After breakfast, Cedric pulls Raphael aside to pick his brains about some business-related matter. I use the opportunity to head to the beach with Lily and a book. My plan is to play with my baby, read, and try to relax. I’m aware it’s a shaky plan, given the distressing effect of Gaspard’s email, but I’m determined to do my best to enjoy this beautiful island a little more before we fly back to Paris.

A half hour into “reading” without registering a word, I shut my book and sit up.

Diane sits down next to me. She picks up Lily’s Sophie the Giraffe teether and plays with her for a while, making my little girl giggle.

Then she turns to me and smiles. “You know, I recognized you the moment I saw you at the airport. I’d seen you a year go at Le Big Ben.”

“I recognized you, too,” I say, smiling back and pointing at her rounded belly. “Five months?”

“Six.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Wait and see.” She gives me a wink before adding. “I’m so glad you are the woman who tamed Raphael! I feared he’d end up with—oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’ve tamed no one,” I say. “As for Raphael, he’s untamable.”

“He was. Before you.”

I smirk. “You want to know the truth? A year ago, Raphael and I had a fling. Then I went away. Now that I’m back, he wants more of the same. An ‘arrangement,’ as he called it. That’s all.”

“Is Lily his?” she asks.

I blink. “You’re… direct.”

“I’m sorry.” She gives me a pleading look. “Please disregard my question! My curiosity will be the death of me.”

“She is,” I surprise myself by saying. “But that’s not what I told him.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she says.

Inexplicably, I believe her.

She runs her hand through Lily’s feathery curls. “Do you think he believes whatever it is you told him?”

“He didn’t say anything to the contrary.”

“It doesn’t matter what he said.” Diane smiles as Lily grips her thumb and pulls it into her mouth. “What matters is what he did. He brought you and Lily here, to his sanctuary, so you could meet his brother and his closest friends.”

I dig my hands into the sand, processing her words.

Diane gives Lily a soft kiss and sets her on the towel.

“Don’t judge Raphael by his words,” she says, standing up. “He uses them to disguise his feelings. Judge him by his actions.”

And with that, she saunters away.

As I ponder her advice, Genevieve turns up by my side and points to where Diane sat a few minutes ago. “May I?”

“Please.”

Did I unwittingly occupy everyone’s favorite spot on this beach?

“Nice weather, isn’t it?” Genevieve asks, leaning back and stretching her slender legs.

I nod. “Just perfect.”

“I looked you up,” she says, turning to me. “You’re a medievalist.”

“Yep.”

“I remember you from a year ago.”

“I waitressed at Le Big Ben for a few weeks.” I smile. “Didn’t realize I’d made such an impression on Raphael’s friends.”

“He dumped you like he dumps everyone,” she says. “But then he took you back. Why?”

My smile begins to slip.

“What’s your agenda?” she asks.

I stare at her, too unsettled to respond.

She stares back. “Actually, you don’t need to answer that. Your plan is transparent enough.”

“Is it?”

“You’re hoping to snag him, like so many before you.” She shrugs. “And you’re using your baby as bait.”

On impulse, I pick Lily up and wrap my arms around her in a protective gesture.

“Listen to me carefully, Mia.” Genevieve leans toward me. “Raphael may charm the hell out of you, but he’ll never marry you.”

We’re in agreement on that point.

“Do you realize he’s so much more than just a rich and handsome playboy?” she asks.

As it happens, I do.

Raphael is bright and great at what he does. Despite his breezy persona, he cares for his company and works his tail off to grow it. He’s hilarious, but never at the expense of others. He’s a Casanova all right, but he doesn’t cheat or lie to the women he sleeps with. Come to think of it, he’s one of the most honest people I know.

“He’s nobility,” Genevieve says. “And so am I, for your information.”

“For your information, this is the twenty-first century.”

“Et alors?” She lowers her eyelids in contempt. “The world is still run by a select few. Raphael is an heir to one the country’s oldest and wealthiest aristocratic families. Do you know his full name? You must know it, seeing as you worked for him.”

I look away.

“Besides, he and I have a pact,” she continues. “If we haven’t fallen in love by thirty-one, we’ll get married.”

I glance at her face to check if she’s serious.

“And that day is fast approaching,” Genevieve says, deadpan.

I shrug. “So what’s the problem? You’ll have him all to yourself soon enough, if your pact means anything to him.”

“It does.” Her left eye begins to twitch. “We’re perfect for each other, and he knows it. We’re both rich, influential, and cynical. There’s a reason I’m his best friend and his only female friend.”

“Good for you,” I say.

“He despises the women he sleeps with.”

I say nothing.

“We’ll be the French power couple of the century once we’re married,” she says, pushing her hair back.

I lift my chin up. “Then why do I get the feeling you’re scared of me?”

She points at Lily. “Is she his?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Even if she is, your plan won’t work,” she snarls. “I’ll make sure he sees you for what you are. You’re a cheap gold digger like that woman Adele, who went around claiming he got her pregnant.”

I wrap my arms tighter around Lily.

“I’m positive the baby wasn’t Raph’s,” Genevieve says. “Regardless, I was happy the bitch miscarried.”

Did you help her miscarry?

“But then she started saying he’d raped her.” Genevieve rolls her eyes. “Pathetic fool.”

I stroke Lily’s hand. “I’ve heard she suddenly up and left.”

“She left because I gave her a good incentive.” Genevieve’s eyes light up. “I could pay you, too. Name your price.”

“You can keep your money,” I say.

She glowers at me. “Oh, I see. You think you’re smarter than Adele. You think you’ll get more from him than from me.”

My mouth contorts with disgust.

“OK, then.” Genevieve stands up and folds her towel. “I’ll keep my money, but I’ll give you a free tip. Take your bastard and disappear.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll do what it takes to protect Raphael from garbage like you.”

With that, she picks up her designer beach bag and heads toward the villa.

I stay on the beach, entertaining Lily with her favorite buzzing bee game and hoping to compose myself before I go back to Raphael and his nearest and dearest. Easier said than done. I lay Lily down on the towel, and stretch out by her side. There isn’t a hint of a cloud in the sky, and the breeze is so gentle it makes the Mediterranean Sea sound as docile as the pond in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

What a contrast to the turmoil inside my head!

Twenty minutes later, I admit that composure is beyond reach, even on this island. Why, oh why didn’t I stay put in Martinique? My ambition to get the darn PhD brought me right back to the two men I’d run from a year ago. And now it feels like I’m living a déjà vu, wondering which one of them will hurt me more: Gaspard, on purpose, or Raphael, without meaning to?

I collect my things, buckle Lily up in the front carrier, and trudge in the direction of the house. Just as I reach the hedge around the patio, Geneviève’s polished voice reaches my ears. Her words are less polished than her accent.

“Bullshit,” she says.

There’s a brief silence, and then she speaks again. “But what about our pact?”

“What pact?” Raphael’s voice is soft.

“To get married when we turn thirty-one.” Genevieve’s voice cracks. “When we talked about it a few months ago, you failed to notify me you’d unilaterally rescinded it.”

“We joked about it a few months ago! Oh come on, Vivie, we were kids when we made that pact.”

“We were eighteen.”

“Exactly—kids,” Raphael says placatingly. “I always thought of it as a standing joke between us, and I was sure you saw it the same way.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“I don’t get it,” he says. “You know I’m not a marrying man. The whole world knows that.”

“Yes, but I thought… I thought our bond was special. We’re cut from the same cloth, Raph. You always agreed with that.”

He says nothing.

“Don’t you see how much sense it makes for us to get married?” Genevieve asks.

“No, I don’t. We haven’t even dated, for Christ’s sake!”

“We could.”

“We won’t.”

There’s another silence.

“Jeez,” Raphael says. “Vivie, I had no idea…”

“Then you’re stupid,” Genevieve clips. “But cheer up. Your Mia is smarter than than the two of us together. She’s definitely going places.”

“What does that mean?”

I hold my breath.

“We just had a nice long chat, she and I,” Genevieve says. “I offered to pay her to fuck off—”

“You—what?”

“You heard me right. I offered her money.” Genevieve’s voice trembles with repressed fury. “And you know she said?”

“What?” Raphael asks coldly.

“She said, ‘Keep your money. You’ll never be able to offer me more than I can squeeze out of Raphael.’ ”

Lily chooses that precise moment to sneeze loudly.

When I reach the end of the hedge and step onto the patio deck, Genevieve is gone, and Raphael gives me an unreadable look before turning on his heel and marching inside the house.