Until the impossible had happened and she was left alone, bereft of the only two people in the world who’d loved her.
The past nine months had shown her how possible the impossible actually was.
And now there was her own illness. No mistaking this for anything other than the disease that had struck down her mother. She’d been with her mum as her illness had progressed. She knew every stage, every symptom.
How much longer did she have? Seven months? Nine? Or would the tumour be more aggressive in a younger woman?
Imogen turned a page and lifted her eyes, scanning the room. Was this her destiny? To become a regular here until they admitted there was nothing they could do for her? To become another statistic in the health-care system?
Isabelle’s voice sounded in her head.
You need to get out and live, Imogen. Try something new, take a risk, enjoy yourself. Life is for living!
Imogen snorted. What chance would she have for living now?
She thought of the dreams she’d nurtured, planning and carefully executing every step. Working her way through university. Getting a job. Building professional success. Saving for a flat. Finding a nice, reliable, loving man who’d stick by her as their father hadn’t. A man who’d want a lifetime with her. They’d see all the things Isabelle had raved about. The northern lights in Iceland. Venice’s Grand Canal. And Paris. Paris with the man she loved.
Imogen blinked and looked down. Open on her lap was a double-page photo of Paris at sunset. Her breath hitched, a frisson of obscure excitement stirring her blood.
The panorama was as spectacular as Isabelle had said.
Imogen’s throat burned as she remembered how she’d turned down her sister’s invitation, saying she’d visit when she had a deposit saved for a flat and had helped their mum finish that long-overdue kitchen renovation.
Isabelle had ribbed her about planning her life to the nth degree. But Imogen had always needed security. She couldn’t drop everything and gallivant off to Paris.
Fat lot of good that will do you now you’re dying. What will you do, spend your money on a great coffin?
Imogen gazed at the Seine, copper-bright in the afternoon light. Her stare shifted to the Eiffel Tower, a glittering invitation. You’d love it, Ginny—gorgeous and gaudy by night but just so...Paris!
She’d spent her life playing safe. Avoiding risk, working hard, denying herself the adventures Isabelle revelled in, because she planned to do that later.
There’d be no later. There was only now.
Imogen wasn’t aware of getting up, but she found herself striding across the room and out into the sunlight. A voice called but she didn’t look back.
She didn’t have much time. She refused to spend it in hospitals and waiting rooms until she absolutely had to.
For once she’d forget being sensible. Forget caution. She intended to live.
CHAPTER ONE
‘TELL ME, MA CHÉRIE, will you be at the resort when we visit? It would be so much more convenient having the owner on the premises when we do the promotional photo shoot.’ Her voice was intimately pitched, reaching him easily despite the chatter of the crowd in the hotel’s grand reception room.
Thierry looked down into the publicist’s face, reading the invitation in her eyes.
She was beautiful, sophisticated and, he guessed by the way she licked her bottom lip and pressed her slim frame closer, ready to be very accommodating. Yet he felt no flicker of excitement.
Excitement! He’d left that behind four years ago. Would he even recognise it after all this time?
Bitterness filled his mouth. He’d been living a half-life, hemmed in by conference-room walls and duty, forcing himself to care about minutiae that held no intrinsic interest. Except those details had meant the difference between salvaging the family’s foundering business portfolio and losing it.
‘I haven’t decided. There are things I need to sort out here in Paris.’
But soon... A few months and he’d hand over the business to his cousin Henri and, more importantly, the managers Thierry had hand-picked. They’d guide Henri and maintain all Thierry had achieved, securing the Girard family fortune and leaving him free at last.
‘Think about it, Thierry.’ Her lips formed a glossy pout as she swayed close. ‘It would be very...agreeable.’
‘Of course I will. The idea is very tempting.’
But not enough, he realised with abrupt clarity, to drag him from Paris. These meetings would bring him closer to divesting himself of his burdens. That held far more allure than the prospect of sex with a svelte blonde.