Page 52 of The Paris Trip

‘What he needs to do is kick your backside around this bar and out into the street,’ Liselle snarled. ‘You could have materially damaged Leo’s public profile with that photo.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Jean jerked back in his seat a little too violently. The chair fell backwards and his cousin disappeared below the tablecloth.

Leo half-rose and leant over, watching with a frown as Jean struggled to get back up. ‘You okay there? You need a hand?’

‘No, I’m fine.’ Flushed with embarrassment, Jean set the seat upright and sat down again, though with marked care this time. ‘The thing is, people have been talking about you, Leo. Saying you’re washed up. That you haven’t had a real exhibition in years.’ He glanced angrily at Liselle. ‘I did him a favour, selling that photo to the press. Now everyone’s talking about him again. And that exhibition you’ve got lined up? You watch, it’ll be a big success now.’

Leo regarded him coldly. He couldn’t deny that what Jean said was true. Notoriety did publicise an artistic exhibition more than good behaviour. But his temper wasn’t lessened. ‘Maybe so. But Maeve didn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. They put her name on that press report.’

Jean shrugged. ‘So?’

‘There may be people back home in the United Kingdom who’ll see that. As you said, it’s doing the rounds on social media. She works as a teacher. Did you never think that photo might be damaging to her career? Being seen with someone like me? I’m hardly respectable, am I?’

‘Ha, nobody cares about that kind of thing anymore.’ Jean dismissed his criticism with a rude gesture. ‘She’s more likely to be promoted.’

‘Nonsense,’ Leo said flatly. ‘And what if she has a boyfriend back home? What’s he going to think when he sees that?’

Jean lowered his gaze to the table. ‘Okay, I get your point.’ He hesitated. ‘Though Maeve doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who has a boyfriend, if you see what I mean.’

‘Actually, I don’t.’ There was a dangerous note in Leo’s voice.

The waiter arrived with their order. Liselle accepted her cognac from the waiter, her gaze fixed on Jean’s averted face.

‘The real point, Jean,’ she said, ‘is that you worked against the family by putting out that photograph and making it look as though Leo and Maeve are having a relationship. Not only against the family, but me too.’ Fury flashed in her eyes. ‘That wasn’t very friendly, was it?’

Jean said nothing.

‘Now we have to decide what to do about it,’ Liselle went on.

‘There’s no we. I shall decide,’ Leo told her.

Jean gave a burst of disbelieving laughter. ‘You can’t sack me, Leo. Your grandmother would never allow it.’ His look was almost gloating, for it was true that Grandmère had a soft spot for Jean.

‘My grandmother doesn’t run the business,’ Leo pointed out softly, ‘I do. And while, yes, she may favour you as her brother’s only son, that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy when she sees that photograph you took. You know how highly she prizes the Rémy family name. In fact,’ he added deliberately, ‘I’ll be surprised if she ever wants to talk to you again after this.’

His cousin was looking troubled now. He shifted uncomfortably, taking a deep gulp of his cognac. ‘All right, yeah, let’s say it was a mistake. But you can’t blame me. I was angry because you’d spoken to me so sharply. I… I wasn’t thinking straight. But you can’t sack me for it, Leo.’ He leant forward, bitter desperation in his face, ‘What would I do? How would I live?’

‘You should have thought of that before you sold my private life to the press.’

There was a stir behind him. Leo saw people’s heads turn towards the door. Liselle choked on her cognac. Jean stared over Leo’s shoulder, his eyes widening, a look of sudden trepidation on his face.

Before he could turn to see what was happening, a familiar voice called across the bar café, ‘Leo, my son!’ It was his father’s voice, deep and authoritative. ‘Just the man I came to see. Come, let me shake the hand of one of Paris's most infamous artists... How long has it been, eh?’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jerking to his feet, his skin cold, heart thudding violently, Leo spun to glare at his father. He had intended to say something cold and cutting, to put his long-absent father back in his place. But a hand had already reached out to grab him, and he found himself being hugged and kissed ferociously.

Sébastien Rémy took a step back to study him, with a shout of amusement. ‘I think you’ve grown, boy… My God, yes, you’ve grown. But what happened to the beard? I’ve been telling Chanelle here about this mad artist son of mine with his long hair and beard and his Bohemian ways… And now look at you. You could be any idiot in an office job.’ He shook his head in mock disapproval. ‘Where’s my wild, handsome Leo gone, eh? What have you done with him?’

Without waiting for an answer, which was just as well, as Leo had been knocked speechless by this extravagant entrance, his father squeezed him tight again, still laughing, before moving to grip Jean’s hand and kiss his cousin on the cheek too.

‘Jean, my friend… You look well. And this is your place now? Ah now, that’s a shrewd business move. I like it… ’ He clapped Jean on the shoulder so violently that Jean staggered, spilling his drink. ‘But not as much as I’d like some of what you’re drinking. What is that you’re throwing about the place? Cognac? Excellent choice, my boy. But let’s open a bottle or two of champagne. We have something to celebrate… ’ Sébastien Rémy turned, indicating the beautiful young woman who had trailed in behind him, wearing a tailored, open-necked white blouse with baggy green culottes and a gold sash knotted about her waist. ‘This is my new wife, Chanelle. Isn’t she the most gorgeous piece of ass you’ve ever seen?’

‘For God’s sake, Dad,’ Leo ground out furiously, ‘keep it down, would you?’

Everybody was staring eagerly at them, listening to every word. Some of the customers were even filming on their phones or taking photographs. None of that seemed to have deterred his father from making a public spectacle of himself.

To his surprise, Leo felt sorry for the young woman, who was smiling in a slick, professional way – she was a model, after all, and no doubt used to being the centre of attention – but with her hands clasped before her chest, indicating anxiety, perhaps? The gossip column piece had said she was carrying a child. That could also account for the strain he thought he could detect in her face, especially as Sébastien made a point of guiding her forward to be introduced to them.

---