Page 22 of The Midnight Club
Chapter 2
EVENTIDE
Paris…
Benoit Vaux’seyebrows shot up. “You’re gettingmarried?”
Marcella, his good friend and companion, laughed, throwing her dark hair back. “Mon chère, there are other reasons for me to give up the escort life, not just for another man. No, Benoit, I’m not getting married. But Iamleaving the country. You know I’ve always wanted to travel, and now is the right time.” She touched his cheek. “My sweet boy, there are a million women ready to take my place in your bed. Or maybe it’s time you concentrated on findingher.”
“Her?”
“I think the young people call it ‘the one’.” Marcella smiled and swung her long legs over the side of the bed.
Benoit reached for her before she could move away. “Marcella … have you ever thought that you might just be the only one for me?”
Marcella smiled down at him. “Oh, you perfect man, I’m sorry to tell you this. There isn’t any chance I might beyour‘one’. Go and seek her. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
Benoit was still thinkingabout what she said the next day as he sat through the first meeting of the week. His Chief Exec, Delaine, always wanted these godawful meetings. Team building, he called it. Benoit barely listened to what was being discussed. How had his life come to this? Stuck in meetings, barely ever getting to do the things he loved—designing, building, creating. No, at this point it was all deals and accounts and bullshit.
He edged his chair around to gaze out of the window while one of his accountants droned on. Outside his window, his city, his home, Paris, sprawled across his view. He had been to many places and many countries, but no city made his pulse race more than his birthplace. Being able to build here and giving people homes to build their families in—it had been his dream.
He gradually tuned back into the conversation.Always about the bottom line, he thought now, listening to Delaine remonstrate with the money men. Benoit cleared his throat. It made him smile how that always made everyone in the room shut the hell up and pay attention. He leaned forward.
“Gentlemen, I want to move forward with the development onLe Boulevard Coutances. It’s prime greenbelt land, and I’m not going to let it sit there any longer. We fought to acquire it and, God knows, the13thArrondissementis in need of it. So, please, no more talk of budgets or waiting until we have the full budget. Let’s begin.”
After the meeting, he headed gratefully back to his office where his P.A., Genevieve, a striking woman in her late fifties, handed him a shot of thick, dark coffee, and his mail. “A woman fromL'Institut des Préoccupations Environnementaleshas called six times this morning. She wants to set up a meeting.”
“Which woman?”
“Shiloh Hunt.” Genevieve followed him into his office, her notepad in hand. “She seems quite intent on speaking to you.”
Benoit sighed. The French environmental lobby had become powerful over the last few years andL'Institut des Préoccupations Environnementaleshad influence with the government’s housing department.Major influence, he thought now.
“Fine. Find fifteen minutes.”
Genevieve hid a smile. “How about right now?”
Benoit, looking at her over his spectacles, looked confused. “Huh?”
“She’s right outside. You walked right past her.”
Benoit got up and returned to the outer office. A young, willowy blonde looked up at him from behind huge black-framed glasses.
“Ms. Holt?”
She stood, and Benoit was surprised to see she was almost as tall as his six feet—maybe five-ten, even in flat pumps. Her long, ash blonde hair hung below her shoulders in soft waves, and her bright blue eyes regarded him without even a hint of friendliness. Benoit smiled, knowing he was about to get into a fight.
“Ms. Holt, please come in.” He shot a look at Genevieve as Shiloh Holt stalked past him; Genevieve hid a smile.
Shiloh Holt didn’t wait to be asked to sit. As Benoit walked to his desk, he heard her draw in a deep breath. “Mr. Vaux, I am here on behalf ofL'Institut des Préoccupations Environnementales.”
“I know, Ms. Holt. Please have a seat.”
Shiloh blinked and looked down at the chair in front of her as if it hadn’t occurred to her to sit. She pulled it out and sat, rather impatiently. “Mr. Vaux….”
“It’s Benoit, and I know where you’re from, Ms. Holt. I assume this has to do with the new development onLe Boulevard Coutances?”
She inclined her head, slightly mollified. “It does. Mr. Vaux, as I’m sure you know, we are campaigning to stop any further development on this piece of greenbelt land. We feel strongly that we must protect the rapidly diminishing green spaces in our city.
