Page 1 of Cruel Expectations

Chapter One

Ivy thanked the food vendor in the French accent she’d spent months perfecting and accepted her favorite sausage wrapped in a crepe. The rich scent of spices wafted from the food as she brought it to her lips.

She inwardly groaned at the first bite. No amount of home cooking back in Montana could top good French street food. Or any food in Europe, for that matter. In the more than half a year that she’d been wandering the continent, she learned all the best spots.

Moving down the cobbled street to the light throb of French pop music coming from a local shop, she ate her food and drank in her surroundings.

As she passed a stall selling beautiful flowers, the vendor plucked one from a metal pail and held it out for her.

She laughed and shook her head, telling him she had no place to put a flower to keep it alive.

He stepped up to her, dark eyes glinting with a smile. He stuck it in his teeth, making her laugh again. Then he broke off the stem and reached for her.

Ivy stilled, the food in her hand forgotten. As he tucked the pink bloom behind her ear, she wasn’t afraid. During her time in France, she’d learned which people were safe and which ones to avoid. This harmless young man was all show.

He let a tendril of her hair fall from his fingertips and stepped back to lean against his wooden stall again, clutching his heart as if she’d robbed him of it.

“Merci!” she called to him and continued making her way down the street.

Her travels were filled with stories just like this. Since she was traveling alone, with no one to share her adventures with, she’d started a video blog.

Lifting her phone, she swiped her screen to start a video recording. When she saw her face onscreen, her pink cheeks matched the flower the flirtatious man had tucked behind her ear.

“Day two hundred seventy, friends. Today I’m in a tiny village in the South of France. Behind me you can see the quaint street and shops lining it. The food scene”—she lifted the sausage crepe in her hand to show it to her vlog viewers—“is amazing.” She took a bite. The delicious fats of the meat and spices burst on her taste buds. “Mmm!”

Chewing for a moment, she videoed her surroundings, panning to the sign of a chocolate shop settled beside a place that sold bed linens. “If you’re thinking of visiting this region, I highly recommend staying at the small hotel where I’m staying. Not only do they have the most comfortable beds that feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud, but the people are so hospitable and welcoming.”

Ivy rambled on for a few more moments before uploading the video to her social media. When she took off for Europe, vlogging her adventures on social media had never entered her mind.

Her only thought had been to escape the gutting pain after her brother was killed in action.

She’d spent so much time alone, there was no escaping her emotions. It took almost every day of her two hundred seventy to work through Forest’s loss, but she never thought it would bring the death of her mother—many years prior—bobbing to the surface as well.

Too many hard losses in the Gracey family. Out of five members, only three of them were left standing. And she hadn’t set eyes on her sister or father for so long.

She reached the end of the street and turned just past a vendor selling bright red, vine-ripened tomatoes and dark purple eggplants, and started toward her hotel. The stone structure had a lot of history that she meant to share with her viewers throughout her stay.

When she reached the front lobby, the woman waved her over. While her grasp of the French language had improved drastically, she still trusted her English more for business.

“Bonjour, Miss Gracey.” The woman offered a smile.

“Bonjour.”

“Will you take a moment to settle the bill for your stay the past few nights?”

Ivy blinked at her. “I gave you my credit card upon arrival.”

The woman compressed her lips and lowered her gaze almost in embarrassment. “I’m afraid the charge was declined.”

Declined? That wasn’t possible—it was her father’s card he’d given it to her. Up until this point, she’d never had an issue with it.

“Just a moment.” She unzipped her purse that hung on a long strap across her body and took out the card. As she slid it across the desk to the clerk, she offered her another smile, hoping it didn’t mirror the nerves suddenly pinging around inside her.

“Please try the card again.”

But after another two tries, it was still declined.

She dug out another card. “Try this one.”

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