Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Maman throws her hands in the air. “Seriously, Raphael? We’re about to sit down for dinner.”
“The lamb is already dead,” he says. “It’s not going anywhere.”
Maman switches on the warming drawer with a scoff. “Make it quick. I’ve slaved over this meal all day.”
My father kisses her cheek when she scurries past him. “You’re the one who said Max should pay more attention to the business.”
“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Maman asks with a teasing smile.
My father kisses her again, this time on the lips.
She shoos him away.
Alexis leans against a wall when we exit, sipping his wine. He watches me from over the rim of his glass, his gaze following my progress as I follow my father to his study.
“What’s up?” I ask when I’ve closed the door.
Father shoves his hands into his pockets. “Damian Hart is out.”
My mind jolts into action, considering the implications. “Since when?”
“This morning. I’ve just heard from Zane.”
Hence the last-minute call to come over for dinner. “Is your informant still on the inside?”
“He got out a week ago.”
“That’s a coincidence.”
“He bribed the parole committee.”
“Let me guess. You provided the bribe money.”
“Of course.” My father walks to the wet bar. “We need to keep tabs on Hart now more than ever. Da Costa is just the man to do it.”
“If Hart doesn’t play into our hands, I’ll have to pay him a visit.”
“With his sister.” He lifts the carafe. “Scotch?”
“Thanks.” I tense when I think about putting Zoe in such a position. What incentive does she have not to tell Damian the truth now that she knows I won’t kill her brother? “The fact that she’s living in France as my mistress should be enough to convince Hart to keep the business relations good between us.”
“She’s a means to an end, son. Don’t forget that.” He pours a stiff shot of Scotch and hands me a glass. “We’ll use her as we must, any way we have to.”
I don’t fucking think so. Zoe is my responsibility. I own her, body and soul. I’ll decide what’s best for her and how her future will evolve, not my father or anyone else.
My father brings his drink to his lips. “I want Alexis in on the deal.”
My fingers clench around the glass. “What deal?”
“The diamonds. I want you to teach him the ropes.”
Suspicion goes off like an alarm bell in my mind. “Why?”
“You’ll have your hands tied up with the business here when you take over in a few months.”
When I honor the deal my father has made, he can finally retire. “The deal with Dalton is the crux of our business. Everything depends on that deal. Alexis can work with the Italians and run the docks.”
“No.” My father slams his glass down on the desk. “The Italians are your responsibility. Trying to escape it will give them the wrong idea.”
“I’m not trying to escape it. I’m just saying Alexis is in a better position to deal with the taxes.”
“Leaving you free to deal with Hart or to make sure no one else gets close to his sister?”
“What about you?” I close the step between us. “What’s your agenda? Making sure Alexis gets in on the big deals while pawning me off to the Italians?”
He waves a finger at my face. “Watch your tone.”
“I don’t even know why we’re having this discussion. In a few months’ time, I’ll be calling the shots, deciding how Alexis is involved.”
My father’s face turns red. “If you honor the contract.”
I narrow my eyes with a smile. “Are you hoping I won’t?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Then don’t give me reason to.” I leave the glass on his desk and turn for the door. “Maman is waiting. Shall we have dinner?”
When I walk through that door, the power has shifted. I’m holding it all in my fist. Everything. I let the knowledge sink in, soothing my deepest concern—keeping Zoe safe.
Chapter 18
Zoe
The shorter and colder the days grow, the harder I work. By December, I’m only sleeping four hours a night. The closer I get to the year-end fashion show, the more my anxiety climbs. Only four of the girls who are left will continue to the final level. Our designs will be judged by an independent panel, and no one, not even Madame Page or Maxime, can determine the outcome.
I want to do well. I want to win Madame Page’s approval and show I’ve earned my place, which is why I put in more effort and hours than anyone in the class. I stitch faster than Thérèse and make fewer mistakes than Miss Page’s favorite student, Christine. I always hand in my homework early. I do research at home, and I visit fashion exhibitions and museums with Maxime on the weekends. I pour my heart into my collection. When the day of the fashion show arrives, I’m positive I’ll have good results. I’ll go as far as to say I’m hopeful of swaying Madame Page.