“Bonne nuit,Jacyn,” he said, and walked away.
***
The helicopter tilted sharply as it began to turn, and Jacyn grabbed onto the padded upholstery of her seat. She felt Alex’s hand descend on hers, its warmth and weight bringing comfort. But still, she wasn’t crazy about the idea of being airborne a second time in three days.
Alex’s voice came in over the coms, gentle in the headset she was wearing. “It’s fine,ma puce.You’re okay.”
Jacyn wished she could see his face; maybe his eyes would give her something to focus on, keep her calm. But the helmet made him look like an alien. She was sure hers did, too.
They’d arrived safely at Orly Airport in the early hours of the morning Eastern time, but by then the sun had already risen in France and Parisians were starting their day. A limousine had taken them to a hotel in the 16tharrondissement, one of the most elegant neighborhoods in the city. The hotel was an ultra-modern structure of steel and chrome, more luxurious than anything she could have imagined.
Although she wouldn’t have minded a few more hours of sleep, Alex had advised her that the best way to beat jet lag was not to sleep at all, so after allowing her two hours to catch her breath and freshen up, he had whisked her away into the city.
For a day and a half they’d made the rounds of exclusive boutiques, because, as Alex explained, she’d need the right clothes to look the part of a billionaire’s fiancée. Her jeans, T-shirts, and off-the rack dresses simply wouldn’t do. Jacyn wasn’t sure whether to be excited or offended, so she settled on both.
He brought in a personal shopper, maybe because he didn’t trust her to choose for herself. She was a tiny, bony older woman called Arlette whose hair was so perfectly coiffed Jacyn was sure it was set with glue. Arlette had flashing eyes and a shrill voice. She argued with shop clerks in heated French, yelled at boutique owners, and humiliated couturiers until she got exactly what she wanted.
Jacyn was so fascinated by the quality and variety of the clothes and accessories being offered that she quickly forgot to be peeved and began to enjoy herself. The number of people dancing attendance on her, presenting her with outfit after outfit and plying her with champagne, made her feel like Julia Roberts inPrettyWoman.
The purchases they made were shipped back to their hotel, while the bespoke outfits were to follow on to Alex’s home later. At one point, she had begun to protest that she certainly didn’t needtenpairs of shoes, but Alex had silenced her with a glare.
You’re playing a part,that look of his seemed to say.This is all an act. Just go with it.
When they were all shopped out, they had an afternoon left, so Alex indulged her on a whirlwind tour of the popular tourist spots; places no born and bred Parisian would deign to visit. He walked quietly at her side as she wandered through the Champs Elysées, bought her warmmarrons glacésfrom a street vendor, and offered her a handkerchief when she stood before the blackened ruins of Notre Dame and wept over all that had been lost in the fire.
And now, here they were, just a few moments from descending to a helipad at his ancestral home in Aix-en-Provence near the southern coast of France. When she’d learned that was where they were going, she had squealed in delight.
“Provence! We’re going toProvence!That’s like, the mecca of perfumiers, soap makers, and people like me! For hundreds of years we’ve turned to Provence for some of the best herbs and botanicals in Europe! The quality alone. The variety–” Then she stopped and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “But you already know this, right? You grew up there.”
He smiled at her indulgently. “I know this. But I am pleased that it makes you so happy.”
Alex then barked an instruction into the coms, and immediately, the helicopter began to lower and circle lazily, like a dragonfly on a sleepy river. Why weren’t they landing?
“Tell me what you see,” he told her.
She looked out the window and, stretching on and on and on before her eyes, were fields of purple and gold. Pink and deep red. Green and white. She identified lavender, honeysuckle and so many more beautiful, precious botanicals.
“Don’t you see them too?” she asked.
“I do, but I want to hear it from you. I want to experience this through your fresh eyes.” He leaned closer, so that he was looking over her shoulder, and the warmth of his presence almost left her tongue-tied.
But in her excitement, she began to point out the fields as they drew so low that she could see the workers reaping their harvest. It was a moment of pure joy in the midst of all this uncertainty, and, surrounded by those beautiful flowers, Jacyn felt her heart swell.
***
Alexandre and Jacyn stood on the helipad, being fussed over by two valets, who loaded their many bags into the back of the limousine that had come to meet them. Two maintenance workers came running out from the small building nearby, clearly the heliport office, and began securing the helicopter to its moorings and doing the requisite post-flight procedures.
He looked around, taking in the green, gently rolling hills and pastures that stretched out on all sides. His family’s property.
He hated the cold feeling of dread that sank in his gut like a hard stone.
Next to him, Jacyn was all agog, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way her eyes darted about, trying to take in everything. It reminded him that there was beauty here—burgeoning life, when all he could see were the ghosts and shadows of heartache.
“How far is it to your home?” Jacyn’s question drew him out of his remembrance.
“What do you mean?”
“How far from the heliport to your property?”