The Billionaire’s Desires Vol.12-13 (14 page)

"A coffee to make up for my lateness?" Sophie says, an adorable contrite smile on her lips.

It's impossible to be mad at her. This girl is too clever...

Clarence shows up next, out of breath, disheveled and with papers falling all over the place. He could seriously be Will Smith's look-alike. He explains that his nine-month-old "little monster" is teething right now, and it's been decided: he'll be an only child. After a short discussion on the relative joys of parenthood, he gets down to business.

"Alma, I've printed the sequencing of the trailer for
I Love You, I Love You Not
like you asked. We got it right this time. Nor more changes need to be made."

"Great. We've got all the key close-ups ? We can go ahead with it?"

"Affirmative."

"You sure?"

"Yes, boss!"

"Fantastic. Thanks, Clarence. Sophie, anything new on
Invasions
?"

"Yes, the budget seems sufficient."

"Seems?"

"The estimates have been signed off, so it should all go through fine. And according to the schedule, the timing shouldn't be a problem. Everything's going to plan!"

"Great news! Wilson will be happy. Well, satisfied."

"That would be a miracle," Clarence mumbles. "What a pain in the ass he is. Luckily with King around, Clooney won't be on our backs so much."

"Clooney" is the nickname our dear boss, Joseph Wilson, gave himself. No resemblance between the star and the megalomaniac, except maybe for their salt and pepper hair. No one dares tell him this since we'd all like to keep our jobs. I guess he can imagine whatever scenario he likes. He is in the movie-making business after all.

"Speaking of King, I was all excited at the thought of seeing him again! Do you know when he's coming back in to see us?" Sophie asks, fanning herself with her hand.

No, but... could we please not talk about him... It's already hard enough to get him out of my head...

"He really has that much of an effect on you?" Clarence says, bursting out laughing.

"Totally! I've never seen a guy that sexy before! Alma, you concur?"

"Uh, yeah, he's pretty... attractive," I answer stupidly, taken by surprise.

"It's just us, Alma, you can say what you really think! Anything said in this room, stays in this room! I've done my homework – he's not married! Which is great, because neither are you," she adds, giving me a wink loaded with insinuations.

"Alma and Vadim sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a..." my overexcited colleague begins to sing.

"Clarence, that's enough," I say, a bit too shortly.

"Always so subtle," Sophie scolds him gently, giving him a disapproving look. "Let's go! We're going to be late for the projection!"

Why did I decide to christen my new heels on a marathon day like today? It's not even four o'clock and my feet are already killing me. I've been running around all day checking all our projects are on the right track, and I feel like I'm about to collapse. I didn't realize the assistant director position included so much physical exercise. But Joseph Wilson doesn't seem too worn out. Not really surprising since he's not the type that goes very far. It's much easier to call the whole world into his office. Given the junk he eats at lunch every day, it's a miracle he's still slim! I'm guessing plastic surgery. Why tire yourself out when you can pay for a wave of the magic wand/scalpel? I don't know if he is telepathic or what, but just when I'm thinking about him, Clooney calls me.

"Miss Lancaster, be a doll and come see me in my office."

Be a what?!

Although I feel like retorting with a scathing comment, I restrain myself and just hang up. Off to the luxurious office that Mr. Director-France has allocated for himself. A gigantic, lavishly furnished office, decorated by a trendy designer with a corner bar and a putting green on the terrace. Not to mention the panoramic view of the Champs-Elysées.

Hmmm, let's see... It's just missing a massage table or maybe a tanning bed...

I'm not at all prepared for what's waiting for me. After I knock, I open the double doors a bit too forcefully and just about fall down... at Vadim's feet! I manage to get my balance, so I'm not totally humiliated, but meanwhile, my face has gone bright red. A million emotions are rushing around in my brain. Once again, he's shown up just where I don't expect him. And once again, my heart is doing somersaults in my chest. As I go to greet him – restraining myself from throwing my arms around his neck – Vadim walks away without saying a word and goes to stand by the window, looking out at the view. Apparently Parisian traffic is more interesting to him than I am. I fall to earth with a bang, disappointed and hurt. In the background, Wilson is chirping all over the place.

"You've already been introduced, I presume? Mr. King, I want you to know that so far, Miss Lancaster has met all my expectations, and therefore is in line with your requirements as well. She has been extremely efficient these last few weeks and has a rare sense of initiative. It's thanks to people like her that the French office is going to succeed and be profitable! And when I say 'profitable', I'm not joking. I plan to..."

"I've heard all that already, Joseph. I don't have time to waste, so can we get on with it?" the CEO cuts him off, still with his back to us.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Mr. King. This company is so important to me that sometimes I..."

"Wilson! On with it."

"Very well. Alma, I called you in to discuss the performance of the various departments. We have very little visibility for the moment, but..." Clooney says before his cell phone interrupts him. "Excuse me a moment, I'm expecting an important call."

Completely feverish, the middle-aged man answers the call, yelling his last name as a greeting, then signals to me that he needs to step out for a few minutes. His mobile held to his ear, he turns to King, as if to ask his permission, but Vadim ignores him completely. Wilson finally works up the courage to leave the room, taking long, awkward strides. A second later, his voice is resonating through the hall and I hear him walking away, becoming inaudible.

Vadim and I... alone in this office... Help!

Not a sound. We are both completely frozen. He still hasn't looked at me, and I'm standing perfectly still. Exactly like in that classroom the first time we met. Stressed by the deafening silence, I finally make an attempt. At what exactly? I'm not sure. Something.

"Here we are, twelve years later," I say, unable to hide my emotions.

Silence.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

Silence.

"I didn't realize you were the CEO... and that I work for you."

Silence.

Turn around, for the love of God! Say something!

"You changed your name?"

Silence.

"Vadim!"

At that moment, something happens. I don't know what made him react, maybe the fact that I raised my voice. It must have been that. Even from a distance, his impressive frame makes me want to shrink into the floor and disappear. He's so handsome it's scary. His gray eyes literally shoot bullets into me, his brows furrowed, his lips twisted.

"How ironic! You rejected me twelve years ago, and now I'm the one with that power."

His murderous words spread through my blood like venom, paralyzing me. I watch him walk toward me, brush past and walk out the door. He doesn't even wait for Wilson to come back. I guess he's the least of his worries. I hear the door slam behind me and all I know is that he's not going to spare me. And that his face, his charisma and his scent intoxicate me like the first day we met.

He's under my skin. I’ve never stopped loving him. Convincing myself otherwise would be a waste of time. It's impossible to go back in time. Vadim King, evil – or at least, unexpected – twin of Vadim Arcadi, has intruded into my life and now I have to suffer the consequences. And that means all of them! Including the preaching and warnings I'll get when I go see my parents. Sunday lunch is a family tradition, and there's no hope of escaping it. The presence of the Lancaster children is supposed to be"optional," but it’s actually compulsory. Luckily for me, I like going to their part of town. On the way to the apartment on rue Jouffroy d'Abbans, I take rue de Lévis, a cute pedestrian avenue enlivened by the Sunday market. Nothing like a little walk through the ritzy but lively seventeenth arrondissement to get me into the right state of mind. In the middle of all the joyful hustle and bustle, I forget for a moment that I'm going to see Mr. and Mrs."That’s how it is, period."

Once a week is more than enough...

Edward, my father, didn’t inherit composure from his British roots, but rather the rigidity some Brits display. He is a courageous, brilliant and determined man, but not always very open-minded. He would fight to the death to protect his family, but has no problem screaming at them for no reason either. Marie, my mother, is sweetness incarnate. Very much in love with her husband, she has devoted her life to him, to the point of sometimes forgetting her own. She's the same with me: she is incapable of refusing anything to the apple of her eye. That said, her lack of authority is compensated for ten-fold by her infallible intuition. She is anything but naive. Her astute intelligence and patience always meant we were kept in line without ever being actually punished. It seemed totally effortless for her. When another mother might have screamed upon finding out her daughter had stayed out all night, my mother was happy to ask me questions. Dozens of questions. So detailed and personal that simple interrogation was enough to keep me from doing it again. Everyone that has met her knows Marie Lancaster is sweet... but not stupid.

Basile, who’s thirty-two, is the oldest of the Lancaster siblings. A role he doesn't take lightly... Competitive at heart, my brother loves to prove he's afraid of nothing. A bit of a know-it-all, he makes a point of succeeding in everything that he does, especially in business. After graduating with flying colors, he began working with my father, and will soon take over the family business. CEO of a real estate empire of almost one hundred agencies across the globe: he can see it already! Basile's only weak point? His love life. My brother is a real"guy", as clichéd and macho as they come, except for one little detail: The fair sex doesn’t interest him one bit. He likes men and nothing but men. After a confident coming out at 22 – which left us all very surprised – and a long period of broken relationships, he's now on the hunt for the"one."

My little sister Lily, who’s twenty-four, is one of a kind. According to my parents, she's the artist of the family, i.e. the black sheep. She’s never really fallen into line. Not very scholarly, and not always"presentable" according to my parents' standards, she’s just a bit too original and out there, but I've always admired her. Lily doesn't care what people think. She does what she wants, when she wants. She's voluptuous and pretty with wispy blond hair and a mischievous smile. She's very popular with the boys. And she's more interested in them than in her professional future. She supports herself and is very resourceful. She always manages to make ends meet – how she does it is a mystery. My sister is a person of integrity, even is she is a bit off the wall and over the top. Qualities that not everyone sees as such, but that I often find myself envying in her.

“What's new at ‘Queen’ Productions, Madame Assistant Director?” My brother jokes, serving me an appetizing thigh of roast chicken.

“Do we have to talk about work before dessert?” Lily asks, making a face.

“What would you like to talk about, sweetie?” Mom asks.

“I don't know, how about the sad fate of factory farmed chickens? Or maybe why I'm not allowed to invite Omar for lunch…”

“Because you have to have known him for more than two weeks before you can invite him,” Basile sighs.

“Lily, let your sister speak. Alma, you were saying?” interrupts my father, winking at Lily all the same.

Cutting but affectionate: my dad in a nutshell.

“Nothing new at King Productions. Well, except for one thing. I met... my CEO.”

“The American?” Dad continues, eager for details.

“Yes.”

“So, what's he like? A total egomaniac? A tyrant? At least his name would suit him!” says Basile, proud of his joke.

“I know him, and so do you...”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” my mom says, as if she already knows what's next.

“It's Vadim. Vadim Arcadi.”

“WHAT?” they all blurt out, at varying volumes.

“But his last name is King!” my sister points out.

“I was just as surprised as you.”

“That guy became a CEO? Of a multinational company? He's a... millionaire?!” my brother exclaims, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“Billionaire,” corrects my dad, setting his fork and knife down, suddenly looking very full, and slightly sick.

“He didn't really have the profile for such a position. I guess it goes to show, anything is...” my mother tries to say.

“Goes to show nothing at all!” my dad shouts. “Alma, don't trust this man. He certainly has hidden intentions. If he hired you after everything that happened between you, it's not just a coincidence, if you ask me.”

I'm not sure I was asking you, actually...

“He didn't know I was on the French team! It's all just a coincidence. There's no reason to get completely paranoid!”

“I don't believe a word of it!” my father says, getting angry.

“Calm down, Edward, your daughter is capable of handling the situation. What are you going to do?” my mom asks me.

“Run back into his arms!” Lily says, ignoring my threatening look.

“If he tries anything with you, you call me and I'll take care of him!” Basile says, getting worked up.

“Oh right, because I'm sure you could handle his body guards,” my sister jokes.

“Stop! End of discussion, I shouldn't have even told you,” I mutter, stabbing the chicken with my fork.

What an idiot, what did I expect?!