A Friend in Paris Page 7

  April kept her back to him as she carefully wrapped each painting, trying to think of the wisest course of action. She could not show fear, though it was what she felt. She could not be rude. That would be like poking a bear for a reaction. No matter what, however, she had to be firm, and when she was finished wrapping, she faced him squarely. “Lucas, I appreciate your asking me, but I’m not going to go out with you, so please stop asking. When I go out with Victor, it’s as a friend. Nothing more. But I don’t think that’s what you’re asking me for. I don’t want to get into a romantic relationship right now.” When April had gotten all the words out, she braced herself for his reaction.

  It was just as she feared. Lucas turned beet red and glared at her before pivoting on his feet and walking toward the staircase. She heard a curse in English and something in French she didn’t catch, but his tone made it sound like a warning. April closed the door softly and locked it, then sat on the bed. A feeling of unease washed over her, the mood oppressive and ominous in her room that had been cheerful only minutes before. Somehow, she didn’t think she’d seen the last of Lucas. Maybe she should try again to find another place to live, but just thinking of it made her feel exhausted. Where else could she go?

  After four hours of painting in her new spot, April returned, cautiously, afraid to cross paths again with Lucas. She didn’t, but as she dressed in a red, fitted cocktail dress, she knew she would also need to leave the apartment to meet Ben, then return unscathed, before she could be sure of escaping him for the rest of what felt like a very long day. With trepidation, she walked down the stairs, and when she saw Victor instead of Lucas, her relief was all out of proportion.

  “Victor,” she called out in a squeaky voice. He’d been about to enter his apartment, and he turned in surprise, his eyes softening as soon as he saw her. That little detail, and the camel-colored sweater he wore that looked soft to the touch, made her want to leap into his arms. Oh boy. Sometimes she forgot about her resolution just to be friends. However, this was the only option open to her, and she wasn’t going to miss out.

  “Hi, April. Were you out painting again today?” She nodded, then chewed her lip as he examined her more closely, from her fitted dress up to her face. His eyes narrowed. “Are you doing all right?”

  “I’m fine. I must be out of breath from the stairs.” April leaned against the railing. “Yes, I was in the magical spot you showed me. And you? Have you been able to give your gift to…Matthias?” She almost said “your baby” but worried someone would overhear, and she imagined Victor was not ready to let the world know.

  His shoulders slumped. “I did. Apparently he has a doudou he likes already.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t have one from his father. Or,” she corrected herself, “he didn’t before you gave him two. He’s a really lucky baby, you know.” April smiled at him.

  Victor shook his head, but she caught a begrudging grin. “Are you doing something now? Do you want to…”

  April felt a pang of regret but jumped in when he hesitated. “No, I need to go back out again. I’m meeting my friend, Ben, for dinner.”

  He looked at her more closely then, a slow perusal that made her feel breathless. “The one from the portraits.”

  “Yes, I, uh…” April knew she was blushing, and between the red dress and the red runner on the stairs, there was no hope of his not noticing it either. “He’s the one I spend the most time with outside class.”

  Victor glanced at his keys then back at her, his expression inscrutable. “I won’t keep you then. Have a good evening.”

  “I will.” April turned to go, a weight of despondency settling on her already dark mood. Unwilling to end the conversation, she said, “I’ll have to show you my progress on the painting.”

  The gaze he flicked her way showed interest. “I’d like that. I feel like I have a small part in its success.” When she raised her eyebrows, he added, “Just a small part.”

  April laughed. “I’m teasing you. You do. I could not have found the place without you. I’ve already drawn in the contours and blocked the shadows, so I think I’ll have something to show you by the end of the week.”

  “Let’s have lunch then. You can show it to me, and we’ll go and eat afterwards.”

  She paused before answering, but when she saw him seem to pull inward, as if to steel himself from rejection, she quickly explained. “I would love that. It’s just, Victor—I really need to watch my budget, and I’m uncomfortable letting people pay my way. Tonight, with Ben, is an exception. He insisted, and I couldn’t say no again. But I don’t plan to make a habit of it, and you already treated me to coffee. Could we just get sandwiches instead?”

  He surprised her. “Let me bring you to my grandmother’s apartment. She makes me lunch once a week, and there’s always too much food for the two of us. I think she will like you.”

  April broke out into a grin. “You’ve never mentioned family before, except for a not very favorable comment about your dad. I was thinking you didn’t have any family you were close to. I think it’s absolutely perfect that you have lunch with your grandma every week, and I would love to join you. That is, if you’re sure she won’t mind.”

  “I’m sure,” Victor said. He stepped toward her. “Let me at least say good night properly since we’re in France, and it’s what we do.” Leaning forward, he brushed each cheek with a kiss. His skin was soft, with only the slightest stubble, and he smelled like some unidentifiable masculine cologne. Understated and expensive.

  “Good night.” April turned and went down the stairs at a clipped pace, trying to slow her beating heart. It was for the best anyway. She was glad he had a baby in his life. It seemed like he needed the focus. And she needed to be focusing on her art. That was her baby, and it would be for a long time.

  Chapter 9

  Victor had been mulling over the idea ever since he left his meeting with prospective clients, and as soon as he entered his apartment the decision was made. It was time to tell his father about the baby. He also needed to tell his grandmother, but he didn’t seem to be able to bring himself to do it. Maybe it was because she would care the most.

  It wasn’t often Victor felt the urge to open up to his dad, but maybe being a father did that to you. He also needed to warn Mishou he’d be bringing a friend over for lunch. That was easier since April was just a friend, like she said. It was nice having a female friend, though if he were honest with himself, it was hard ignoring how beautiful she was when she wore a dress like that red one. Seriously. That Ben character was lucky. Victor was sure Ben didn’t look at April just as a friend. How could he?

  Best get this over with quickly. Victor picked up his phone and searched for his dad’s name. “Papa,” he said, his voice curt. “I need to see you about some business. When do you have time?”

  His father mumbled something to whoever was in the room with him, telling him—or her—to put the papers in front of him. He got back on the phone. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s about the Marseille subsidiary. I have some documents to show you that you’ll want to see.” He knew his dad well enough to predict he wouldn’t agree to see him if it were for any reason other than business. This would make the meeting worth his while.

  “All right. Be here tomorrow at three,” his father said. “Bring the papers with you. You can’t afford to lose this deal.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Papa. I wouldn’t bring this to your attention if it weren’t for the fact that we’re sharing the deal.” He also knew his dad respected him more when he stood up for himself.

  “Hmm.” His father grunted in reply, then hung up.

  Victor looked at the phone. “So nice to talk to you, too, Papa.” He hung up, then headed over to favorites to dial his grandmother. It was like the spoonful of syrup after the bitter medicine.

  April waited at the entrance of the restaurant until her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Ben was already at the table, and he stood when she en
tered. His eyes went wide. “I didn’t even know you owned a dress like that.”

  “Why, thank you, Ben,” she said, sitting when he held the seat out for her. “It’s nice to know you have confidence in my ability to rise to the occasion.”

  “That’s just it,” he said, sitting. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “Ben, you’re obtuse.” April scanned the menu. “What are you getting?” She had agreed to dine out with him on this one occasion and now she was going to eat well, even if she would try to choose the least expensive things on the menu.

  “We’re getting an entrée, main dish, and dessert, okay? So choose whatever you want from each.”

  “No arguments here,” she said, deciding on the salmon terrine for the first course. It was a cozy seafood restaurant, and though she wasn’t crazy about fish, she did like salmon and knew it could be her fallback if nothing else worked. They did have a small selection of meat, however, so she chose from there.

  “Lamb?” Ben exclaimed, when the waiter walked away. “But this is a seafood restaurant.”

  “I’m not a fan of seafood,” she retorted with a smile. “But thank you for inviting me. I do like salmon.”

  “No seafood? That’s too bad. It’s my mom’s specialty. You may change your mind when you try it.”

  “Anything’s possible,” April said, lightly. “But not everything is probable. How far along are you in your painting?”

  “I have the full sketch done. Now I just need to play with the colors.”

  “You’re further along than I am, then. Isn’t Penelope painting George Pompidou as well?”

  “Yes. I see her there sometimes. But she’s focusing on the Parisian buildings around the center and is contrasting the two.”

  “We should invite Penelope out with us sometime,” April said. “She seems pretty cool.”

  “She’s Parisian. I’m sure she already has enough friends,” Ben retorted.

  April pursed her lips. “You can never have too many friends, and she doesn’t seem to have any in the class at least. I’ll invite her.”

  “Fine. But let’s focus on us since we’re enjoying this good dinner.”

  “Ben, might I remind you there is no ‘us.’”

  He flashed her a grin. “Just thought I’d try.”

  April rolled her eyes and accepted his attempt at humor, but she detected a serious undertone, which worried her. This was why she didn’t like accepting meals. There were expectations underneath, and she wanted no expectations where her own were disregarded. A change of subject was in order.

  “Have you talked to your family lately? Do they know about the art competition?”

  Ben poured her a glass of sparkling water and grimaced. “Yes. I shouldn’t have told my mom. She told my dad, and he’s already told everyone my painting was accepted.”

  “Yikes. That’s a lot of pressure. What if you don’t get accepted?” April put her napkin on her lap and stared at the candle on the white tablecloth, soothed by its flickering light. She shouldn’t have been surprised by his cocky answer.

  “I will.”

  “No, seriously, Ben. How can you know? Now that your dad has told everyone, that puts a lot of pressure on you.”

  He shrugged and his look was uncertain. “I’ll do whatever it takes, just as I’m sure you will.” He smiled then, as if he were trying to put on a brave face, and her heart went out to him. She sincerely hoped for his sake his painting would be accepted.

  “So tell me how to say fish in Chinese,” April said, as the waiter came and deposited a plate of salmon in front of her.

  “Eu,” he replied, breaking off a piece of bread.

  April raised a brow. “Ew? Like gross?”

  Ben laughed, his handsome features lit with amusement, and whatever tension was there flew away. “No. You have to make your voice swing upwards. Euuu.”

  Grinning, she attempted to imitate him. “Euu.”

  “You just said ‘rain,’” he said.

  “Oh dear,” April replied, mildly. “I’d better practice some before I get there.”

  Victor opened the glass door to his father’s office, a modern suite in a mid-nineteenth-century stone building that overlooked the Seine. “Victor, good to see you, my son. Have a seat.” This warm accolade was for the benefit of a harried-looking man Victor had never seen before. A middle manager by the look of it. “We’re just finishing up here, and then you and I can get to our business. Did you ask Marie for a coffee?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Marie was his father’s latest fling, but considering the predatory looks she threw Victor's way, he wasn’t sure how long she would last.

  When his father had seen his associate to the door, he returned and sat at his desk, all appearances of cordiality gone. “So what have you got for me?”

  “It’s these documents they want us to sign. They say they won’t sign the contract until we agree to these conditions. I can’t move forward without your approval on them, but I don’t think you’re going to like number three.”

  His father scanned the page. “Keep his no-good son-in-law on as CEO, with all power attached to the title? I don’t think so. Tell him we’ll think about it, and then let’s organize a hostile takeover with his remaining board. They’ve had enough of the son-in-law too.” His dad tossed the papers back toward Victor, then grabbed the stack of documents at his right and slid them in front of him. When Victor didn’t get up right away, his father looked up from under the severe brows that had terrified Victor when he was young. “Anything else?”

  Yeah. You’re going to be a grandpa. Victor put the papers his father had tossed at him inside his leather bag. “I ran into Margaux,” he said. He leaned back, gearing up for battle.

  “So, she’s come back, has she? I didn’t think she would.” His father started skimming the document and writing notes in a legal pad to the side. Finally he looked up, irritated. “And…?”

  “And she had a baby. Who is mine, apparently.” The last word came out small.

  His father went back to writing. “Is that all? Well, I suppose she’ll marry you now. Then you’ll have everything you’ve always wanted. A happy little family.” His father’s sneer showed what he thought of that plan. “I suppose her dad will be glad to have your money.”

  He’ll take me in spite of my relationship with you, Victor thought. “His dad would like us to get married, yes. But I’m not sure Margaux wants it.”

  “Can’t say I blame her. Listen, tell Marie to get in here when you go, will you? I’ve got a letter I need to have her type out as soon as she can.”

  There would be nothing more. Victor slung his bag on his shoulder and pushed the glass door to exit.

  Victor saw Margaux again the next day. This time, she suggested that she and Matthias come over to his apartment so they could talk, and the baby could sleep more peacefully. He’d only thought about cleaning the apartment in preparation, and not about providing refreshments, so he ran out to the local market an hour before she was supposed to arrive. As he entered the building, his arms full of groceries, Lucas was coming out, and Lucas stopped him with a gesture.

  “Hey, can I ask you something? Are you and April together?”

  Victor, accustomed to Lucas's lack of civility and impatient to get home, answered brusquely. “April and I are friends. Nothing more.” When Lucas didn’t take the door that Victor held out to him, he let it fall shut behind him and started to walk across the marble foyer.

  “So that means she’s free to date other people?”

  At this, Victor turned slowly. “April can date whomever she pleases. But I wouldn’t expect anything from her right now. Her focus is on her artwork.”

  Lucas’s laugh was nasal. “Oh, girls always have time for an extracurricular activity. It’s all they can think about.”

  The words brought bile to Victor's throat, not only because they lacked respect, but because they expressed what he, himself, had thought in the past. April was unlike a
ny woman he’d ever met, and in seeing her passion, he knew Lucas’s idea of how women thought was completely untrue. It made him ashamed of how he’d treated women in the past. “That might be true for some women,” Victor said. “But not April.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He had to add, “Listen. Just stay away from her, okay? She’s not interested in you.”

  “How do you know that? It might just be jealousy since she’s clearly not interested in you. In any case, don’t tell me what to do. Occupe-toi de tes oignons.” Watch your own affairs.

  Victor laughed in disgust. “I might say the same for you. Leave April alone,” he repeated.

  When he got to his apartment, Victor wasn’t sure he had done the right thing by sticking up for April. It might make things worse for her if Lucas knew he cared. But he couldn’t help himself when faced with the leering, skinny, overgrown adolescent in front of him. Oh, how he wanted to punch him.

  Several of Victor’s classmates had already gone on to find partners and have children, and he had wondered if he was too immature. As if he needed that extra time to grow up. Now Victor saw that he’d at least come partway. Lucas was a shining example of a person he didn’t want to become. Mishou would be proud of him for his revelation. She was forever telling him it was time to grow up, but in the nicest terms possible. Only she could talk to him that way.

  Margaux rang, and he let her in. She seemed tired as she unwound her scarf and leaned forward to receive his kisses on the cheek. It was different than when Victor kissed April. With April, there was a little spark and a smile in her eyes, probably because she wasn’t used to greeting people that way. With Margaux, it was colder. A routine and nothing more. Perhaps it was better she hadn’t wanted marriage.

  Victor looked in the carriage and saw that Matthias had his eyes open for once. The baby studied him curiously, and Victor felt some deep stirring of the heart. Perhaps he should introduce himself to the baby. Say, “I am your dad,” or something like that. He waved his fingers at Matthias, who watched him with a serious expression, and Victor felt stupid.