Chapter Forty-Three

LE JULES VERNE WAS A FAMOUS RESTAURANT located on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, which afforded an incredible view of Paris as night began to fall. Nicholas had ensured his reservation coincided with the setting sun.

They sat at an intimate table next to the windows. Parts of the tower’s elaborate metalwork framed their sightline. The chef himself came from the kitchen to shake hands, clapping Nicholas on the shoulder and addressing him as an old friend.

Acacia was grateful for her training in hospitality, which gave her a quiet poise she could adopt whenever she was nervous. Of course, her clothes helped, too. She was grateful for the limited wardrobe she’d bought when she’d become Nicholas’s assistant, as it was tailored for special occasions such as this one.

She wore a cocktail dress of black lace embroidered with brightly colored flowers. Her hair, as always, hung in dark curls to her chin. Her black high heels saved Nicholas from having to bend his neck too far in order to kiss her. Her hamsa pendant hung from her wrist, and she wore Nicholas’s necklace at her throat.

After the chef returned to the kitchen, Nicholas gazed at her appreciatively. “You are very beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled as she turned to the skyline. The lights of Paris had begun to shine; both skyscrapers and historical buildings were illuminated. The beautiful Seine, her lucky river, flowed in the distance. Acacia had a difficult time tearing her eyes away.

“I’ve made many reservations at this restaurant, all for other people,” she mused. “I never expected to dine here.”

“I wanted to lay Paris at your feet.” Nicholas reached across the table to take her hand.

“It’s breathtaking.”

“Good. And how is Claude?”

Acacia smiled. “He’s happy I’m home. I hope the two of you will get to know one another.”

“I’m not really a cat person. For your sake, I’ll try.” Nicholas sipped his champagne. “Have you spoken to Luc?”

Acacia stared into her champagne glass. “I texted him, telling him I was home.”

Nicholas frowned. “And?”

“He wanted to come over. I put him off until tomorrow.”

Nicholas’s expression soured.

Acacia glanced around. The restaurant was full. Although the other patrons were speaking at reasonable levels, she was conscious of the fact that she and Nicholas could be overheard.

She lowered her voice. “I’m not looking forward to seeing him, but he’s been worried about me. When I was at the Victoire and wondering what to do about the painting I saw in your suite, I called him. He came right over.”

At that moment, a waiter appeared to top up their champagne glasses. Another waiter served the amuse bouche of marinated white fish with radish.

Nicholas lifted his fork and stabbed the fish. “He’s BRB. He was doing his job.”

“I can handle Luc.” Acacia tasted the fish. It was incredible—buttery and flavorful.

“You shouldn’t have to handle him. He needs to remember his manners.”

Acacia dabbed at her lips with her napkin. Her annoyance flared. “You know everything about me and Luc. Tell me about Silke.”

Nicholas’s eyes burned into hers. “Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“It isn’t a pleasant tale,” he warned.

“You know my secrets.”

“That’s true.” He peered out the window, looking very upset.

A waiter removed their empty plates while another served the next course: blue lobster with a vinaigrette.

“Nicholas?” she prompted.

Nicholas slid his palm over the tablecloth, as if he were smoothing out wrinkles. “You saw the photographs of Silke with that American.”

“I did. They were disgraceful.”

Nicholas’s eyes seared into hers. “Ours was a business relationship. Silke was part of my cover. I needed someone who could move in and out of social events. I paid her a salary and secured an apartment for her. She traveled with me a few times a year.”

Acacia’s fork clattered against her plate.

A number of patrons turned to look.

She flushed and brought her napkin to her mouth. “You paid her?”

“She wouldn’t have considered me otherwise.” Nicholas laughed without amusement. “One of my associates introduced me to her in a different guise.” He gestured to where his scar rested beneath the prosthetic. “She tried to back out of our arrangement when she saw the true me. She said she couldn’t bear to look at me.”

Acacia cringed. “Oh, Nicholas.”

“Despite her mercenary heart, Silke had at least one loyalty. She works in intelligence.”

“For whom?”

“I can’t tell you.” Nicholas’s expression was serious. “She never disclosed who she was working for, but I investigated her before our arrangement took effect and found out.”

He looked down at the table. “During one of our trips, one thing led to another. We started a sexual relationship that continued until she decided to take up with that American.”

A feeling of horror passed over Acacia. She hadn’t given his previous relationship sufficient attention when she considered becoming involved with him. Clearly, his wounds were fresh.

Nicholas glared into his champagne. “She broke our agreement, and she didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me herself. She engineered the paparazzi photos in order to break things off with me. I don’t know if the American is an asset she’s working, or if her heart, such as it is, is involved. I suspect the former.”

Nicholas threw back his drink in a single swallow. He signaled for a waiter and ordered a vodka and tonic.

“I’m sorry,” Acacia whispered. The feeling of horror grew. It was now resident in her stomach, twisting her insides.

When the waiter returned with Nicholas’s drink, she placed her napkin on the table. “Please excuse me.”

The waiter pulled out her chair, and Nicholas stood, his eyes stormy.

Kurt followed as she exited the dining area and walked toward the ladies’ room. He waited outside the door.

Inside, Acacia leaned against the vanity.

What the hell am I doing?

Nicholas had just confessed to hiring a spy to be his mistress. He’d continued paying her a salary after they started having sex. Acacia thought back to the Hotel Victoire’s guest records and the names of the women who’d accompanied him over the years. Had they been high-priced escorts, too?

Acacia turned. In the mirror she could see the dress Nicholas had bought. She was living in an apartment he and his mother had renovated and decorated. She was eating a dinner he’d be paying for. What was the difference between she and Silke? Or she and Yasmin?

Affection. You care for Nicholas, and your affection is given freely.

In her reflection, she saw a woman who’d lived a life of fraud. A woman who lived in fear. Even so, she’d tried to find a way to be with Nicholas as an equal and not a dependent.

She could tell herself she’d been lonely when Nicholas came to her room in Santorini. But that wasn’t the only reason she welcomed him. She wasn’t ready to call it love, but whatever she felt for Nicholas was powerful and deep. He was in her heart now. And the thought that Silke had wounded him so cruelly made her angry.

You want him to be happy.

The truth about Silke stung. But Nicholas’s shame and pain at being thought ugly was far more troubling. He’d obviously developed some feelings for Silke, or else he wouldn’t have been so incensed by her betrayal.

Acacia had no right to be angry with him. In judging Nicholas, she’d have to judge herself. They’d both hidden and tried to find human connection while preserving secrets.

She fixed her makeup and combed her hair before exiting the ladies’ room.

Kurt reached for her elbow. “Are you all right?”

His evident concern touched her. “I’m all right. Thank you.”

“If you’re ill, I can take you home. I’ll tell Rick.”

“No, I’m going to finish dinner. Thank you, Kurt.”

He stood aside and shadowed her back to the dining room.

Nicholas moved to his feet as soon as he caught sight of her. His mouth and jaw were tight.

He came around the edge of the table to pull out her chair, waving the waiter aside.

He placed his hands on her shoulders as she sat and bent toward her ear. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

“I needed a minute.” She replaced her napkin in her lap.

Nicholas sat across from her. He waited while the waiter took away their plates and served the next course, a stuffed zucchini.

“It’s a shameful thing,” he said in a low voice. “Much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, she was a hired companion. It’s embarrassing and humiliating. Imagine what my parents would say, if they found out.”

Acacia slid her hand across the table. “Nicholas.”

He took her hand, but didn’t lift his eyes. “My previous relationships were normal. Nevertheless, I assure you that I always wore condoms with Silke. And I’m tested regularly.”

Acacia wound their fingers together. “I believe you.”

He lifted his head. His dark eyes were filled with regret. “I would never put you at risk.”

“I know that.” She swallowed. “That isn’t what upset me.”

“If I could do it over, I would.”

Acacia nodded. “I can’t help being jealous.”

“Jealous?” His tone was incredulous.

“Whatever else she is, Silke is very beautiful.”

“I never had a moment of levity with her. She didn’t make me laugh or tell me I needed better friends. She was indifferent to art but extremely interested in valuable, costly things. I was foolish to get involved with her at all, and even more foolish to sleep with her.”

Acacia lifted Nicholas’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “She doesn’t appreciate beauty; that much is true.”

“No one has called me beautiful in some time.”

“You need new friends.”

Nicholas threw his head back and laughed. Other patrons once again turned their heads toward the sound.

“Why is it, ma petite, that you have this ability to make me laugh just when I want to smash something?”

“You should laugh more. Your eyes brighten, and your face crinkles. I love hearing you laugh.”

“Then I shall endeavor to laugh more,” he vowed. “I’m sorry to have sullied our beautiful evening with confessions of my frailty.”

“Although the story is unpleasant, I’m glad you told me.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t walk out on me forever.” His gaze deepened in intensity.

“I’m sorry you’ve experienced so much hurt because of your scar. You’re handsome, Nicholas, with the scar and without it. You don’t have to wear the prosthetic. Not with me.”

“You mean it,” he murmured.

“Of course. You have to know how much I care for you. All of you.”

His smile was dazzling.

“But Nicholas, this reinforces what I was saying earlier about finding my own way and not being dependent on you.”

His smile faded. “Our relationship is entirely different.”

“Which is why I need my independence.” She drew a deep breath. “I checked my bank statement today. I can’t accept the money you transferred as a consulting fee.”

He smiled at her wistfully. “Somehow I knew this conversation was coming. Would it help if I told you that sums like that are transferred every day to contacts of mine around the world?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“I know better than to argue, especially after what I’ve just revealed.” He scratched his jaw. “I don’t suppose you’d consider it a loan, just until you find another job?”

“No.” She sighed. “And there’s something else. I received an EU Blue Card in the mail today.”

Nicholas rubbed the back of his neck. “As soon as you agreed to work for me, I instructed the Paris office to file the paperwork. As you know, I have friends in the French government. Obviously, they did me a favor.”

“I’m in a difficult position. I don’t want to be deported. I love my apartment and my friends, and I don’t want to be separated from you.”

Nicholas nodded. “But?”

“I don’t want to accept it, but I feel like I have to. So I owe you.” Acacia wore a strained look.

“When they applied for it, I didn’t know about your past. I can understand you don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your residency or to invite scrutiny. All I can do is apologize.” His expression was sincere.

“I hope there will come a time when I can do a great kindness for you.”

“You already have.” His voice grew thick.

She scored a pattern on the surface of the linen tablecloth with the tines of her fork. “To summarize, I’m going to return the commission to you, but I’m going to accept the Blue Card—with the hope that someday I can do something grand for you. The only thing that remains is for me to find a new job. And I need to do that on my own.”

He studied the skyline for a moment. “I’d like to see you work in the art world, on your own terms.”

“I became a concierge partially to hide.”

Nicholas turned to her. “How so?”

“People who work in hospitality tend to be invisible. We work long hours in service, and many guests don’t even bother to learn our names. I think of it as hiding in plain sight.”

“I never thought of it like that.” Nicholas frowned.

“I told you about the kidnap attempt in Brazil when I was a teenager. After that, we fled to Recife. A year later, my mother sent me here on a study abroad program. I worked hard on my French, and after I returned to Brazil and finished my schooling, I came to the Sorbonne. Paris was a good place to hide, we thought. Hospitality was even better. But I always intended to work in the art world. I was waiting until more time had passed.”

“Don’t put it off any longer, Acacia. You should ask Madame Bishop to help you find employment in a gallery. I won’t interfere, I promise.”

Acacia smiled. “All right.”

“Good.” Nicholas lifted her hand. With his eyes on hers, he pressed his mouth to her palm. “I knew when you reported me to the BRB you were an amazing woman.”

Acacia closed her eyes and grimaced.

Nicholas chuckled. “You have to admit, it’s a very funny story.”

She opened her eyes. “I never thought of the BRB as a group of matchmakers. I suppose I’m lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one. You’re intelligent and attractive. You’re incredibly gifted, and yet you’re jealous of Silke for my affections.”

Acacia squeezed his hand. “I’m angry at how she treated you. I don’t care if she is a spy, she’d better stay far away from me.”

Something pulled at the edges of Nicholas’s lips. “Or what?”

“I’d give her a lecture on true beauty. I’d tell her to grow up and look inward before her interior ugliness defaced the rest of her. I’d trip her as she walked by.”

Nicholas sat back in his chair.

Acacia frowned. “Too much?”

He grinned. “Never.”

She lifted her fork. “Now that we’ve had our serious conversation, I propose we enjoy the rest of our dinner and the fantastic view.”

“Your wish, your pleasure,” he whispered.

She smiled. “Thank you.”