Chapter Nine
Marilyn
The flight to Paris is calm and quiet as we go over the plans for the wedding, which have been a freaking mess. We haven’t spoken about the supposed impromptu proposal or wedding that was thrown about like it was no big deal the other night in front of the reporters, but it hasn’t left my mind for one single minute. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman or because I’m madly in love with the man, but it flooded my brain.
Our relationship is new and these feelings are completely irrational, yet I can’t chase them away.
Still, I have a job to do, and that’s to get this wedding tasting the best and to deliver a cake the bride will be pleased with. Especially after my old dean managed to try and steal my ideas. We had to create new designs for the cake and desserts, working overtime while Myla’s husband went hardcore to work refitting the kitchen with enhanced security. We worked to the bone in the condo, the bakery, and in my apartment. Hell, we didn’t even have time to fuck like bunnies over the past week. Which is probably why I’m more unsure of us. It was my dean who violated Julien’s personal space, only to have the same thing happen to him again. Maybe he’s thought twice about us.
“What’s wrong, Marilyn? You’ve been quiet since we arrived. I thought you would be excited to be here.”
“I am.” Damn it, that didn’t sound convincing at all.
“I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
“Chef Beaumont,” a woman calls out, and she’s a perfect beauty, instantly making me jealous. Another reason that maybe we should keep this thing as a fling. Only there’s just one problem, or maybe more than one. I don’t know if I could live without him now.
I drop my head and walk on, pretending that I don’t see them talking, but then Julien reaches out and grabs me. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he growls in my ear. He turns to the woman and says, “Sorry, my fiancée is having a bit of jet lag.”
“No problem. That’s what happened to me when I got roped into this event. It’s almost over, though. I’m the event planner, by the way.” She sticks her hand out for me to shake. I do, and she didn’t seem to be overtly flirtatious with Julien. In fact, Elsa’s nothing but professional, and he doesn’t act like she’s any different than anyone else.
I meet her and realize that she’s not a threat, but there will be plenty of other women that will fall at Julien’s feet. He excuses us and leads us up to the hotel room where he takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. Gripping both sides of my face, he pleads, “Please tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with us,” I state.
“What do you mean, what’s going on with us?” He backs away, looking at me like he’s confused.
“Never mind. I’m just being foolish. I’m in the city of love, and I guess that newspaper article and online post about our relationship has me on edge. I guess your comments were just to shut them up, weren’t they?” We haven’t known each other long enough to be talking about marriage and babies and yet here we are, and I feel overwhelmed by the need to make it a reality. Have I lost it and become an insane woman, attaching herself to the first man she sleeps with?
He paces, thrusting his hands in his hair. Finally stopping in front of me, he says, “Woman, we have a job to do.” He brushes right past me and out of the hotel room. I follow right behind him and remember that we came here to bake for a wedding, not anything else.
“Of course, you’re right, Mr. Beaumont. Let’s get to work,” I reply, stepping into the elevator without looking at him. I’m not mad at him, just at myself.
“Cher, please.”
“No. Whatever is between us can wait. We have to show off our talents in the kitchen.” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, but I pull it away quickly after he kisses the back of my hand. “We should remain professional.”
He gazes into my eyes, and I see that he’s wounded by my overreaction but I can’t take it back. “Very well.” We step off the elevator and walk side by side without touching.
For the rest of the day, I keep my distance from him. I can’t, because my heart is breaking into pieces. This past week has been a test of how things get when work is tough, and apparently he pulls away and doesn’t want me anymore. I call the girls, needing someone to talk to, but neither of them answer. Hell, I even call Petra because I’m desperate, but she doesn’t answer and I wonder if the damn time zone has something to do with it.
By the end of the night, I fall into a fitful sleep and Julien is nowhere to be found. I wake up in the middle of the night to his arms around me. “I love you, ma marguerite. Je t’aime, Marilyn.” Sleep comes to me easily.