The small voice returned, and Corey felt it in the back of his teeth.
“I thought, with him, I had what Mom and Dad have.”
And that made Corey’s mouth fill with saliva.
“That is rare, what they have,” he forced out. “But you’ll find it.”
“Right, right, I have to kiss a lot of frogs,” she muttered, watching her fingers twist the stem of her wineglass this way and that, bored with the metaphor that had probably been suggested to her one way or another with every boy she’d liked or boyfriend she’d snared.
All Corey could think about was the word “frog.”
The day they’d met Imogen, Duncan had thrown a frog at her.
She’d been incensed.
Years later, they were in love.
“Chloe,” he called, and she again focused on him. “There is a man out there who will worship you. Not because he’s intent to make you feel special. Because he understands to his bones that you already are.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes.
He gave her time and was unsurprised when she conquered that emotion.
“Do not think another moment about this piece of shit,” he advised. “Live your life being you, and one day, you’ll run into him, the man you’re supposed to find. And you know yourself so well, you’ll recognize him instantly. He won’t slip through your fingers, Chloe. And whoever that man is, he would eat a bullet before he made you feel dirty. But until then,” he picked up his own glass and tipped it her way, “have fun with what’s on offer. That day he’s in your life will come soon enough.”
He took a sip and did not dwell too long on the fact that her bright smile that was accompanied by bright eyes made him feel exactly how he felt when he’d earned his first billion.
They had lunch.
He insisted on driving her back to her flat and then going up to inspect it.
It looked like it’d been dressed by an award-winning Hollywood set designer.
This Corey found unsurprising too.
He knew she’d been working in an exclusive boutique on the Rue Saint-Honoré, doing this now going on a year and a half. He also knew that her parents were augmenting her income, because she didn’t make much money (and he’d just added to that, slipping an envelope with several thousand Euro next to the undoubtedly-bought-used, but that only made it stylishly retro espresso maker in her kitchen).
However, he should have known they had nothing to worry about with Chloe, at least not with all the trappings of life, and the trimming of it.
Her heart, well, that was different.
She walked him down to his car, and before he folded into the back seat, she got up on the toes of her pumps, kissed his cheek and said into his ear, “Thanks for dropping by Paris.”
Dropping by Paris.
When she rolled back, she was grinning at him as only Chloe could, showing nonchalant gratitude about a gesture that took two of his assistants three days to successfully shift his entire schedule so that he could make it.
Nonchalant in tone or not, her point was made, and the true depths of gratitude she felt were unhidden in her eyes.
He tilted his lips up for her.
Then he angled in his car.
She stood on the pavement as his chauffeur glided the car away.
Once they’d made a turn, he pulled out his phone.
It rang and then a deep voice answered, “Vaughan.”
Corey’s lips were absolutely not tilted up when he asked, “Rhys, how long will it take for you to get to Paris?”
“I can be there by the morning.”
“Good,” Corey replied. “I have a job for you.”
Chapter 17
The Hike
Chloe
Now…
As I ambled down the sloping walk to Judge’s front door, I did it trying to focus on the townhome development I’d already fully taken in as I’d driven through.
And not because it was small, even though it was.
It was because I could be convinced Judge had been consulted by the developers while they were designing it (yes, it was that perfect for him), and therefore it was fascinating to me.
I’d counted, and there were five lines of five townhomes, all of them inclining up steep rises and dotted over a rather large, densely treed area. The buildings were situated in ways that you had neighbors in another set of homes, but they weren’t all that close.
And the entire area around them was natural.
No tennis court, swimming pool, or play area.
These homes were for people who wanted to live in nature, perhaps in a community not far from others, just not a bustling one. And people who didn’t want land they had to maintain but did want space and views that were gorgeous.
Indeed, the area was so uncluttered, whoever owned the covered snowmobiles and uncovered four-wheelers were apparently required to keep them where they sat, down close to the road, which was at least a hundred yards from the first set of townhouses.