FIND HER (A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (LOVE HER Book 1) Page 4

  Julian sighed aggrievedly. The little taste of information had driven him mad for more. “Fine then. Send any expense receipts to Trisha.” With that, he snapped his phone closed and headed towards the hangar where Cora and a private car waited.

  “Do you speak Spanish?” Julian suddenly asked.

  Cora startled in her seat. She turned away from the tinted car window towards the tall CEO sitting next to her. His long legs were stretched out in front of him in a deceptively lazy pose. But Cora wasn’t fooled. She could feel a kind of restrained energy crackling around him.

  Since the phone call he had answered at the airstrip, Julian had been incredibly quiet. Their ride so far had been one of complete silence. Cora had just been relieved to make it to Paris in one piece.

  She had been terrified to use her forged passport for the first time in years. But with the name of Julian Benedict behind her, hardly any eyebrows had been raised and she had flown in the luxury of a private jet without any problems.

  “Yes, I speak Spanish fluently,” Cora replied. She wondered what kind of call he must’ve received earlier to have put such an odd dampening on his mood.

  “Any French?” he asked again curtly. His focused gaze was set straight ahead. If he hadn’t asked his second question, Cora wouldn’t have known if he was speaking to her or the driver.

  Cora shook her head. “No French, I’m afraid.”

  “Did you learn Spanish at home or in school?” Julian asked in that same abrupt manner. It was then that Cora realized with sudden clarity that the man was trying to distract himself. Whatever the phone call had been about, it couldn’t have been anything pleasant. The man seemed desperate for any kind of distraction.

  “At home,” Cora said with more confidence, now that she knew what was expected of her. “I grew up in Mexico.”

  Julian looked surprised and turned his head towards her. Cora felt her breath stop in her throat as she felt the full weight of his gaze upon her. And sitting so cozily next to the man in the car didn’t help either.

  “When did you come to the States? Your English is impeccable,” he said.

  Cora gave a small smile. She thought back to that fake passport burning a whole in her purse. She’d have to tread carefully here. “I came to the States about six years ago. I spent about two years in Arizona hammering out my English before heading to New York.”

  Julian was silent as he soaked in the information. “And your family is still in Mexico?”

  Cora thought back to her mother. She had yet to disassociate the image of her mother with the smell of booze. “As far as I know.”

  Julian raised a brow. “That’s an odd way to say you keep in touch with your family.”

  Cora huffed a small laugh. “I guess that’s because I don’t stay in touch with my family. Since coming to the States, I’ve basically been on my own.”

  There was another beat of silence.

  Cora could see that Julian was still tense. His shoulders looked so stiff, Cora was sure a bodybuilder could easily balance on them. She felt a bit sorry for him. It must be such a drain on him to be a successful CEO and businessman at such a young age. He was barely over thirty. And yet the man was held in esteem as part of the top echelon of business acumen.

  “Do you have a lot of family, sir?” she asked, trying to see if she could ease whatever it was that was distressing him.

  The change was immediate. Julian sat up in his seat, bringing him to his fullest height. His broad shoulders and long legs suddenly seemed to overwhelm the vehicle. And his dark eyes nearly blackened in the darkness of early morning, making Cora shudder involuntarily.

  “No, I don’t,” he said, his voice icy and clipped. “And I’d appreciate your interests remain within the professional sphere.”

  Cora opened her mouth, shocked at the sudden cold turn. But before she could figure out any form of an apology, the car pulled to a gentle stop.

  “We’ve arrived at the hotel, monsieur,” the driver replied, politely neutral.

  Julian opened the door. “Good night, Miss Rámon,” he said as he walked off into the marbled lobby.

  Nine

  Cora pulled at her blouse as she watched the glass elevator doors open. A private driver had driven her to a tall office within central Paris at 9 AM. She was greeted by the executive assistant of the London office’s vice president. After verifying schedules and meetings, Cora was directed to the 45th floor where the first meeting of the day would be held at 10 AM.

  She looked down at her watch. 9:45 AM. Julian Benedict liked to be early for every meeting. He wanted to be able to assess a situation or client prior to sitting down to the negotiating table.

  Cora felt her pulse race as she watched the elevator doors open. She had tossed and turned all night. Although Julian had set her up in a beautiful suite in the same luxury hotel he was staying at, Cora felt like she had slept in a beanbag full of straw.

  Of course the man had been ridiculously unfair to her. After all, he had asked her questions about her family and background. So it was ridiculous for him to demand she remain professional within their relationship when he had been quite inquisitive about her personal life.

  Yet no matter how ridiculous his anger had been, it had been genuine anger. And Cora was upset that she had caused that.

  She never wanted an employer to be angry with her but she particularly didn’t want Julian to be angry with her. Although she hadn’t known the man long, she could see that he was a man beset with burdens. She couldn’t yet figure out if these were all professional burdens or personal burdens—

  Cora shook her head. No, she knew now. After last night’s reaction, he must have some personal burdens that cause him pain and anger and even guilt. She didn’t know what she could do to make things right.

  She had considered calling Trisha for advice but was worried she would be admonished for prying. Although a reserved person, Trisha was clearly very protective over her employer. No, it was better she figured out for herself how to make the situation right.

  Just as she was mentally drafting an apology, the elevator doors opened and Julian stepped out. Dressed in a dark charcoal suit with a slim navy tie, he looked like a caged jaguar. He was a wild animal that could dress the part of a civilized man yet could barely hide the primal rawness that lurked just beneath the surface.

  Quickly, Cora rushed to meet him, her folders and notepad in hand. “Mr. Benedict, I wanted to apolo—”

  “Has Devons arrived?” Julian interrupted, walking at a swift pace towards the meeting room at the end of the hall.

  “Yes, sir. And so have Mr. Martin and Abrams. They’re all waiting inside,” Cora said hurriedly, trying to keep pace with him. “But before you go in, sir, I just wanted to—”

  “I want you to change the meeting with the Japanese rep from one o’clock to two. And I want to cancel with Klaus. Push him to tomorrow afternoon. I don’t want any meetings tonight after eight.”

  Cora quickly took notes of his requests. But before she could make another attempt at apologizing, Julian opened the meeting room doors, greeting the waiting men.

  And for the rest of the day, Cora found herself running between meetings, confirming times and writing emails while also taking careful notes. There were literally no moments of privacy between them. If they weren’t in a meeting, they were rushing off towards one with both of them on the phone dealing with their own set of responsibilities.

  Every time Julian’s aloof and distant gaze fell upon her, she felt miserable inside. Clearly whatever intimacy Julian shared with Trisha, he would not be sharing with her. She had so envied not only Trisha’s respectable load of responsibilities but also her closeness with her employer. Cora had secretly hoped the day that she would be such an assistant was not far off.

  But with every clipped word and dispassionate gaze, Cora realized that whatever chances there had been were now completely gone.

  By about four o’clock, Cora found herself at another office
building in Paris. This one was much more sleek with cool neutral colors and lots of metal accents.

  It wasn’t quite Cora’s style but she appreciated its modernity. They were there for Julian to meet with Francois Budoin, the fashion conglomerate of Europe. He owned nearly every luxury brand available. Francois was a very private man and preferred small, private meetings. So after a quick round of introductions, Julian entered Francois’s office alone, leaving Cora to explore the roomy executive floor.

  After spending most of the day running around in heels, Cora just wanted a comfy chair to relax in. But looking around, all the seats were an odd assortment of metal benches or stools that looked more uncomfortable than standing in heels. So with no other choice but to walk around, Cora sighed and walked.

  As she casually strolled, enjoying the short respite from incessant calls and voices, a flash of color caught the corner of her eyes. And it only caught her attention because of all the cool grayness in the building. Cora turned and gasped.

  It was a beautifully vibrant painting of blue irises. Set against a saturated yellow background, the thick blue and purple paint strokes shaped the delicate petals. The colors were almost loud yet the wilting flowers looked so gentle and limp. The colors were so vivid, the painting almost seemed to glow within the cold and gray office.

  Cora almost wanted to grab the flowers and inhale their scent. She wanted to rub each thickly painted petal. The heaviness of the paint against the delicate nature of its subject made Cora feel an oddly sad juxtaposition as she gazed upon the painting.

  Next to the painting was a small metal plaque reading, “Irises, Vincent Van Gogh 1890.”

  “Ah, your assistant has good taste, I see!” an accented voice boomed from the left of her.

  Cora quickly spun around on her heel. Julian and Francois were exiting his office. The older French man beamed at Cora as he gestured towards the painting. “Does the mademoiselle have a liking for Van Gogh?” he asked, his voice warm and rich.

  Cora blushed and shook her head. “I just appreciate how beautiful it is,” she murmured quietly. She peeked up through her lashes at Julian. He gave her a quizzical look. He must think me ignorant and foolish, Cora thought miserably. Quickly, she stepped away from the painting and bid Francois goodbye.

  As they got back into the car, Julian instructed the driver back to the hotel. “I’ll need to change for dinner. And you can take a rest,” Julian said, not looking up from his phone as he checked his messages. The dinner tonight was primarily a meeting dressed up with exquisite food. But it was a meeting nonetheless and Cora wouldn’t be needed for it. “But be ready by eight to go out again.”

  Cora was confused. “There’s nothing scheduled though, Mr. Benedict. You said you didn’t want anything after—”

  Julian nodded. “I remember what I said,” he replied shortly. The car pulled up to the hotel. As he got out, he called over his shoulder, “Be ready by eight.”

  Ten

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Cora asked the driver as she stared out in awe.

  “Oui, mademoiselle,” the driver replied. “Mr. Benedict was very specific.”

  Cora gulped and without further argument, stepped out of the car.

  At exactly eight o’clock, the hotel front desk had called to let her know her car was waiting for her. Confused, Cora had come down to be greeted by a French driver who told her he was there to take her to Mr. Benedict. Filled with questions but unable to voice them, Cora had stepped into the car wondering exactly what kind of meeting she was going to.

  As the car drove off, she heard the soft lapping sounds of the Seine behind her. Lights illuminated the richly ornate building in front of her, making the whole place glow against the dark night sky. With large windows and beautifully sculpted arches, Cora was sure she was standing in front of some kind of palace or chateau.

  Amidst her awe, Cora caught sight of a white-gloved attendant by the front doors, waving at her. Cora waved back and quickly headed towards the entrance.

  The attendant smiled and motioned her in. “Welcome, mademoiselle, to the Musée d’Orsay. Please enter,” he said in a thickly accented voice.

  Cora’s eyes widened upon hearing the name. She was in a museum? But as she stepped into the cavernous hall, she saw no one inside. Looking down both sides of her, she saw rows and rows of paintings with scattered sculptures down the middle. Yet not one person was to be found. Except herself and the attendant.

  “If you’d please,” the attendant said with a smile, leading her down a large open space with arching glass ceilings. “Please head down this way towards the end of the hall.”

  Cora could only nod silently as she walked down the spacious hall, surrounded by the most famous paintings in the world. With each step she took, her eyes grew wider and wider.

  She had hardly had any exposure to fine arts growing up. But during her first year in New York, she remembered when the Museum of Modern Art had had a Free Admissions Day. Curious, she had walked in with no expectations of what there was to see.

  Cora ended up spending hours at the museum. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the paintings. Each work seemed to chip away and reveal a side of her own self that she had never known existed.

  With every painting, Cora experienced a different mood or mentality. She had never felt such peace as when she had seen Monet’s water lilies or such raw passion as when she had seen Pollock’s splattered paint. A whole new world of breathtaking beauty and exhilaration had opened up for Cora that day.

  And now here she was, in Paris, walking down the empty halls of a museum that held the world’s masterpieces. She could hardly believe it.

  So engrossed was she in admiring the works that she hardly noticed the figure standing at the end of the hall. She had to tear her gaze away from a Cézanne to look at the broad shoulders and long back of Julian Benedict. He was standing with his back to her, admiring a Rodin.

  If Cora had been shocked to find herself in an empty museum at night, she was flabbergasted to see Julian Benedict standing inside.

  “Mr. Benedict?” she said tentatively. She stepped towards him, standing next to him to admire the curved and supple work of Auguste Rodin.

  His eyes still focused on the marble statue, he said in a quiet low voice, “I’m sorry, Cora.”

  Cora’s head snapped up, surprised and confused.

  “I was wrong to have snapped at you last night,” Julian said, his eyes still taking in the sculpture. His strong jawline and long nose were so perfect, they could’ve been the subject for countless sculptures. But Cora’s breath was taken away when he turned his gaze upon her, his dark eyes warm and mingled with regret. “Forgive me?”

  “I—yes, of course, Mr. Benedict,” Cora said, trying not to stutter.

  “Julian,” he replied with a small smile. “Tonight I’m not apologizing as your employer. I’m apologizing as Julian.”

  Cora felt a warmth blossom within her. Emotions she hadn’t felt in a long time suddenly began to trickle through her. How did this man have such an effect on her? “Of course,” she breathed quietly. “Julian.”

  Julian’s dark eyes crinkled in good humor. He turned around and waved an arm across the empty hall. “Would you like a tour?” he asked, looking brighter now that he had gotten his forgiveness.

  Cora looked around, still unable to believe she had all these gorgeous works at her fingertips. “Is the museum closing soon? There aren’t any people around.” A tour with Julian as her guide would be wonderful but she was quite sure they would be kicked out soon.

  Julian put a large hand against the small of her back, leading her down one row of paintings. “The museum is closed. It closed about two hours ago.”

  Cora nearly jumped at this information. “Oh! Then how are—”

  “I saw you admiring that Van Gogh today,” he said, gently but firmly leading her on. “I had you cancel my plans for the evening so I could take you out to a late dinner to apologize fo
r my atrocious behavior yesterday. But then when I saw how much you seemed to enjoy the Van Gogh, I decided to bring you here. I called the curator and asked if we could have a few hours tonight to enjoy some of the works.”

  “You called the curator….” Cora echoed faintly. She couldn’t believe that he had called the curator of a world famous museum just so that she could enjoy seeing the paintings privately.

  Julian didn’t seem to take notice of her stunned expression. “I know you seem to have a particular fondness for Van Gogh but do you happen to like Manet? This one is one of my particular favorites….”

  And for the next two hours, Julian gave her one of the most enjoyable nights she had ever experienced. The man seemed to know everything about every painting. He pointed out beautiful detail work while also including historical tidbits and quirky biographical details. Cora found herself admiring Julian just as much as she admired the art.