Transformed Into The Frenchman’s Mistress

Eight

By the time they made it through London and Paris, Charlotte felt like a spoiled princess. She’d given up arguing with Alec about money. She even gave up trying to pay for her own clothes. He’d simply worn her down.

But now they were back in Provence. One of Alec’s drivers had delivered the Lamborghini to the airport. So they’d stowed the luggage in the limo with Raine and Kiefer and were speeding under the streetlights, top down, along the highway with jazz pouring out of the sound system. She’d dressed casually for the trip, in a new pair of designer jeans and a cropped, peach tank top with flat lace insets.

Alec was a steady, confident driver. And as their speed increased, she kicked off her sandals and tipped her head back, letting the cool wind flow over her skin.

“Almost home,” said Alec, shifting out of Sixth as the turnoff to Château Montcalm came into view.

She tried to formulate the right sentiment. She watched Alec’s profile as the aspen and oak trees flashed by.

“What?” He glanced over.

Straightforward seemed like the best choice. “I had a really great time, Alec.”

He grinned. “Me, too.”

Their gazes caught and held.

“Thank you,” she told him sincerely.

“Anytime,” he breathed, turning his attention back to the road, slowing down further as the château’s driveway loomed.

Charlotte let out a sigh, sliding her feet back into her sandals. As the headlights caught the semitrailers, the scarred lawn and the open-air buffet tables that provided craft services to the crew during the day, she tried to smooth her hair into some sort of order. But she quickly gave up. And when Alec brought the convertible to a halt at the front door, she decided a shower would be first on her list. She might as well get rid of the dust along with the tangles.

Alec swung around to open her door, and Charlotte came to her feet, stretching out her neck and back after the long journey. The film set was quiet as they crossed to the front door, with just a few grips, production assistants and security guards putting things in place for the morning.

Alec pushed open the wide door, and the quiet of the yard disappeared. Chitchat and music wafted out from the great room. Several people laughed, while Lars’s unmistakable voice proposed a toast to Isabella.

Charlotte’s stomach clenched in alarm. The Hudsons wouldn’t, they would not hold a party in Alec’s château while he was away. She cautiously glanced up at him. His mouth was set in a firm line, and before she could even register the anger in his eyes, he was marching toward the archway leading to the great room.

Though Charlotte dreaded what she’d find, she felt compelled to follow along.

“Monsieur Montcalm?” Henri hustled out from the hallway to ambush Alec.

“Not now, Henri,” Alec growled, brushing past.

“But, monsieur.”

“Save it.” Alec kept walking. It was the first time she’d ever heard him utter a sharp word to a member of his staff, certainly not to Henri.

“Madame Lillian Hudson arrived this afternoon.”

Alec didn’t react, but Charlotte certainly did. Lillian was here? Her grandmother had shown up on the set?

“Given her age and illness,” Henri stressed, striding along beside Alec, “I thought it wise to invite her to stay in the château.”

Alec’s steps faltered.

“I was certain, were you here, you would insist,” said Henri, a wealth of meaning in his tone.

“She’s ill?” Alec asked, a muscle twitching near his left eye.

“She has cancer,” Charlotte supplied in a pained voice. They’d done it. Her family had actually thrown a party in Alec’s home.

“I put her in the Bombay room with her son, Markus, next door. The rest of the family is with Jack at the hotel.”

Alec’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte whispered.

Alec glanced at her, but said nothing.

Henri’s voice went to an undertone. “Dinner tonight is to welcome Lillian to Provence.”

Alec was silent a second longer. But then he gave a sharp nod. “Thank you, Henri.”

Henri nodded in return. “Of course, monsieur.”

Then Alec held out his arm to Charlotte. “Will you introduce me to your family?”

Charlotte’s stomach clenched tighter. Judging by the noise level, the entire family, along with assorted production staff, were in Alec’s great room. She was tired, trail weary, dusty and disheveled. She didn’t want to see the Hudsons or anyone else right now.

But she couldn’t say no to Alec. He’d been extraordinarily patient under some very trying circumstances. So, instead of protesting, she nodded and took his arm. They walked through the archway to the stone-walled, high-ceilinged great room. Its polished hardwood floors, Aubusson rugs and Louis XV furnishings were covered in wall-to-wall Hudsons-Charlotte’s grandmother Lillian, her uncle Markus, her father, David, her brother, Jack, and cousins Dev and Max, and Isabella chatting intimately with Ridley Sinclair.

Jack was the first person to notice Alec. As he came forward, Charlotte quickly disentangled herself from Alec’s arm.

“Alec,” Jack stated heartily, extending his hand. “Great to have you back.”

“Thank you,” Alec intoned, but Charlotte could hear the tension in his voice.

Jack turned. “Everybody, this is Alec Montcalm, our host.”

There was a chorus of greetings and a surge forward that halted when people realized Lillian was making her way to Alec.

Everyone, including Alec, waited as the frail-looking woman approached him.

“Mr. Montcalm,” came Lillian’s steady voice.

Alec took a few steps forward to close the distance.

“Mrs. Hudson,” he nodded, gently taking her hand between his. “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

“My thanks, on behalf of my entire family, for your hospitality.”

“No thanks are necessary,” said Alec. “It is my pleasure.”

No one listening could have guessed at the trials and tribulations Alec had been through with the film so far.

Charlotte’s glance caught Jack’s, and when his gaze slid along her outfit, she remembered her appearance. If only the archway or even the patio door were a little closer, she’d slip out. But the last thing she wanted to do was call attention to herself.

“As you may know,” said Lillian, “this film is near and dear to my heart.”

Alec stood to one side and gestured to Charlotte. “Your granddaughter expressed that quite eloquently.”

Lillian and the entire family turned their attention to Charlotte.

Charlotte’s hand went reflexively to her messy hair. Then she wondered if dust was smudged on her cheeks or if every wrinkle in her clothing was visible under the great room lights.

“Hello, Lillian,” she managed.

“Lovely to see you, dear.” Lillian nodded regally.

“It was Charlotte who convinced me to allow Hudson Pictures to use my château,” Alec continued.

Charlotte could see what Alec was trying to do, and it was admirable. But she could also see he was making Markus uncomfortable. It was his project, and he didn’t seem used to other people taking the spotlight.

Sure enough, Markus stepped forward. “Markus Hudson.” He offered his hand to Alec and shook heartily. “CEO of Hudson Pictures.”

With everyone’s attention on Alec and Markus, Charlotte took a step backward. She was escaping to the shower just as soon as humanly possible. She could always come back for a drink later and say her hellos. Hopefully, by then, her new clothes would have arrived in the limo. They would boost her confidence.

While Alec and Markus talked, she eased carefully backward.

But then Jack appeared by her side. “I hear you were in London,” he opened.

Charlotte gave another hopeless swipe at her hair before answering. “And Rome and Paris.”

Jack nodded, a glance straying to Alec.

“Raine wanted to go shopping,” Charlotte quickly put in. “You met Raine, right? It was mostly her who helped me convince Alec to let you film here. She should be right behind us.” Charlotte glanced toward the hall. “With Kiefer, the vice president of Montcalm.”

“You okay?” Jack wedged in.

“Fine.” Charlotte clamped her mouth shut.

Jack nodded across the room at their father. “You going to say hello?”

“I’m not in a rush.” If she could avoid it, she would. Her emotional state was better if she simply avoided her father altogether.

At the moment, David was working on a martini-no surprise there. He was also watching his brother, Markus, through squinting eyes, his lips pursed in obvious annoyance. She knew the two brothers didn’t get along. She might be out of touch, but that much family gossip had come her way.

Again, no surprise. David might be a talented director, but he was also narcissistic and egotistical. And from what she’d been able to glean, Markus had little patience for difficult personalities.

“Show him you’re not intimidated,” Jack suggested.

“I’m not,” she lied. She was intimidated by the entire family, particularly en masse. And she knew talking to David would have the power to zap her back to the unwanted little girl at the airport.

“Glad to hear it,” said Jack, taking a sip from his crystal tumbler. Then there was a sneer in his voice. “Because he’s definitely not worth it.”

Charlotte simply nodded.

“You will say hello to Cece, right?” Jack referred to his new wife.

“After I shower,” Charlotte agreed. “I really need to get cleaned up.”

“Theo’s a great kid,” Jack put in, voice softening as he gazed across the room once again. “And I’m going to be a wonderful father. And that man…” The hard voice came back in force. “That man will not influence me in any way. I am not him.”

Charlotte felt an instant admiration for her brother. He’d obviously come to terms with his childhood. She was happy for him, but she couldn’t help but feel even more lonely.

“I won’t let him define me,” Jack finished.

Charlotte wished she could be that strong. But she was a long way from not letting her upbringing define her.

Alec was right when he said she was angry. But she was also hurt. And she was also lonely. And being around the Hudsons, especially David, made her wonder if anybody in the world would ever choose her, ever truly love her, just for herself.

Alec saw Charlotte leave the great room. His initial reaction was to go after her, but Markus was still talking, and he was curious about her father, who was sitting off to one side, looking sullen as he watched his older brother through narrowed eyes.

Lillian had said good-night, and was being helped back to her room. Alec had been introduced to Isabella and Ridley Sinclair. Judging by their expressions and body language, he’d bet the affair rumors were true. He wondered if he should alert Kiefer. It wasn’t too late to sneak a tabloid reporter onto the property, or give them a heads-up on the location of the stars’ villa rental.

Markus had also introduced his sons Dev and Max. Both seemed hardworking and intelligent. Dev was planning to leave with his father and Lillian within the next few days. Max planned to stay to work with David on a daily basis. It was easy to see there was no love lost between Markus’s side of the family and his brother, David.

In fact, Alec wondered why David was directing the film at all, until he overheard Isabella comment on David’s artistic and dramatic vision. Apparently, vision was a difficult thing to come by in Hollywood. That would explain why everyone put up with Lars’s temperamental nature. Alec would have fired the man weeks ago.

At a lull in the conversation, Alec excused himself and approached David.

“Alec Montcalm.” He offered his hand.

David had the grace to stand up from the armchair in front of the stone fireplace. “David Hudson.”

“I understand you’re directing the film?”

“Is that all you understand?” David’s gaze slid to Markus; he was obviously wondering if his brother had been badmouthing him to Alec.

“Can I freshen your drink?” asked Alec, nodding to the near-empty glass.

David glanced down. “It’s the Glen Klavit. One ice cube.”

Alec gave a brief nod to a staff member, and indicated David’s glass. “I’ll have the same,” he told the waiter.

“A man with good taste in scotch,” David commented.

“I visited Klavit Castle last year,” Alec said conversationally. “Almost inaccessible, and damn cold. But there’s no better place on earth for distilling coastal whiskey.”

David nodded as the waiter presented their drinks on a silver tray.

“Charlotte and I were in London last week.” As a segue, it was a stretch, but Alec didn’t want to be at this all night.

“I was wandering through your pool house,” said David, as if his daughter’s name hadn’t even been mentioned. “And I was wondering, would you be open to a minor renovation?”

“We stayed at the Ritz,” said Alec. “Took in the Royal Ballet.”

David’s eyes narrowed, as if he was assessing Alec’s mental competence. “Uh, right. Always a treat. There’s a lighting problem with the pool house. We’d like to add a window in the front. When we pan left, we’re going to lose the natural light on Isabella, and the mood can’t be too somber. It’s the pivotal scene where Lillian and Charles pledge their love. I thought about backlighting.” David’s eyes lost focus. “But we’re going for realism, not some overly romanticized-”

“As long as you don’t use explosives,” Alec cut in.

David drew back with a frown, obviously missing the joke. “It’s a love scene.”

“I see.”

“It’s midway thought the script. The conflicts have been well set up, and the central characters are-”

“Sure,” said Alec, taking a bracing swig of the scotch, wishing he’d gone for something that was cask strength. “Put in a window.”

“That’s good,” said David with a distracted nod. “Then I can talk to wardrobe about Lillian’s hat.”

“Whatever,” said Alec, realizing Charlotte had nothing in common with her father.

He glanced across the room to where Jack was talking with his cousin Max. David and Jack both had dark hair and blue eyes. But there was nothing definitively similar about their appearances, either.

“We might need a few extra shooting days,” David put in. “I have Cece working on script revisions.”

“No problem,” said Alec. As long as Charlotte stuck around with them, the film crew could stay here as long as they liked.

Charlotte had missed breakfast. Exhausted from lack of sleep in Rome, London and Paris, and battling butterflies in her stomach at the proximity of all those Hudsons, she’d buried her face under the covers and dozed until nearly ten.

The house was quiet as she wandered into the kitchen, the noise from the film set filtered by the thick stone walls. Cece was in the breakfast nook, script pages spread out in front of her, with her two-year-old son, Theo, playing trains on the floor. Cece had recently revealed the fact that Theo was Jack’s son, making him Charlotte’s nephew.

For some reason, Cece and Theo weren’t nearly as intimidating as the rest of the clan. Maybe it was because they were new to the family.

“Good morning,” Charlotte offered, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the big island counter.

“Morning,” Cece returned with a smile, her brown hair flowing softly around her delicate face, coffee-toned eyes warm and welcoming.

Charlotte immediately relaxed, her stomach calming down for the first time in hours. “Am I disturbing you?”

Cece shook her head. “David’s being a jerk this morning. He can damn well wait for the new pages.”

Then she seemed to remember who Charlotte was. Her face flushed slightly. “Oops. Sorry.”

“For insulting the man who abandoned me and made my mother’s life a living hell?” Charlotte plunked down on the bench seat across from Cece. “Wow. Don’t know where that came from.”

“It was well earned. I hope it was cathartic.”

“I take it you and Jack have discussed our father?”

“Jack and I have discussed quite a lot of things in the past couple of months.”

Charlotte was hit with an unwelcome pang of jealousy. She squelched it. “I’m glad you found each other,” she said in all honesty. “And I’m sorry I missed the wedding.”

“It was very short notice,” Cece allowed.

“We were in China,” Charlotte explained. “I couldn’t leave the ambassador.”

“Jack told me.” Her attention suddenly shifted. “Not in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Charlotte glanced down at Theo. His cherubic little face was scrunched up in a grin as he gnawed on a section of wooden train track.

“He’s adorable,” she told Cece.

“He looks just like his father,” said Cece, and Charlotte’s eyes suddenly burned.

She quickly blinked, raising her coffee for a sip to cover up. “Are you thinking about brothers or sisters?”

Cece smiled. “You bet. We’re a little behind on timing, but we’re planning to make it up in effort.”

Charlotte laughed. Jack’s children, growing up in a stable, loving home. It was a wonderful turn of events.

Two figures passed by the window outside. It was Max and his assistant, Dana Fallon.

“They’re moving around back today. Shots in the garden, I think,” said Cece.

Max shouted a question across the lawn to the assistant director. The man answered with hand gestures.

Dana started to say something, but Max strode away.

Charlotte caught an unguarded look of longing on Dana’s face.

“Oh, dear,” she whispered under her breath, cradling her warm, stoneware cup.

“I know,” said Cece. “She’s got it bad for Max.”

“Does he know?”

Cece shook her head. “The man is oblivious to everything but work. And she’s such a great girl.”

“Should somebody clue him in? Maybe Jack?”

Cece raised her brow. “If you were her, would you want somebody to clue the guy in?”

Charlotte couldn’t help thinking about her growing feelings for Alec. Alec was a playboy, a womanizer; he didn’t have the slightest interest in a serious relationship. Would she want some helpful soul telling him that she was falling for him?

Not on your life. As long as she kept her secret, she could have a few more weeks of paradise. The second it was out, he would run for the hills.

“No,” she admitted. “I suppose Dana’s best chance is if Max notices himself. You suppose there’s anything we can do to help that happen?”

Cece gave a sly grin, and Charlotte felt her first true connection with a member of the Hudson family.

“Morning, all,” came Raine’s sleepy voice.

“Hi, Raine,” Charlotte answered. “Have you met Cece? She’s the screenwriter and my new sister-in-law.” The title felt odd on Charlotte’s tongue, but she forced herself to use it anyway.

“We haven’t met,” said Raine, holding out a hand to shake.

“You have a lovely home,” said Cece. “It’s going to give the picture such authenticity.”

“I only hope it’s standing when you’re done,” said Raine, pouring herself some coffee and selecting a pastry, before hopping up on one of the bar stools at the island counter.

“I heard about the explosion,” said Cece. “And I saw the aftermath. You do know they’ll pay for it.”

“As long as no one was hurt,” said Raine, taking a big bite of the beignet.

Cece glanced down at the script pages. “I’m trying to keep the rest of the battle scenes to a minimum.”

“We appreciate that,” said Charlotte.

“But you have to admit,” Raine put in, “it was exciting.”

“It was definitely exciting,” Charlotte agreed. As had been the preceding hours in Alec’s bed. That was the first time they’d made love. It was fantastic, and it had actually improved with time.

Not that his technique had needed one iota of improvement. But she knew him better now, knew him and liked him. Liked him a lot.

Oh, no.

This was bad.

“I think I’ll go change,” she told the other two women, coming to her feet.

A sudden wave of dizziness flashed through her brain, and she grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself.

“Too many sleepless nights?” Raine teased.

And Cece’s interest perked.

“Parties in London and Paris,” Charlotte quickly explained, resisting the urge to glare at Raine. “I slept great last night.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be,” Cece chimed in.

“Speak for yourself,” said Raine. “I can still party like a nineteen-year-old.”

“Not if you want your circulation numbers back up,” came Kiefer’s voice. He gave Raine a mock stern look as he entered the room.

Then something passed between them, something strong and intimate that made Charlotte jealous. Which was silly. If Raine and Kiefer were happy together, it was nothing but good news. And if Jack and Cece had found joy together, Charlotte was thrilled for them.

Still, an indefinable emotion clogged her throat, and she mumbled something more about getting dressed, then she quickly left the kitchen. Alec had been too nice to her the past few days. She was beginning to read things into it that simply weren’t there. He was a decent guy who had a lot of experience in dating. He also had an unlimited credit card, which helped him entertain in style.

She had to stop confusing his innate class and hospitality for deeper feelings.