Twenty-One Nights in Paris: Chapter 9

‘I don’t understand all this,’ Livia began, but she was interrupted by the arrival of a tower of cakes and biscuits, along with four bowls, each with a single madeleine in cold milk.

Sacha couldn’t help but smile at the ingenious menu item, but, given the pinched expression on Livia’s face, he didn’t imagine she would be interested in an explanation of Proust’s evocation of childhood memories.

She touched the spoon as little as possible, as though suspecting it could be dirty. Her lips pursed as she chewed. ‘Quite… simple.’

‘That’s the intention,’ he responded, but no one appeared to be listening.

Ren reached for a biscuit, but Ziggy’s hand shot out and stilled her. ‘The madeleine will do. I can’t imagine you’ve had much exercise in the past few days.’

Sacha froze, watching this exchange with consternation.

‘No, but…’ Ren sighed heavily and didn’t bother finishing the sentence. He couldn’t let it stand. He didn’t want to cause trouble, but wasn’t he supposed to be an inappropriate boyfriend anyway?

He took a viennois biscuit, dipped it in Ren’s tea and held it out to her, ignoring the disapproving look that Livia delivered with such vigour. ‘Mon chou, have one.’ When Ren just stared at him, he lifted the biscuit to her mouth, holding his hand underneath. She blinked in shock and Ziggy tittered with disbelief. ‘Open,’ he demanded. With a whisper of breath, she opened her mouth and took a bite of the pâtisserie.

‘Oh, my God…’ she groaned, quickly covering her mouth when Livia and Ziggy – and a stiff-looking couple at the next table – eyed her. ‘Give me some more,’ she murmured. The shortbread biscuit dipped in dark chocolate was the handiwork of one of the finest pâtissiers in France, so Sacha should have expected this reaction.

When Ziggy pointedly took a biscuit with the silver tongs, rather than her fingers, he realised the full extent of his faux pas. But he straightened his shoulders, dunked the biscuit again and offered her another bite.

Her eyes lit with amusement as she chewed slowly and appreciatively. She took the remains of the biscuit from him, her hand lingering on his. ‘Thank you… darling.’ He just managed to swallow a snort of laughter.

‘I can’t imagine how the two of you met,’ Ziggy said as she failed spectacularly to eat any of her marble cake with chocolate glaze. ‘Was it at the office? Are you a porter?’

‘I’m not a porter.’

‘How you meet?’ Livia demanded.

Ren had a terrible poker face as she chewed and tried to think of what to say. ‘It’s quite funny, actually,’ she said. ‘I knocked him off his bike.’

‘You ride a motorbike?’ Livia cried.

‘No, no,’ Sacha reassured her. ‘It’s a bicycle.’

‘A… bicycle,’ she repeated, as though she’d never heard the word before.

‘Oui. I don’t own a car.’

‘You don’t…’

Rather than allow her grandmother to dumbly repeat everything Sacha said, Ren rushed on with the explanation. ‘I was opening the car door and… Sacha crashed into it – into my life.’ He groaned inwardly at her attempt to make it sound romantic.

‘After that, she took me to the hospital to check… and then… we had a drink together and she took me… home.’

Livia choked. ‘She took you home?’

‘I mean, I—’ Ren gave him an urgent look and it slowly dawned on him that he’d implied something very different to what he’d intended.

‘She me home. To my home,’ he explained.

Livia’s pallor looked increasingly alarming. ‘You stayed at his ? A stranger you’d just met?’

‘Um,’ Ren said helplessly.

‘No, Bilel drove me home and then Ren left again, without staying.’ He held his breath, waiting for Livia’s reaction.

‘And then what?’

‘Sacha found something of mine that I’d dropped and returned it here the next day. That was when we decided to…’

‘Date,’ he said, his voice clipped. ‘We decided to date. We had dinner together.’

‘Here, at the Ritz?’

That didn’t sound plausible. ‘Euh, no. There is a bistro I know – a nice place – in the Marais, near the Place des Vosges.’ Every word he said seemed to take Ren’s grandmother’s blood pressure up a notch.

‘Ren, your ! Was this at night? What do I always say?’

‘Safety is non-negotiable,’ she mumbled, as though she’d said the words many times. ‘I was safe with Sacha. I safe with Sacha.’ He bit his tongue before mentioning that she was just as likely to be mugged around the Place Vendôme as anywhere else. Where there were rich pickings… ‘I never expected to meet someone… like this. It all happened very quickly, by chance. You know, like it was meant to be.’ That sounded a little far-fetched. He tapped her foot with his in warning, but she eyed him. ‘What? Do you want them to think our relationship is just casual?’

He coughed, glad he hadn’t touched the champagne, or he would have spat it across the room. ‘Dating,’ he ground out. ‘Casual .’

‘We’re very happy, anyway,’ Ren said, patting his hand. ‘And I couldn’t possibly be parted from Sacha right now.’ He unclenched his jaw with difficulty. If he’d known she was such a terrible actress, he might not have agreed to this, but he suspected saying ‘no’ to Ren would be a challenge.

‘What did you find?’ Livia asked with a narrow gaze. ‘What did Ren lose that you found?’

‘One of my earrings,’ Ren saved him. ‘The diamond ones.’

‘What were you doing wearing the earrings Charlie gave you in an unsavoury part of Paris?’

‘It wasn’t an unsavoury part!’

‘You expect me to believe was loitering in the Place Vendôme? Come to think of it, are you sure that’s not what he was doing?’

‘The important thing is, she’s all right, now,’ Ziggy said calmly. ‘We can work out what there is to be done to sort out this mess.’ She produced a tablet as though it were an extra limb. ‘We’ve created a schedule of posts and events that send the subtle message that life goes on without a Routledge-Asquith-Lewis marriage—’

‘But what about—’ Livia gestured curtly between Sacha and Ren.

Ziggy cleared her throat and eyeballed Livia meaningfully. ‘Could we discuss something briefly? In private? Do excuse us,’ she said to the two supposed lovebirds.

‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ Ren said in a rush after Ziggy and her grandmother had disappeared out of the doorway. ‘They don’t believe us.’

‘They do believe us. They just believe we’re having casual sex,’ he muttered.

‘Why didn’t you back me up when I tried to make it a love story?’

‘Because nobody would believe . There’s no “meant to be”, at least not for us!’

‘Someone’s not a romantic. And now she believes I’m using you for sex.’

‘She thinks using – for something worse.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes, she had a strange look on her face. ‘And you find this funny,’ he accused her.

‘It is kind of like in reverse.’

‘Except I’m not a prostitute,’ he muttered, lifting the tiny glass of water to his lips.

‘No, but you are a pretty man.’

He nearly spat the water. Swallowing with difficulty, he coughed and eyed her dubiously.

‘It’s a compliment,’ she said with one of her smiles.

‘Is it? I’m wearing jeans in the Ritz. How can I believe you’re serious?’

‘Sorry. I’m teasing you because it makes you smile and it’s cute.’ He eyed her. ‘It wouldn’t kill you to smile more.’

She should know how perilous smiles could be. Hers had landed him in this absurd situation. ‘I don’t think smiling would make your grandmother believe we’re in love. That’s what you need me for, right?’

‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘And I don’t think casual lovers will cut it. It’s so out of character for me, she’ll be even more convinced I’m upset about Charlie and need saving from myself.’

‘What do you suggest we do? We aren’t very good actors.’

‘I’ll think of something. We’ve got all of afternoon tea to get through.’ He groaned. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t run away screaming. My life is… complicated.’

‘I promised I would not go anywhere. But this plan might not work, and you’ll have to tell her the truth anyway.’

‘The truth? Which part? That I’m a disappointing granddaughter who can’t step up when the company needs her? To be honest, I think Grandmama knows that already.’

‘Surely, if you explain you are too fragile to come out in public, now, she will respect that.’

‘Ohhhh, no,’ Ren said, her eyes wide. ‘One whiff of weakness and Grandmama doubles down. Our company… we trade on image. That’s my job. I post photos of myself on the Internet wearing Louis Versace to make it look like the company is more than just a glorified version of eBay.’ She grimaced. ‘Eek, don’t tell anyone I said that!’

‘No one cares what I think of Asquith-Lewis.’ She looked for a moment as though she would disagree.

‘I don’t know why I dragged you into this. They’re being rude and I… I should have expected that. I didn’t think it through. You can go if you want. I won’t blame you. I might envy you!’

‘One afternoon is not going to hurt me.’ Sacha took Ren’s hands, brushing his finger over her left ring finger.

‘I bet we look like a real couple, now,’ she commented, turning her hands over to grasp his.

‘Try not to worry. Logically, she would never suspect that we’re pretending.’

‘This the stupidest idea ever,’ she agreed with a sigh. A sound made her look over her shoulder. ‘They’re coming back,’ she whispered in sudden panic. ‘Quick!’ Before he realised what she intended, she planted her lips on his.

It was a terrible kiss: stiff and jerky and clumsy. It must have been obvious they’d never kissed before. He pulled away, ignoring her look of dismay.

‘We should at least do it right,’ he whispered, grasping her face with both hands. Swallowing his final reservations, he tilted his head and swept her mouth into a real kiss.

Then he promptly forgot where he was.