With one last look at them both, as if she couldn’t quite figure out what the situation was between them, Yvette went off back downstairs.
‘I think we’ve confused her,’ said Darcie.
‘I think so too.’
Darcie pressed her lips together and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I guess we are confusing.’ After kissing the hell out of Matt today, she wanted to take things further, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to, not that night.
‘Don’t overthink things,’ said Matt with an easy smile. ‘Try to relax and just go with the flow.’
She nodded. ‘It’s just, well, I don’t know.’ God, she felt like a teenager, not being able to express herself properly.
‘Why don’t you take a look at the room next door and then choose which one you prefer?’ suggested Matt, holding the keys out to her.
He was so sweet, so understanding, Darcie once again felt a swell of appreciation for him. ‘I’m sure it’s equally lovely,’ said Darcie. ‘I’ll go next door.’
‘Try to get some sleep. Stop worrying about everything and everyone,’ said Matt. ‘Night, Darcie. See you in the morning.’
As she went into her own room and closed the door, Darcie wasn’t quite sure how she was going to be able to sleep, knowing Matt was just on the other side of the wall. She checked her watch. It wasn’t too late to call Lena, but as she took her phone from her bag, she paused. She didn’t need to check. Maybe she’d just send a quick text. No. That was checking. Who was she trying to kid? Instead, she showered in the en suite and indulged in a fantasy that this was her reality and she was some aristocrat living the high life.
Even though it wasn’t particularly late, she decided to try to get some sleep. She put her phone on charge for the night, grateful that she had thought to pack her adapter, and was just about to put the phone down, when she noticed she had an email alert. Opening it, she saw it was from Christophe Padgett but this time from what looked to be his personal email address and not the House of Chanel.
Dear Miss Marchant
I just wanted to follow up on our telephone conversation and my latest offer. As I stated before, there is a cut-off time for this offer so please give it your full consideration. I am sure the generous sum involved would go a long way to helping your own business and making life more comfortable for you and your family. I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours
Christophe Padgett
‘What a bloody cheek,’ said Darcie out loud. How rude and presumptuous. Pompous even. And openly referring to her business was one thing but bringing her family into it was another. Not only that, but she didn’t trust him. He was hiding something and she wanted to know what it was. She was sure it was to do with Chanel and Nathalie Leroux.
Chapter 24
Nathalie
I wasn’t released until later that afternoon, but Kranz made sure I was taken back to work. As soon as I entered the laundry room, Bochette pounced on me.
‘Where have you been? What have you been up to? I thought I told you to keep a low profile?’ She stood blocking my path.
‘I was taken for questioning,’ I replied. I was exhausted and the heavy feeling in my heart at the act of treachery I faced weighed heavier than anything I had ever known. I had tried to talk myself out of a situation, only to talk myself straight into another where I was expected to betray the man I loved. If I didn’t, then I couldn’t bear to think what would happen to Odile and Rachelle.
‘Why were you questioned?’ persisted Bochette.
‘Thank you, Madame Bochette.’ It was Monsieur Tache, the hotel manager. ‘I’ll take this from here. You can return to your duties.’ He looked at me. ‘Come with me.’
The head of housekeeping gave me a final look up and down but didn’t protest and stepped aside, allowing me to pass.
Once we were inside Tache’s office, he motioned for me to sit down and then, from the drawer of his desk, he produced a bottle of brandy. He poured two glasses and pushed one across the oak desk to me.
‘Drink that,’ he said. ‘You look like you need to steady your nerves.’
With a shaking hand, I accepted the drink. The warm liquid burned my throat a little, and it made me cough. But the second sip went down much easier.
‘Thank you,’ I mumbled.
‘Are you all right?’ enquired Tache. ‘Have they harmed you in any way?’
There was a gentleness in his voice that reminded me of my father. An enquiry that came from a genuine place of concern and the sympathy it carried was enough to open the floodgate of tears.
