All Mixed Up Page 3

  “I know what it means.” I gulped hard, recovering with an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be—”

  “Of course you don’t.” The man was sincere about it, leaving me with the impression that I could tell him his suit sucked and his breath smelled—neither of which were true—and he’d be just fine with it. “Now get yourself in here.” He was sincere about the dictate too—down to every bitten-out syllable. I hadn’t planned on disobeying him anyway, which was a damn good thing, I guessed—

  Especially when I fully entered the room, and was doused in a round of uproarious applause.

  “Wh-what the hell?” I finally got out. The smile I attempted as a follow-up probably made me look seasick, but that was an accurate match to how I battled the new pitch and sway of the room—not helped one bit when someone pushed a glass of champagne into my hand. In a daze, I recognized that person as Leese. And I do mean nothing. She looked nothing like her normal self, red hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, a pink sparkly cocktail dress hugging her adorable curves. Greer stood next to her, dressed in an elegant cream party dress with a gorgeous tea-length skirt.

  On the other side of Greer were Gigi and Nico. Next to them was Arista Proust, Milo’s gorgeous wife, looking worthy of a magazine cover in a gold sheath dress and sky-high heels with distinct red bottoms. When had she gotten here? And who on Earth were the rest of these people? The office, while luxuriously appointed, wasn’t big. There were at least twenty people pushing at its confines, all elegantly dressed, staring as if expecting me to spout a speech.

  But a speech for what? Stumbling in here to begin with? Being the “beautiful star” of the evening? What on earth was going on?

  Luckily, Milo stepped forward again, raising the flute of bubbling amber liquid in his own hand, his smile a blinding dazzle. “Medames et messieurs, thank you very much for joining us tonight. Since last year, when we first scouted this beautiful city as a location for the next Avanti nightclub in Europe, all of you supported the venture in one form or another. Your newspaper articles, real estate expertise, zoning help, and even babysitting recommendations—”

  “Amen,” Arista cut in with a musical laugh, answering my curiosity about whether they’d brought their gorgeous twin tweens along for the trip.

  “Well, it’s all been nothing short of invaluable to us.” Milo concluded his thought after a loving wink his wife’s way. “Now, tonight, I have the pleasure of announcing that all our hard work has paid off—spectacularly.” He hitched his glass up a little higher. “As of fifteen minutes ago, the opening night revenues of Avanti Paris have officially topped those of the Vegas, Rome, and New York clubs.”

  This time, I wasted no time joining the little crowd in their deafening cheers. Money might have been the carrot that got me here, but ka-ching was always a better sound when shared with friends—especially the ones who were here with me now. As Leese, Greer, and Gigi pulled me into a squealing group hug, every stress or care I had was pulverized to dust. Though I knew the granules would rebuild themselves into the strain and worry that rode me every day like stone shoulder pads, it was a damn wonderful feeling to be freed of those burdens for a few miraculous minutes.

  So. Damn. Wonderful.

  There was a tap on my shoulder, prompting me to reluctantly break up our kumbaya time. “Sorry to barge in on the girl power love fest, but I gotta get in on the hugging while the Force is being good to us.”

  “Thanks, Obi-Wan,” I chuckled out, letting the guy pull me into a massive bear hug.

  “You did real good, my little beat magic Jedi,” he murmured into my hair, and I wanted to laugh again but couldn’t. Having to swallow down my tears was taking up all my energy. I truly felt more like his little sister right now, instead of a tiny cog in the big Avanti machine.

  More giant chunks of feeling wonderful. And warm. And needed. And appreciated. And valuable. So many massive chunks… Or maybe that was just the champagne. At the moment, I didn’t want to split hairs. I’d accept it all. It had been a while since I could bask in any of those feelings, let alone all of them together.

  Thwop.

  Somebody had cracked another bottle of the bubbly, and my eyes widened. Milo didn’t miss it. “Everything okay, Juls?”

  “Fine. Fine.” I made it a chastisement, since his comment snapped Gigi, Greer, and Leese’s heads around, openly fretting. “Just surprised. This is damn good stuff.” I mock-glared at Milo. “Eating into the profits already, boss?”

  He chuffed good-naturedly. “You’re worth it, kid.”

  “Hey. I’m twenty-three!”

  “Yeah. A kid.” His assertion gained an approving grunt from Nico, and then commiserating nods from all three of my girlfriends. I swung a fresh glower at all of them, getting only more of those sagacious nods in return.

  “It’s so easy for me to forget how young you are.” Leese slid a look over me that was damn near mournful.

  “Good,” I retorted. “Keep it that way.” I’d left behind my childhood as soon as Mom and I entered the hospital for her first chemotherapy appointment—karma’s payback for all the years I’d yearned to be older than I was. Careful what you wish for. I’d accepted the punch with dignity and hadn’t whined about it. The last thing I needed was anyone else doing the same.

  “I just keep telling myself she’s at least five years older.” There was a hint of snark in Gigi’s tone, but not enough to categorize it as a full jibe. “At least right now.”

  I flung a perplexed glower. “At least right now? And why is—”

  “Yeah,” Leese cut in. “Darn good strategy.”

  “Good strategy for what?” I echoed, throwing my stare around. “And why right now?”

  “I’m in,” Leese muttered. “Good plan.”

  “Oh, for the love of—” I cut myself short as soon as Milo surged forward by a firm step, though tilted his sights back at his wife, as if seeking her vote of approval for whatever his next move was. “Why is everyone acting so weird?” Afraid of calling my boss out in front of the whole crowd, I took care to turn it into an all-inclusive demand. Besides, they all deserved to be accountable for it anyway.

  I didn’t have to wait long for my answer.

  Which was probably a good thing—though I still had no way of really knowing. Still, as soon as Arista ticked out a tight but approving nod at Milo, I again found myself the focus of his twinkling gaze—and anticipating grin.

  “Because there’s someone here who really wants to meet you,” he finally explained. “A…friend of mine. Maybe a little more than a friend. He’s a leading businessman in the city, and has been one of the main reasons we got this club up and running. So you can understand why I feel indebted to indulge him an introduction to you.”

  “So indulge him.” I shrugged and tilted my glass. “You’re plying me with the expensive stuff, after all.”

  Though Milo laughed, his relatives didn’t. Finally, Arista stepped forward, seemingly nominated as their given spokesperson. Her gorgeous gold shoes glittered with her confident steps. “Only a meeting.” She said it as if to warn me as much as Milo. “Ten minutes. In public.”

  “Is this public enough?”

  Inside a second, I knew the words hadn’t come from Milo—or from any other man I’d seen in the room so far. This was a new resonance on the air. A new power on the very axis of the earth. And definitely a new pull on the very energy on my body. It was uniquely, exquisitely tuned in to the unique frequency of me…

  Holy. Wow.

  So was this how wolves caught their prey?

  For this was how I longed to die.

  How everything I’d been, up to this singular moment, fell like corpses on a battlefield. Casualties of a victory I couldn’t understand, let alone accept. How could I, when everything about my reality was suddenly rewritten, refocused, retuned…

  For him.

  “Juliette Darienne, I’d like to introduce my friend and colleague, Lucien Paget.”

&nb
sp; My mind stopped. My muscles went numb. The glass of bubbling liquid slipped from my fingers.

  Right into his.

  Those lips, so carnal but cruel, quirked just a little before he lowered them over the back of my hand. “Enchanté, mademoiselle.” Translation: I won’t tell anyone you can’t move because of me, if you don’t.

  “It’s…you.” The words were gossamer threads on my tongue. “I—”

  “You,” he filled in, voice as smooth as the velvet in his gaze, “are very talented at what you do.”

  “She’s also very valued here, Monsieur Paget.” Arista’s clipped tone betrayed her truth: that the formality was only a courtesy to her husband. “It’s her first time in Paris, so we’re all making sure she’s having a pleasurable and safe experience.”

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone on the dance floor recognized her punch on “and safe.” The only person in the building who hadn’t gone past “pleasurable” was clearly Paget himself, who continued as if she’d just chatted up someone else in the room.

  “I was already impressed during your rehearsal the other afternoon. The set-up for the bass drop was…exquisite.”

  I held back on a full laugh—I was a DJ, not an opera singer—but couldn’t resist the chance after the first half of his declaration. “You were here.” Which meant I hadn’t been going completely crazy. The sheer relief of it made sure a smile continued on my lips after the laugh.

  “Just for a bit.” His fingers lingered, their tips cupping my own. “But I was called away to another meeting.” He sounded so sorrowful, his accent intensifying the effect. It wasn’t completely French but I couldn’t place the other inflections. “But now, I am glad for it. I was compelled to come back for more tonight.”

  Milo’s snicker cut the thickness of the air. “Compelled, hmm?” When that phased Paget about as much as a dust mote, he went on, “To the point of canceling a date with Her Highness?”

  Leese giggled. “So Lucien, your girlfriend’s one of those kind, eh? Ugh. Went to school with a few princesses. I understand.”

  Milo grew his mirth to a full chuckle. “Uh, no. I meant Her Highness. The real one. As in—”

  “Adrianna Torino?” Greer’s stare bulged. “The Princess from San Domino, who decided she wanted to be an actress instead?”

  Leese joined in with a second gasp. “She’s gorgeous!”

  Their sputtering muted Paget’s murmur to anyone but me. “And knows it.”

  “You canceled a date with her?” Greer stared as if he’d murmured the Pope. “Why?”

  Paget canted a gracious smile her way. “Because I had more intriguing plans.” While pivoting fully toward me, he added, “And I am very happy I agreed to them.” He tilted his head, loosening a few pieces of his hair into his eyes. The stuff looked like black satin, decadent and thick. “I have enjoyed listening to the fruits of your talent, Miss Darienne…especially that last set. Were they your own arrangement and song choices?”

  I jutted my chin up. Met his gaze directly, no matter what chaos it wrecked on every nerve cell in my body. “You know that answer already, don’t you?”

  He waited a long moment before answering.

  Another.

  His fingertips flowed in, sliding over my palm, until alighting on my wrist. The center of my pulse. The betrayer of exactly what he was doing to me with the force of his gaze, the power of his attention, the sensuality of his body…

  “Yes,” he murmured, and the sound of it was like the soft strum of a mandolin, promising everything but revealing nothing. “But sometimes, I like to hear about it.”

  I felt my lips part. Heard the rush of air I took in. Even registered every molecule of that oxygen, making its way down my throat…but the only thing that seemed to make sense was what it did inside my heart. The way it filled every beat, pounded through every breath, fueled every new drop of desire that flushed into me, through me…

  And how I wondered…if I told him about that…

  But I already knew that answer.

  “All right, all right.” Milo’s interjection parted us as if he’d brought a bucket of ice with it. To his credit, my boss’s demeanor remained silken as his classy tie, hardly faltering at my flushed face, heaving chest, and sweaty palms. “You’ve had your little flirt, Paget. And I’m sure Juliette doesn’t want Liev running the show for too long out there.”

  “Right,” I said. “Sure. Okay.” The words sounded fine but didn’t feel the same, like trying to talk after going to the dentist. The feeling only got worse as I turned and made my way back to the main room. Now, I was damn grateful for the deafening beat, the crush of the bodies, the demand of the next few hours. By the time I collapsed into bed, as tomorrow’s sun rose, I prayed to be too exhausted to remember anything that just gone down—as well as the words Milo had use to qualify it.

  You’ve had your little flirt, Paget.

  Why had the glint in Lucien’s eyes turned feral, even furious, about that?

  Why did I want so badly to agree with him?

  Why did nothing about Lucien Paget, especially all these feelings he churned inside, feel “little” at all?

  26 Days and Counting

  “I’m so low, I couldn’t jump off a dime.”

  I was relieved when Greer earned herself a giggle from Leese as well as me. “I think the term here is euros, sweetie,” she said, rubbing her friend’s shoulder.

  “Same difference,” Greer humphed. “Sort of.”

  “Well, don’t exchange it all back.” I took turns hugging them fiercely, aching at the thought of watching them disappear into the security lines at Charles de Gaulle International. “Milo promised he’d fly you both back for my closing night at Avanti, and I’m taking him up on it.”

  “So are we!” Leese flashed an ear-to-ear grin while tucking my hair behind an ear. “Maybe we can come a few days early and get in some sightseeing too. You’ll be a Parisienne au naturelle by that point.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No. That’ll be Gigi.”

  Greer chuckled. “Well, she has the name to live up to…”

  “Right?” I snickered. “Besides that, I’ve never seen anyone plow through a cheese plate like that girl.”

  “And a bottle of champagne,” Leese chimed in. “Or three.”

  Greer shook her head. “She really thinks it’s the bee’s knees here, doesn’t she?”

  I lifted a sardonic brow as confirmation. “She and Nico are supposed to leave tomorrow, though she’s probably pleading with him for an extension as we speak. It is the fashion capital of the world.”

  Leese giggled while finishing off the bottle of water she wouldn’t be able to take through security. “Does that help or hurt her cause?”

  “Likely a bit of each,” Greer murmured. “Though Nico would indulge that girl a trip to the moon if she really wanted it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No couture studios on the moon.”

  “But maybe some cheese? Leese looked ready to laugh but let out a long.

  “No matter what, Paris has been really good for her,” I put in. “Though it’s a major metropolis of the world, the pace is more relaxed and so are the people. For people as famous and her and Milo, even New York’s not as easy for the incognito life as it once was.”

  “Yaaay, paparazzi,” Leese deadpanned.

  “It is much different here for celebrities, isn’t it? Quite frankly, the French don’t care. Who they are.”

  “You mean how New Yorkers once didn’t?” Leese jibed.

  “Right?” I looked around for a patisserie, hoping to score a croissant and coffee to jump-start me for the Metro ride back into the city. In truth, it was just my way of staying distracted from the wrenching goodbyes that loomed closer by the minute. “She was giddy, telling me that yesterday she and Nico got in a whole hour of shopping without any flashes in her face or lookie-loos in the windows.” While I triumphed inwardly—there was a pastry cart up the mezzanine a bit—I frowned on the outsid
e. “Can you imagine that? Actually being grateful for one stress-free hour in your life? She said that aside from having to pose for a few pictures, she and Nico were really able to relax and enjoy everything about their day.”

  Greer arched a brow with Daisy Buchanan grace. “Perhaps somebody else could learn from that example.”

  “Perhaps with a certain new ‘friend’ she met the other night.” Leese picked up the charge before I could develop even a glare of retaliation.

  “You mean the ‘friend’ who looked at her like the Big Bad Wolf staring down his wayward little forest wanderer?” Greer flattened a swooning hand to the base of her neck. “That friend?”

  The Big Bad Wolf. How the hell did she nail that one out of the gate?

  Somehow, I held back from blurting that. Instead, I inserted with a good-natured chuff, “All right, you two need to stop. Now.”

  Leese rolled her eyes. Flipped back a long length of hair, flashing strawberry-luscious in the late afternoon light. “Who says we were talking about you?” She blinked her gray eyes like a cartoon doll. “I mean, just because Lucien Paget gave you a lust bath with his eyes two night ago…”

  “And just because he’s one of the hottest bachelors in Europe right now, who looks like he could still climb on a bicycle and race up the Alps…”

  I huffed as Greer rallied for the fight. The cause. Whatever the hell they’d been calling it since the-meeting-that-wouldn’t-be-forgotten with Lucien Paget.

  “And just because he’s also a self-made billionaire, with a fleet of his own company’s performance cars at his beck and call at any time…”

  This time, I let loose with a girl growl. “Now you’re playing below the belt.”

  “Now I’m just stating facts.” She raised both hands, still flashing the big innocent eyes. “Not my issue if you have a thing for stuff that goes fast as a land rocket.”

  Leese touched a thoughtful finger to her generous lips. “I wonder if he does everything fast.”

  “All right. That’s it.” But the command didn’t do crap for staying my dissolve in laughter, along with the two of them, as I attempted to jab a finger toward the gate. “I see through your little ruse, but it’s not working. This still sucks.”