Page 31 of Signed, Sealed, Married

No matter what, she couldn’t let him see her like that.

‘Sorry, Julien, I have to go. We’ll talk later. I’m still getting dressed and I’m going to be late.’

‘What is it this time? Wilde can’t have meetingsnow. He has to give you some time off.’

Despite the press’s breathless reporting of a supposed affair between her and the Australian, Julien was still convinced their relationship was purely business.

‘Actually,’ she hesitated, ‘it’s not work. It’s a party. With film people on the coast for the Cannes Festival.’

The silence on the other end of the line seemed to echo with her brother’s shock.

Gisèle was about to say it was an excellent opportunity to raise the company’s profile, then pressed her lips together. He needed to think it was a real date.

‘I see,’ he said eventually and, for the first time she could remember, Gisèle couldn’t read her brother’s tone.

‘We’ll talk later,’ she assured him. ‘I have to go.’

She ended the call and sank onto the bed, boneless. She had no one she could turn to, no one to discuss this with. All she could do was try to hold it all together. The business, the charade, and most importantly never letting Adam Wilde suspect her weakness for him.

Easy!

Gisèle’s laugh had an out-of-control edge. She’d never felt so out of her depth.

‘So it’s true. You and the ice lady are an item.’

Adam turned to find his host beside him.

When they’d met a year ago he’d thought Blake, if not a kindred spirit, at least a man he’d consider doing business with. They’d made their billions in similar fields and though competitors in many markets, there could be benefits in a few cooperative ventures.

Now he knew he’d been mistaken.

‘Ice lady?’ His lethally soft tone had been known to make CEOs quake in their shoes.

Blake made a placating gesture. But his expression showed his delight at Adam’s reaction.

Emotion of any sort was a weakness in the world of high stakes corporate transactions. Maybe that was why Blake’s relationships were even more short-lived than Adam’s. More like a revolving door. The man had come to Cannes in the company of a beautiful Colombian actress, but he’d spent the evening panting after a Norwegian star whose film had received a standing ovation at the festival.

‘Sorry, did I get that wrong? That’s right. It’s IceQueen, isn’t it?’ His smile widened salaciously. ‘But I’m sure the lovely Gisèle melts for you. I bet she’s really something when she does.’

If he’d been anywhere else than at a party with Gisèle, who’d fortunately left his side to talk to an acquaintance, Adam would have grabbed the guy by the throat and shaken that smarmy smile off his face. Host or no host.

Acid filled his belly as Blake said Gisèle’s name in that snide, knowing voice.

‘If you’re talking about Ms Fontaine, I recommend you keep your thoughts to yourself.’

He wanted to teach the guy a sharp lesson in respect. But he controlled himself. Not because he’d decided to prove to the world that he was no longer the brash, uncouth outsider many thought. But because he’d brought Gisèle to this party and wouldn’t have her name sullied by association with violence.

Blake moved closer, raising his glass in salute. ‘She’s tamed you? I thought when you acquired Fontaine’s you’d beaten us all to a prize. Now I wonder if you’ve met your match. I never thought I’d see the day.’

Adam couldn’t be bothered prolonging this conversation. The evening had turned sour. But he couldn’t see Gisèle. Where was she? The party had already been in full swing when they arrived, guests’ inhibitions disappearing fast.

Blake wouldn’t be the only man attracted to Gisèle. Could she fend off drunken advances if she needed to?

Adam’s fists clenched and his muscles tightened as he scanned the mansion’s grounds. There were shadows everywhere. If she were in trouble...

‘Maybe it’s not really attraction,’ Blake continued. ‘Maybe it’s the novelty of a change from the sexy women you usually date. She dresses so soberly. Like a school mistress.’ His tone was avid. ‘Or a nun.’

Adam saw Gisèle over his host’s shoulder, crossing the terrace towards them.

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