Sixty-Nine
Isobel
Casually giving the silent man sitting next to me a glance, I tried to breach the vast stretch of silence. “Where are we headed to?” After he’d arrived in the villa to get me, all dressed up and showered, from his office, he merely gave me a quick inspection with a stale greeting of “Good evening, Isobel” before opening the door for me to get inside his swanky, two-door sports car. Apart from that, Hugo hadn’t supplied me with any words.
He stretched his neck from side to side then cleared his throat. “To a wine auction that will benefit homeless children.”
Sigh. He was making this difficult. He wasn’t very forthcoming at all, and since this was our first official outing together, I had thought he’d be more accommodating, but he was proving to be standoffish. “Sounds exciting. Are you setting your sights on anything in particular?”
Eyes stuck to the road, he used his left hand to tug his tie a little before responding to me. “For a while now… yes,” he murmured. “And I intend to acquire it at all costs.”
There was something about the way he said it that made me glance at his darkly handsome profile. I felt my stomach drop as I took in his masculine perfection. Greek men were passionate; however, French men were something else. Their passions seemed to go with everything they did—like limited edition spirits.
“Must be a fine wine then. I’m sure it’s pricey.”
“Anything fine is always expensive. Nothing in life is free.”
The bite in his tone made me feel at odds; therefore, I remained silent for I had no smart retort. After all, if one looked at it in black and white, my father had offered me like a barter to pay of his debts in return for my willing servitude.
He was right. Nothing in life was free…
“And who is this belle enchanteresse, Xavier?” The famous racer Jacques Bertrand inquired the moment Hugo and I joined their close circle of friends.
Hugo touched the back of my hips, letting his hand stay there as he introduced me. “This is Isobel. She’s spending the summer with me.” He then paused as he stared ahead before gazing back to his friends, frowning. “Give me a moment to speak to someone.” He made a quick nod towards me before whispering, “I’ll be right back.”
I watched after him as strode towards the opposite side of the hall, feeling a little odd yet again because his parting seemed awkward. Hugo and I didn’t know each other, so maybe that was the reason behind his weird behavior.
Someone cleared their throat, picking up my attention as I looked up and found Jacques Bertrand’s amused face. “Well, it’s quite lovely to meet you, Isobel.”
Smiling shyly, I made the same sentiment. “Same here, Monsieur Bertrand.”
“Call me Jacques.” He offered his hand, and when I shook it, he hung on to mine before giving me a questioning look. “I thought you were Italian at first sight, but your accent denies it…”
I was unbelievably out of my league here. These men were used to women that could flirt back with them with ease, but I was having a hard time not being completely star-struck at the handsome and well-known racer and womanizer extraordinaire.
“Greek,” I offered to solve his problem, feeling out of my comfort zone as I watched the women saunter about, looking ever so glamorous while I felt like an interloper playing pretend.
“Simply beautiful,” he murmured before placing his lips on the back of my hand, making me gasp from shock and excitement.
“Behave, Jacques. She’s already taken,” the woman standing next to him butted in with a playful smile. “I’m Stella von Berg.”
I was about to say “Nice to meet you” when the man next to her interrupted me. “Was von Berg. Now Kensington, my lovely wife.”
She exaggeratedly rolled her eyes before tapping his lapel. “And this is Callum, my husband.”
Married couple. How sweet and endearing.
“It’s great to meet you both,” I said pleasantly at the couple before my eyes found the last member of their circle; another tall, dark, and handsome man. Swallowing my shyness, I greeted him, “Hello.”
“Julien Geroux. Some might say I’m Hugo’s closest friend to date.” There was wickedness to his smile as he audaciously shifted and took Hugo’s spot before excusing us from his friends, who were already starting to talk about Jacques’s upcoming race. “Let’s get you something to drink. Champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
He plucked up two flutes from the passing waiter before securing us a spot in a corner. I was still feeling out of depth, yet my curiosity had been piqued the second Julien wanted some privacy to speak to me.
Casually offering me the flute, he gave me a warm smile as I took it with ease before those intelligent eyes sharpened on me. “You speak French?”
“A little… only the basics,” I murmured before taking a cautious sip, eyes unwavering at the newly introduced man.
“Très bien.”
He seemed forward yet accommodating enough. I supposed it wouldn’t be too bad if I let my guard down a little. He didn’t seem the type to have their claws out just because I was dating his friend.
“So, Julien… closest friend to Hugo; that must be something.” My brow arched as I waited for him to supply me with some information.
Apart from what I had seen and knew of Hugo, there wasn’t much about him on the internet other than how his family started and how their wealth accumulated from smart investments. There was nothing to clue me in about his personal life, much other than photographs. I needed the puny details—something to tell me what made the man tick. After all, I was to be in his “care” for the next six months. Wanting to know more about the man who would see to my welfare didn’t seem unreasonable.
Julien shrugged my question off, looking noncommittal. “We have our moments like the rest. We’ve grown up together since toddlers.” Another casual French shrug before he appointed me another question. “How do you find him and everything else?”
Hugo surprisingly seemed harmless. Well, if I took out that first time we met and how he daringly came in my hands and how powerful I felt then. He’d been distant since, leaving me to my own devices.
“It’s okay…” Blushing as I murmured my answer, feeling quite bothered each time I recalled that incident in my mind. Every time, it never failed to make me feel… things.
“And the girls?”
Sherry and Chantel were distant but seemed friendly enough. I could only be thankful the three of us, though we lived in the same wing, all led separate lives. They had their own sets of friends and lived as if they were boarding in the villa, and not mistresses of Hugo Xavier. It was surprisingly harmonious given the odd circumstances.
“They are reserved but pleasant.” Taking another sip, I pondered my next question, hoping I wasn’t probing on a subject that was off-limits. “May I ask why he prefers triple?”
Julien beamed at me, giving me a glimpse of his own dark, sexy beauty. He and Hugo shared that whole laissez-faire attitude, yet it was done with subtle elegance, great confidence, and an underlying power even right up to the way they held their heads high. They had some male ego competition going on, from what I was gathering. I wasn’t sure if it was by birthright or simply by being raised together, but I must admit, it was mesmeric to be around their casual air of certainty.
“How do I explain this delicately…?” Clearing his throat, he took a sip of his drink before focusing on our conversation. “Years ago, this woman he was in a relationship with fell in love with him even though he told her that nothing was going to come out of their union.”
There was always that poor woman who fell for the bad boy. Thank goodness that wouldn’t be the case with me.
“Let’s just say she made a big deal out of it and caused a lot of complications in his life.” When he broke his lips for a smile this time, it appeared sad. “From then on, he thinks having only one is dangerous to the woman’s mental health.”
“A security blanket. One was surely complicated, having two would merely spark competition, but three? Three is perfect harmony.” I figured it out for myself. My thoughts travelled into the villa, picturing a woman smitten and doomed with her love for a man who didn’t accept it. How tragic it must’ve been for her.
“Sure, you can call it that.”
Well, whatever Hugo was harboring, he could rest assured I wouldn’t ever be in that same fate because, even though he was the most beautiful creature I had ever been graced to meet, my heart remained forever with Damen, who was patiently waiting for me to finish this “job” I had vaguely explained to him, needing space and an excuse for breaking his heart. My father was a selfish brute of a bastard. If it weren’t for my brother and mother, I wouldn’t be standing here tonight.
Breathing out my frustration, I carried on with the conversation. “What about you? Do you have a similar outlook with women?”
Julien laughed wholeheartedly. “You’re forward, aren’t you, viande fraîche?” I gave him a puzzled look before he produced the answer. “Fresh meat. Viande fraîche is what I shall call you from now on.”
Oh, please. Maybe to his standards I was. I was far from being one, but I didn’t dare argue with him.
“More champagne?”
“I’m afraid your waiting services are no longer needed, Julien.” Hugo’s arctic voice interrupted us, making us both turn while my breath caught as our eyes clashed. I supposed whoever he had spoken to earlier on, it hadn’t gone as planned.
Hugo harshly said something in rapid French, making me bite my lip as I stared at the both of them, uncertain if I should hide. He sounded like he was infuriated, but Julien’s easy smile contradicted my assumptions.
“Isobel, it was marvelous to speak to you this evening. I will see you again.” He made a gallant bow before he brazenly winked at Hugo and then left us in quite a heavy shroud of thick silence.
Damn.