All That the Heart Desires (15 page)

The weekend was long—too long for me to handle. I felt like a trapped wild cat in a small cage. I had nowhere to go. I hated Paris; this was where it had all started, years ago. If I hadn’t come to Paris with my friends, I would never have met Juan and never followed him to Spain.

I hadn’t called Michelle or Lucille either as I just didn’t know what to tell them. Another lie? It would be unfair. I left Harry to deal with them; they already thought he was the boss.

Mostly, I was left alone as Harry worked, although it was the weekend. He took phone calls in his office at home. I left him in peace for the most part, but eventually curiosity and hunger drove me to his office. His door was slightly ajar and I couldn’t help overhearing.

“I know,” I heard him say and then, after a brief silence:

“What do you mean?” I almost walked away then, but Harry’s next words nailed me to the spot.

“No, you stay in Monaco. What happened between you two?” Blood rushed to my face. I was pretty sure I knew who Harry was talking to and I could hardly hold myself back from entering the room.

“Right. Wait there and prepare yourself for the race at Hungaroring.” Those words confirmed my suspicions and I couldn’t walk away. I needed to know exactly what Harry hadn’t told me.

“She’s with me. No, stay where you are. I’ll be in Monaco on Monday.”

Hearing that, I decided that nothing would keep me in Paris. I went back to the kitchen and started to clatter and bang the dishes as if I was preparing a meal for us. Five minutes later Harry joined me, his face unreadable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Only supper for two of us.”

His eyes widened.

“Have you found food in this kitchen?”

“No,” I was truthful. “I just took the dishes out.”

Harry came closer and started to put the dishes away.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Putting them back where they belong. I’ve never cooked in this kitchen. Why do you think it’s so clean?”

“Your housemaid cleans it.”

“Yeah, right.” He smiled. “She does, but she only wipes the dust.”

“I’m hungry,” I said.

“And you wanted to cook?” I never heard so much disbelief in his voice—not even when I’d told him I was pregnant.

“Yes and thank you.”

“For what? When did you make your last meal?” he was staring at me. I was truthful.

“It was a long time ago, yet…” I raised my hand and when I saw him close his half open mouth, continued: “ … I still know how to cook. You know? That six month cooking course here did teach me something. ”

He came closer and hugged me.

“Yes, I know. It was money well spent, but not in my kitchen. We’re going out. Get dressed.”

I looked at myself and when he saw my, he smiled.

“Right. You don’t need to change, but I do.” He vanished into his bedroom. I waited for him in the living room. The windows of the room overlooked the River Seine and behind it the Eiffel Tower could be seen. How I hated it. As much as I had loved it and the city once upon a time, so I hated it now. It’s true what they say; there is a fine line between love and hate.

How many times had I cursed Paris? I’d lost track. Yet, somehow deep down, I hoped here in this city I would find my stolen boy again. He had been taken from me right there, on the Champs de Mars, almost below the Eiffel Tower. I felt tears in my eyes and I knew I was torturing myself again.

“I’m ready.” I heard Harry coming in. “Let’s go.”

I wiped my eyes. I didn’t want Harry to see me on the brink of tears again. It was as hard for him as it was for me. I wondered if my bad experience had discouraged him from falling in love, getting married and having children. I looked at him: he was as handsome a man as our father had been. He was only forty yet, as far as I knew, he had never been in love; at least not since the tragedy.

He took me to our regular restaurant, the
Champagne Cellar
, close to the Champs-Elysees. The restaurant was run by an old French family who were skilled in preparing fine food and serving quality champagne. I had attended their cooking course several years ago and we had become regular guests in their restaurant in Paris.

The conversation over supper was all about the business, Harry’s and mine. After our parents’ death, Harry had taken over the successful fashion house they’d started several years before. Although our father had not been a designer himself like our mother was, he had employed some of the best designers for the sportswear they sold, and the business flourished.
House of Dame
was successful and sponsored many talented sportsmen and women.

House of Dame
also ran a perfume department. I had designed some of the famous perfumes branded under the names of some very famous sports personalities. I was proud of my ability to guess what scents would suit certain types of men or women, yet none of these perfumes ever really grew on me. I created them and that was the end for me.

None of them was as unique as
Demain
. I’d made it the night I was told that the search for my son, who was almost three years old at the time and whom I hadn’t seen for two years, was officially closed. I worked all night. In the morning
Demain
was born and my sanity was saved. Working on it that night was the only thing that had stopped me from going mad.

I had been so caught up in my memories that I had stopped talking. We finished eating in silence.

“I lost you during the meal,” Harry said to me when the waiter had cleared the table and we began to take our leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired,” I answered truthfully. He nodded and held my jacket for me. We were in the middle of summer but the weather in Paris was not as nice as on the Cote D’Azur. I was feeling cold and it was not even that late.

“We’re going home,” Harry said and offered me his hand. The terrified look on my face made him laugh.

“I don’t mean England, sis … although … someday you’ll have to go back. Mum and Dad are buried there.” I didn’t answer him. He was right, but I wasn’t ready to go back to England. My son had been stolen in Paris and I wanted to find him.

The car was already waiting for us outside the restaurant. Harry went to open the door for me but I stood still.

“What?” he asked.

“Can we walk?”

He nodded and dismissed the car. Slowly, we walked back home.

He didn’t question me, at least not then.

My sanity was questioned much later; the following afternoon after lunch and a slow walk through the Jardin des Tuileries (one of my favourite places in Paris). Harry had become restless and I instantly knew what was wrong. He was preparing to tell me he was leaving for Monaco.

“I’m coming with you,” was my response.

“No you’re not. You’re staying here,” he demanded firmly. I stood up, my hands on my hips.

“In your dreams. My car is still at the railway station and I need to tell Anne-Marie when I’ll be coming back.”

“I spoke to Anne-Marie. She knows you’re with me.”

“It’s not enough,” I said. “I need to tell the girls the truth. They’re…” Harry raised his hand.

“You’ll do no such thing. They’ll be told only what they need to know. I’ll arrange some help. They can’t be expected to run the perfumery by themselves.”

I nodded.

“Right. But…”

“I knew there would be a ‘but’,” Harry sighed. He turned and strode away. I followed.

“They’ll be in charge of the place. Is that clear?”

He turned around.

“Yes, but only if you stay in Paris.”

I laughed. He didn’t realise he had already lost this particular battle.

“No, I will not. But what I can promise you is that I will stay in the car. Otherwise I’ll go alone and God knows what I’ll tell them.”

Harry looked at me with astonishment.

“You are a tough negotiator,” he said, finally realising he was defeated.

“You taught me well.”

Leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway, I went back to the guest room. I fell asleep looking at the photo of my little blonde boy.

I almost overslept and nearly missed Harry’s departure in the evening. I was grateful my sleep had been restive, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard him walking around. When I finally cleared my mind and came out of the room, I caught him at the front door, getting ready to leave. We looked at each other and Harry sighed again.

“It’ll be a long drive,” he said.

“It won’t be the first time,” I answered. Five minutes later we were in the car and on our way back to Monaco.

I woke up when the limo stopped. Opening my eyes, I was not sure where we were. Alone, lying on the back seat, I panicked as I was sure Harry had left me in Paris. Outside the car windows the weather was clear and sunny.

“Where are…?” I started to say when I heard Harry.

“We’re here.” Only then did I spot him in the front passenger seat. I fixed my messy hair back into place.

“What are you doing there?”

He smiled back at me.

“You needed your sleep and my left arm wasn’t ready to support you all through the night.”

I yawned.

“Sorry.”

He smiled. He looked as fresh as someone who’d had a good night’s sleep, yet he must have been up the whole night.

“I’m going in now. Wait in the car. Don’t leave it.”

I nodded.

“Harry…” I heard a male voice just as Harry was closing the car door. Lorcan Shore was standing at the hotel entrance, looking dashing in the sunlight. Dressed in a black Tee shirt and jeans, his eyes sparkled even more than I remembered.

I was about to jump out of the car, when Harry’s door opened again.

“Wait here!” It sounded like he was talking to the driver, yet I knew he was talking to me. Before Harry managed to close the door, I heard Lorcan questioning him.

“Is she with…?” The doors closed again.

“Hell,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

“
Mademoiselle
?” The driver glanced at me in the rear view mirror.

“Never mind,” I answered and watched both men entering the hotel. Marcel was in his regular place. I wondered if it would be safe for me to talk to him but, as I went to open the car door, I caught the driver’s eye. He shook his head. I caught my reflection: I looked awful. I couldn’t face the world looking like that. Had that been Harry’s intention all along?

I waited in the car for a good thirty minutes, before I saw them come out eventually. I hadn’t been wrong—Lorcan was looking his best. I couldn’t forget how he’d looked the night I left him and my heart pounded. My nose was almost pressed against the window. I was thankful that the Jaguar had tinted windows.

Both men walked down the stairs and approached the car. Harry opened the door.

“Go and wait for me as we agreed before. I’ll come later.”

I watched Lorcan who was standing a few steps away from the car, looking directly at my window. It was a strange feeling knowing he couldn’t see me. He approached the car and went to open my door. For a moment I froze. Had Harry told him I was in the car? There was a muffled click as the driver locked the door: he obviously had had his instructions.

Slowly we drove off. I turned around just in time to see both men get into a silver Mercedes that I recognised as Lorcan’s. I didn’t know what to feel. Somehow my destiny was no longer in my own hands. I lost sight of them as the limo turned the corner and we were on our way to the railway station.

My white BMW M3 was still where I’d left it. Before leaving the Jaguar I found a baseball cap on the back seat, and trying it on, it fitted me.

It was hot in the car as it had been parked in the sun for the whole weekend. I opened the windows and lowered the roof. I still looked a mess, but the cap I had found in the car helped a little.

Sitting behind the steering wheel calmed me down. At least this was one thing I was in charge of. Starting the engine made my heart slow down. Driving always calmed me.