“We all know there’s only one way to get out of being deported.” Tasha put it out there.
Lecie giggled. “My brothers would be shocked to hear you suggest such a thing.”
“Whose idea do you think it is?” Camille looked Lecie straight in the eye.
“Not my brothers.” Lecie’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of them, waiting for them to crack a smile and say it was a joke. They didn’t. She began shaking her head. “They would not seriously suggest that I marry someone just so I can stay in the country.”
“You underestimate your brothers.” Camille chuckled. “Julian knows you’re just as capable of fighting fire with fire as he or Andre. Maybe more so.” Camille’s undertone was unmistakable. “Which is why I’m supposed to tell you that Julian has already contacted Davis to draw up the contracts. When you’ve chosen a groom, he’ll personalize the agreement. None of us want to see you lose half your inheritance to some unscrupulous parasite, while trying to buy a little more time.”
“Can I trust this Davis?” Lecie couldn’t help but wonder, although she’d always trusted Julian and Andre. She thought she could trust Camille and Tasha. Surely, they wouldn’t allow themselves to become Papa’s lackeys.
Camille nodded with certainty. “He’s Julian’s legal advisor here in the States. He’s never met your father.”
“If you want to avoid being deported,” Tasha said. “You should start looking into that promptly.”
Lecie dragged her hands through her hair, held it back, then released it. “Did you two come here to help me pick out a husband?”
Camille and Tasha’s laughter bellowed out. Camille, whom they all knew spoke for Julian in this case, said, “We are only here to make sure that you come out of this with as little inconvenience to you as possible.”
The notion that Papa might interfere with Lecie’s good time in the States had been bothering her since the last time she’d spoken to Mama. Even so, Lecie hadn’t really considered that Papa could be serious. Until now. Thanks to her brothers and their wives. But Lecie was going to outmaneuver Papa in true de Laurent fashion. Again, thanks to her brothers and their wives.
Lecie was going to find herself a husband. Just not a real one. This marriage was going to be one that would expire in say, six months.
Bring it on, Papa! Lecie could handle anything he threw at her now, because she had a fix.
The next morning when Lecie entered the kitchen, Gerard was already in there standing at the counter, scribbling on a tablet. She cleared her throat and his eyes lifted to meet hers.
“Good morning, madam,” he said, and went back to his scribbling.
“Good morning, Gerard.” She opened the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice. “I trust you slept well?”
“Very well, madam. Thank you.”
She plucked a glass from a cabinet near the counter. “Now we talked about this,” she said in a light, scolding tone. “My name is Lecie.”
“Yes, we did.” He paused. “Miss Lecie.”
If Gerard was anything like Soren or the other staff she’d encountered, that was about the best she could hope for in dispensing with the formalities. She poured herself a glass and put the juice back in the refrigerator. She peeked at the paper, and asked, “What are you doing there?”
“Our first order of business is to hire a cook.”
Our? Lecie laughed. “A cook? We don’t need a cook.” She shook her head. “We usually eat cereal for breakfast. Sometimes, Deidra jogs down to the pastry shop a few blocks away. It makes her feel like she’s exercising those extra calories off before she even eats them.” Lecie used a comical tone, hoping to get Gerard to lighten up, but it didn’t work. “For lunch and dinner, we either dine out or have something delivered. See…” She shrugged. “There’s no need for a cook.”
“Be that as it may,” Gerard’s eyes fell back to his list. “Mrs. de Laurent thinks it’s best if you have a cook at your disposal.”
“Mrs. de Laurent?” Lecie wanted clarification on which Mrs. he was speaking of.
He said, “Your mother.”
Lecie snorted. “Papa probably told you to say that.”
Gerard’s eyes remained stuck on the notepad. “Your parents only want what is best for you, madam.” He cleared his throat, and corrected himself. “Miss Lecie.”
Yeah. Lecie laughed to herself.
Well, she’d better start looking for a husband. Quickly. Especially now that Papa had managed to plant his very own spy inside her house.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SUN PEEKED OVER THE Santa Monica Mountains. And why shouldn’t it? Today was going to be a beautiful day. With the help of Walter’s foundation, Nick would begin to dig himself out of debt today.
He hurried toward the entrance of the ten-story building and the glass doors swished open, wafting cool air over him. He stepped inside, happy to get out of the morning heat.
Inside the lobby, Nick headed for the elevators. A handful of people were already waiting and the up button was already lit. Nick joined those waiting, offering smiles to the ones who’d look him in the eye.
Finally the doors slid open. Nick slipped inside with the crowd and punched number eight on the panel. As the lift moved upward, the compartment began to fill with office-politics chatter. Someone, a woman behind him, was pissed off about being passed over for that ‘no-good scoundrel down in advertising’. Nick supposed this sort of thing went on at Hang Ten in the employee lounge behind the supply room. He chuckled softly, wondering if the same kind of backstabbing went on between the waitresses and bus people.
The doors parted on floor eight, Nick’s stop. He stepped off the elevator and headed down the hallway to the left. He knew where to find Phil’s office. He needed no direction.
Nick was still feeling good, although a bit anxious, by the time he opened the door. Phil’s secretary greeted him with a smile. She was new. Approaching her desk, he cut his eyes stealthily to her name plate—Janine—then gave her a smile. “Good morning, Janine. I’m Nick Matthews. I’m here to see Phil.”
The whole time he’d been talking, she’d been giving him an obvious look-over. Based on the smile tipping the corners of her mouth, she liked what she saw.
“Mr. Matthews,” she said, standing. “He’s expecting you.” She led him to the door on the far wall, gave it a quick double knock before opening it, and said to Phil, “Nick Matthews is here.”