Taming the French Tycoon
Author
Rebecca Winters
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16,0K
Chapters
9
Chapter One
May
WITH HIS BANKING business done in Cyprus, Luc had taken a rare morning off to visit Yeronisos before flying back to France. He’d always had an interest in archaeology and the tiny island off the coast was thought to be the site of the temple of Apollo. They’d dug up foundations, walls, coins, amulets, wine jugs, and much more. So far the items had been traced to Alexandria, three hundred miles away.
Evidently Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, had possessed the resources to build here on the top of these seventy-foot cliffs that kept visitors away. Yeronisos was so inaccessible they called it a virgin island because it had remained much as it had been when man had first come there over ten thousand years ago.
Luc had walked around the excavations for an hour and found it a totally fascinating place where he could indulge his passion, but then a boatload of male teenagers had arrived in a dinghy to disturb its tranquility. Instead of studying antiquities, they’d come to cliff dive, a foolhardy pursuit with the waters churning at the base because of a swift current. There was a sign that forbade it, but this group paid no heed.
Deciding it was time to go, he descended the steep steps. The warm May sun forced him to put on his sunglasses to cut the glint reflecting off the deep blue water. When he looked out, another dinghy was approaching. He returned to the speedboat he’d rented and started untying the ropes at the dock.
While he was doing so, the boat pulled in behind him and more young divers jumped out. He recognized their eagerness as they scrambled up the side of the island to get to the top and challenge the elements.
Stepping into his boat, he happened to glance at the last guy to leave the dinghy. But it turned out to be a young woman wearing a backpack. She had a pair of the most fabulous long legs he’d ever seen. A T-shirt over her bikini couldn’t hide the voluptuous mold of her body. A dark braid circled her well-shaped head.
As she passed him, he found himself staring into an incredibly lovely face. Classic, with high cheekbones and a provocative mouth. She reminded him a little of Sabine, the girl he’d loved and lost in a plane crash years ago, but sunglasses covered this woman’s eyes so he couldn’t see their color. With her attention focused on the top of the cliff, he doubted she’d noticed him. She’d come here with all those hormone-filled idiots?
In the background came the excited shouts from the divers already launching themselves into the dangerous, swirling waters. One by one, they jumped into the huge swells and then had to swim for their lives to reach the rocky walls of the cliff. When he heard several bloodcurdling screams among the shouts, his emotions suddenly morphed into gut-wrenching pain as he was transported back to his last year in high school.
During those years he and his friends had felt immortal. In their crazy exuberance, they’d decided to go skydiving. But it had ended in horror when their plane crashed against a hillside. Out of the six, four of them survived. The other two had perished, one of them being Sabine.
His fear for the divers’ safety intensified, causing his body to tense. Any one of them could be killed doing something so reckless. Luc knew all about it. He broke out in a cold sweat watching the attractive female make her way to the bottom of the steps that would take her to the top of the cliff. He thought of Sabine and couldn’t bear to see this woman hurt or possibly killed doing something so reckless.
She was young like they’d once been, eager for adventure and heedless of the danger. Didn’t she know her body could be tossed against the rocks and knocked unconscious or worse? Fearful for the welfare of this beautiful woman, he climbed out onto the dock again and called to her.
She stopped and turned around. “Yes?” she answered in French. “Were you speaking to me?”
The sight of her made his heart beat faster, a reaction he hadn’t felt for a woman in years. “Haven’t you read the sign? No cliff jumping! You heard those screams. Don’t you realize that what your group is doing could end in fatalities?”
Her arched brows frowned. “If it’s your job to enforce the rule, you should have stopped the group in the first dinghy.”
He moved closer to her. “It’s anyone’s job to stop a bunch of headstrong young people from bringing harm to themselves.” Without thinking he said, “I’d hate to see a lovely woman like you lose your life for a thrill. Have you no concern for your family or loved ones who would be devastated if anything happened to you?” Luc would never forget the pain.
She stared at him for a full minute. One corner of her mouth lifted in a mocking curve. “Félicitations, monsieur. That’s the most original pick-up line any Frenchman has ever thrown at me and believe me, I’ve heard the best of them.”
Frenchman? That was an odd thing for her to say since she was French. Her response stunned him in more ways than one. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“It looks that way to me. I’m wondering how often you loiter at the dock, lying in wait for an unsuspecting, accessible female to detain.”
“What?” he almost hissed the word.
“If I’m wrong...je regrette.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Is it possible you never did anything so daring as cliff jump when you were young? Might I point out that you took your life in your hands just coming out here in your speedboat rental?”
Luc had to tamp down his temper, caught between his concern for her welfare and her provocative insinuations about him. “In what way?” his voice grated.
“Surely you know the Mediterranean has its share of great white sharks. What are you? Approaching forty? I hope you’re still a good swimmer in case you should meet with an accident at sea. A rental boat isn’t always reliable, but try to enjoy your sedentary day anyway instead of attempting to ruin it for everyone else. Ciao.”
In the next breath, she started up the steps with surprising speed to reach her destination.
Between the disturbing flashback and their shocking conversation, Luc had been thrown into a particularly foul mood. He got in the boat without looking back. Once he’d started the engine and edged away from the dock, he headed for the mainland.
When he thought about it, he could imagine that many a man had lain in wait for her, thus her ready defense, which was damn off-putting. The female who’d clashed with him was probably twenty, maybe twenty-one, but he’d found out she could take care of herself without effort. Before the plane crash he might have done exactly what she’d accused him of doing in order to get to know her.
To his chagrin, the vision of the captivating young woman stayed with him long after his flight home, as he picked up his car at the airport and drove to his villa in Cagnes-sur-Mer outside Nice. In that moment when he could imagine their outing ending in tragedy, the memory of the plane crash had swept over him. He’d wanted to spare her from plunging to her death. Instead she’d managed to get under his skin.
Though born with an adventurous spirit, he was no longer willing to take risks when life was so precious. Over the last fifteen years he’d grown particularly cautious when it came to making landmark business decisions that could affect not only his professional life, but his family’s welfare and reputation.
The plane crash had changed him into a different person. He’d learned the meaning of mortality. That caution had also kept him out of involved personal relationships that could put his emotions in jeopardy. It was the reason he hadn’t cut the motor and reached for his binoculars to watch her defy danger because she thought she was immortal. He needed to put her and the incident out of his mind.
* * *
Jasmine reached the top of the island with only a little time to spare. The dinghy full of guys eager to cliff dive had been rented for two hours. Since this group of teens had room in the boat for her, she’d ridden to the island with them, glad she didn’t have to drive a boat herself.
While they jumped, this would be her one and only chance to take pictures of the excavations before she couriered the negatives to the publisher. With this last task done, the book could be printed by the end of the month and ready for the distribution date. She was no photographer, but it didn’t matter as long as they turned out.
To her chagrin, the encounter with the man at the dock had shaken her. He wasn’t anything like André, the French guy with the seductive way of talking. She’d dated him a little at university before dropping him because he’d turned out to be way too controlling. But just now, when the stranger in sunglasses had come at her about the dangers of cliff jumping, she had been reminded of André, and her adrenaline had taken over in a negative way.
With hindsight, Jasmine realized she’d been ruder to this man than any male she’d ever met. The trouble was, with his unruly black hair and strong masculine features, he was all male and breathtaking in those white shorts that hung low on his hips.
Her instant attraction to him had come as a tremendous surprise. That was why his erroneous conclusion about her reason for being there had caused her temper to flare. She wasn’t some foolish teenager, yet he’d put her in that category. Little did he know, she thought the cliff jumpers were crazy too, but she’d grown up with older brothers and knew you couldn’t stop them if they saw a challenge.
If only the man had just stopped there, but he hadn’t. It was the mention of family that had hit a nerve where her guilt lurked. Where did he get off implying that Jasmine didn’t care about them? The intensity of his attack had caught her on the raw, creating a negative reaction in her that went volatile.
In retaliation, she’d hurtled little insults back at him like darts thrown at balloons, hoping to damage his ego, but she doubted he’d felt them. He was most likely in his early thirties. Being rock-hard lean and fit, she imagined he could outswim a shark. Deep down, she knew he was the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted and didn’t need to hang around some lonely outpost waiting for an opportunity.
For the next hour, she concentrated on her task, trying to shake off the encounter. Once finished, she went back down to the dock and ate her lunch while she waited in the dinghy for the others. The speedboat had long since gone. She wondered what the man had been doing there in the first place, but why she cared was quite beyond her when she was still smarting from their confrontation.
Pretty soon, the first dinghy filled up and took off. A few minutes later, the others divers came running. She learned that one of the guys had cut his lower leg open. Someone had wrapped it in a towel, but he needed medical help. They left for the mainland, where she’d parked her rental car at the boating concession.
Jasmine looked around, but didn’t see the man with whom she’d traded insults. She was relieved he hadn’t been there to watch them come ashore with the injured teen. She could just imagine his “I told you so” smirk as the guy was lifted into the ambulance.
There was something wrong for her still to be thinking about him. Determined to put the incident behind her, she got in her car and drove the short distance to Nicosia. From the airport there she would catch her afternoon flight back to France.
Later in the day, when the plane began its descent to the Nice airport, it dawned her that the stranger had spoken with a distinct, cultured Niçois accent. A small shiver raced through her body to think he might actually live here, but the chances of bumping into him again were astronomical. How absurd to imagine such a thing happening.
For the second time today, she had to ask herself why it mattered when she had earthshaking events on her mind and little time to accomplish all that had to be done by midsummer.
July
When the phone rang at six-thirty a.m. Friday morning, Jasmine was awake, but she hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. To her shock, she’d been dreaming about the stranger on Yeronisos again. Visions of him had been filtering through her mind for the last two months and she was sick of it. Her fantasy of seeing him again was absolutely crazy!
Thank heaven today was her twenty-sixth birthday, the day she and her papa had planned out in detail before his death. She could put aside the memory of this man who’d been haunting her dreams and deal with real problems. Jasmine glanced at the caller ID. Sure enough it was Robert Lambert, her grandfather’s attorney, calling right on cue.
Jasmine clicked on. “Bonjour, Robert.”
“Bon anniversaire to you, Jasmine. I know it’s early, but we don’t have a lot of time before the staff meeting at ten in the conference room.”
“I’ll be ready.” She’d been getting ready for this day for a long, long time.
“Excellent. Per your grandfather’s wishes, you will be interviewed in his laboratory for tonight’s six o’clock news. The arrangements have already been made. He wanted it announced over the air before the day was out to quiet anyone who wasn’t on board.”
“I’m all prepared for it.”
Not only had her grandfather hated publicity, he’d never let outsiders step foot inside his laboratory. For him to sanction a television interview in the place where he’d worked all his life indicated an intimacy between him and Jasmine the viewers couldn’t possibly misinterpret.
“Meet me at nine-thirty to discuss one more matter with you before everyone else arrives at ten. Do you have any questions?”
“No. At this point I want to thank you for all you’ve done and are doing to help me. I couldn’t do this without you. Papa knew that.”
“We both miss your papa. Knowing where he is now, I’m sure he’s happy this day has come for many reasons.”
“I agree. See you soon.”
They both clicked off.
It was really happening.
The second she hung up, her phone rang again. She glanced at the caller ID. This time it was her parents. Recurring guilt stabbed at her because she was spending yet another birthday away from home. Thankfully it would be for the last time.
After picking up, she cried, “Mom? Dad?”
“It’s your dad, my darlin’ birthday girl. We miss you so much, we gathered the whole family together and decided to fly over to celebrate this weekend with you.”
A soft gasp escaped. “You mean you’re here?”
“Yes. All twelve of us. We just landed. Your mom’s helping Melissa with Cory, or she’d get on the phone. Your three-year-old nephew has a hard time sitting still. We’ll be at the house in an hour.”
Jasmine could hardly take it in. They had no idea about the elaborate plans she and her papa had made. They didn’t know that today she would be attending a board meeting that was going to change history.
Instead of phoning them after it was over as she’d intended, she would have to divulge the secret she and her grandfather had been planning the minute they arrived at the house. In truth, she was thrilled they’d come. She’d never needed their support more. “I—I can’t wait to see you,” she said in a tremulous voice.
“You don’t know the half of it, Sparkles. See you in a little while.”
“Oh, Dad—” Emotions of love and guilt made her throat swell before she heard the click. He’d called her that from the time she was a little girl. What made this so hard was the fact that she hadn’t always been home for important events.
Since her grandparents had died, she’d been working secretly behind the scenes to develop a perfume to help save the company. Her papa had sworn her to secrecy, even from her parents.
For the last few months, she’d felt estranged from them, which had never happened before. Her dad was particularly upset for her mother, who was missing Jasmine terribly and didn’t understand why she hadn’t been home for so long. When they’d hung up, Jasmine had felt his crushing disappointment and it had almost destroyed her.
But now that it was her birthday, everything was going to change. Within a month she would set certain things right and then go home to her family and spend the rest of her life proving her love for them. Her silly idea of marrying a cowboy was a fantasy of course, but she was going home for good!
After hanging up, she alerted the housekeeper that her family would be descending within the hour. Then she hurried to shower and wash her hair. To her shock, the stranger’s comment about her lack of concern for her family’s feelings unexpectedly flashed through her mind again, pressing on her awful guilt..
It infuriated her that the memory of his off-base remarks lingered to torment her. She couldn’t believe that after two months she was still thinking about him when she had a board meeting to dress for. Jasmine had never attended one, but knew she needed to wear something conservative.
Her new three-piece suit with the knit jacket, pencil skirt and shell in soft peach would project the right image. Not over-or underdressed. She’d wear her hair caught back at the nape and put on her small pearl earrings. This was the kind of outfit her grandmother would have worn to such a meeting with Jasmine’s papa.
* * *
Luc realized he needed a break from banking business and was ready for a relaxing weekend. But when he called his good friend Nic Valfort to go deep-sea fishing, he learned Nic was on a trip to the States with his new wife and wouldn’t be back for another three days.
Somehow Luc needed to throw off this obsession over the woman on Yeronisos. Why in the hell couldn’t he get her out of his mind? He’d found himself fantasizing about her, which was ridiculous when he knew he’d never see her again.
Somehow he had to think about something else. Being with Nic would have helped. He and Nic had met at college and had been friends ever since, like their grandfathers, who’d done business together in the past.
Between the plane crash that had marred Luc’s life and the tragedy that had befallen Nic’s first wife, the men had suffered grief at different periods and could relate. Luc enjoyed being with him whenever they could break away.
But since Nic’s second marriage, they hadn’t seen much of each other. His friend was ecstatically happy with his new American wife. After he got back from California, Luc would call him so they could get together.
As for tonight, there would be a party with his family to celebrate one of his cousin’s birthdays. While he was getting ready to leave his suite, his assistant, Thomas, buzzed him. It had better be important because he was already late.
“Oui?”
“I just got a heads-up from one of our sources in Paris. Turn on your TV. Hurry!”
“More terrorism?”
“This news could be worse for us depending on the outcome.”
A frown marred Luc’s Gallic features. He reached for the remote in his desk drawer and clicked on to the six o’clock news. He paid Thomas well to keep his ear to the ground.
“Good evening, everyone. On this Friday, we’re coming to you from Chaine Huit in Paris, France, with breaking news that is already rocking the international perfuming community. Today, a stunning announcement came from Grasse, France, the perfume capital of the world, causing a negative fluctuation in the stock market.”
Tension lines deepened around Luc’s mouth.
“Within the last twenty-four hours, the iconic House of Ferrier has undergone a dramatic new change in management.”
A cold sweat broke out on his body. What change? No one had informed Luc.
The former biggest moneymaker in the perfume industry was one of the bank’s top clients and had been for ninety years. But two years ago the head of Ferriers had died and the business had slowly started losing revenue. A few months later, Luc’s own grandfather had passed away of a bad heart, making Luc the CEO of the bank.
Though the world didn’t know it yet, the quarterly gross sales reports indicated a declining percentage in Ferriers’s profits. Not totally alarming yet, but still, Luc was worried. Since his grandfather had been Maxim Ferrier’s banker, Luc had been the one to take over their various accounts in order to maximize the assets in an unstable economy. It was one of the reasons he’d gone to Nicosia in May and again in June.
But without the proper leadership he’d worried about the future of a company that had been part of the backbone of the French economy for close to a century. If it failed, the economic structure of Southern France would be jeopardized. Like many other businesses, Ferriers had stayed alive all these years. If it continued to go downhill, the bank would be affected.
“Two years ago, the world lost the greatest perfumer of our time, Maxim Ferrier, at sixty-eight years of age. Balmain, Dior, Givenchy, Caron, Guerlain, Chanel, Balenciaga, Estee Lauder, Rochas, Fragonard, Ricci, Lentheric—all the great major perfume houses considered him an icon the world will never see again.
“Since his death, the company has been run by the family and other staff who made up the board while he was alive. But today, they have finally appointed a new head.”
Luc ground his teeth. As he’d already found out, none of them had the Midas touch of the legendary perfumer himself. Who in heaven’s name would they have found and brought in to turn things around? Absolutely no one from any other perfume house in the world had Maxim Ferrier’s genius. Not in this generation. Probably not for another hundred years.
“Spill it!” Luc muttered furiously to the TV anchorman, who knew this broadcast was making the kind of news the media lived and died for and was milking it for all he was worth.
“Our station is the first to announce the name of Jasmine Martin, a total unknown, who has been put at the helm. She’s an unmarried twenty-six-year-old with no formal job experience and has brought no resume to the position of the multibillion-dollar corporation.”
“What?” In a state of shock, Luc shot to his feet.
“It’s an unprecedented move since only two men have ever held that coveted position in the Ferrier perfume empire...Maxim Ferrier, and before him, his uncle, Paul Ferrier, whose father had run a flower farm in the very beginning. Right now, we’re taking you live to the sacrosanct laboratory of the brilliant perfumer in Grasse. Our anchorman, Michel Didier, is standing by there, ready to interview her.”
While Luc walked over to the TV screen to get a closer look, the other anchorman introduced himself.
“Good evening from our network in Grasse. I’ve been invited inside the room where Maxim Ferrier himself developed his famous formula for Night Scent, a perfume that won every award and still tops perfume sales around the globe. This is a privilege for me and all our viewers. The whole world is waiting to meet you, Jasmine. May I call you that?”
“Of course.”
As the camera panned in on her, a cry of shock escaped Luc’s throat. No—it couldn’t be!
Hers was the beautiful face he’d seen at the dock on Yeronisos! He took a deep breath, trying to comprehend it. The woman who’d given Luc battle before he’d watched her charge up those steep steps, possibly to her death, was Jasmine Martin? The new CEO at Ferriers?
His dark head reared. He’d never thought to see her again. Yet there she was in the flesh, that fiery beauty he’d been fantasizing about every night.
How was it that she of all people on this planet had been made head of one of the most iconic companies in France? She was a daredevil who’d insinuated that Luc was on his way to middle age before she’d ignored him and gone straight up the cliff to jump off. He rubbed the back of his neck in consternation.
It defied logic that a woman so careless with her own life was now running a billion-dollar corporation. Luc was so incredulous over what had been announced, he couldn’t make sense of anything.
This evening she wore her hair caught back at the nape. Instead of wearing a T-shirt and bikini, she was dressed in a peach-colored suit that revealed her gorgeous figure.
Behind her were stacked rows of hundreds of bottles, reminding him of the wizard’s shop in the Harry Potter film he’d seen with two of his nephews. Those magic potions that still delighted moviegoers everywhere.
Yet the potions behind this woman had worked their own special magic in the cosmetic world, yielding billions of dollars in revenue.
“I have many questions to ask. But for all those watching our broadcast around the globe, this question is foremost in everyone’s mind. How did you of all people, of all women, get picked, and at such a young age?”
An impish smile broke out on her alluring face. Luc’s breath caught. The memory of their heated exchange had caused him one restless night after another since his return. Twenty-six meant she was older than he’d thought, but it still rankled that she’d dared to accuse him of trying to pick her up.
She folded her arms and lounged against the edge of the lab table.
“You’re going to get your scoop now, Michel,” she teased with that same audacious maturity, so at odds with her lack of judgment when it came to her safety. There was a twinkle in her dark blue eyes. The first time they’d met she’d been wearing sunglasses. Luc had to admit he’d never seen anyone so natural in front of the camera. “I’m Maxim Ferrier’s youngest grandchild.”
Grandchild?
The well-known anchorman was taken by total surprise and looked as blown away as Luc felt.
“Since I came along last of his twenty-one grandchildren, he nicknamed me Jasmine. That’s because Jasmine is the flower harvested last in October. He said it was his favorite flower because of its beguiling scent. Though my parents named me Blanchette after my mother, his name for me stuck.”
Michel shook his head. “Just keep talking. I won’t interrupt because I’m speechless and enchanted, and I know everyone else is too.”
Her gentle laugh reached down to burrow inside a disbelieving Luc, who couldn’t comprehend any of it. “I used to hang around my papa. I thought of him as this amazing sorcerer and pretended to be his apprentice. He never seemed to mind.”
“Obviously not,” the journalist interjected. “Tell the audience why you think he chose you to run the company.”
“He once told me I was the only one in the family who got the nose. Not his own children and not any of his grandchildren got it, he said. Just me. I thought he meant I had a Roman nose like a horse. I was so hurt I ran out of the lab crying. He had no idea how much I loved him, but I was horrified that he thought I was ugly.”
The anchorman laughed heartily, but Luc’s throat closed up with emotion. Children were so literal, as he’d learned from being around his own nieces and nephews.
“Then he came after me and explained what he meant. He said I was so smart, he thought I knew what a nose was. He said I had a beautiful nose like my grandma. But he was referring to the fact that after sixty years, another perfumer had been born in the family, someone like himself who could identify scents. That person was moi and he was overjoyed.”
Michel smiled. “No wonder he named you to succeed him.”
“I still can’t believe he did that and I am still trying to come to grips with it. No one could ever fill his shoes. I’m stunned to think he believed I could.”
“I’m not surprised you’re in shock,” the anchorman commented at last. He stared at the camera. “Mesdames et messieurs, you couldn’t make up a Cinderella story as unusual as this, not in a hundred years. I wish we had more time for the interview. Before we have to end this segment, the audience wants to hear about your grandmother.
“We know she was a great beauty right up to the time of her passing. Not only was she a devoted wife, she was a great intellect who authored several books.”
“She was fabulous.”
“While you were growing up, you must have known over the years that the international press touted them the most beautiful couple in the world. The French have called them the Charles Boyer and Marlene Dietrich of the modern era. American media labeled him more handsome and sophisticated than Cary Grant. She has been compared to Grace Kelly and Princess Diana. What do you say to that, Jasmine?”
“What more can I add? They were beautiful people from that era, inside and out. She loved him so much, she died three months later.”
Luc hated to admit it, but part of him was spellbound by her and knew the anchorman was too.
“After seeing this broadcast, people will say you inherited her beauty.”
“No woman could ever compare to her. If you could have heard my papa on the subject. If ever a man loved a woman...”
Luc heard the tremor in her voice and couldn’t help but be moved by her humility. He could never have imagined this side of her after their explosive meeting on Yeronisos. Unless this was all playacting. If so, she was the greatest actress he’d ever known.
“Is it true he never gave an interview in his life?”
“That’s right. He disliked publicity of any kind. I’m only doing this one interview because our family has been besieged by the media for years. The outpouring of public sentiment over their deaths has been so touching and overwhelming, I hoped to be able to thank them through your program.”
“It’s a personal honor for me, Ms. Martin. Would it be too forward of me to ask if there’s a special man in your life?”
“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll answer with a ‘yes, it would.’” But she said it with a mocking little curve of her mouth that made Luc’s emotions churn in remembrance of her erroneous assumption about him. The anchorman was quick to recover, but he looked embarrassed. Luc knew what it felt like to be slammed by her like that, although she’d been gentler with the other man.
“Message received. Wasn’t your grandfather the one who coined the phrase, ‘Provence is God’s garden’?”
“Oh, no, but he often expressed that sentiment to me.”
“While you’ve been talking, I found another passage in your grandmother’s book where she quotes him. He must have been writing about you.
“‘Jasmine seems to be a flower made for nostalgia. It grows in doorways and winds over arches, linking it to the intimacy of home. It begins to bloom as the days become hotter, and it releases its scent at the hour when tables are set in the garden or in narrow lanes. It is associated with the melancholy of dusk and the conviviality of summer evenings. Its fragrance permeates the air, making it a background for love.’”
She cleared her throat. “I remember him saying those words. I think Papa had a love affair with flowers all his life.”
Watching this interview had tied Luc in knots. The woman he’d met two months ago was nothing like the flower just described.
The anchorman nodded. “For those of you who still aren’t aware, the book Jasmine’s grandmother wrote, Where There’s Smoke, is the definitive source on the life work of Maxim Ferrier. It’s being reissued in a second edition with several sections of new information to coincide with the announcement of the new head of Ferriers and will be out on the stands tomorrow. When the first edition of the book came out, it became number one on bestseller lists worldwide. I confess I was enthralled by it.”
“Thank you. Grandma worked on it for years. After my papa died, she had it published to honor him.”
“No one knew him better than she did, except for you, who came in a close second.” Again Luc saw the secret curve in her smile that reminded him of the way she’d smiled at him before letting him have it. The sensation twisted his gut as much now as then.
“Let me read one last thing your grandmother quoted from her husband. ‘An exceptional perfume has a top note to entice, followed by the rich character of its middle note. Then comes the end note to bind all three, supplying the depth and solidity needed to make a lasting signature.’ He was a poet, wasn’t he?”
“Papa was so many things, I hardly know where to begin.”
“I wish we didn’t have to stop. Thank you for letting us see inside your world. It’s been an honor and privilege.”
“For me too.”
“Congratulations on your new position, chosen by the head man himself. What greater endorsement, n’est-ce pas?” He turned to the camera. “That’s it for now from Grasse. Back to you in Paris.”
Luc shut off the TV, stunned out of his mind by her interview. A bomb had been dropped. He was still trying to recover from the fallout. Pacing the floor, he realized this meant he would be dealing with her in the future. His heart thudded at the very thought of it.
Now that the news had gone global, anything could happen and probably had behind closed doors at Ferriers. He couldn’t imagine the members of the Ferrier board, twice or triple her age and most of them family, tolerating the granddaughter to become the head of the company. If they knew what Luc knew...
This was nepotism at its best. Either Maxim Ferrier had become senile toward the end, or she’d had him wrapped around her little finger because she’d inherited his gift. But that gift didn’t mean she had the grasp for business or the necessary ability to run one of the most famous companies in existence. There’d been no mention of her education. She had no work experience. As far as he was concerned, she had no common sense either.
The Ferrier board had to have the same opinion about her and would soon find a way to vote her out. But until then Luc would have to be extra careful how he proceeded when the day came he had his first business meeting with her. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine it after their explosive encounter on the island. Yet, to his dismay, the thought of being with her again charged every cell in his body.
“Luc?”
It had been a long time since Thomas had walked in without knocking, but Luc understood why. His assistant looked dazed. “I never saw or heard anything so amazing in my life.”
“You’re not alone, Thomas.”
“She’s more beautiful than her grandmother was, if that’s possible.”
It was possible. The image of her standing at the base of the cliff had never left him. But there were imperfect parts of her the camera hadn’t seen, parts that he felt spelled a lot more trouble for Ferriers.
“I still can’t believe she’s the new face and power at Ferriers. She may be Maxim Ferrier’s favorite and worth millions herself, but she looks too young and defenseless to go to battle against dynasty builders with three times her age and experience.”
Luc would have thought the same thing if he hadn’t been the recipient of her words, which could slice and dice a man to shreds in seconds. His assistant wouldn’t see her as a defenseless woman if he’d watched her attack that rocky island on those breathtaking limbs of hers with the strength and agility of a military frogman.
Thomas’s eyes gleamed. “This means that from now on you’ll be meeting with her instead of Giles LeC—” he started to say, but Luc stopped him right there because he didn’t want to hear it. He needed time for the news to sink in first.
“I’m late for a party and have to run. See you on Monday.” He left by his private exit. It opened into a hallway leading to the private parking lot with a security guard.
Ever since the incident in Cyprus, he’d fought the temptation to find out who she was. A simple phone call to the boating concession that rented dinghies would have told him what he wanted to know, but somehow he’d managed to stop himself in time.
Dieu merci he hadn’t let the desire to meet her in person and set her straight about a few things outweigh his innate caution. Otherwise, she truly would have had the last laugh knowing the director of the Banque Internationale du Midi was a voyeur stalking beautiful young women throughout the Mediterranean while on vacation.
The bank couldn’t afford to lose one of the biggest accounts since its inception. No matter how acerbic her words, no matter how shallow he found her for being willing to throw her life away for a thrill, no matter how disappointed he was in Maxim Ferrier’s decision to put a young loose cannon like her in charge, Luc could do nothing but stand by to watch a catastrophe in the making. And despise himself for being more attracted to her than ever.
