A faint stream of French words came through the speakers before her mother spoke. “I think you owe me more than lunch for putting up with this French tyrant.” Her mouth moved away from the receiver. “Yes, yes, I hear you, Marie Antoinette! And your chocolate chip crepes are coming!” She lowered her voice. “Along with a little arsenic.”
Olivia laughed. “Hang tough, Mother. She’ll be gone by this afternoon.”
After ending the call, Olivia concentrated on taking the fastest route to work. But due to heavy traffic and a missed turn caused by admiring the haircut of the woman in the car next to her, she still arrived late.
French Kiss’s corporate headquarters were located in a high-rise office building just a block away from the flagship store on Union Square. Michael had spared no expense in remodeling the historic building. While the outside kept its Gothic look, the inside had been totally gutted and refurbished, using plenty of French Kiss’s trademark colors—lavender and silver. The lavish decor of the lobby included purple variegated marble floors, plush furniture upholstered in gray and purple velvet, and a huge crystal chandelier hanging over the receptionist’s desk.
The corporate office employed both men and women, but front desk receptionists were always attractive women who wore business attire and lavender high heels. The high heels had been Michael’s idea, and he’d expected every female employee to wear them. The men were to wear suits and lavender ties.
Olivia waved a greeting to the receptionist on her way to the elevators. Her office was located on the top executive floor in the corner opposite Michael’s. Before his stroke she had always started her day in his suite. Over coffee and pastry, they would discuss new designs and marketing plans, or laugh over something her mother had said or done. But those days were gone. And had been gone since the morning she’d discovered him slumped in his chair, unable to move the right side of his body. She had hoped that with rehabilitation he would recover. But the second stroke had removed that hope. And the final one had taken Michael’s life.
The hard punch of grief came from nowhere, and needing to find some remnant of his presence, she bypassed the empty secretary’s desk and pushed open the door of his office. The scent of espresso and his expensive cologne was still there, as were the photographs of Olivia and her mother on his desk and the paintings of Paris on the walls.
Michael had loved Paris, and Olivia had never understood why he hadn’t located the corporate offices there. Especially when the idea for the company had come from a small Paris lingerie shop. She had asked him once, and he’d simply said, “Paris is in my past.” Since he had never liked to talk about his past, she’d left it at that.
“Oh, it’s you.”
The clipped tone had her turning to the doorway.
Anastasia Bradley was the vice-president of marketing and an organized, punctual overachiever who would never be distracted by a hummingbird, a naked neighbor, or a hot manly Beaumont brother. While the rest of the executive board treated Olivia like an annoying relative of Michael’s whom they had to put up with, Ana treated her like the village idiot.
“So nice of you to join us, Miss Harrington.” She repositioned the box she carried and glanced at her watch. “Let me guess, you missed the trolley or traffic was bad?”
“As a matter of fact…” She let the words trail off when Ana carried the box to the desk and started unpacking it. “What are you doing?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious. I’m moving into Michael’s office.”
“By whose authority?”
Anastasia turned and sent her a wicked-witch smile. “Imagine the board’s surprise when we learned that Michael hadn’t left you the company after all. Instead he gave it to his nephews. Nephews who will more than likely sell first chance they get. But until they do, I think I have just as much right to this office as anyone. Especially since you already have a big office.”
Olivia wanted to take the contracts out of her briefcase and wave them in front of Ana’s broad nose along with a big nanny-nanny-boo-boo. Two things stopped her: The will had yet to be probated. And, bitch or not, Ana was good at her job. If Olivia was going to keep French Kiss from going bankrupt, she needed all the help she could get.
“Fine,” she said, “you may use the office for now.” She tipped up her chin and swept from the room, then almost ran over Parker in the hallway. He was as meticulously groomed as he always was. Shoes polished, suit pressed, purple tie perfectly knotted in a Windsor, and not one blond-highlighted hair out of place. But what Olivia noticed more than anything was his clean-shaven face. Probably because she’d spent the entire weekend thinking about a bearded one.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer one of my texts or messages.”
“I’m sorry. My phone broke.”
“And you couldn’t have used another phone and called me?”
She had thought about it, but then hadn’t wanted a Louisiana area code showing up on his cell phone. Which was weird. If she was dating Parker, she should trust him—and know a little more about him.
“Do you have a dog?” she asked. His mouth opened in mute surprise, drawing Olivia’s gaze to his jaw. It was not just clean-shaven but baby-smooth, and she had to wonder if he could even grow a beard.
“No,” he said. “I don’t have a dog.”
“A sister or brother? And are your parents alive?”
He looked confused. “Are you okay? Did the doctor prescribe tranquilizers after Michael died?”
She shook her head. “No, I was curious. We don’t get to talk much about our life outside of work.”
“Because we don’t have a life outside of work, and I thought that we were both quite happy with that.”
“Right.” She backed away. “I’ll call you later.”
Before she headed to her office, Olivia dropped the contracts by to Jason Melvin. Jason was a young company lawyer who, unlike Parker, always looked like a wrinkled mess. His hair needed a cut, his shirt an iron, and his pants an extra inch of length. Not to mention that his purple ties always had some sort of stain on them. And yet Olivia trusted him more than anyone in the company. Probably because he had chosen loyalty over confidentiality. He was the one who had alerted her about Michael’s will. The one who had helped her write up the contract to buy back French Kiss.
As soon as she stepped into his office, he dropped the jelly doughnut he’d been eating and jumped to his feet. “So did they sign?” Before she could answer, he continued. “Of course, why wouldn’t they? That’s a lot of money.”
She set her briefcase on the desk and opened it. “It wasn’t as easy as I thought. Deacon Beaumont gave me a little trouble.” She handed him the contracts. “Have you heard anything from your snitch at Michael’s law firm?”
“They found the Beaumonts. And with the ironclad will Michael set up, it shouldn’t take any time at all for you to get their shares. I’m thinking that by this time next week, you’ll be the new CEO. Won’t that surprise the board?”
“I don’t know about that. Someone already leaked the information about the will to Anastasia.”