Reunited With The Rebel Billionaire. Catherine Mann
href="#ulink_f20d4822-5354-5137-8cc2-73b80dda4a31">Two
Fiona picked at sequins on her dress as Henri steered their Maserati through the gates and toward the huge Greek Revival mansion on the hill. She’d lived just down the road from that house once, she and Henri in their wing and his youngest brother, Jean-Pierre, in another. Both wings were large enough for privacy. Both easily big enough to fit four of the homes she’d grown up in, and her family had been wealthy enough to impress, with her father owning a midsize accounting firm.
But once her honeymoon phase had worn off with Henri and she’d realized she wasn’t pregnant, they’d begun trying for a baby in earnest. That mammoth mansion had grown more claustrophobic with each failed attempt. Then with each fertility treatment. There’d been miscarriages they hadn’t even told the family about. So many more health heartaches they hadn’t shared with his family.
After her very public miscarriage in her second trimester, he’d bought them the house in the Garden District to give them both space from the Reynaud fishbowl lifestyle. Their emotions had been bubbling over far too often, in good and bad ways.
Living here? It was just too difficult. Spanish moss trailed like bridal veils from live oak trees on either side of the private driveway leading into the Reynaud estate on Lake Pontchartrain. It was in an exclusive section of Metairie, Louisiana, west of the city. Pontoon boats were moored in shallow waters while long docks stretched into the low-lying mist that often settled on the surface, sea grass spiking through and hiding local creatures. The gardens were lush and verdant, the ground fertile. Gardeners had to work overtime to hold back the Louisiana undergrowth that could take over in no time. The place was large, looming—alive.
She glanced at her too-damn-handsome husband as he steered their sports car up the winding drive toward the original home on the family complex, the place where Henri and his brothers had spent time in their youth. Gervais, the oldest brother, and his fiancée lived here now, and the couple had allowed Fiona to host her event on the property.
Henri’s tailored Brioni tuxedo fit his hard, muscled body well. His square jaw was cleanly shaved, his handsome face the kind that could have graced a GQ cover. Her attraction to him hadn’t changed, but so much had shifted between them since their impulsive elopement three years ago. While she didn’t care about missing out on a large wedding, she did wonder if things might have turned out differently if they’d waited longer, gotten to know each other better before the stress piled on.
Now they would never know.
He bypassed the valet and opted to park in the family garage. The steel door slid open to reveal a black Range Rover and a Ferrari facing forward, shiny with polish, grills glistening. He backed into an open space, the massive garage stretching off to the side filled with recreational vehicles. The boats and Jet Skis were down in the boathouse at the dock. This family loved their toys. They played hard. Lived large. And loved full-out.
Losing Henri already left a hole in her life. Losing this family would leave another.
She swallowed down a lump as the garage door slid closed and he shut off the vehicle.
“Fiona?” He thumbed the top of the steering wheel. “Thank you for keeping up the happy couple act in public. I know things haven’t been easy between us.”
“This fund-raiser means a lot to me.”
“Of course it does.” His mouth went tight and she realized she’d hurt him.
How could they be so certain things were over and still have the power to hurt each other with a stray word? “I appreciate that your connections make this possible.”
He glanced at her, smoothing his lapel. “You throw a great party that wins over a crowd not easily wowed.”
“I owe Adelaide for her help today.”
“When your car broke down.”
She nodded tightly, the lie sticking in her throat.
He reached out to touch a curl and let it loosely wrap around his finger as if with a will of its own. “You look incredible tonight. Gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“Any chance you’re interested in indulging in some make-up sex, even if only temporary?”
The offer was tempting, mouthwateringly so, as she took in the sight of her husband’s broad shoulders, was seduced by the gentle touch of his fingers rubbing just one curl.
“We need to get inside.”
His mocha-colored eyes lingered on her mouth as tangibly as any kiss, setting her senses on fire. “Of course. Just know the offer stands.”
He winked before smoothly sliding out of the car and moving around to the passenger side with the speed and grace that served him well on the ball field. Her skin still tingled from the thought of having sex with him again. They’d been so very good together in bed, with a chemistry that was off the charts.
Would that change because of her surgery? It was a risk she’d never been able to bring herself to take.
Just the thought had her gut knotting with nerves. But the next thing she knew, her silver Jimmy Choo heels were clicking along to the side entrance and across the foyer’s marble floors. The space was filled with people from corner to corner, chatter and music from the grand piano echoing up to the high ceiling. The party was in full swing. The place was packed, people standing so close together they were pushed up against walls with hand-painted murals depicting a fox hunt.
Once upon a time she’d lived for these parties. But right now, she wanted to grab the banister and run up the huge staircase with a landing so large it fit a small sofa for casual chitchat in the corner.
Her hand tucked in Henri’s arm, she went on autopilot party mode, nodding and answering people’s greetings. She and Henri had played this game often, fooling others. She had to admit that while women chased him unabashedly, his gaze never strayed. He was a man of honor. His father’s infidelities had left a mark on him. Henri had made it clear he would never cheat—even when the love had left their marriage.
No, she couldn’t let her thoughts go there. To the end of love and of them. At least, not while they were in public. Too many people were counting on her. While planning this fund-raiser had served as a distraction from the widening gap between her and Henri, the whole event still had to be properly executed.
Time to investigate her handiwork. Excusing herself, Fiona walked over to the favor table. Turquoise boxes with silver calligraphic font reading “Love at First Woof” lined the table. Laughing inwardly, she picked up one of the boxes. This one was wrapped in a white ribbon. She opened the box, pleased to find the pewter dog earrings staring back at her. Satisfied, she retied the bow, set the box on the table, and picked up a box wrapped with black ribbon. To her relief, the pewter paw tie tacks were in there, as well. Good. The favors were even cuter than she had remembered.
Fiona’s gaze flicked to the service dogs from a rescue organization. They sat at attention, eyes watchful and warm. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the plates of food in the dining room. People were gathered around the food, scooping crab cakes and chicken skewers onto their plates.
Convinced that everything was more than in order, she surveyed further, walking into a more casual family space with an entertainment bar and Palladian windows overlooking the pool and grounds.
No detail had been missed thanks to the highly efficient catering staff she’d hired and Adelaide had overseen. Smiling faintly, Fiona peered outside at the twinkling doghouse situated just beyond the luxurious in-ground pool. The doghouse was a scale replica of the Reynaud mansion, and it was going to the shelter after tonight. But for now, it lit the grounds and housed hand-painted water bowls for the shelter dogs. Four of the shelter dogs walked around the pool, enjoying all the attention and affection from the guests.
People were spread out. Laughter floated on the breeze, and so did snippets of conversation. A small Jack Russell terrier was lazily stretched on Mrs. Daniza’s lap.