Power Play (The Billionaire's Club: New Orleans) (3 page)

“She might never admit it, but it hurt her when you lost touch. I always thought that you and Macy …” Carlton sighed. “Never mind the thoughts of an old man.”

“I know what you mean.” Raphael had had those same thoughts himself all those years ago, lying in the dark listening to Macy sleep beside him. Thoughts that had filled him with terror. “I want to make things right, if she’ll let me. At least I have to try. I … miss her.”

A long beat of silence. “She misses you, too, Raphael. We all do. It felt like we lost a true member of our family.”

“I’m truly sorry about that, Mr. Lovelace.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“Do you know what happened in Paris?” Raphael demanded, his chest tight. “Do you know why she’s avoided me all this time?”

A long silence from the other end of the line. “It’s not my story to tell, son. You need to hear it from Macy.”

“You’re right. And I will apologize. I just need to know how to reach her.”

“All right. You deserve a chance to set things right. Don’t hurt my girl again.”

Again? “I don’t intend to, sir.”

“See that you don’t.” Mr. Lovelace’s voice was gruff as he rattled off his daughter’s information. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, son. It won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is. Thank you, sir.”

Raphael disconnected, then got to work. He had an apology of epic proportions to make.

* * *

“Oh my God, Macy!” Renata exclaimed. “I know you said you had experience with an athlete before, but I didn’t know you meant Sebastian’s best friend!”

“It was a long time ago, and will you keep your voice down?” Macy looked around Choux, but none of the prep staff seemed to be paying undue attention. One of the perks of owning one’s own restaurant—she could keep the media out and give Renata much-needed space to relax and breathe. The press was totally taken with Renata and Sebastian’s reunion story, making their engagement party the Saturday before front-page news. Four days later and the local media was still talking about it. It wasn’t every day that a gorgeous billionaire bachelor bad boy reformed for the love of his life, and everyone who was anyone in New Orleans was
eating it up. It also didn’t hurt that Renata was a stunningly beautiful woman with a mean right hook and a boxing championship.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Macy added as she stirred sugar into her coffee. “You and I were just becoming friends and I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

“Don’t be sorry, be talkative,” Renata retorted. “I want to know all about you and Raphael Jerroult. Are you his one-who-got-away?”

Macy snorted. “Hardly. We were friends, really good friends—”

“With some serious benefits,” Renata cut in.

“Not at first,” Macy told her, rolling her eyes. “I knew him in middle school, for goodness’ sakes. We both lost our mothers around the same time and we just sort of gravitated to each other. He spent a lot of time at my house with me and my father and brothers, but we were the same age and both geeky awkward then.”

Renata raised a dark brow. “Really? He didn’t have a gaggle of giggling girls following him around back then?”

“You mean like he does now?” Macy smiled to take the sting and bitterness out of her words. She knew Raphael’s reputation as the Crescent City Casanova, leaving a string of beautiful, satisfied model-like women in his wake from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, and before that, around the world. She also knew firsthand that the reputation was well deserved and probably had only improved in the intervening years. “Believe it or not, Raffie was a late bloomer. So was I. It wasn’t until college that he began the transformation into the golden-haired angel you see now. By then, he’d been studying martial arts for about ten years.”

Renata snorted. “Raphael may be many things, but I bet ‘angel’ doesn’t make the top ten. Not that I know him as well as you do, of course.”

Heat stained Macy’s cheeks. “No, I guess not.”

“Ooh, look at the redhead blush! You got something you want to tell me? Maybe you want to pick up right where you left off?”

Macy shook her head. Renata had no idea. There were tons more to tell, and while Macy wanted nothing more than to get her new best friend’s take on her history with Raphael, she wasn’t ready to share everything just yet. “There’s nothing to tell. He kissed me, I kissed him back, told him it wasn’t going to happen again, then I went to check on my staff. That’s it.”

“That’s not it. Besides, I know a thing or two about reuniting with old flames. Wanna tell me how ‘Raffie’ became yours?”

Macy took a deep breath, then plunged into the story. “We were both at Tulane getting our business degrees. His dad committed suicide just after we graduated.”

“Oh, God.” Shocked, Renata covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Poor Raphael.”

“I came home with him, helped him with all the arrangements. I comforted him as a friend and then as a lover, and at the end of the summer he put me on a plane to Paris where I attended culinary school as I’d planned.”

Macy remembered that time clearly. Her father had thrown a going-away party for just the family, Raphael included. They had laughed and reminisced, though Raphael had become more withdrawn by the moment. They hadn’t been apart more than a week since they were twelve and the impending separation had weighed on both of them.

Their last night together had been the most emotionally intense of her life. She’d suggested that she could remain stateside for culinary training, stay with him. He’d told her no, and the next morning, had joined her father at the airport for final farewells. “We parted as friends, but I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since then, until the night of your party.”

Renata radiated surprise and confusion. “What? But that’s been … how long has it been?”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years.” Renata’s dark eyes hardened. “You were best friends. You were there for him when his father died. Was he your first?”

Macy didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “We were each other’s firsts.”

A strangled sound issued from Renata’s throat. Macy could see that her friend was getting her dander up on her behalf, and she almost felt sorry for Raphael. Almost. “You went through all of that with him, for him, and you haven’t seen or spoken to him in eight years? Eight years?”

“It wasn’t complete silence at first,” Macy explained, understanding why Renata was appalled. “We exchanged e-mails of course, wrote letters back and forth for a while. About two months in, I couldn’t reach him. I took the hint and went on with my life as best as I could. Eventually I made my way back here and opened my restaurants. Raphael’s obviously done well for himself with his Muay Thai career and the company he has with Sebastian and Gabriel.”

She shrugged, projecting a casualness she didn’t feel. “I figured I’d run into him again one day, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so …” She waved a hand.

“Intense,” Renata supplied. “Confusing. Overwhelming.”

“Yes. All of the above.” Macy smiled at her friend.

“Did he at least give you an explanation?”

“He wanted to leave the party and go talk but I refused. Everything was too churned up inside. Maybe one day we’ll be able to be friends again, but it’s not as if I have to make a decision about that yet. After all, he’s up in Baton Rouge, and I’m here.”

A curious expression crossed Renata’s face. “Uhm, hate to break it to you, girlfriend, but you’re going to have to deal with him sooner rather than later.”

“Why? Oh, you mean the wedding. It makes sense that he’ll be Sebastian’s best man.”

“Him and Gabriel both, and our mentor Armand Duparte’s agreed to give me away.” Renata smiled as she twirled her amazing red diamond engagement ring. “But Macy, you need to know that Raphael’s not in Baton Rouge anymore.”

“What? He moved the company?”

“He sure did,” Renata confirmed with a nod. “Here. Raphael lives in New Orleans now.”

Feeling as if she’d just taken a spinning kick to the gut, Macy slumped in her chair. “Oh my God. How am I supposed to avoid him now? He’s knows I’m here.”

“Do you really want to avoid him?” Renata asked, her voice soft with concern. “You guys really didn’t have any closure, you just stopped communicating. If he was as in to you as you say, I find it hard to believe that he’d stop reaching out to you without a good reason. Something went down between him taking over his father’s company and becoming a Muay Thai champion. Don’t you owe it to yourself, and him, and the friendship you had to at least get together and talk and find out what happened?”

“I know what happened,” Macy said, struggling once again to keep hurt and bitterness from her voice. “Out of sight, out of mind. The birth of the Crescent City Casanova.”

Renata reached over to clasp her hand. “Out of sight, yes. But it doesn’t sound like out of mind, for either of you. You need to know the truth. You both do.”

“You’re really taking this best-friend thing seriously, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t had a bestie since high school, so I’m jumping in with both feet.” Renata grinned at her. “Besides, you’re the one who got all teary-eyed when I asked you to be my maid
of honor.”

“Well, when you put it that way. …” Macy sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. And I know I should be ready to face this. After eight years, it should be easier than this. But this is Raphael we’re talking about.”

“The love of your life.” She arched a brow, as if daring Macy to contradict her. “You wouldn’t have spent that summer with him like that if you didn’t love him, friends or no.”

Renata was right. Macy had given Raphael her heart long before his father had died. She’d given it to him and he’d had no idea. He’d taken it, branded his name on it, then proceeded to ruin her for other men.

“Tell me one thing,” Renata said.

“On top of all the other things I’ve been telling you, what’s one more?” Macy snorted. “Go ahead.”

Renata leaned forward. “How good was it? I’m guessing they don’t call him the Crescent City Casanova for nothing.”

Heat swept from Macy’s scalp to her stiletto-clad toes. “God, Renata!”

“That good, huh?”

“Yeah.” Macy reached for her coffee, wishing it were something stronger. “He was my first, but yeah. All that intensity focused on my pleasure. …” She shivered. “And that’s when he was new to it. When he kissed me yesterday, all I could think was how good it had been with him back then. I can’t imagine what he must be like now.”

“Don’t you want to find out?”

Macy fiddled with her coffee. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m wired to have the kind of casual relationship he seems to specialize in.”

“What if he doesn’t want casual?”

Macy snorted. “If he doesn’t, he has a funny way of showing it.”

Renata looked up. Her eyes widened, then she smiled. “How about that way?’ she asked, pointing.

Turning in her chair, Macy’s breath caught as one of her employees walked toward their table carrying the largest arrangement of deep red and pure white peonies she’d ever seen. “Holy crap. He remembered.”

“I know who ‘he’ is, but what did he remember?” “Peonies. My favorite flower.”

Raphael wanted to get Macy’s attention, and he was doing a bang-up job of it.

Bouquets of flowers arrived at Choux at the top of every hour. Not demure arrangements, either—massive collections of peonies and hydrangeas, blood roses and calla lilies, orange Asiatic lilies, fuchsia carnations, red Peruvian lilies, exotic birds of paradise. All of them came with a hand-written card addressed to Macy. Although it had been years, she easily recognized the bold script as Raphael’s handwriting. Renata, after taking a picture of Macy with the first bouquet, had left her to fend for herself, laughing her head off.

At the bottom of each hour, presents arrived. A beautiful peony-emblazoned teapot and matching cup along with her favorite loose-leaf tea. A first edition of her favorite book from middle school. A high-end charm bracelet with emerald charms, an Eiffel Tower charm, a suitcase, and a knife-and-fork charm.

Each of the gifts was personalized to her. The level of consideration left her shaken. How could Raphael have done this? When had he had the time to even put a plan like this together in just four days? His resources had to be incredible.

An hour before opening, she’d had enough. “I’m going back to my office.”

“What do you want me to do with all these?” Oliver, her front-of-house manager, asked as she received yet another arrangement.

“Break them up and put them on the tables,” she suggested. “They shouldn’t go to waste. Send some over to Lovelace if you have to.”

“All right. By the way, what did he do?”

“What did who do?”

“The guy who pissed you off.” He held up the latest arrangement, a luscious gathering of fiery orange and bright green orchids. “This set matches your hair and eyes. And these ain’t cheap vases, either. Pretty sure these are
vahses
. Someone is trying to apologize, big-time. Who is it and what did he do?”

Oliver had been with her since she’d first opened Choux and although they got along well, she’d never shared any intimate secrets with him—not that there’d been much in the way of intimate secret action going on since she’d opened Lovelace. Today was not the day to start. If anything, she needed to talk to Renata again—and she had a good idea how that would go, after her new best friend picked herself up off the floor after laughing her ass off.

“For what it’s worth, I have no idea what this is all about.” She had a good idea, she just hoped she wouldn’t have to face it—or Raphael—for a while, if ever. Thanking Oliver, she took the latest bouquet and carried it to her office, noting the weight of the crystal vase. She’d also noticed the color theme of the every arrangement as well, all shades of reds and oranges with greenery. Perfect complements to her hair and eyes.

Placing the orchids on her desk covered with gifts, she slid into her chair, dropping the stack of small envelopes on the desk. After a few moments of staring at his bold handwriting, curiosity about what Raphael could possibly have to say finally got the best of her. She reached for one of the creamy ivory envelopes, tore it open, then extracted the card.