A Taste of Passion ; Ambitious Seduction Read online

  * * *

  It was an unseasonably warm March day in Paris. Normally Nicolas Rayo would have taken a long lunch with a friend; instead, he sat on the other side of the desk of James T. Bauer, Esq., and tried to focus. Albert Belcourt was dead. It still didn’t seem real, and yet there he was, listening to the last will and testament of the man who had been not only a business partner, but a second father.

  The old lawyer adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “To Luca Nicolas Rayo Dechamps I leave my wine collection, valued at two million euro. Your father and I curated it together, and with him gone, I know of no one else who could take better care of it.”

  Nic smiled in spite of his sadness. The collection held several of the first wines Nic’s father, Gabriel, and Albert had ever produced. Speaking of... “Can we get to the part about the business?”

  James shifted uncomfortably. “In a minute, there is more I must read.”

  James droned on in legalese and Nic took a patient breath, wondering if his father and Albert were looking down on him from their vineyard in the sky, laughing.

  In their twenties, Albert and Gabriel had built a successful vineyard, selling their grapes to France’s most prominent winemakers. Eventually their vineyard grew into a wine brokerage, selling not just their own grapes, but selling and buying grapes for other wineries.

  “This will be yours one day. Hard work will keep you honest,” his father had always said in response to Nic’s refusal to go into the family business. Sure, wine was in Nic’s blood. Gabe had been a vintner, Nic’s uncle and cousins were vintners and his mother was a sommelier. But Nic had taken his own path into real estate, eventually investing in a hotel. He was successful, despite his father’s refusal to consider buying and selling buildings as “hard work.” Seven years ago, when Gabe had passed away and left his only son half the business, Nic assumed it was his father’s last effort to “keep him honest.”

  Nic was pulled from his thoughts by a change in James’s voice. “I also bequeath to Nic my art collection with the hopes he will cherish it.” The lawyer looked up from the pages. “There is a notation that if you don’t want the paintings, they can be given to a museum.”

  “I want the paintings,” Nic murmured, wishing James kept a stocked minibar in his office.

  Albert had welcomed Nic as an equal partner when Gabe passed, but Nic had given up his voting rights to act as a silent partner. His activity in the business had been minimal until a few yeas ago, when the landscape of the wine industry began to change and the brokerage took its first loss. Plus, Albert had been getting older, slowing down, so Nic had taken on a little more each day. Gabe would have been proud—running two businesses was hard work. But, without Albert, that model was no longer sustainable, which meant something had to give. Unfortunately, his numbers told him that liability was the vineyard, and if he could put that in someone else’s hands, then he could hire someone to manage the brokerage. He just needed to take over Albert’s shares.

  So there Nic was, waiting to hear that sole ownership of the business Albert and Gabriel had built from nothing would be dropped into his lap like a hot potato.

  “And last but not least, to Nic, who was like a second son to me, I leave my Oscar Wilde first editions.”

  James pulled his glasses from his nose, closed his folder and then smiled under his thick moustache. “There you are, my boy.”

  Nic frowned. “There I am what?”

  “Your inheritance. That’s all for you.”

  “That’s all? You haven’t even mentioned the business. My shares of the business.” Nic tried to keep a handle on his rising voice.

  “Oh, right...right.” James opened his folder and flipped back through the pages. Nic leaned forward, ready to jump up and leave when the shares were declared his.

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “Yes, now it seems that Albert had bequeathed his shares of the business to his only daughter, her identity to be revealed only if she decides to accept the offer. If she refuses, the shares are to go to the next living partner, which is you.”

  Nic’s mouth dropped as he processed what he’d just heard. “Daughter?” He leaned forward. “A daughter? Albert doesn’t have a daughter,” he murmured as he ran a hand through his black hair. Nic whirled on James, who was tidying his mustache in the reflection of his business card case. “Does he?”

  “He does. I have initiated contact with her and will be in touch about her decision. But it seems unlikely that a young woman with no knowledge of her father would take on his business. Preposterous, really. If you’re lucky she’ll just say no. Which is what I expect. But if she has any business savvy at all—”

  “She’ll want payment for the shares,” Nic interrupted.

  “Exactly.”

  “Draw up the paperwork.”

  “Excuse me?” James blustered.

  “Albert clearly wants his daughter to have something of his. It wouldn’t be right to just take the shares. I’ll offer to buy them.”

  “That might be quite expensive.”

  “I’ll make it back, and then some. I have a plan, and it doesn’t involve a partner. Call me when you know something.”

  The busy streets of Paris were like a blur as he marched past the cafés and boutiques of the Marais. Not even the smell of the street crepes could pull him from his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or sad, shocked or resigned. A daughter? It didn’t make sense. That business should be his. He wasn’t going to let some stranger get her hands on it. How could Albert do that to him? Nic stared into the distance, focusing on nothing. How could Albert just up and die on him?

  And there it was again, that tightening in his chest. He needed a drink.

  Correction, several drinks.

  Chapter 2

  Someone died? Maya grabbed her cell phone and dialed her mother, whom she had just talked to the night before. Her mother answered with a breathy hello. “Mom,” she said with relief. “Hi.”

  “Aren’t you working? You never talk to me during work hours.”

  “Yes, I just... Um, how’s Steve?”

  “Oh, he’s watching the news.” Never had Maya been so happy to hear that her stepfather was on the couch. “Is something wrong? Oh! You got the promotion! Steve, she got the promotion!”

  “No! Mom...” She sighed. “I didn’t get it.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Steve, she didn’t get the promotion! What happened?”

  Maya rolled her eyes. “It’s a long story. Look, I need to go, I’ll call you later.” Maya hung up on her mother’s protests, once again staring at the packet.

  She went through the motions of dialing the number of the law office, relieved when a British receptionist answered and said that Mr. Bauer had stepped out, would she like to leave a message? She explained about the packet and left her cell number. Seconds later it rang. Vaguely recognizing the number, she picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. May I speak with Maya Belcourt?”

  “Oh. Uh, I think you have the wrong number.”

  “Erm.” Maya heard papers rustling. “Maya Elizabeth North Belcourt? I believe you just called. My name is James T. Bauer. I’m so happy we’ve finally found you.”

  “Um... I’m just Maya Elizabeth North, I still think you have the wrong person.”

  “Your mother is Sandra North, yes?”

  “Oh.” She paused. “She is.”

  “Excellent! Well, not exactly. Miss Belcourt, I’m an attorney handling your father’s estate. I’m afraid he passed away several weeks ago.”

  “No, see, Steve’s not dead. This is definitely a mistake.”

  “Steve? I’m sorry, I don’t know a Steve. I’m talking about Albert Belcourt.”

  “Well, I don’t know an Albert Belcourt.” Fragments of memories began to flash in her mind. Running through trees,
kisses on her cheeks, someone teaching her French. Maya paused. Albert. It had been so long since she’d heard that name or even thought about her biological father. But why would she? He’d left her and her mother when she was a toddler, and they never saw or heard from him again. Steve wasn’t perfect, but at least he’d been there. “Um, I’m sorry, I do know who you’re talking about. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, well I’m sure this is very confusing, but Albert made it clear that his daughter, you, receive his estate upon his death.”

  “I’m inheriting his home?”

  “Well, yes, but also a portion of his business.”

  “What business?”

  “Your father owns half of a vineyard and wine brokerage outside of Paris.”

  She straightened. “Paris, France?” This was too much, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. “Look, this can’t be right. He left me... Why would he leave me anything?”

  “Albert was a very private person. Even his business partner knows nothing of this, but mademoiselle, I assure you, this is no mistake. He wanted you to have it.”

  Maya paused, struggling to keep her breathing even. “You knew him?”

  “I’ve been his counsel for over twenty years.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Everybody liked him. A good businessman. Reliable and trustworthy.”

  “Humph.” Trustworthy? She didn’t think so. “Did he have a family?”

  “No. He never married.”

  She ignored the tightening in her throat and stared hard at her cold cup of coffee, which began to blur through her tears. What was she crying for? She had a good life; what did it matter that he hadn’t wanted her? She inhaled in a flurry of sniffles. James must have heard. “Oh, my, this must be upsetting. Unless you have any other questions now, I’ll let you review the paperwork yourself. I’ll call you in a few days to set up a time that we can discuss all of it in detail. You can have a lawyer look over them, as well, of course. And you know how to reach me if you have any questions at all before then. I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Belcourt.” Why did he keep calling her that? “I’ll bid you good day.”

  She kept the phone to her ear, making it look like a client call, as Rick and the chiefs made their way past her office to breakfast. Suddenly her office felt like a prison. Maya grabbed her things and left, using the excuse that she didn’t feel well. And it couldn’t have been more true.

  * * *

  That position should have been yours. Days later, Maya pulled her tray table down and waited for the in-flight lunch service. She had been excited for her client meeting with SuperFoods, looking forward to plunging herself into work while Jen did her a personal favor and reviewed the inheritance paperwork, until Rick had decided to come along.

  Maya shifted uncomfortably in her partially reclined economy-plus seat and stared ahead into the first-class cabin. Refreshments were being served, and she could partially see Rick in an aisle seat taking full advantage of his larger travel budget. His artisanal socks were elevated and stretched out in front of him, and a Tom Cruise action movie played on the TV screen attached to his chair. He’d been watching movies since they boarded the six-hour flight from LA to New York. Was he ever going to read the detailed report of the company that she had prepared for him? His manicured hand reached for a glass of champagne, then a smiling stewardess closed the curtains.

  After a smooth six-hour flight, they checked into their hotel, freshened up, then met the chief officers of SuperFoods for dinner at Cipriani. Rick was friendly and engaging with her clients, ordering the best bottles of wine and praising her several times in front of the team of powerful men, making Maya feel a little bad about secretly hating him for taking her position. She coaxed herself to give him a chance and even helped him out when he didn’t know the answer to a business question.

  The CEO of SuperFoods grabbed the neck of the wine bottle with his meaty hand. “A bottle of Dechamps?”

  Maya held out her empty glass. “Wait until you try it. It’s organic or biodynamic or something.”

  The CEO rolled his eyes. SuperFoods was famous for pumping out processed and packaged foods, including individual wines in a box. Nothing they produced was organic, but Maya helped boost their customer appeal by peppering their packaging with ambiguous words and phrases like “all natural” and “one hundred percent whole.” It was one hundred percent whole—whole chemicals. They weren’t breaking any FDA laws and customers thought they were getting healthy food. Their market share rose thirty percent in the first year.

  “Not bad,” he said, after taking a sip.

  Maya nodded. “See, guys, it’s good to bring the boss. His expense account is bigger than mine.” The table chuckled. Rick sent her a secret nod of thanks and she smiled back. Maybe once her company saw what a good team player she could be, the next promotion would be hers.

  “That went well,” Rick said, as they walked down the hall to their rooms.

  “They’re a fun bunch after hours, but tomorrow they’ll try to poke holes in our presentation. That’s why I wrote it up in bullet points for you. Try to take a look before you go to bed.” She stopped in front of her door and slipped the key in the lock. In a second, the door clicked and she stepped forward.

  “Can we talk a minute? I think it would be good if we started fresh.” She was halfway in the door and turned to see him with his hands in his pockets and a strange look in his eye.

  “Oh...um.” She looked over her shoulder at her room. Chocolates lay on her pillow, and the clothes she had left on the floor were neatly piled in the chair. “Sure.”

  He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Before she knew what was up, she was pressed against the wall and his lips were on hers. Unable to believe what was happening, she jerked her head away and pushed at his shoulders. He didn’t budge; in fact, her effort urged him closer. He grabbed her head and brought her face back to his.

  “Wait...stop—” She struggled against his lips.

  “Kiss me back.” His whisper made her cringe, and she froze when his hand found her breast.

  Her slap to his face was hard, the kick to his shin even harder, and this time her She-Hulk shove sent him backward a few feet. “Get the hell out of my room!”

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem?” Her voice hit the ceiling.

  Rick sneered. “You were sending me signals all night.”

  “Signals? At our work dinner?” She couldn’t form words, opting to just point to the door. “Please leave.”

  His jaw dropped and his gaze reduced her to a tease, even though she would never so much as touch the man, not to mention the fact that he was—oh, God—her boss. Slowly, he stood, rubbed his jaw and straightened his suit, all the while looking at her.

  “So what now? You go to HR?”

  She didn’t know. Should she go to HR? They had a presentation the next morning with her most important client. Was it really worth ruining her career? His lips got thinner as she silently debated. “No.” It came out in a rush. “We agree that it was a misunderstanding. We have work to do.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Good night,” he spat.

  He whipped out of the room before she could say anything. Then a feeling of dread came over her so strong that she had to sit on the edge of the bed and catch her breath.

  * * *

  “Her name is Maya Belcourt. Thirty-three years old. A business consultant in Los Angeles. Quite smart. MBA from Stanford. Unmarried. No children. Travels frequently to New York—”

  James’s voice became an electronic hum as Nic pulled his phone from his ear and signed for the large delivery of party masks for their gods and goddesses lobby party that Friday.

  Nic put the phone back to his ear while his staff opened the boxes and began to play. The plastic ha
ndheld masks half covered their faces, making them look like marble renditions of Bacchus or his wife, Ariadne, from the nose up.

  Those are for the guests. These are for you, Nic mouthed. He pinched his phone between his ear and his shoulder and reached into another box, pulling out a gold lamé loincloth and a low-cut sheath. “Try these on,” he said to his dumbstruck staff.

  Nic raised the phone back to his ear and walked across the lobby to his office. “Let me guess, she likes bubble baths and long walks on the beach. I don’t care about her marital status, James. Does she want the shares or not?”

  “She requested a full annual report for the last five years.”

  “Damn it.”

  “I think it would be a good idea for you both to meet.”

  “I’m not going to California. If she wants these shares she can come here.”

  “Precisely what I was thinking. You can show her the property and—”

  “We can negotiate the share price and she can be on her way.”

  “My boy, I think you are forgetting something.”

  “What would that be?”

  “She’s just found out the father she never knew has passed. It might be nice of you to tell her about him.”

  He couldn’t think of anything more excruciating. Would she cry? She’d probably cry.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Maybe Nathan can do that. He’s good with the clients.” Albert’s young associate broker had taken on more responsibility and become somewhat of a right hand to Nic, as well.

  “This isn’t a client, Nic—this is Albert’s daughter.”

  Nic ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You lost someone you cared about. And not long after your own father passed. It’s understandable if you are...not yourself. You could always talk to someone, Nic.”