Page 3 of The Betas: Rene
René chuckled. “Both Aline and Isabel are excellent cooks.”
“I know. I tried to purloin Isabel from Julien for my mother and almost got smacked with her spoon. I didn’t try a second time with Aline.” Frankie gave René a wry smile.
“Do you live with your mother and stepfather?”
“No…I was able to negotiate my own space. I refused to work for Dante unless I could have my own apartment.” Frankie shivered at the memory.
“Where do you live?”
“Near Mr. La Marche. I have a condo in Chelsea that I have for sale. I should make a decent profit on it even though it’s a small studio.” At that moment Bertrand brought both Frankie and René another Sex on the Beach. “Thank you. You’re prescient. I was about to ask.” Henri’s factotum smiled warmly.
Armand raised his hand, and the man cut across the room toward Mr. La Marche.
“Why are you selling?” René asked, gaining Frankie’s attention away from Armand.
“If I can get a job, it’s not going to pay me what Dante does because I’ll be at entry level. I won’t be able to afford it. I’ll probably have to commute from Jersey.”
“Not necessarily true. I own a house two doors from Armand on the Square.” René’s voice sounded soft and reassuring.
“You own a house on Washington Square?” Frankie arched one eyebrow.
“The house has been in the family for years. My brother lives in a house next door to Armand.”
“Even if you own it outright, Armand must pay very well. The taxes have to be astronomical.”
“He pays well, but I also have investment income.” René pursed his lips. “I have plenty of money but working for Armand doesn’t leave me much time. I’m always on call.”
“I can understand that. Dante is also a demanding boss. I’m on call twenty-four seven. He lives in a huge brownstone in Brooklyn, just over the bridge, near where Mr. Clavier lives. He wanted me to live with them. We compromised. I live in Chelsea but carry a dedicated cell phone which I never turn off.”
“Life with Armand won’t be that much different,” René warned.
“But it will be legal, or at least legal enough that I don’t need to argue about whether I can fulfill my duties in good conscience.” Frankie heard his name mentioned and took his attention reluctantly away from the fascinating man in front of him.
“Mr. Ferone,” Martin repeated and walked over to join them.
René turned to Martin. “I’m sure you’ve met Frankie…”
“Not formally, I’m René’s brother, Martin, Mr. La Marche’s deputy. How do you do? I came over because Mr. La Marche wants to speak to you about employment. As I’m sure Henri or Julien have told you, he’s seeking an assistant.”
Frankie lifted an eyebrow to René, and René nodded. They followed Martin from the room.
Finally, he might be able to make the change he’d always wanted to make with his life, but would it cost him? Working for his father had taught him that everything came with a price.
