Paris (Entangle Me Book 4) (5 page)

Heart pummelling tremendously here. What is Tristan doing here? In a loose-shirt, cargo shorts and sandals, he certainly isn’t dressed for a business meeting. I wave, and I expect him to come over and say hi to us but he stands there, grimacing at me and Claudio standing together.

I turn to Claudio, affixed with a firm smile on my face. “Anyway, I have to go but I’ll let you know what Marie thinks. And I’ll email you if I have any questions,” I dictate.

“
Très bien! Au revoir
,” he winks at me and walks off.

I walk towards Tristan and his already annoyed expression has turned even sourer after Claudio’s gesture.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

He shoots a dirty look in Claudio’s direction, but his lips are firmly shut. Instead he turns to look at me, his usual deadpan expression on tow.

“I was going to come and see how you and the chef were getting along, I can see you two are getting on swimmingly.” I can hear the hostility in his tone.

“Well that is my job, to work well with everyone involved in a wedding.”

Tristan crosses his arms, making him look even more imposing. “I wanted to talk to you about the other day…when Victoria saw us.”

I raise my hand to get him to stop. To think I was actually keen on starting with him. You know what? I’m glad Victoria came, because it shot me back to reality. The reality that Tristan and I should not get together. I’ll just disregard at how much I’ve missed him the last few days, at how my heart is racing at the sight of those massive arms, those arms that pinned me to my hotel door.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
I don’t want you to explain.

“You’re not even going to let me?”

“I’m saving you the obligation.”

“No, you’re denying me the right to.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Same thing.”

“I beg to differ.”

I walk past him, keen to cease this conversation. I need to catch the train back to the hotel, and I’m eager to continue planning the wedding. Tristan walks along with me, keeping a forced distance from me.

“So, how is the wedding coming along?”

“Good, busy.” The last few days have flown by in a whirl of run sheets, re-confirming guest lists, re-confirming floral arrangements, and just reconfirming everything in general. Alain and Marie have been extremely relaxed with the preparation so far, so much to the point where they’ve pretty much entrusted Gabe and I with putting their plans together.

“Have Alain and Marie been easy to work with?” Tristan turns to look at me while we keep walking.

“They’ve been great. The only difficulty I’ve had with them is that they have been too trusting.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Can they be that loaded that they can just easily spend another $5000 on flowers last minute? Marie practically laughed when I said how expensive it was going to be.”

“Marie is a generous client, that’s for sure. And friendly too.”

“Yeah, they’ve only got two catch phrases ‘Super!’ or ‘Tres bien!’ I need them to be more firm: more ‘
non non
!’ and less ‘
oui
’.”

Tristan sniggers at my terrible attempt at French.

“Don’t stop her spending extra. At the end of the day the client’s needs come first.”

“Yeah I know but $5000 just for imported flowers? Come on?” I scoff. “Anyway other this event becoming bigger than Ben Hur, everything is coming along.”

“I know I can trust you.” Suddenly Tristan walks closer to me and I turn to look at him.

“What?”

“I wish I could have helped you out with the wedding more. I was looking forward to working with you.”

I breathe inwardly at the way he said that. Not like a manager, and definitely not like a friend either. 

“Tristan—”

“Tristan!”

My stomach sinks at the sound of that nasally voice, again. It can’t be, surely it can’t be.

“Fuck, will she ever leave me alone?” Tristan mutters to himself. Odd choice of words, I choose to ignore his comment.

I turn around to see Victoria standing down the street.  Looking very chic in a pinstripe jumpsuit and oversized hat, she sees me and glares at me derisively. She really should learn to be more subtle. Strutting towards us in her stilettos, she stares me down as she stands next to Tristan.

“What is
she
doing here?” She asks, her voice ever so shrill. Wow, she just spoke about me as if I am not standing right in front of her.

“
She
is just leaving,” I narrow my eyes slightly at her and start walking away but Tristan grabs my arm. My heart races at his touch, again. Dammit, why must I keep reacting like that? Dammit, why does it hurt so much to see him with another woman?

Tristan looks at me, his blazing stare is so heated it makes my face feel warm.

“It’s not what you think it looks like.”

Leaning in to stare back at him, I try to avoid looking dejected. Because that’s how I feel right now.

“I don’t care what it looks like, you can do what you want, alright?”

“I wanted to go for another walk with you.”

“What are you two talking about?” Victoria whines. “Hurry up, I have to go back to
Galeries Lafayette
to pick up my custom made dress for the wedding.”

That’s right, little Miss Brat is going to the wedding where she will no doubt be hanging off Tristan’s arm. Hurray!

Victoria cocks up her head at me, looking insufferably smug. “Oh yeah, I’m coming to the wedding as his date.”

My eyes widen and I pull myself from his grip. I can’t stand the thought of them hanging out in Paris, and to think that I will be forced to see her at the wedding is irritating beyond belief.

“You are
not
coming as my date,” Tristan says dryly. “You were already invited to the wedding.”

She huffs loudly. “Same thing. Come on, are we going or what?”

“I am.” I walk away from him and her without saying anything.

“Lacey, don’t go—”

“I have to go and do some work. Not all of us have time to take girls shopping,” I spit out.

“Don’t be like this.” He walks closer to me and leans in. “I want to see you.”

“Well, I can’t with her there.”

Tristan’s eyes flare momentarily in surprise. “Are you…jealous of me and—?”

“I don’t have time to argue with you now. Bye,
au revoir
,” I mutter and turn around.

All I want to do can do is walk straight. And fast.

♦

It’s almost crunch time! Brushing aside the fact that Marie and Alain did not want a rehearsal that made me want to reach for a paper bag and hyperventilate, by all accounts everything appear to be in place for the first day of celebrations tomorrow. Everything is set to go for the first day, for the family-only ceremony and dinner reception on at Chateau de Riviera, a forty minute drive from Paris. All the arrangements have been made with the chateau: all the food, decorations and programs have all been set. In terms of transportation, Gabe and I are hiring a car and will drive up to stay at the chateau tonight, giving us plenty of time to start setting up in the morning. Tristan is arriving on the day with the bridal party, and will ensure everything is smooth from the guest’s side of things. It might be all smooth sailing, but I’m trying my best to suppress my disappointment and how things have turned out with Tristan.

I thought that things were going well with him, I was about to give him my all and then Victoria turned up. I don’t know what’s going on between them but I sure as hell know that I don’t want to start anything with him if she’s going to be in the picture. Nonetheless, I’m here to make Marie and Alain’s special day come true. Well, actually two special days.

It’s 2pm and I’m lounging with Gabe in my hotel room. We’re going to drive up to the chateau in a few hours so I’m just sitting at the table, working on my laptop.

“I didn’t think it was possible but I feel even more fab in Paris,” Gabe teases his hair as he admires his reflection in the mirror opposite my bed. Having just gone through the final guest list, I’m reading through a critical email I have drafted to the manager of the château for tomorrow’s ceremony, Pierre. 
“Get a beret and bicycle, you’ll be all set,” I suggest.
“Don’t forget the bread stick. God, the bread is good here.”

Yup, so are the pastries, the cheese, the fruit...I could go on. 

“Speaking of food, I’m so darn excited to try the wedding cake. I can’t believe they ordered a pink champagne flavoured cake! What an insanely awesome idea. Eat cake and get tipsy at the same time!” he chuckles.
“Mmmhmm, genius idea.” I press send on the email to Pierre, going back to check my inbox. Everything has been dealt with, think I will just send one final confirmation to the restaurant.
 

Gabe scoots back from the mirror, clearly content with his hair for now and sits down at the table opposite me. 
“So, why are you not hanging out with your man? I mean, I know I am way better company but you two should be making out like a couple of teenagers right now.”
Any mention of Tristan gets me irritated and I continue looking at the screen. Ever since I made it clear I did not want to hang out with him other than in a work capacity, our communication has been strictly limited to emails. He’s still asking to hang out, but frankly I don’t want to. I just want to put a wall of work between us as it distracts me from the mountainous frustration I feel about his ex being here, and how angry I am that he has been hanging out with her. Ever since that day where she practically snatched him away, it’s hard for me to be in the same room as him.

I feel like a fool for thinking things were going well, that he was opening up to me. I even thought that we were about to...never mind. It’s not going to happen, not in Paris.

“He is not my man, he’s just my boss.”
“Yeah right, your boss who practically drools every time you walk in the room. What’s wrong, why have you been so snarky towards him lately?”

“He’s been...never mind.” A gorgeous blonde throws herself at him, and they are in Paris together. Hardly my dream situation.

He wants you, I know that for a fact.”
I shrug my shoulders, keeping my eyes glued to the laptop. Yes, Tristan wanted to have dinner with last night, yes, he wanted to take me to the
Louvre
the day before, and Palace of Versailles the day before that. But I said no, and opted to do all of those things with Gabe instead. I’m not going to compete with a woman for a man’s attention. “Yeah right, did he ask you to say something?” I suggest tersely, sceptical of why Gabe is still so persisting on this matter.

“He doesn’t have to because he is always talking about how annoying you are, how bossy you are, how bitchy—”
“Oh gee, he sounds like my biggest fan! Not.”

Gabe chuckles loudly. “No, he is clearly gaga for you if you drive him nuts. Trust me on this.”

I sigh loudly as I look up from my laptop.
“It’s Vic... that blonde girl.” I can’t bring it to myself to say her name. 

“Who?” He pauses for a moment before clicking his fingers. “Oh yeah, her. Tall, thin, kind of bitchy looking?”
That’s the one. 

“I met her the other day, not that it was voluntary.”
My ears perk up at his revelation. “What do you mean?”
“I was with your hunk of a man and when we got to the hotel lobby she was just standing there, waiting for him.”
Oh god, they have been meeting up regularly? My stomach churns pitifully. 

“See, told you—”

“Tristan was not happy to see her. And I mean that, like I could see his temples throbbing. He looked pissed off,” Gabe nods.

I shift in my seat to lean towards him, interested to know more. “What are you talking about?”

“Well firstly, as soon as we walked through the lobby, she practically charged towards us. Tristan kept saying ‘What are you doing here?’, ‘How did you know I was staying here’? It felt like she was...stalking him almost.”
Huh, come again? A gorgeous blonde wants to stalk Tristan? Yeah right. 

“And then what?”
“Tristan kept trying to blow her off, saying he’s busy with work. But then she said she would totally tell on him and Tristan finally agreed to meet her later.
Trust
me, he did not look keen at all,” Gabe insists and I know he is telling the truth. 
“I don’t get it. They were exes...”
Gabe shakes his head. “Not to me. I’m not an expert on body language or anything but he did not look keen at all.

Not one bit.”

I purse my lips, utterly confused at this new found development. I’m supposed to believe that Tristan is less than interested in a gorgeous, rich blonde, but for some odd reason feels obligated to continue seeing her? Something is fishy, and it’s not the smoked mackerel I had for lunch.