Rebecca Winters - Taming the French Tycoon

The anchorman nodded. “For those of you who still aren’t aware, the book Jasmine’s grandmother wrote, Where There’s Smoke , is the definitive source on the life work of Maxim Ferrier. It’s being reissued in a second edition with several sections of new information to coincide with the announcement of the new head of Ferriers and will be out on the stands tomorrow. When the first edition of the book came out, it became number one on bestseller lists worldwide. I confess I was enthralled by it.”

“Thank you. Grandma worked on it for years. After my papa died, she had it published to honor him.”

“No one knew him better than she did, except for you, who came in a close second.” Again Luc saw the secret curve in her smile that reminded him of the way she’d smiled at him before letting him have it. The sensation twisted his gut as much now as then.

“Let me read one last thing your grandmother quoted from her husband. ‘An exceptional perfume has a top note to entice, followed by the rich character of its middle note. Then comes the end note to bind all three, supplying the depth and solidity needed to make a lasting signature.’ He was a poet, wasn’t he?”

“Papa was so many things, I hardly know where to begin.”

“I wish we didn’t have to stop. Thank you for letting us see inside your world. It’s been an honor and privilege.”

“For me too.”

“Congratulations on your new position, chosen by the head man himself. What greater endorsement, n’est-ce pas ?” He turned to the camera. “That’s it for now from Grasse. Back to you in Paris.”

Luc shut off the TV, stunned out of his mind by her interview. A bomb had been dropped. He was still trying to recover from the fallout. Pacing the floor, he realized this meant he would be dealing with her in the future. His heart thudded at the very thought of it.

Now that the news had gone global, anything could happen and probably had behind closed doors at Ferriers. He couldn’t imagine the members of the Ferrier board, twice or triple her age and most of them family, tolerating the granddaughter to become the head of the company. If they knew what Luc knew...

This was nepotism at its best. Either Maxim Ferrier had become senile toward the end, or she’d had him wrapped around her little finger because she’d inherited his gift. But that gift didn’t mean she had the grasp for business or the necessary ability to run one of the most famous companies in existence. There’d been no mention of her education. She had no work experience. As far as he was concerned, she had no common sense either.

The Ferrier board had to have the same opinion about her and would soon find a way to vote her out. But until then Luc would have to be extra careful how he proceeded when the day came he had his first business meeting with her. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine it after their explosive encounter on the island. Yet, to his dismay, the thought of being with her again charged every cell in his body.

“Luc?”

It had been a long time since Thomas had walked in without knocking, but Luc understood why. His assistant looked dazed. “I never saw or heard anything so amazing in my life.”

“You’re not alone, Thomas.”

“She’s more beautiful than her grandmother was, if that’s possible.”

It was possible. The image of her standing at the base of the cliff had never left him. But there were imperfect parts of her the camera hadn’t seen, parts that he felt spelled a lot more trouble for Ferriers.

“I still can’t believe she’s the new face and power at Ferriers. She may be Maxim Ferrier’s favorite and worth millions herself, but she looks too young and defenseless to go to battle against dynasty builders with three times her age and experience.”

Luc would have thought the same thing if he hadn’t been the recipient of her words, which could slice and dice a man to shreds in seconds. His assistant wouldn’t see her as a defenseless woman if he’d watched her attack that rocky island on those breathtaking limbs of hers with the strength and agility of a military frogman.

Thomas’s eyes gleamed. “This means that from now on you’ll be meeting with her instead of Giles LeC—” he started to say, but Luc stopped him right there because he didn’t want to hear it. He needed time for the news to sink in first.

“I’m late for a party and have to run. See you on Monday.” He left by his private exit. It opened into a hallway leading to the private parking lot with a security guard.

Ever since the incident in Cyprus, he’d fought the temptation to find out who she was. A simple phone call to the boating concession that rented dinghies would have told him what he wanted to know, but somehow he’d managed to stop himself in time.

Dieu merci he hadn’t let the desire to meet her in person and set her straight about a few things outweigh his innate caution. Otherwise, she truly would have had the last laugh knowing the director of the Banque Internationale du Midi was a voyeur stalking beautiful young women throughout the Mediterranean while on vacation.

The bank couldn’t afford to lose one of the biggest accounts since its inception. No matter how acerbic her words, no matter how shallow he found her for being willing to throw her life away for a thrill, no matter how disappointed he was in Maxim Ferrier’s decision to put a young loose cannon like her in charge, Luc could do nothing but stand by to watch a catastrophe in the making. And despise himself for being more attracted to her than ever.

CHAPTER TWO

ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, Jasmine saw her family off at Nice airport. She’d promised them that in a month she’d be on her way back home in Idaho for good. Before they boarded the jet, the pain in her parents’ eyes revealed their disbelief that she would keep her promise. That look had stabbed her with fresh grief.

They didn’t know that the glimpse of her life she’d described in front of the TV camera on Friday belonged to the past. Her grandparents were gone. Once she’d carried out her papa’s last wishes—wishes no one else in the whole world knew about except her and his attorney—there was nothing more to keep her in France. But until she’d carried out this plan and moved back to Idaho, they wouldn’t believe she really did want to go home for good.

After assuring them that she would arrive in time for their thirtieth wedding anniversary party in August, she headed for the Banque Internationale du Midi with a growing pit in her stomach.

“Papa?” she said to the air growing hotter by the minute under a July sun. “I carried off the first part of our plan on TV. Now I hope to pull off this second part, but I’m nervous. In case I get into trouble, I’ll need your help or I won’t be able to put the third part into motion. Do you hear me?”

Last Friday’s media announcement had turned the entire Ferrier clan inside out as she had known it would, as her papa, though dead now, had known it would once Robert had read the will at the board meeting.

She knew positively that several of them, including non-family members of the board, had hoped to be named successor when the will was finally read. Of late they’d made no secret about it.

Jasmine’s French mother and American father, along with her siblings, were known as the American faction of her grandparents’ progeny. They didn’t want to be involved in company business.

But all the other Ferriers lived in France and existed to promote the company. Some of them were situated in Paris with key positions at the perfumery. The rest had never left the environs of Nice that included Grasse. All of them worked for Ferriers in one capacity or other.

In the beginning, there’d been one small foundry in Grasse. In time, thirty distilleries dotted the Basses-Alpes, and the Alpes-Maritime regions. Her papa had his own small private lab in Grasse and eventually divided his time between the perfumery in Hyeres, and the other one in Paris. Little by little, the company expanded until he’d had the big perfumery built in Grasse.

Naturally everyone in the extended family had a huge vested interest in everything that went on. Jasmine loved them all. They were wonderful people. But when it came to families doing business together in a company with a history and heritage like theirs, emotions ran off the charts. Envy, pride and, in some cases, even greed had crept in.

For them to hear that Jasmine of all people had been named, as Michel Didier had said—a woman, the youngest nobody in the family—it had to be the lowest blow of all time.

Her grandfather had been such a private person, it was in keeping with his character to hide his secret agenda until his one great desire had become a fait accompli. Being that he was without a doubt the kindest, most enlightened, generous man she’d ever known, Jasmine had taken his private confidences to her heart. She knew he was counting on her.

Though her papa realized everyone would be upset and hurt one way or another, he’d had a nobler purpose in mind and was using his willing granddaughter to help right a wrong that had gone on since he’d been a small boy raised at La Tourette, the Ferrier home in Grasse.

The family’s adverse reaction over Jasmine having been named was nothing compared to the furor that was coming. Tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let you down, Papa.”

She drove her Audi into the financial district of Nice. The bank that the House of Ferrier had done business with over the years was housed in a former cream-colored palace of neoclassic design. It lay just ahead surrounded with palm trees and exotic flowers. Everything was riding on this visit. Nothing could be accomplished without the bank’s help. It was crucial Jasmine get the CEO on her side.

After pulling around to the public parking area, she reached for the file folder she’d brought with her and entered through the main doors. A security guard nodded to her. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Monsieur Lucien Charriere on urgent business.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I’m hoping he’ll have time to fit me in to his busy schedule.” Her papa had always dealt with Raimond Charriere, but she’d learned from Giles LeClos, Ferrier’s comptroller, that he’d passed away within months of her papa. His grandson Lucien had taken over.

“Without an appointment I’m afraid it would be impossible for him to meet with you. If you’ll call the bank and ask to be put through to his office, his secretary will know how to help you.”

“I’m sorry, but my reason for seeing him can’t wait. If you’ll please let him know that Jasmine Martin from Ferriers is here in the foyer, I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

The name Ferrier had always been the magic word and caused the older man’s composure to slip. Without asking for picture ID, he pulled out his phone and spoke in hushed tones to the person who answered. When he hung up, he said, “Someone will be right with you. I didn’t realize who you were.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” In a minute she heard, “Ms. Martin?” Jasmine turned in the direction of the man who’d just spoken her name.

“I’m Thomas, Monsieur Charriere’s assistant.” His eyes fastened on her with blatant male interest. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to his office. He’s on the phone, but he’ll be through with his overseas call shortly.”

“Thank you.”

They walked on marble floors and down the north hallway to a suite that had been modernized. But nothing could hide the fact that it had once been a royal Italian residence of the House of Savoy before Nice was made an arrondissement of Grasse.