Beauty & Her Billionaire Boss

A tentative smile worked its way across his features. Afraid to set her off again, probably. “I wanted to apologize for losing my temper this morning. The coffee, it was not your fault.”

No, it wasn’t, she wanted to say. She didn’t. Since he apologized, the least she could do was be gracious in return. “I should have known better than to put a cup where you couldn’t see it.”

“And I should know better than to behave like a brat,” he countered, one-upping her. “It’s rude to blame others for my shortcomings.”

Piper wasn’t sure she’d call partial blindness a shortcoming, but she accepted the apology anyway. If she didn’t, the two of them might spend all night exchanging regrets. “Thank you,” she said with a sniff. The man would never know that his “I’m sorry” had just beat out the coffee stain as the day’s bright spot.

“Do you need another paper towel? I would offer you something nicer, but I’m not a handkerchief person. A napkin perhaps?”

That made her smile, picturing him retrieving a napkin from the linen closet. “Thanks, but I’m okay now.” There remained a slight pressure behind her eyes trying to push out tears, but she could keep that under control. A quick splash of water and she’d be fine.

“Are—” She took one last swipe at her nose. “Are you in for the evening?” As if she didn’t already know the answer. Frederic was seldom “in.” His evenings were one big social engagement. How one person could squeeze so much activity into a week, she didn’t know.

Just as she expected, Frederic shook his head. “I have tickets for the symphony. I came home to change my shirt is all.”

Meaning he would be home late, as usual. “I’ll make sure to leave the foyer light on before I turn in.”

“Thank you.” He turned to leave only to pause. “Why don’t you take the evening off as well? Some time with friends might make you feel better.”

Sure it would, if she had friends to go out with. “I...” Thankfully, the beep of an incoming message on her cell phone saved her from having to make up some embarrassing lie.

“Sounds like your friends have the same idea,” Frederic said.

She reached into her pocket, smiling when she read the message on her screen. “It’s my sister,” she told him. Why she felt she needed to tell him that, she didn’t know.

“You have a sister.”

A question as much as a statement. Surely he knew. Then again, he might not. This was the longest conversation they’d ever had.

“She works as a housekeeper back in Boston.”

“Ah, so cleaning is a family business.”

“More like a family situation we both fell into.” From his expression, she could tell he didn’t get the joke. No surprise. It wasn’t very clear, or funny. “She wants to video chat.”

“Sounds like you’ve got something to look forward to.”

“Yeah.” Piper smiled. Talking to Patience would definitely make her feel better.

“I’m glad.” And for the first time she could remember, he gave her a warm, genuine smile. “I’ll leave you alone so you can talk. Good night.”

“Good night.” To her horror, she almost said “Don’t go” instead. Her loneliness was out of control if a smile could make her slip up like that.

Piper waited until she heard the front door shut before going to get her computer. Her apartment sat at the back of the house. Technically, it was more like a suite of rooms—bedroom, bathroom and sitting room—but they were still nicer than anything she could afford on her own. They also came with kitchen privileges and monsieur’s kitchen was a dream come true even for an uninspired cook like her.

It was into the kitchen that Piper carried her laptop. Patience specifically said video chat, which meant she was planning on a nice long conversation. By putting the laptop on the counter, Piper could cook while they talked. It would be almost like home.

Almost.

A few keystrokes later, Patience Rush’s face appeared on screen. Took the older woman about two seconds to frown. “Your eyes are all red and puffy,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

Wow, was that the question of the night or what? Maybe she should have looked in a mirror to see how awful she actually looked. “I was chopping onions,” Piper replied. At least it was more believable than blaming the cheese.

Too bad her sister didn’t let the lie slide as easily as her boss had. “Onions, huh? You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Patience arched a brow. Her form of mother guilt. It worked every time.

“Okay,” Piper admitted, “maybe I was thinking about home a little bit too.”

“Oh, sweetie, I miss you, too. But hey, a couple more months and you’ll be back in Boston bragging to everyone you know how you’re a fancy French chef. Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”

“I do,” Piper replied, the familiar knot starting to twist in her stomach. She got the heavy unsettled feeling every time Patience started gushing about her great Paris adventure.

“So what is it that has you video chatting me in the middle of your day?” she asked, changing the topic. Her sister seemed especially bubbly today. A big difference from the last few phone calls. Her image on the screen glowed and not from computer glare either.

“What? A girl can’t miss her baby sister?”

“A girl can definitely miss her baby sister.” Same way the baby sister could miss her. Piper blinked back some fresh tears. “But usually you text. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Never too much for you.”

“Awww.” Sweet as the sentiment was, Piper wasn’t buying. Not with the way her sister’s eyes were sparkling. “Seriously, what do you want?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“I knew you wanted something.” Although what kind of favor could Piper do from halfway around the world? Send someone a souvenir? “What do you need?”

“I need you to pay a visit to someone there in Paris.”

“Who?”

Piper listened as her sister explained. The favor was for Piper to visit the sister of a dead artist named Nigel Rougeau.

“Hey, isn’t your boss’s cat named Nigel?” she interrupted. Patience was always telling stories about the big Maine coon cat.

“The cat’s a namesake,” Patience replied. “Nigel was Ana’s lover in the seventies.” Ana being the little old lady Patience worked for.

Her sister went on to explain a very tragic story involving Ana and the painter. “There’s a small chance that one of the paintings Ana posed for still exists,” she said.

“And you want me to talk with Nigel’s sister and find out for you.”

“If anyone knows if one of Nigel’s paintings survived, it would be someone in his family.”

True enough. Especially if Nigel and his sister were as close as she and Patience were.

“I think she’d find talking to you a lot less intimidating than a private detective.”