Honeymoon in Paris (29 page)

Sandrine walked over and placed a hand on Luc’s shoulder. “You did the right thing, Luc. Adeline can’t grow up around that woman. It would only be destructive. You have to protect your daughter.”

Michèle nodded in agreement. “You are very brave, my son. You’ve worked hard to expose the truth, and in doing so, you’ve saved our family. And you’ve saved yours.” She looked over to me, and for the first time since I’d met her, kindness flooded into her eyes. “I know I was skeptical of your quick marriage, but I understand now. The two of you have a love that is very rare, a love most people only dream of having. Charlotte, you are going to be the best mother to our little Adeline, and I am honored to have you as my daughter-in-law.”

A tear escape from my tired eyes, the emotion of what had happened today finally breaking down my defenses. “Thank you, Michèle. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Sandrine nodded. “I feel the same, Charlotte. You are part of our family now. And finally, this will be a family that isn’t based on lies and secrets.” She raised a brow at her brother before giving him a big hug.

“So what will happen to Dad?” Sandrine asked.

“The embezzlement case will be reopened, and we will provide the evidence that proves he was innocent all along. He’ll probably win a very large settlement for being wrongly imprisoned. But he’s already told me that he won’t keep the money. He wants to give it to all of us.”

A tear rolled down Michèle’s cheek as she squeezed Sandrine’s hand. “All these years, I’ve blamed him for everything. And all along…”

Sandrine hugged her mother. “
Maman
, you couldn’t have known.”

“Dad would like to have us all over for dinner soon,” Luc said. “He wants to clear the air, start over. Would you give him that chance?”

Sandrine and Michèle both nodded. “Of course,” Michèle said. “Do you have his phone number, Luc? I’d like to call him myself.”

The smile that spread across Luc’s face was bright enough to erase every last bit of pain still throbbing through my head. “He would love that,” Luc said. “You have no idea how much he has wanted to make this right.”

“Did Dad know about your job?” Sandrine asked.

“He suspected, but he didn’t know for sure until today. I called him from the hospital to give him the news. I’ve never heard him sound happier.”

“Thank you, Luc. Thank you for everything you’ve done to bring our family back together,” Sandrine said quietly.

I gazed over at my strong, sweet, sexy husband and realized I’d never had as much love or admiration for anyone as I did for Luc in that moment.

Even though we’d gotten off to a rocky start, it was clear now that marrying Luc hadn’t been a mistake. It had been the best decision of my life.

Later that night, after Sandrine and Michèle had left the apartment and Luc was helping me into bed, I remembered two final pieces of the puzzle that Luc hadn’t yet explained.

“Nicolas said there was something else in that envelope, something besides the proof of your dad’s innocence. What was it?” I asked.

Luc lay down beside me and placed his hand on mine. “I am so glad you waited until my family left to ask that question.”

“Why?” I said, stifling a yawn. “What is it?”

“It is something I have suspected for many years now, but only Nicolas was able to find proof.” Luc hesitated, the troubled look in his eyes making me fear whatever he was going to say next.

How could there be
more
after all we’d already learned?

“It turns out that in the early years of my parents’ marriage, my mother had an affair with Vincent.” Luc hesitated, then finally spit it out. “Soon after, she became pregnant with Sandrine.”

“Are you saying Vincent is Sandrine’s father?”

Luc nodded solemnly.

“Does she know?” I asked.

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Are you sure keeping more secrets from your sister is the right thing to do?”

“In this case, yes, I am certain. Sandrine has already watched one father—her true father—be wrongly imprisoned. She doesn’t need to find out that her biological father is a womanizing criminal and that our mother has been lying to her all these years.”

“Does Vincent know?” I asked.

“Yes, he does. That is why my mother married him. She was hoping to give him a chance to get to know his daughter, to create a real family with him.”

“Clearly that didn’t work out as she’d planned,” I said.

“Obviously not.”

“Will you keep just this one secret,
mon amour
?” Luc asked me. “After all the work I’ve done these past several years, it is important to me that my family has a chance to come back together. And this truth will only serve to tear us all apart again.”

I thought about how I’d been turning to my girlfriends for advice from the minute Brigitte had stormed into our lives. And in the process, I’d been spilling all of the juicy gossip as it unfolded. Not
that I wouldn’t ever confide in my girlfriends anymore, but today, Luc and I had turned a new corner in our relationship, and from here on out, I wanted him to know that he could always trust me to keep our private lives
and
his secrets between us.

“Of course, Luc. The secret is safe with me,” I promised as I cozied up to him underneath the covers. “You’re quite the family man, you know that?”

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the forehead.

“You are my family,
ma belle.
You and Adeline. And now that this is all over, I hope you believe me now when I say I will always protect you both.”

I smiled as I relaxed in Luc’s warm arms. “Of course. You saved my life today, Luc. I can’t thank you enough.”

His lips brushed against mine—soft, warm, and sweet, the perfect ending to an absolutely insane day.

“Just another day’s work for me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Speaking of work, is
this
how you were able to pay for our wedding, for the guests’ hotel bill, and for our lavish honeymoon? From your salary as an undercover agent?”

“It is so nice that I can finally be honest with you about this.” A look of relief passed through Luc’s eyes as he continued. “The truth is that I received a promotion and an
extremely
large bonus for the undercover work I did last year at the Cité Universitaire busting that drug ring, and I wanted to use some of it to make our wedding week special. Don’t worry though,
chérie,
there is plenty more in savings, so you can take as much time as you need to find a new job.”

“Wow, and all that time, I thought you were a poor graduate student. What are you going to do now that your cover has been blown?”

He laughed as he squeezed me tighter. “I am going to take some time off to spend with you and Adeline. And once you are feeling
better, I have a few surprises for you. It is only day eighteen of our
lune de miel,
after all.”

“Eleven more days of bliss,” I whispered. “After what happened today, you better make it good.” And with that, I drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the arms of my sexy undercover agent husband.

TWENTY-SEVEN

It was day twenty-six of our honeymoon period, and true to Luc’s word, he’d made every single day since the lingerie store showdown nothing short of pure bliss. It had taken me a few days to recover from my concussion—not to mention from the stress of it all—but with the heavenly assortment of French pastries Luc served me in bed first thing each morning, and the endless supply of chocolate he kept by the bedside, I was feeling better in no time.

The only thing that was causing me worry these days was the fact that somehow, during the most insane twenty-four hours of my life, I’d lost the Paris journal where I’d been keeping all of my notes for
The Girl’s Guide to Tying the French Knot.
I’d been carrying it around in my purse that day, so it could’ve been anywhere. I’d ransacked our apartment and asked Nicolas and Lexi to search their hotel room. I’d even told Luc about my book idea, and to my surprise, he thought it was exactly the right path for me to take. He’d even asked his men to search Isabelle’s lingerie shop and Jean-Michel’s car, but all to no avail.

I’d spent the past few days holed up in our tiny apartment, typing up everything I could remember, but I was beyond bummed that I’d lost the original notes. Today was my first day out and about, though, so I pushed aside my concerns and headed out to meet the girls at my favorite
crêperie
in Vieux Lyon: Le Banana’s.

When I was only a block away, my cell phone buzzed.

“
Allô?
” I answered.

“
Bonjour
, Charlotte. It’s Mireille Charbonneau from
Bella France
.”

I hadn’t heard from anyone at
Bella France
since Vincent had been sent to prison, and I’d figured I would let the dust settle a little before getting back in touch. But Mireille had beaten me to it.

“Mireille, it’s so good to hear from you.” I was only hoping it really
would
be good to hear from her, but after everything that had gone down with Mireille’s
lover,
Vincent, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

“You were right about Vincent,” she said, cutting right to the chase. “I was stupid to get involved with a man like him in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I’m sorry about how things ended up, Mireille. I hope you’re doing okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” she snapped, but the disappointment lining her voice let me know she probably wasn’t as strong as she was letting on. “The moral of the story is never to let a man get in the way of your career. On that note, I’d like to talk to you about
your
career here at
Bella France.
”

“Do I still have a career at
Bella France
?” I asked.

“Obviously with Vincent gone, we are restructuring, and it looks as if the new publisher is perfectly bilingual, so we won’t have a need for your translating or teaching services. We will, of course, still honor the contract we made with you and your language school.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I know you weren’t too keen on giving me a chance to write for the magazine, but—”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Mireille said. “I didn’t call to talk about your translating contract.”

“You didn’t?”

“I called to talk to you about
The Girl’s Guide to Tying the French Knot.
”

I stopped walking as a feeling of dread consumed me. “What? You… you found my journal?”

“That day when you were snooping around in Vincent’s office, it must’ve fallen out of your purse. After you left, I decided to do my
own little search into Vincent’s affairs, and I found your journal on the floor next to his couch.”

My cheeks blazed with heat as I thought of Mireille with her critical editorial eye reading through my first draft ideas. “I’m so sorry, Mireille. I’ll come take it off your hands—”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she cut me off. “As much as I hate to admit it when I’m wrong, I have no choice but to do so in this instance. You have quite a voice, and I think
Bella France
’s new readership will think so too.”

Was Mireille actually complimenting my writing? I walked over to the side of the old cobblestone street and listened to make sure I was hearing her right.

“We’re just getting the online portion of our magazine up and running, and I’d like to offer you a weekly column, turning your chapter ideas into articles. You’ll continue your theme—
The Girl’s Guide to Tying the French Knot
—and you’ll write the column in both English and French for
Bella Magazine
in the US and for
Bella France.
Yours will be the voice that connects our two magazines, so we’ll need you to be quite serious about your commitment if you are to accept.”

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ll say yes, that’s what you’ll say. This is an opportunity that most girls would dream—”

“Yes, Mireille, I accept,” I cut in. “Thank you so much.”

“I expect the first column in my in-box by the first of October. My assistant will send you more details, and I’d like for you to stop by the office as soon as you can to sign your new contract, and of course to pick up your journal.”

“Of course. That all sounds wonderful.”

Just as I thought Mireille was about to hang up, she softened her voice. “And Charlotte, I’m happy you’re okay. I’m sorry about what happened to you.”

“Thank you, Mireille. I’m doing just fine now. I’m sorry for what happened to you too.”

“As you’ll soon learn, you have to have a thick skin in this business. It’s no different with men. Remember, October first. Don’t be late.”

As I hung up the phone, I had to stop myself from skipping down the cobblestones like a giddy schoolgirl. Who would’ve thought the hard-ass editor-in-chief of
Bella France
would actually enjoy reading
my
ideas? And that she would offer me a job because of them?

Lexi had been right that day we’d had wine at Les Deux Magots Café in Paris: a woman should never give up her voice
or
her career dreams for a man.