Chasing Heartbreak (Dark Love #6) - Kat T. Masen Page 0,6

of me. People are pursuing the streets dressed like runway models to the events I attend with no end of couture in sight. Women in Paris aren’t afraid of fashion, especially the older generation. They stay in the decade, confident and fearless with their fashion choices. I’ve become bolder with some of my latest ensembles. With my rigorous exercise routine and healthy eating, I finally have the body I’ve always dreamed of without the plastic surgery society pressures women into. It gives me the confidence to wear things outside of my typical attire, and I never expected to be so in love with fashion in general.

But perhaps my greatest joy isn’t the fashion, nor my new body. It’s becoming a local and finally feeling like this could be home, immersing myself into life as a Parisian. I was forced to learn French, given it’s the native tongue of almost all of my employees. While I still prefer to speak English, I know enough to have a simple conversation.

My love affair with Paris runs deep, and one I can talk about for hours. Eric and Charlie are very vocal in expressing their jealousy on almost every phone call we have.

As I sit in a local café enjoying this lazy Sunday morning which is a rare occurrence of late, my phone begins to ring in my pocket. Pulling it out to answer, I mouth ‘thank you’ to the waiter who serves my coffee along with a pastry I’ve been eager to try. I call it Sunday’s guilty pleasure.

“Hello, Lex,” I greet, noting the time back in Los Angeles. “It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“I thought I’d try to catch you at a reasonable time,” Lex strains, his voice stiff and unwelcoming.

“I was just served a triple shot of coffee, so shoot.”

“We have a problem with Jefferson. I’ve had my suspicions, but we’re talking big concerns.”

I cross my legs, paying attention. “Please don’t tell me we’re talking insider trading?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I let out a long-winded breath, also suspecting something of late. A few weeks ago, when things surfaced, I’d done a little digging but didn’t have anything concrete to hold him accountable.

“We’ve invested too much money to have it fall apart now,” I express, firmly. “This could be disastrous.”

“You’re telling me,” he almost grits. “I’ve got legal on this and need you to be on standby this week. I know you are flying back to London on Thursday, but you may need to fly to Geneva to sort this out.”

“Of course,” I tell him, making a mental list of what I need to do. “I’ll rearrange and shift some projects to make sure we don’t fall behind on anything.”

“Thank you. Fucking asshole.”

“Listen, Lex, it’s just after midnight for you. Get some sleep, and when you’re back in the office on Monday, I’ll have a contingency plan drawn up.”

“Sleep?” His soft laugh echoes through the phone. “What’s that foreign concept?”

“Charlie told me Addison has been a terror of late. Climbing into your bed in the middle of the night.”

“There’s nothing more terrifying than waking up in the middle of the night with your child standing next to you, just staring.”

I laugh at the thought. “I guess those horror movies have worked against you. I’m sorry to hear it. Hopefully, she’ll outgrow it soon.”

“Either that or we’re adopting her out… how about you take her?” he jokes half-heartedly.

“Hey, I’m good for short-time babysitting. You know my stance on having kids.”

We say goodbye but not before Lex unloads other concerns that need my attention. It isn’t unusual for him to contact me at all hours, or more specifically—the weekend. Together, we’re a well-oiled machine. Despite his attempt to slow down, Lex is and will always be a workaholic.

The European market is entirely different than back in the States. More money to play with, therefore, more greedy assholes trying to fuck us over.

I finish my coffee and chouquette, then decide to take the more extended route home to clear my head before heading into the office despite it being Sunday.

Five hours later, I’ve drunk way too much caffeine and completely missed eating lunch. My nerves have become jittery, but I manage to get things sorted so Lex can breathe easier. When I look at the clock, I notice the time and reminder on my phone.

Reminder: Blind Date—Gustave.

I let out a frustrated groan, cursing at myself as to why I agreed to this in the first place. Just when I think of an excuse to bail, my phone rings,