Page List


Font:  

Chapter 3

Using both hands, Sienna picked up all four bottles of beer and threaded her way amongst the bar tables, back to where she and her girlfriends were seated. It was a tad ironic, she thought fleetingly, that they were sitting in a French bar sipping on Belgian beer, but she didn’t think the villagers would be coming after them with flaming torches and pitchforks anytime soon.

As it turned out, her roadside rescuer, the long-legged hottie, Maxim, was not manning the bar this evening. She struggled with her disappointment, then reminded herself there was no reason why she should be. They hadn’t set a date, plus bars worked on a shift system. He was simply not on tonight. Why did she hope he would be?

Chantelle, Jacyn, and Shaundra gratefully accepted their drinks and took sips before the conversation resumed. Chantelle was regaling them with the horror story of how her cat, Minerva, had taken it into her head to ‘rescue’ a litter of live baby bats and stow them in one of her plush-covered kitty hideaways.

“All I heard from the corner wascheep-cheep-cheep. Could have sworn it was mice, which would have been bad enough. Dustin went looking and discovered it was bats!” She fanned herself. “I damn near fainted!”

“I thought cats ate bats,” Jacyn said.

Chantelle shook her head, her soft brown hair swinging against her light, tawny skin. Her gray-green eyes glowed as she recounted her tale. “Normally, sure. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up to gifts of dead lizards, dead birds—”

“Ugh,” Shaundra shuddered. “That’s why I don’t want any pets.”

“—even dead leaves, dollar bills. Whatever she can find. But she seems to be going allnesty, now that she’s pregnant—”

“Oooh, you guys expecting the pitter-patter of little paws?” Sienna cut in. She was excited. Up till five months ago, Chantelle had been her boss for about two years. Sienna had learned to love Minerva, which had been admittedly hard. The large tortoiseshell cat was a Tasmanian Devil of vicious bad temper who had no problem letting you know she didn’t like you. It wasn’t uncommon for visitors to Chantelle’s mansion just outside of Aix to discover that their shoes or coat had been derisively peed upon. But that was another story altogether.

When Chantelle smiled and nodded like a proud grandmama-to-be, Sienna couldn’t resist teasing her. “Better avoid coming to your house, then. There must be fertility spores floating in the air or something.”

“And here’s to hoping I get some of that fertility bacterium,” responded Chantelle.

“As long as you contain it over at your house! I want none of it!” Shaundra shuddered again.

Jacyn added mischievously, “Bring some over to me. We could do with a baby boom in this group!” She lifted her bottle in a toast. “To Naisha!”

The other women echoed the toast. Naisha was nine months along, due to give birth any moment now to her second child—a girl. She and her husband William couldn’t have been happier. It was also why she’d declined the invitation to come hang out tonight, snorting, “You seriously think I want to come out and watch you bitches drink it up while I have to suck on ginger ale?”

Sienna added to the toast, raising her bottle again. “To Jacyn, and her beautiful little prince. May the ancestors bless and approve of this precious family union.”

Jacyn flushed under her chocolate skin. She and her husband Alex Dubois, the younger brother of a Count and a descendant of a long line of distinguished royals, had decided to adopt a baby to round out their family. The couple would be flying out to Congo to finalize the arrangements and bring their baby home. It made Sienna’s heart swell to think that this couple, who had so much in terms of wealth, power, and success, would open their arms and heart to a child from halfway across the world, selflessly giving him everything the world had to offer.

She looked around at all her friends, happy and in love, each one of them. All enjoying the prospect (and in some cases, the current reality) of raising families with the men they loved. Sienna had been an only child, and her parents had had her in their mid-forties, so she’d grown up loved and cherished, but without siblings. She often wondered what it would have been like to have a large family of her own, the kind her friends now seemed to be a part of.

“You must be excited,” Chantelle said, hugging Jacyn.

“Of course.” Jacyn smiled bravely. But Sienna could clearly see the mist in her eyes. “It’s just that I will miss Alicyn terribly.”

Sienna was immediately at her friend’s side. They’d known each other for more than half their lives, and had always been there for each other, and now she had agreed to make the trek to Aix to babysit Jacyn’s three-year-old daughter. Naisha had offered, of course, but Jacyn had declared it wouldn’t be fair, given that Naisha’s water was about five seconds from breaking.

“She’ll be fine with me,” Sienna promised. “Your girl and me, we’re gonna have a grand old time, as my grandmother used to say.” She began counting off on her fingers. “I brought toys. I brought books. I brought a bedazzler. We’re gonna bedazzle your curtains, bedazzle your tablecloths, bedazzle your horses.”

“Knock yourselves out.” Jacyn laughed, looking more at ease. “Just as long as I don’t come back to discover you’ve dyed her hair blue.”

Sienna lifted her right hand. “As God is my witness, my blue hair days are over. And my purple hair days, and my pink—”

She stopped mid-sentence, as her mouth went dry.

The door to the bar had opened, and in stepped her road warrior, clothed once again in black jeans and boots, with a deep blue shirt topped by a black leather biker’s jacket adorned with racing flames down both arms. He must have known the effect it created, Sienna thought, this stark ensemble against his butternut skin, black hair and black eyes.

Bastard knows he’s hot.

Under his arm, he held his helmet. It became apparent to her that he’d arrived on that fat, shiny bike he’d first appeared on. A steed of chrome to his knight in glossy leather.

He spotted her immediately and turned towards her. His slow prowl gave all the women at the table ample time to gawk.

“Goddamn,” Jacyn said.


Tags: Niomie Roland French Conquests Billionaire Romance