The Accidental Mistress (9 page)

"I did," Christophe sighed.

"Is that wise, considering the layoffs in
the American offices?"

"Those were requested by the board, by you.
I saw no need to reduce staff." Christophe stood. He preferred to
stand and look his mother in her eye when he spoke. "Especially
after I proved the profits didn't require it. Those layoffs
impacted morale. My bonuses will restore it. But if you have an
issue with my methods you are welcome to put it to a vote before
the board."

Stephanie gave a soft chuckle. "I don't want
to undermine you, son. I am just making sure your decisions are
based on business and not emotion. I stand corrected."

There it was. The backhanded smack to his
pride, and obvious dig at Gabriella. Elliot was right. He was
becoming his father, hen pecked. Setting all emotions aside had not
gained his mother's respect, just more criticism. Why did she wish
her poor lonely existence on him? Her life was now shared with her
temperamental poodle and butler, Sanford.

His mother turned for the door. "By the way,
I heard that Gabriella has returned to the states. She's to marry
above her station. Thankfully you dodged that bullet. Were you
aware?"

"Why would I be? I haven't seen her in over
three years."

"True,
chère
, true.
Au
revoir
."

His mother left. Christophe rocked back in
the chair. An email popped up on his screen. He frowned at the
sender's name: Joi Baptiste.

Mr. Montague,

Please accept my personal invite to the
lovely island of Martinique. The Blue Oasis awaits your arrival. My
family would like to discuss the details of the possible merger.
Hope to meet you soon.

Joi Baptiste

Elliot was right. He needed a vacation.

Chapter Six

An Island sun is different; this had been
very true for her home. Maybe it's the longitude, latitude of the
mountainous regions of Martinique. Maybe the sun's celestial
placement in the sky had purposefully been created by God to
deliver the message of beauty over her homeland. Or it could be
that only in Martinique could a person really feel the serenity of
nature. Of course Zuri knew there is only one sun to which the
earth rotates on its axis. But Martinique sunsets evoked such
poetry that she could imagine this sun was theirs alone. The
sinking rays bled swirls of violet, red, and yellow across a
darkening sky. As a girl, Zuri would stand on her parent's balcony
and watch until every trace of the day faded away. She wished for
that peaceful calm now.

Ste. Marie was windward. Her home and their
resort faced the Atlantic Ocean as opposed to the Caribbean Ocean
where Fort de France was located. The winds, climate, and even the
waves were different. Though tourists frequented Ste. Marie, she
understood why her father wanted to expand his business to Fort de
France. Zuri knew the reasons for many things now. She dropped her
elbows to the top of the banister with a heartfelt sigh.

A shotgun fired. A flock of
tropical birds lifted from the leafy safety of the mangrove. As a
child, she would have never known what a gun blast was. Even now,
it was a strange occurrence. She guessed it to be a hoodlum showing
off, or maybe it was the
gendarmerie
. Firearms were not
permitted on the island. The penalty was very stiff, but that
didn’t mean they don't surface time and again. The idea of Western
issues flooding her island, made her angry. Martinique was
paradise, and its tranquility was earned after the suffering of her
people under French occupation. Therefore, it should remain
sacred.

Zuri closed her eyes. What
did it or any of it matter now? A fresh ocean breeze washed over
her feverish face. Her existence and her parent's story was a
different one. When the Lefebvre who were
Békés
—direct descendants from the
original French settlers—
owned her home, it
had been a banana plantation. It was her father who made the change
after his adoptive parents died tragically one year in a plane
crash and he became the benefactor.
Mulattos who employed darker skinned natives to work
factories and would marry
Metros
(men and women born in France) before a family of
their stature would consider a Haitian orphan as a suitor. But
Claude Baptiste would not be denied. One look at Nanette and he was
determined to have her. That was her parent's love story. There
were times when she pressed her mother for more details, but
Nanette managed to change the subject.

Claude
invested wisely. He built the Lagoon Resort as a playground
for the rich, despite the choppy waters along its white and yellow
sandy beaches. The Lagoon had lived up to its name with exclusivity
for its guests and hot springs about which many across the globe
raved.

"Zuri?"

"Hi, Joi," she said sadly, not bothering to
turn around.

"
Père
is up. If you want to see him
again, you still can."

"In a minute. I need to get my head
together."

Joi walked up and she leaned against the
railing like Zuri, staring at nothing. "Are you okay?"

"You and
mère
should have told me
the minute it happened. Her I understand, but you know better. What
if he...what if it was worse?"

"You have the bar exam to
take. I didn't want
—
"

"So what? Did you not think that I love him?
Love this family?"

"Zuri, of course we know you do. He's proud
of you. We all are. We just wanted to protect you."

Zuri shook her head. Her sister wasn't at
fault. If they perceived her law degree to be that important, it
was only because Zuri shouted it to her lungs when she defied her
father's wishes and remained in the States.

"Well it's my turn to protect you. I'm going
back to Fort de France with you and help you deal with these
Montague people."

"The exam is most important. You got that
nice job in Chicago; they paid for your graduate studies, for your
exam. You have to go back."

"How can I? If
père
loses the Oasis, the
Lagoon, or this place, it will kill him. You and I both know that.
He doesn't deserve to be in there paralyzed. We have to protect
him, Joi. He's done that for us."

Joi smiled. "I'm in over my head. I admit
that."

Zuri hugged her sister. She had changed. Her
hair, now shoulder length, was dark with a riot of curls, electric
blue streaks and was styled in a fashionable way. She was a woman
now, fiercely independent and uniquely free spirited. And she had
found her identity and purpose right here at home.

"I promise you we'll beat this and save our
family. We're Claude Baptiste daughters after all. We learned from
the best!" Zuri said.

***

Christophe strolled out to his balcony for
some night air. From his elevated view, the New York skyline
twinkled. He sipped his lager. The day had ended reasonably well,
but a visit with his mother always set him on edge. He considered
hitting the gym but dismissed the idea when he remembered the pile
of work waiting for him in his briefcase. A night in front of the
TV with Sports Center on, and a belly full of a microwave dinner
was in his future.

Christophe leaned out over his balcony.
Bachelorhood had become so predictably gratifying he doubted he'd
ever feel the need for more. His eyes lifted to the moon. There
were times when he considered something missing in his life. Times
when he reflected on his choices, and his abandoned dreams, and
even more there were moments that he remembered Zuri.

Christophe sipped his beer again. She was
the last woman he held and felt something. Every inch of her,
including how sweetly she felt in his arms, was burned into his
brain. Why shouldn't she enter his thoughts when his lonely
existence became his glaring truth? His self-imposed bachelorhood
had a no-strings attachment clause that most women shied away from.
The few beauties to share his bed often thought they’d convince him
otherwise and he’d immediately end all contact. In the past six
months he just settled on celibacy.

Christophe raised his beer and saluted the
moon. “To bachelorhood.”

Christophe tossed the final swallow of beer
down. The phone in his pocket vibrated, which he removed and swiped
his thumb over the display to activate the caller. "Yes?"

“
Got your message, cousin.
Its' a go. We can leave tomorrow afternoon.”

“
Good.”

“
What changed your
mind?”

“
Not what, who.”

“
Awe the old girl came in
and started to go after you again.”

“
Never mind that. I'll be
ready. I've cleared my calendar. If this island is as pretty as you
say it is, it's what I need.”

“
Trust me. Martinique is
what the doctor ordered.”

***

"
Ma Petite
, he's asleep. Go to bed,"
her mother said.

Zuri sat at her father's side watching him
breathe. "Will you sleep in here with him?"

"No. Not yet. He needs rest. I'll be in the
room next door."

"Someone needs to be in here to make sure
he's...okay." She adjusted his sheet, and tucked him in. Her
mother's soft chuckle made her frown. She looked back into her
mother's eyes and realized how manic she had become.

Nanette Baptiste took her daughter by the
hand and forced her to rise. She walked her out of the veranda
doors to her parent’s room, then out on the small balcony. The full
moon cast their shadows and the mangroves below in a silvery light.
"What did I tell you as a girl?"

"
Pays des Revenants,"
Zuri said
softly. "Land to which one returns."

"
Oui chérie
. He never lost hope that
you'd come home eventually. Neither did I. You needed to go and
spread your wings. Do not feel any guilt for that. He's proud of
you and so am I. You can leave tonight and go take that test to be
an American lawyer and it wouldn't change."

Zuri turned into her
mother's arms. She held to her, burying her face into her shoulder
as she released a final cry. She wasn't going anywhere. This was
where she belonged.
The land to which one
returns
.

Chapter Seven

Zuri slumped into the bucket seat of the
cranberry red convertible beetle. The drive down from the mountain
was quite serene. She had slept well. Her father was up and alert
when she left. She even got the opportunity to see him stand with
the aid of the nurses.

"So, JP's excited you're coming. I told him
that you wanted to meet with him first." Joi looked for a
reaction.

Zuri didn't take the bait. She had made the
mistake of returning home briefly after graduation and trying to
rekindle a romance with Jean-Paul. They never made it past first
base. Her wounds were deep thanks to
'he’s-who-she-hoped-to-never-see-again'. Jean-Paul professed his
love and held her while she cried tears of confusion and
frustration. Instead of being mature and working through it, she
fled to the states and avoided his calls.

"Did you hear me?"

"JP and I are friends. You know that,
Joi."

Joi shifted the gears and eased on the speed
as they rounded the narrow two-lane highway. "Yes, but the question
is, does he?"

They arrived at the Oasis within the hour.
Joi parked in the designated spot for management near the beach
bungalows. The Blue Oasis was located on the outskirts of Fort de
France on a secluded beach. Exclusivity is a must for the higher
end establishments. The pampered guests were never to be in direct
contact with the locals.

Zuri cringed as she strolled along the
breezeway. The damaged roofing and boarded up bungalows that hadn't
been restored since the storm and flooding told the tale. "I will
have a meeting with the staff tomorrow to introduce you. I need you
to see these contracts they are piling up on me."

"Where's Detrick, in this?"

"Girl, he isn't consistent.
I think he's not advising
père
well, Zuri. Dad took out more loans to sustain the
Oasis, but the payments are so high and we get nothing from
tourism. Only resources are from cruise ships that port and bring
new visitors. And those tourists eat at the restaurants, do our
beaches, but nothing more. No guests."

"These Montague people. Where did they come
from?" Zuri asked.

"Montague Spa and Resorts? You've heard of
it, right?" Joi asked, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.
It was quicker to her office.

"I think so. They bought Ventura, didn't
they?"

"Ventura, Danbury in Phoenix, The Ivy in New
York, and a whole bunch of others. They've grown in the past three
years. I hear they are buying up every fledging company. When they
started circling, I knew it was trouble. I met with some creep
named Elliot Mason. But the big man is coming. Christophe
Montague."

Zuri stopped. Hearing the name Christophe
hit her square in a sore spot. She never knew his last name, but
still the news burned. “I want to see everything on Montague
first,” said Zuri.

Joi unlocked the door. She held it open for
Zuri. When she entered, she was overcome by the chaos. Her sister
couldn't manage a thing from the stockpile of papers and unopened
mail on her desk. Their father ran such a neat orderly business.
She struggled against criticizing Joi. Instead, she approached the
desk and sat behind the computer as Joi nervously started gathering
all the papers.