Forbidden French

It’s not long after Lainey leaves before Moretti comes back for me. I’ve been out on the veranda, checking emails on my phone, confirming my travel itinerary for tomorrow. He clears his throat behind me.

“Sir, your presence has been requested in the library.”

When I don’t immediately hop to it, he adds, “Mr. Mercier seems rather impatient.”

Well then, we don’t want to keep him waiting.

If Papa has flown all the way to Italy and requested an audience with me, I have no doubt it’s for something important. I know it doesn’t pertain to work. My phone would have been lighting up with calls if there was an emergency at GHV, some issue with the Leclerc takeover, perhaps, but it hasn’t, which means this is personal.

My mind immediately jumps to Alexander. I haven’t heard from him since I’ve been in Italy, which isn’t unusual for us—we aren’t the type to talk every day—but there have been incidents in the past, issues with drugs and alcohol. I’ve had a few calls in the middle of the night, friends worried for him. It hasn’t happened in years, and I thought those days might be behind us, but I’m already following Moretti, letting him lead me toward the library while I run through the proper steps in my mind.

I’m so deep down the wormhole of worry over Alexander that I don’t think to consider other possibilities. It’s why I’m caught off guard when I arrive in the dimly lit library to find that my father isn’t alone. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there would be others here waiting for me.

I stop dead in my tracks, only two steps into the room as I survey the three of them: my father, Fay Davenport, and Lainey.

My hackles immediately go up.

“What is this?”

Ignoring my question, my father dismisses Moretti with a curt nod. “Thank you, that will be all.”

The door creaks shut behind me, and an ominous silence fills the room.

I stay where I am, staring down my father, trying to ascertain what could possibly be happening. My father stands confidently before me wearing a terse expression, obviously leading the charge. On the couch behind him, Fay Davenport could be a queen with her posture so severely perfect and her gaze so fiercely omnipotent. Lainey sits next to her, sandwiched between her grandmother’s hip and the arm of the couch. Her attention is down on her hands.

Uneasiness fills me.

“It’s obvious I’m the last to know something, so what is it? Why are we all here?”

It’s clear to me now that this has nothing to do with Alexander.

My father’s dark eyes narrow in annoyance. He doesn’t appreciate my tone, but I don’t appreciate being out of the loop, so we’re even.

He steps toward me, one of his hands tucked casually in the pocket of his tuxedo pants. The other runs down the center of his button-down, ensuring it’s perfectly in place.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had to clean up one of your messes. Fortunately for you, I was already planning to attend tonight’s party on a stopover from Sweden.”

I let him continue, hoping he’ll spit out the rest. And quickly.

His jaw hardens. “The way I’ve heard it, you’ve been playing with something that doesn’t belong to you. Elaine was engaged.”

Jesus Christ, is that was this is about?

I throw up my arms. This is ludicrous.

“Engaged? Hardly.”

“Your assessment of the situation holds no weight,” he spits. “The fact is she was betrothed, and now that arrangement has been called off because of you and your flagrant disregard for this young girl’s future.”

“Because of me?” I laugh, short and caustic. “You’re kidding me. The betrothal was a sham from the beginning. The two of them hardly know each other. It would have dissolved naturally in a month or two, if it even lasted that long.” I swipe my hand through the air in front of me. “I played no part in any of it. But quite frankly, if it is done, I say good riddance. They’re both better off for it.”

“Enough!” my father roars, sick of my tirade. “You won’t shirk your responsibility in the matter. I’ve heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Whose mouth? Lainey or her grandmother?

I’m aware of my temper starting to rise, of my pounding heart that’s about to get the better of me.

“I’m on trial then, is it?”

He’s laid out the accusations, so what is it that he wants?

He steps aside to give me a better view of the two women behind him. “Fay Davenport has made it clear that she’s seeking restitution.”

Realization is a heavy anvil, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I take a step back and point between them. “I see what you two are trying to do, but it won’t pass. Lainey won’t—”

“Elaine has already agreed,” he says, cutting me off with a markedly bored tone. “Beyond that, your fate has been sealed. We’ll place engagement announcements in The New York Times and Le Figaro, and soon.”

“I’ll call the newspapers and refute the engagement.”

My father doesn’t even have the decency to look worried. It’s his friend who owns both papers. Hell, my father has a small stake in each of them as well. He could make a quick call to ensure the story reads how he’d like it to. He likely already has.

What a billionaire madman wants, he gets.

“I won’t go through with this.”

No one says a word, not even Lainey. I finally look at her, to try to glean how she’s feeling about all of this, but she won’t meet my gaze. Her eyes are now on the floor. She seems unbearably small, stuffed in this room with three lions. Fay rests a protective hand on her knee as if to shield her from my fury.

“Lainey.”

My pleading voice does nothing to persuade her to look up.

“Tell them this is ridiculous. Tell them you won’t go through with it either.”

She still doesn’t look up, so focused on wringing her hands atop her lap.

My father, having had enough, gives a final, heavy sigh.

“You’ll do as you’ve always done, Emmett. You’ll represent the Mercier family with dignity and pride. Whatever protest you’re plotting, whatever outlandish acts you think might get you out of this…they’re futile. In six months’ time, the two of you will be wed, and that’s that.”