Page 145 of Boss of the Year
She had reminded him point-blank of a question he had asked himself every day: did someone like him really even have a right to exist while people like Marie worked multiple jobs just to survive, completely unaware of how men like him thought nothing of making their lives harder as long as it increased their profit margins.
He thought about Marie’s strong, capable hands as she cooked and the way she approached her craft with such dedication and artistry. The pride she took in creating something beautiful and nourishing from simple ingredients. The way she talked about her dream restaurant, somewhere small and intimate where she could really connect with the people she fed.
It was more meaningful than anything he’d ever done.
“Lucas?”
“I’m here.” He stared out the window as the car passed the Tower of London, vaguely wondering if some of the prisoners who had once been kept there had been half as bad as some of his family members. As bad as him.
The Rolls slowed, crowded by other cars and people and the chaos of a big city. Somewhere out there, Marie was alone and possibly frightened. And here he was, having a philosophical crisis about wealth inequality while she might be in danger.
“Good,” Winnifred said. “Now, as I was saying, Daniel really needs?—”
“Winnifred.” Lucas was quiet but firm. “Shut up.”
“Lucas! You have no right to speak to me like?—”
“I have to go,” he cut her off again without a shred of remorse. “Tell Daniel that he needs to—actually, tell Daniel you want. I don’t care anymore.”
“Lucas, wait. We need to discuss this!”
Lucas looked out toward the rest of the city, wondering where exactly Marie had gone. Down which street. To which refuge.
That was when the idea first occurred.
“Tell Daniel he knows what he needs to do—otherwise, the consequence is that he’ll be cut off. As for Marie…I’ll take care of it.”
Winnifred was uncharacteristically. “Does that mean?—”
“It means I’ll take care of it.” Lucas felt heavy. Like there were stones in his belly. In his gut.
“If you pursue this,” Winnifred said. “If you pursue her, you’ll be ruined. The board will remove you. The family will support it. You know that.”
“I’m not pursuing anyone,” Lucas said, feeling the lie settle into his bones, just like all the rest. “I’m doing what needs to be done. And as for the family…” He leaned forward in his seat, as if that would somehow get him closer to the viper on the other side of the line. “I think you know exactly what will happen to you and the rest of the family if you get in my way, Winnifred. So, let’s not play that game. I’ll win. Every time.”
She was silent for long moment. “You’ll deal with her, then?”
“I will.”
They ended the call, and Lucas sat back in his seat, watching the rest of London fly by for a moment more before he called Robbie.
“Mr. Lyons?”
“Robbie. We’re changing the schedule. Cancel the rest of my meetings after tomorrow. I have a few more calls to make, butI suspect there will be one more stop before we go back to New York.”
“Where will that be, sir?”
Lucas sighed. He didn’t want it to be true, but his gut had never been wrong before. “Book a hotel in Paris. We may have to stay there a while.”
29
TARTE À L’OIGNON
*true caramelization cannot be rushed.
JONI: MIMI WHERE ARE YOU
As I climbed the four flights of stairs to Louis’s apartment on Rue de Vincent Compoint, my phone buzzed insistently from the bottom of my bag. I had turned it off upon boarding the Eurostar from London four days ago and had kept it off until today, when I’d finally crept outside to visit the nearby Barbes Market. It was a little dicey getting there sometimes, but the produce was unparalleled in the Eighteenth Arrondissement.
