But look at me full of good grace and stuff!
‘And you work for Wolf Industries now, here in Monaco.’ She doesn’t address this as a question, but Remy answers it anyway.
‘Yes. Rose and I met in America.’ He turns to me, his eyes lingering on my lips before his attention returns to his mother. ‘We met a second time when she came to work for the company.’ His hand tightens on mine and whatever he says next, I don’t understand. It’s not French. Well, not like any French I’ve ever heard.
His mother nods just once in return, like a monarch blessing him with her assent. She is, quite honestly, beautiful. Her olive skin is almost ageless, and her dark hair sleek and well behaved. I know for a fact the blue shift-dress she’s wearing is from Eudon Choi’s new line, and those are definitely Choo’s on her feet. And not a padded shoulder in sight.
Josephine Durrand might look like a lady who lunches, but I sense under those designer labels lurks a will of steel.
‘Benôit tells me you’re staying at Chateau Margaux. I would’ve thought that old place would be a little out of the way for you, Remy, and not very in keeping with a bachelor’s lifestyle.’ Her gaze turns my way, her meaning clear. Hear that? My son is single.
‘You shouldn’t listen to what Ben says.’
Excuse me? We live in a chateau? Isn’t that the same as a palace? Or a manor house, at least?
‘You’re not staying at the chateau?’
‘I’m not single.’
‘You’ll forgive me for mentioning that you were engaged last time I was in Monaco.’
Oh, dear Lord.
‘Mother, you know the agreement I had with Amélie Pastor. You were party to it in its inception, as I recall.’
‘Yes, I was. And you know why. Wolf Industries is your birth right. But Amélie told me last month that things had changed. I saw her in Milan,’ she says, waving away the details. ‘She said that a fondness had developed between you both.’
‘The only thing Amélie has ever had a fondness for is my money.’
‘Remy, that was crass. Aside from being very uncomplimentary, it is beneath you to speak in such a way.’
Hmm. Seems like she’s one of those rich people who doesn’t like talking about money. I bet she’s never had her power cut off.
As though sensing my discomfort, Remy presses his thigh to mine as he answers. ‘But it is the truth, nonetheless.’
‘Our families have always been so close. We are of the same world.’
I . . . am not of the same world. I’m also tapping out. No way I’m sitting here to listen to his mother sing the praises of another, no matter how lukewarm.
‘Maybe this is a conversation you should both have alone.’ I begin to stand when Remy’s fingers tighten on mine.
‘Stay, please.’ His gaze runs warily across my face before his attention turns to his mother once more. ‘I was never in love with Amélie. Not for a minute, and I can assure you the lack of sentiment was returned. I’m not sure why she would tell you otherwise. And Ben is wrong. I’m not living alone. I’m living with Rose.’
Ho-boy. Talk about happy families.
* * *
In the mirror, she stares back at me. Dramatic eyed and voluptuous, the satin clinging to her breasts and hips before flowing to the floor, elongating and slimming and making her look like she belongs on the pages of a glossy magazine.
‘Hello, gorgeous.’ I finger a glossy braid running along the side of my head in a style the hairstylist had called a crown of curls and braids. I’m so pleased I’d allowed Charles to persuade me to book an appointment, rather than d-i-y it tonight.
‘I don’t know who you are, but I like what I see,’ I whisper to my reflection. And then, because I promised Amber I’d send her a selfie, I do. Pulling a ridiculously over the top duck-pout in the mirror, I take the snap, knowing it’ll give her a giggle. Then I take another more serious photograph as proof I ever looked this way.
Grabbing my clutch from the dresser, I make sure the contents of the plastic envelope from Omega is in my clutch before slotting away my phone.
Remy has yet to see my dress. It’s not like I’ve hidden it from him, we just happen to have separate dressing rooms. You know, like one does. I giggle, not sure if it’s a reaction to the way that sounded in my head, or because I feel so lucky, or if it’s because I’m loving the way I look, or that I’m giddy at the thoughts of seeing Remy’s reaction. Probably every one of those things.
I make my way out to the bedroom, not really expecting to find him there. I also don’t expect to find him waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs as I reach the halfway point of the staircase.