The French Mis-Connection: A slow burn, opposites attract, fake engagement, French billionaire, Cinderella story. Do you believe in fairy tales? by Vicki Hilton

Author:Vicki Hilton [Hilton, Vicki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

19

LUC

Islipped my shoes back onto my feet, gathering my sketchbook from the grass. I’d been down here, at the water’s edge for hours, attempting to draw away my feelings. If it worked for Van Gogh and his tragic love life, it could work for me. My life wasn’t exactly full of love, but the efforts I’d made to find it were definitely tragic.

Apollo’s wet nose nudged my ear, and he snuffled against my shoulder. I hugged his thick neck, pressing my face into his soft fur. It was funny. I’d never been close to Apollo before this last visit to Marsan. Maybe Iris was right. Perhaps I’d got him in rebellion against my father, but now I treasured his company every day.

Just like I did Iris’.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the thought. Pining over Iris was getting me nowhere. I needed to clear my mind, so I pocketed my pencils and whistled for Apollo. As we strolled through the woods to the winery, I longed for Thierry's wisdom and one of his bear hugs.

But what could I possibly say to him? How could I admit that thoughts of the woman I'd hired to pretend to love me consumed nearly every waking moment?

Stepping over the same log Iris had crossed the other day, a smile tugged at my lips. I could still picture her wiggling her shoe and defending her love for pink. Back then, her energy had been infectious. Yesterday, at the dressmaker’s, she looked terrified.

When I’d barged in on her, she flushed, and her eyes almost doubled in size. I stood there, shocked, staring at her like an idiot. Surely she couldn't mistake the heat that surged through my body at the sight of her. The fire that engulfed my face.

I’d made a clumsy attempt at an apology back at Marsan. She’d been understanding, but I hoped to the heavens she didn’t think I’d barged in on purpose.

Then this morning, we had breakfast together. After a stilted beginning, we fell into easy conversation, like old friends. With renewed optimism, I’d slipped the painting I'd made of her under her door when I left for the river, almost like a peace offering. I should have knocked, but my brain was too muddled to form coherent sentences.

I stopped short in front of the winery door. How the hell did I even get here? I reached out to steer Apollo into the building, but he had other ideas, spotting a rabbit on the path. He lolloped after it, in hot pursuit.

Grateful to escape the sun, I pushed open the thick door of the stone building, looking for Thierry. As my eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior, a calm settled over me.

“Thierry?” I called out. Only the doves from the roof cooed in reply. I moved to the side of the building, my feet dragging on the dusty flagstones. When I arrived at his office, I ran my eyes over the usual clutter on his desk before I landed my gaze on something that didn’t belong there.

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