Page 13 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

Not two days after striking a tentative agreement with Alex, Lucien found himself in the frigid hallway of a London apartment building, cold, tired, hungry, and very late.

He had not spent much time in London apart from a few days here and there over the years and had gotten properly lost on his way from the train station.

Then it began to rain, which quickly turned into a downpour.

For a brief moment Lucien considered popping into a pub to wait the storm out but decided to save his coin and make a run for it instead.

Now he was a few shillings richer but absolutely soaked to the bone. Just as another tooth-rattling shiver came over him, Alain Fournier threw open the door, handsome as ever and the very epitome of French refinement.

“There you are, Lucien! I was just about to man a search party for you,” he said in heavily accented English before kissing both of Lucien’s cheeks.

Then he drew back and his dark eyes skimmed over Lucien’s dripping clothes in horror.

“Come inside right this instant! You’ll catch your death out there.

The landlord keeps this building as cold as a nun’s tit, but the hearth is blazing. ”

Lucien chuckled through his chattering teeth as he crossed the threshold. “Thank you.”

He had forgotten that Alain had a tendency to fuss over people he cared about. Luckily, Lucien could use a little fussing at the moment. The flat was small but cozy, just two rooms from what Lucien could see, and the hearth was indeed blazing with the comforting glow of lit coals.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Alain said with a grand sweep of the hand.

“Sorry I’m so late,” Lucien said as Alain took his coat. “And wet.”

But Alain clucked his tongue. “Do not apologize for your country’s abysmal weather. But please stay here while I fetch you a towel. Though you are my dear friend, that does not mean I want you ruining my carpet.”

Alain was not serious about much apart from textiles and good chocolate. With his eye for detail and penchant for sweets, he could have easily become a master patissier. But instead he had chosen hospitality services.

Lucien did his best not to drip on the floor while Alain disappeared into the bedroom. “A lovely place you have here,” he called out.

Despite the small size, the flat was elegantly decorated.

“Ah, thank you,” Alain replied in a slightly muffled voice. “I have become friendly with the hotel’s very handsome designer and he always gives me the best castoffs.”

“Oh, that’s convenient.”

Alain reentered the main room carrying a towel with a robe draped over his arm. “It is, rather. Though I won’t tell you what I had to do for that armchair in the corner,” he added with a saucy wink.

Lucien laughed again and accepted the towel. “Your ingenuity never fails to impress me.”

“One day I will not be this beautiful,” Alain lamented with a dramatic sigh as he brushed a hand through his thick dark hair. “So I must make the best of it while still I can.”

Lucien let out a muffled snort while he rubbed the towel over his damp hair. “I’m sure you will make a very lovely older gentleman one day.”

“Ugh! Do not even speak of such things.” Alain then thrust the robe at him. “Take off your clothes and put this on.”

It was one of the softest things Lucien had ever held. “Very nice. Is it also from the designer?”

Alain looked offended “ Non! I took it myself from the hotel.” Then his sharp gaze fell on Lucien’s satchel. “Is that all you brought?” Alain clucked his tongue before he could answer. “Then Rene really did clean you out.”

“To nearly my last franc,” Lucien admitted plainly as he unbuttoned his wet shirt. Alain had known Lucien’s former business partner even longer than he had, yet he too had been shocked by their mutual friend’s duplicitousness.

“That swine . Where is he now?”

“Somewhere on the Riviera with Madame Deveraux,” Lucien said with a casual shrug that probably did not fool Alain.

Indeed, his friend’s eyes filled with sympathy.

“I am sorry, Lucien. Rene has always been impulsive. He could have built an empire with you but instead he chose to follow his heart—or rather his…” Alain motioned below his waist. “But the money will run out soon enough and Madame Deveraux will certainly leave with it.”

Lucien believed as much, but it was cold comfort given that he was still broke either way.

Alain brightened. “And in the meantime, I have plenty of things you can borrow.” Then he gestured for Lucien to hand him his wet shirt and trousers.

He complied and pulled on the robe, which indeed proved to be one of the softest things he had ever worn. “Thank you, Alain. I promise I will be out of here very soon.”

But Alain simply waved a hand and moved to drape the clothes over a drying rack set up before the hearth. “There is no rush at all. I am busy at the hotel most days anyway and am hardly ever here.”

Still, Lucien did not want to impose on his friend any more than necessary. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning, actually. Do you know the Atkinsons? They run Atkinson Enterprises.”

“Oh, yes,” Alain said. “Mr. Atkinson often comes to dine at the hotel with his clients. Shall I make us tea?”

“Please.”

Alain disappeared into the small kitchen and Lucien moved closer to the hearth and let the heat wash over him. As he slowly warmed up, he grew more drowsy and had almost dozed off on his feet when Alain bustled in with the tea tray.

“Here we are! Make sure you have a financier. I made them only yesterday,” he said, setting the tray down on the small table beside Lucien. “I am impressed that you already have a meeting with Atkinson Enterprises.”

“I grew up on the family’s country estate, actually,” Lucien explained as he joined Alain on the sofa. “My mother was the cook and my father is the head coachman.”

“How funny!” Alain said as he poured Lucien’s tea. “And now he wants to hire you?”

“Well, not exactly,” Lucien began, accepting both the teacup and a financier. “Do you know his daughter?”

Alain fell quiet for a moment as he considered the question. “She has dined with him before, I believe. A very elegant young woman.”

“Not Winifred,” Lucien said automatically. “The eldest one. Alexandra.”

Alain raised an eyebrow. “That was who I meant.”

Lucien’s cheeks began to heat. “Right. Of course.”

He felt embarrassed to have made such an assumption, which made him no better than everyone else.

“You’re blushing,” Alain said unnecessarily. “Do you like Miss Alexandra?”

Lucien opened his mouth to deny it, like a petulant schoolboy, but he was supposed to like Alex. He cleared his throat instead. “Ah, that is a rather complicated question at present,” he said instead, which naturally only heightened Alain’s interest.

“Explain.”

“We are… in a manner of speaking… courting.”

“What!” Alain cried out and threw up his hands. “But this is wonderful!” Then he immediately sobered. “Why aren’t you more excited? You look like you ate some bad fish and I know it is not because of my baking.”

“It is still new. Very new.”

Alain gave him an understanding look. “Does her father not approve?”

“That is something we will discuss tomorrow,” Lucien said carefully. That was true enough given that he had yet to see Mr. Atkinson since Alex’s proposition. Who knew how the man would take the news, fake or not.

Alain nodded as he considered this. “Well, he would be a fool to reject you simply because of your family. And besides, he seems rather unconventional himself if he lets his daughter work for him.”

“A fair point.”

“I have even heard a few whispers that she is actually behind his greatest successes,” Alain said as he waggled his eyebrows and took a sip of tea.

“It’s more than just whispers,” Lucien replied.

Though he had his quibbles with Alex, her competence was not one of them.

One only had to have a single conversation with her to see that she was incredibly intelligent.

Was it really that much of a stretch to imagine her behind a desk undertaking the same tasks that plenty of other men across the city performed daily?

It would help our clients and the board have confidence in me.

He grimaced a little as he recalled her words from the other night. A lack of imagination was at the very heart of her little proposition, after all. “That is, she is quite capable of the work,” Lucien added.

Alain was still giving him that thoughtful look. “Hmm. I can see it,” he said after a moment.

“See what?”

But Alain only smiled at his petulant tone. “Let me make you something to eat. Then you should rest for your important meeting tomorrow.”

That was at least something Lucien would not object to.