32. Christian

32

CHRISTIAN

When Oliver flies to Paris, I meet him after his appointments and we make our way to the river. He’s taking off for New York tomorrow. As we cross the avenue, a woman asks us where the nearest pharmacy is.

Oliver stares blankly at her, while I gesture in the direction, answering in French. “ Prenez à droite, ce sera au coin de la rue,” telling her to take a right since it’s around the corner .

“Merci,” she calls out.

I smack my cousin’s arm. “You should learn French.”

Oliver huffs and gives me an annoyed look. “Did you ask me to join you for a drink so you could give me Important Life Advice on language skills.”

“Of course. My advice is excellent.”

“You need a job.”

“I have a job. I’m busy constantly,” I say, since tomorrow I’m working for a Danish investor who’s in Paris to meet with some potential French business partners.

“Yet, you found time to tell me what to do. Or did you ask me to join you for a stroll along the river so you could ask moi for advice?”

“Impressive how you’d assume I need your advice rather than your fine company for a drink, you wanker. We’re supposed to be getting a beer.”

He laughs. “I never forget beer.”

But as we head to the pub, I soldier myself for the advice I actually need. “What would you say if I told you that you were right about mixing business with pleasure?”

He laughs as we turn the corner. “Of course I’m right. I’m an excellent judge of many things.”

“So, this woman I’m married to . . .”

“Wait. Nooooo. No, you didn’t.” He stares at me with wide eyes. Points accusingly. “You did. You fell for her.”

“Want to remind me that you warned me about this?”

“If I were to, I’d remind you quite specifically that you said, ‘We aren’t mixing business with pleasure. We’re uniting for two mutual goals.’”

“That sounds like something I’d say.”

Oliver claps me on the back. “So you did it. You mixed business with pleasure. And I presume you’re about to give men a bad name and crush her heart?”

“No. Remember when I said she’d break mine?”

He stops. His voice drops lower, etched with concern. “Has she?”

“Seems destined to happen. She doesn’t want anything serious. She’s made that clear.”

He frowns. “She has?”

“Crystal clear from the start.”

“And you do? Want something more?”

I nod. “I want so much more.”

“Then I clearly owe you a pint because that’s a sad story.”

We walk in silence for a bit till we reach my favorite pub. As he pulls open the door, Oliver says, “On the other hand, you could lay it out there for her.”

I knit my brow.

He grabs at his chest as if reaching inside. “Take your heart and serve it up on a platter—and hope to hell she doesn’t chop it into mincemeat.”

I laugh, but it’s a sullen sound. Knowing Elise, that’d send her scurrying over her fortified walls into a whole new kind of retreat.

But as my cousin heads inside, I stop at the door, thinking of the other night, the things we said.

What if she feels the same? What if she’s starting to figure out that this marriage of convenience has turned, unexpectedly, into something more?

I need to give her time. I need to give her the chance to figure out what I’ve already learned: we could be more than a deal.

That’s what I need to do for the rest of the arrangement. Treat her like a queen and listen for any sign that she might be on the same page as I am.

Then, seize the chance.

Later that evening, I’m working late at my home. Erik and I have finished a new deal, and it’s coming together beautifully. But it requires a fine attention to detail, and I’m this close to exhausted from reading contracts most of the day.

Erik jumps up from the table where we’re working. He paces the living room, muttering.

I glance up from the screen on his fifth lap across the carpet. “You okay?”

“I can’t believe she tracked you down at the game the other day,” he says, disgust thick in his voice. I’d told him what happened at the match. “I can’t believe she’s inserting herself into everything.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I say gently, as I tap the screen. “Let’s try to finish this off.”

He shoves his hands into his hair. “I can’t focus. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I’m so bloody ticked off.”

His jaw is tight, and his eyes are fiery. It’s a look I hardly ever see on my brother. “Erik, come on. Let’s focus on this, order some takeaway, and watch a stupid show.”

He shakes his head vigorously. “I can’t. I need to go for a run.” He darts into the guest room where he’s been staying and emerges a minute later with running shorts and trainers on. He heads to the door in a flurry. “I’ll work when I come back. I need to clear my head. See Elise, or whatever you want to do.”

He leaves, and I hunker down, finishing the read-through. When I’m done, I decide seeing Elise sounds brilliant, especially since she’s leaving for New York soon.

I text her, but she writes back and tells me she’s busy tonight.

Somehow, this bothers me more than it should.