“Babe, you’re not helping.” Stone gives her a stern glare and then smiles at me. “Listen, Ty, don’t think so hard about it. You and Dina are both professionals, you’ll do your jobs. And whatever happens with the rest is what’s meant to be.”
“Thank you for being rational, Stone.” I give Regan a pointed look, and she sticks her tongue out at me. Stone was my best friend before he was her husband, and moments like this are the reason. He knows when to push and when to back off. Something neither of my siblings seem to have figured out yet.
“So tell me how many new locations you guys have opened.”
“Fifteen. We’ve been trying to source from woman and minority owned food businesses across Europe and man, we’re spoiled for choice. We’re meeting the market where it is with what we’re stocking in these stores.”
“I swear you could sell water to the sea. That’s incredible, and your passion for it is obvious. I’m glad to see you landed on your feet here,” Stone says. Even though I know he’s laying it on thick, it’s nice to hear someone say I’m doing a good job.
I know signing Dupont will get press, but it’s window dressing as far as I’m concerned. The real value and the thing that makes us unique in this marketplace is what people find on our shelves—things from the homes they left behind, things they’ve always wanted to try. Affordable, but feels like luxury because we make it feel like that.
As I walk back to my office, back up the Champs-Élysées where I both live and work, I pay closer attention to the energy around me. This city has a vibe—romantic, modern, alive. But it’s missing something.
After the job I pinned my hopes on fell through, I came here to rebuild my momentum and to get some space.
I was in the prime of my life, unapologetically ambitious, and wasting time. But the most drastic aspect of this move was that I moved at all. I’m good at it but could also do it with my eyes closed. I’ve been bored since the month I got here.
As soon as Erin’s job is posted, I’m going to apply. I know there will be a lot of strong candidates for it. Wilde is a great place for a sales professional to grow. But this time, it’s mine.
I won’t even waste time checking and measuring where I line up against everyone else. I don’t need to. My superpower is stamina—I can outlast the strongest, outthink the smartest, and outrun the fastest. When I put in the work, no one can touch me. And this weekend, I intend on exceeding expectations.
Feeling like I earned it, I duck into Lenôtre and buy a slice of their chocolate cake. It’s made with chocolate mousse and meringue and is the most delicious chocolate I’ve ever tasted.
Paris certainly has its charms. I’m glad I’ve had the experience—it’s given me a lot of inspiration for the future of our business—but I feel more like a visitor than I do a resident.
As much as I thought I needed to get away, I miss Houston. And Rivers Wilde is home.
So I’m going to shoot my shot, and not even temptress extraordinaire Dina Lu is going to distract me.
7
La Douleur Exquise
Dina
My phone’s incessant ring pulls me out of a deep sleep. I lift one heavy lid slowly and groan when I encounter the same dark room I fell asleep in. That means I haven’t been asleep long enough at all. I caught a later train than I planned and got into Paris close to ten p.m. I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes open on the train, and work I’d neglected was waiting for me. I checked in, skipped dinner, and got to work.
I resent all the paperwork my current role comes with. I spend more time as a pencil pusher than an investigator these days. Instead of getting ready for my assignment tomorrow, I spent hours approving expense reports, signing off on cases, and finishing up performance reviews that are already overdue. It was nearly two o’clock when I was finished, and I hadn’t even touched the work that brought me to Paris in the first place. I worked until my eyes refused to stay open. It was almost three a.m. the last time I glanced at the clock.
I grab my phone and answer without bothering to check the caller ID. Without my glasses or contacts, I wouldn’t be able to tell anyway.
“Did I wake you?” Regan’s cheerful soft voice is another kind of wake-up call.
“What time is it?” I ask and peer out into the dark room.
“It’s almost six a.m. I’m sorry to call so early, but we’re up and about to head to the airport. I didn’t know if I’d have another chance to talk before we take off, and I wanted to give you the details for the stylist I hired for you today.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“We’re in the car and the kids are asleep. Can you talk?”
I sigh and resign myself to having this conversation. “Thanks so much for setting that up, but it’s not a big deal. I can do my hair myself.”
“I’m sure you can. But this will save you time, and she’s really good. She’ll roll you and blow you out in an hour flat. Besides Tanaka, she’s the only person who I let touch my hair.”
“Well, that’s saying a lot.” Tanaka is the stylist she brought home from Paris when she moved back after living here for five years, and she’s incredible. Anyone Regan compares to her has to be great. And we have similar textured hair. But I have a phobia about people coming close to my head with hot things. “Fine, but tell her no hot combs.”
“Ear tips or scalp?” She chuckles, but I hear the empathy in her voice and am so glad I don’t need to say more.
“Both,” I moan.
She groans. “Same. Just talking about it is triggering, right? Don’t worry. You’re in good hands with Chantelle. What time are you meeting Marisol?”
“Who’s Marisol?”
“The personal shopper my mother is sending you to.”
“At ten a.m. Even though it all feels like a lot.” Heat floods my face when I remember Tyson’s quip about my wardrobe.
“It’ll save time, too. She’ll have stuff pulled and ready to try on. And you can just pick what you want, and they’ll deliver it a few hours later. Or sooner if you need.”
“Like Rent the Runway?”
“With a personal touch. She’s great, and has a flair for finding sexy, flattering, tasteful things.”
“I hope she knows she’s not dressing one of you and that no bra isn’t an option.” Regan and her mother are both long and lean. I’m short and outrageously curvy. I’ve yet to find a blouse I didn’t need to pin closed to keep it from gaping over my breasts.
“Oh, please. You’ve got such a sexy body. And I would kill for those gravity defying tits and ass of yours.”
I laugh. “I wish we could trade. I’d love a bra that doesn’t scream over the shoulder boulder holder. All your stuff is so pretty.”
“You’re in the perfect place. Marisol can do a proper bra fitting and make sure you get some good lingerie.”
“What for?”
“Because it’ll make your clothes fall better and make you feel good, too. She’s really efficient. You should be done by one p.m.”