took another sip of her coffee, hoping to rein her reactions in, and scalded her tongue once more. She winced.

“Listen, Solene, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” She couldn’t just sit here and discuss Cole or the retreat. She had to get this thing out in the open.

Solene calmly sipped from her own cup, and Emma marveled that she didn’t singe her lips. But then, Solene had always been Emma’s idea of the quintessential Frenchwoman. She could do anything and appear elegant and at ease, even burn her mouth on hot coffee and act as though nothing had occurred. She wondered just how often she got to see the real Solene, the one underneath the perfect veneer.

“I am ready whenever you are,” Solene prompted after she had remained silent for several seconds more.

Emma cleared her throat and straightened up a bit in her seat. “Your company has been poaching our candidates.”

Solene leaned back, eyes wide. “That is quite the accusation, my friend.”

Her use of this appellation was not lost on Emma. They were friends. Solene was one of her very best friends, and she was grateful for how Solene had watched out for her over the years. Accusing her felt a little like a betrayal.

“I’m not trying to blame you, but I have a list....” She dug the paper out of her purse and slid it toward Solene. “You recognize all these names.”

Solene took the sheet and unfolded it, scanning the list. “I do,” she admitted.

“Solene, all four of those names were placed by you. And they were candidates we were in exclusive talks with. No other recruiters had approached them.”

Solene lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “You had not contracted any of them yet.”

Emma felt her stomach sink with disappointment. “Then you did poach them.”

Solene sighed. “I was offered an exclusive list of candidates who were looking to be placed with companies in their field. It would have been foolish not to take it. If I hadn’t, then someone else at my company would have.”

“Solene.” Emma felt a sting of hurt. “That feels an awful lot like revenge against Julien.”

“Oh,
chérie.
” Solene leaned forward and clasped her hand. “It was not intended that way. I was given an opportunity. It was not illegal to take it.”

“No,” Emma had to admit, but it was the same reason Julien and Solene had parted ways to begin with—her methods, if not illegal, hovered in a gray area at best. “But, Solene, that was a direct strike to Aquitaine, to the merger, to
me.
”

Solene squeezed her fingers tighter at this. “
Non,
you cannot think of it that way. We are friends, Emma. I would never do anything to jeopardize you.”

“Then tell me who gave you the candidate names. Was it one of the other recruiters? Marc, maybe?”

Solene released her and leaned back. “No, I cannot tell you that. I promised that I wouldn’t.”

Emma felt a swell of frustration. “You just said that we’re friends. Can’t you help me out here? I was on the phone all morning, doing damage control. It’s going to take us weeks to come up with suitable replacements for the candidates we lost. And you can’t even tell me who at my own company betrayed us?”

Solene reached for her mug and took a sip of her drink once more. “I gave my word not to tell.”

Emma felt her jaw drop and then snapped it closed. “So
that’s
where you choose to be suddenly principled? You can blur the lines in every respect but not when it comes to naming the person responsible for selling company files?”

She didn’t even flinch. “I am sorry.”

Emma let out a sigh of disgust and leaned back in her chair. “How do I know it won’t happen again?”

Solene said nothing, and Emma stiffened. “It has already, hasn’t it? You have more names, more profiles.”

“They still have a choice, you know. Any candidate still has the opportunity to choose between the company Aquitaine offers them and the one I do.”

She scoffed. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Oh, my darling.” Solene’s voice turned sympathetic. “You know that none of this is fair. Wasn’t that the first rule I taught you when you began this business? Don’t ever assume anyone fights fair.”

“It’s true. You did warn me,” Emma conceded. “But I thought I could at least count on you to be honest with me.” She took the paper that still rested between them and stuffed it back into her bag.

“I promise to be honest with you now. Come and work with me at Léon. I’ve already spoken to our board chairman as well as our CEO. They’re willing to interview you for managing director with a possible salary increase. It would be the same title you have at Aquitaine right now with the guarantee for promotion within a year.”

Emma frowned. “Solene, why would you do that? You’re still only a senior recruiter yourself.”

She grinned, and Emma couldn’t help feeling it was just a touch wolfish. “I like being a recruiter. I like the hunt and the negotiation. I have no desire to manage other recruiters and a firm. You’re so much better at it than I would ever be. And I miss you. I want us to work together again.”

As flattering as these words were, Emma still felt a niggling doubt. “And it would be so convenient, wouldn’t it? To strike another blow at Julien by stealing me away?”

Solene’s smile flattened. “He does not deserve you, any more than he deserved me. You should have been the new CEO. You worked harder for it than anybody, and what does he do? He bows to an American woman’s wishes to install her own man in your place.”

“My promotion wasn’t official yet,” she said weakly in defense of Julien.

“It does not matter. He betrayed you. Can you not see that? When will you learn, Emma? First, Brice, and then, Julien.”

“Brice has nothing to do with this.”

“No? Brice and Julien have one thing in common—their selfishness. They each expected you to sacrifice your wishes for theirs.”

“They’re not the same,” she protested. “Julien has been there for me, many times over. He’s like a father figure—”

“And he plays on your need for one.” Solene cut her off.

They both fell silent in the wake of these words. At least Solene had the decency to look abashed.

For her part, Emma could only hold her head high for so long before she dropped her gaze and reached for her coffee cup. The milk had left a cloudy film across the café au lait’s surface. She placed it back on the table.

“I am sorry,
chérie.
I did not mean to say that. It was not fair.”

“But it’s true,” Emma admitted. “I miss my father. He wasn’t in my life long enough, and I’ve always felt the lack of his presence. I worry about Avery—I want her to have a stronger bond with her father.”

Solene scoffed. “She is an adorable child. Brice does not deserve her.”

Emma didn’t respond to this. Solene reached out and took her hand once more.

“Please, Emma. Just think about it. You and me, on the same team again. Julien would have to understand, after how he gave the CEO promotion to someone else. He has no right to keep you stuck where you are when your talents could be put to much better use.”

“I don’t know. Aquitaine is my company.”

“It is Julien’s company. Not yours. And that has never been more apparent than now, when he joined forces with the Americans and denied you the title that should have been yours. You, who have devoted so much time and skill to strengthening the company name.”

Emma’s uneasiness must have shown because Solene squeezed her fingers in reassurance before releasing them.

“Just think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer this minute. Take a few days, a few weeks, a month if you need it. And let me know when you’ve made a decision.”

Emma didn’t see the harm in this suggestion. It wouldn’t be a betrayal to Julien just to entertain the idea, would it?

“And the candidate names? You won’t tell me who gave them to you?”

“I can’t, darling. It would require breaking a confidence. I promised. You understand.”

“Then at least swear to me that you won’t use any more of them.”

Solene hesitated, her gaze darting away.

“Solene? Please.”

She sighed. “Very well. I promise. I will not use any more of the names on the list.”

Emma knew that was the most she could hope to get out of Solene. She began to prepare herself to return to the office, wondering exactly how she was going to tell Cole that she had no more answers than when she’d left.

CHAPTER NINE

C
OLE
FOUND
HIMSELF
more on edge than he’d expected as he waited for Emma to return from her coffee meeting with Solene. The entire day had been a tedious repetition of speaking with his recruiters and other office staff, doing his best to remember each one and their roles within the company, and then trying to determine if any of them might have been responsible for leaking candidate files. Nearing the end of the workday, he still didn’t have a single viable suspect, and when Julien stopped by his office before he left for the day, Cole was forced to admit that he had learned nothing.

Julien took this news with a sober expression and a nod. “Has Emma returned yet, from meeting with Solene?”

Cole shook his head. “I expect her back at any moment.”

Julien looked at his watch. “I cannot wait. I have a dinner meeting with several members of the board. If she has learned anything of import, send me a text.”

Cole told him he would keep him apprised of the situation and said goodbye for the day. After Julien left, he turned in his chair to stare out his window at the La Défense district below and realized that he was becoming accustomed to the sight. No longer did he expect to see Manhattan high-rises when he looked outside—the view from his new office was gradually becoming more familiar.

His thoughts turned to Emma and how she was becoming someone more familiar, too. He had looked for her this morning, first thing upon entering the office. He told himself it was because she was his cultural liaison and the managing director. It was expected that he would seek her out when he arrived at work.

But now, with the late afternoon’s shadows stretching across his desk and an end-of-day hush descending over the office, he had time to consider his motivations more fully and had to admit that it might not just be his and Emma’s working relationship that made him take an interest in her. The sight of her smile and that cute upturned nose, the way her eyes crinkled slightly when she laughed or even the tiny indent that formed in between her eyebrows when she was displeased—each feature had grown more endearing to him. He tried to remember feeling that way about Ophelia, tried to recall the small details of her expressions and realized, to his chagrin, that her face had already become faded and blurred. Had he simply forgotten, so soon, the tiny details of her appearance? Or was it that he had never paid attention in the first place?

Whatever the case, he knew that in the short time he’d been in Paris, he could tell someone more about Emma, her quirks and reactions, her form and features, than he would be able to relate about Ophelia, who had been his girlfriend for four years.

His mind drifted along these lines, thinking about the weekend and how far he and Emma had come since their first impressions of each other. He thought about Avery and how much she resembled her mother and how adorable she’d been to speak with. He remembered how nice it was to walk with Emma in the Square des Batignolles the evening before and considered whether he should gear his own apartment search in that area. What would it be like to live near Emma and her daughter? Could they possibly meet for dinner on occasion, or even commute to the office together? He found the idea a pleasant one as a daydream, if nothing else. Before he could muse much further on such reflections, a knock sounded on his door.

He swiveled his chair around to find Emma peeking her head inside. Her appearance caused a sudden swell of happiness in his chest.

“Do you have a minute?”

He gestured for her to come inside and, for whatever reason—politeness or chivalry—found himself getting to his feet. “Hi. You’re back.”

She nodded. “I’m back.”

Her posture was stiff, and the sleepless bruising beneath her eyes spoke of her fatigue. Her skin had a chalky pallor, and she looked utterly drained.

“You look terrible.” He cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and her shoulders drew back in offense.

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean—” He stopped. “I meant, it looks like you could use a good night’s sleep.”

“You’re right about that,” she agreed and stepped farther into the room. “Between the retreat, visiting Jacqueline in the hospital and this candidate incident, I think I need more than a good night’s sleep. I need a vacation.”

He chuckled at her honesty. “When was the last time you took one anyway?”

She sank into the seat before his desk without being invited. He sat back in his own chair as she pondered the question.

“The last time I took a vacation?”

He watched as she nibbled her lip in consideration. “You know, I can’t even remember. Avery and I usually travel to Le Mans once or twice a year and spend a few days with Jacqueline, but that’s about it.”

“And you never go back to the States?”

She shrugged. “My life is here now. I plan to take Avery one day, give her a proper tour of her heritage, but for now...I have too many other things to consider.” He noted that her brow furrowed even more deeply, her mind obviously reviewing all the other things she was supposed to be considering.

“Like finding out who gave away our candidate files?”

She made a face. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Did your friend have any answers for us?”

She looked away and toward the window he’d just been gazing out of. “Not enough. She admits she got the information from someone in our office, but she refuses to tell me who gave her the names. She said she couldn’t betray their confidence.”

He scoffed. “She has no qualms about stealing the candidates we worked so hard to cultivate, but when it comes to naming the guilty party, she suddenly grows a conscience?”

Emma said nothing, her face becoming stony. He realized he had overstepped with his opinion and sighed. “I’m sorry. She’s your friend. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her expression softened slightly. “It’s all right. I’m aware how this must look to everyone. Solene is just...Solene. She’s not a bad person. Her values are just a little more skewed than the rest of us.”

Cole wasn’t sure that excused the woman’s actions, but he didn’t want to criticize Emma’s friend and put them on bad footing again. In fact, his thoughts were going in a much different direction.

“It’s been a long day,” he remarked.

She exhaled, and he noted some of the tension left her body at this topic change. She rolled her head around on her neck. “It has,” she agreed.

“Why don’t we go out to dinner, as a reward for all our hard work?”

She brought her head back around and focused on him. “Dinner?”

Her voice was so suspicious, he leaned forward. “You do know what that’s like, don’t you? Treating yourself once in a while?”

“Of course. Only...who has time for that sort of thing?” she muttered.

He shook his head. “No vacations and not even letting someone treat you to dinner on occasion? Aquitaine, no wonder you’re exhausted.”

He stood once more and began pushing aside the remaining paperwork from his day, slotting it into trays to be dealt with tomorrow. “Come on. We’ll spend a few minutes talking about work and call it a write-off.”

He thought he heard a faint laugh and looked her way.

“You’re pretty good at this, aren’t you?” she said.

“At what?”

“Negotiating things to go your way.”

He filed the last of the paperwork and came around the side of his desk. “Emma, you haven’t even begun to see my negotiating skills. Now, come on. Join me for dinner.” He held out a hand, and, after a moment’s reluctance, she placed her fingers in his.

* * *

E
MMA
STARED
AT
Cole in disbelief. “You are positively devious,” she pronounced and then spooned up another bite of her lamb and white bean cassoulet. “I’m not sure I can ever trust you again.”

It was amazing what some good food and even better company could do to improve a girl’s spirits. And Cole was, if nothing else, an utterly charming dinner companion. He’d been practicing his French and had apologized in advance to the waiter before making an attempt at ordering. His self-deprecation was so endearing that even their snooty server at the outdoor café hadn’t been able to resist smiling and assisting when Cole stumbled over a word here and there.

He’d managed to order for both of them, but when he’d asked for
Les Tournedos Rossini
for himself, she’d stopped him.

“I think you need to keep working on your French.
Les Tournedos Rossini
is beef, topped with foie gras,” she’d said.

He’d grinned, rather devilishly, she thought. “I know,” he’d said and then handed the menu back to their server, who’d taken it and departed.

Later, after their food had arrived, she’d watched him tuck into the meal with a gusto even Julien would have envied. She’d let him eat for a while before curiosity had finally overcome her.

“I thought Julien said you were a vegetarian,” she had said.

And then he’d explained how he wasn’t, how it had merely been a pretense begun long ago and something he kept up to impress Lillian. That was when she’d declared him devious.

“Totally untrustworthy,” she went on. “And if you keep eating like that—” she pointed to his plate, twirling her spoon around to encompass the meat that she knew had been dredged in butter before searing “—you’re going to end up looking like Julien in no time. A true French gourmand.”

Cole swallowed his bite and began cutting off another. “Don’t worry, I won’t make it a habit. Tonight’s a celebration.”

She admired him in the evening dusk, the way the dwindling light gilded the tips of his hair and softened the planes of his face. His jacket was slung over the back of his chair, and the top buttons of his white shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore a black vest that was absolutely dashing on him, and she couldn’t help thinking how handsome he looked, relaxed but still in his professional attire. It heightened her awareness, not only of his easy and attractive demeanor but also of his good mood.

“What can we possibly be celebrating?” she asked as she placed her spoon aside and reached for her napkin. “We nearly lost an important account this morning, we’re back to square one on several placements and, despite my best efforts, Solene didn’t tell us a thing.”

She quickly dabbed her lips and returned the napkin to her lap, avoiding his eyes as she smoothed it into place. She’d told the truth; Solene hadn’t given her anything that would help the situation at Aquitaine. But she had certainly offered Emma more than she could wrap her mind around. Her head was still swimming with the proposal her friend had made.

“But you’re having dinner with me. And that’s cause for celebration.” He raised his glass of sparkling water to her.

She shook her head and picked up her spoon once more. “You don’t have to try to charm me.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I feel as though you’re buttering me up for something.”

He sliced into his steak with obvious relish. “You’re pretty suspicious for such a young woman.” He ate the bite of steak and chewed for a few seconds before swallowing. “Look, I just think we have something to celebrate, you and I. We’re working together. As long as that’s happening, we can figure out this candidate situation and make the merger a success.”

She felt a twinge of guilt at his pronouncement. Yes, they were working together. But if she considered Solene’s offer, for how long?

He put his utensils aside. “Listen, Emma, I’m just happy we’re on the same page. I feel like it took us a little while to get there, with how things started off between us. But I don’t know...” He reached for his fork and knife again. “I feel like you’ve got my back. And I want you to know that I’ve got yours. That’s cause for celebrating, isn’t it?”

His words touched her more than she would have expected. Recruiting could be a ruthless business at times, and once in a while she feared the corporate cutthroat mentality was getting to her. That maybe she wasn’t the determined negotiator she had been when she’d started but rather someone too aggressive, or too ambitious. She had changed over the years, as was to be expected, but she never wanted to lose that younger version of herself entirely, the one who put others first and wasn’t just focused on advancement and salary.

“Thanks, Cole.”

“No problem.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing against his as he pushed his plate aside. Her touch must have startled him because he looked up, eyes wide.

“I mean it. It’s nice to feel like I have an ally.”

His hand moved, flipping over so that their palms touched. The feel of his skin against hers caused a reassuring warmth to spread toward her wrist. “I like the feeling, too.”

They held each other’s eyes a bit longer, and she felt herself leaning forward, as though the earth were tilting on its axis, ever so slightly, and pushing her in Cole’s direction. It wasn’t until their waiter appeared, offering refills on their drinks, that they released hands. She pulled hers back into her lap and realized she couldn’t eat another bite. Her stomach was too crowded with emotions to accommodate food.

“How about some dessert?” Cole suggested, his tone light.

“I can’t,” she protested. “I’m stuffed.”

“Not even
macarons?
Giselle mentioned they’re your favorite.”

She had? She wondered if Cole had been asking about her or if Giselle had offered up the information on her own.

The waiter paused, waiting to see if they would order anything more. She shook her head at him to indicate it wasn’t necessary, and he moved away.

“I do love
macarons,
” she admitted, “but if you’re going to eat them in Paris, it’s better to get them at Ladurée. They make the best ones.”

“So this is serious business, eating
macarons.
”

She nodded, keeping her expression severe. “You can’t just eat any
macaron
when in Paris. You have to have the real thing, the best possible kind.”

“Then it’s settled. We’re going to have to go to Ladurée.”