Page 5 of Signed, Sealed, Married

‘I want to get a feel for the company. Since it’s a family enterprise, learning about you will give me a better picture.’

Gisèle repressed a frown. That didn’t make sense. She worked hard for the House of Fontaine, but it had been going for generations before she was born. And while she managed an increasingly important section, he must already have sufficient overview.

Adam Wilde watched her as he devoured his scallops. He ate neatly but with a gusto that emphasised he was a big man in his prime.

Not that that had anything to do with their negotiations. But her consciousness of him as a man interfered with her attempts to treat him with impersonal professionalism.

‘My brother—’

‘I’m interested in your family but your brother can speak for himself.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Tell me aboutyou.’

He scrutinised her so closely.

She was used to being in the public eye and had learned people saw what they expected to see. This man, on the other hand, seemed intent on digging below the surface. As if it really mattered to him what she was like.

She hid an unladylike snort with a cough and reached for her sparkling water. He was amusing himself while he ate.

That he’d choose her as his entertainment rankled. Yet pride couldn’t interfere with this deal. So she’d stick to generalities. She wouldn’t share anything personal with a man who made her so edgy.

‘I was born in Paris. My father worked for the company there.’

‘And your mother?’

‘She was a model, an American visiting France on vacation after college.’

‘That’s when she met your father and stayed.’

He clearly knew the story. It was well known, or at least some version of it. People were always eager for details about her tragic father and stupendously beautiful mother. The pair had been glamorous and gorgeous, seen in all the right places with the rich and famous who patronised Fontaine’s.

These days the press had to settle for concocting stories about Gisèle and Julien, inventing comparisons between them and their famous parents.

Gisèle took her time, eating another mouthful of the tart that smelt delicious yet tasted like cardboard because she was so tense.

‘My father chose her to model in a company promotion and they fell in love so, yes, she stayed. The campaign was an enormous success.’

Her mother had been Fontaine’s most popular model, still working on company campaigns after Julien and then Gisèle were born. Before her husband died in a ball of flame in front of the TV cameras at a famous car rally. Before she left her children with theirgrandpèrewhile she searched for someone to fill the gaping hole Gisèle’s father had left in her life.

Her relationships with a series of high-profile, extraordinarily wealthy and ultimately uncaring men had provided unending fodder for the media. As had her unexpected death from pneumonia that the press still speculated about.

Gisèle refused to discuss that.

‘I grew up in Paris, spending summers in the south.’ She glanced up to find Wilde leaning back, his tall frame relaxed but gaze intent. She hurried on. ‘The Fontaines were originally farmers but branched into perfume making and then cosmetics. Our main production facility is in the south of France. I’d be down for the lavender harvest, the roses and jasmine. Grandpère taught me about distilling, when essences were taken from the flowers to blend into our signature fragrances.’

Gisèle had been fascinated, and especially by the Nose—the highly talented perfume maker, incredibly attuned to scent—working in his mixing room, devising new fragrance combinations.

‘You sound very enthusiastic about it.’

He looked surprised. Why? Had he thought she’d been forced to work in the company?

She remembered his comment about her being eager to be rid of it. Perhaps he thought her job a sinecure. That she was on the payroll as part of the family. Not because she contributed anything useful. The assumption rankled.

But she had too much pride to set him straight. Besides, what did it matter? Soon she’d be looking for work elsewhere. He wouldn’t let her and Julien remain. He’d have his own team lined up to manage the firm.

Safer to talk about the company. ‘It’s fascinating, the magic of blending.’

‘Magic?’

Both eyebrows slanted up in disbelief. Perhaps he thought she was romanticising to get a better deal for the company. As if that were possible!

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