Taming the French Tycoon

“You don’t know the half of it, Sparkles. See you in a little while.”

“Oh, Dad—” Emotions of love and guilt made her throat swell before she heard the click. He’d called her that from the time she was a little girl. What made this so hard was the fact that she hadn’t always been home for important events.

Since her grandparents had died, she’d been working secretly behind the scenes to develop a perfume to help save the company. Her papa had sworn her to secrecy, even from her parents.

For the last few months, she’d felt estranged from them, which had never happened before. Her dad was particularly upset for her mother, who was missing Jasmine terribly and didn’t understand why she hadn’t been home for so long. When they’d hung up, Jasmine had felt his crushing disappointment and it had almost destroyed her.

But now that it was her birthday, everything was going to change. Within a month she would set certain things right and then go home to her family and spend the rest of her life proving her love for them. Her silly idea of marrying a cowboy was a fantasy of course, but she was going home for good!

After hanging up, she alerted the housekeeper that her family would be descending within the hour. Then she hurried to shower and wash her hair. To her shock, the stranger’s comment about her lack of concern for her family’s feelings unexpectedly flashed through her mind again, pressing on her awful guilt..

It infuriated her that the memory of his off-base remarks lingered to torment her. She couldn’t believe that after two months she was still thinking about him when she had a board meeting to dress for. Jasmine had never attended one, but knew she needed to wear something conservative.

Her new three-piece suit with the knit jacket, pencil skirt and shell in soft peach would project the right image. Not over-or underdressed. She’d wear her hair caught back at the nape and put on her small pearl earrings. This was the kind of outfit her grandmother would have worn to such a meeting with Jasmine’s papa.

* * *

Luc realized he needed a break from banking business and was ready for a relaxing weekend. But when he called his good friend Nic Valfort to go deep-sea fishing, he learned Nic was on a trip to the States with his new wife and wouldn’t be back for another three days.

Somehow Luc needed to throw off this obsession over the woman on Yeronisos. Why in the hell couldn’t he get her out of his mind? He’d found himself fantasizing about her, which was ridiculous when he knew he’d never see her again.

Somehow he had to think about something else. Being with Nic would have helped. He and Nic had met at college and had been friends ever since, like their grandfathers, who’d done business together in the past.

Between the plane crash that had marred Luc’s life and the tragedy that had befallen Nic’s first wife, the men had suffered grief at different periods and could relate. Luc enjoyed being with him whenever they could break away.

But since Nic’s second marriage, they hadn’t seen much of each other. His friend was ecstatically happy with his new American wife. After he got back from California, Luc would call him so they could get together.

As for tonight, there would be a party with his family to celebrate one of his cousin’s birthdays. While he was getting ready to leave his suite, his assistant, Thomas, buzzed him. It had better be important because he was already late.

“Oui?”

“I just got a heads-up from one of our sources in Paris. Turn on your TV. Hurry!”

“More terrorism?”

“This news could be worse for us depending on the outcome.”

A frown marred Luc’s Gallic features. He reached for the remote in his desk drawer and clicked on to the six o’clock news. He paid Thomas well to keep his ear to the ground.

“Good evening, everyone. On this Friday, we’re coming to you from Chaine Huit in Paris, France, with breaking news that is already rocking the international perfuming community. Today, a stunning announcement came from Grasse, France, the perfume capital of the world, causing a negative fluctuation in the stock market.”

Tension lines deepened around Luc’s mouth.

“Within the last twenty-four hours, the iconic House of Ferrier has undergone a dramatic new change in management.”

A cold sweat broke out on his body. What change? No one had informed Luc.

The former biggest moneymaker in the perfume industry was one of the bank’s top clients and had been for ninety years. But two years ago the head of Ferriers had died and the business had slowly started losing revenue. A few months later, Luc’s own grandfather had passed away of a bad heart, making Luc the CEO of the bank.

Though the world didn’t know it yet, the quarterly gross sales reports indicated a declining percentage in Ferriers’s profits. Not totally alarming yet, but still, Luc was worried. Since his grandfather had been Maxim Ferrier’s banker, Luc had been the one to take over their various accounts in order to maximize the assets in an unstable economy. It was one of the reasons he’d gone to Nicosia in May and again in June.

But without the proper leadership he’d worried about the future of a company that had been part of the backbone of the French economy for close to a century. If it failed, the economic structure of Southern France would be jeopardized. Like many other businesses, Ferriers had stayed alive all these years. If it continued to go downhill, the bank would be affected.

“Two years ago, the world lost the greatest perfumer of our time, Maxim Ferrier, at sixty-eight years of age. Balmain, Dior, Givenchy, Caron, Guerlain, Chanel, Balenciaga, Estee Lauder, Rochas, Fragonard, Ricci, Lentheric—all the great major perfume houses considered him an icon the world will never see again.

“Since his death, the company has been run by the family and other staff who made up the board while he was alive. But today, they have finally appointed a new head.”

Luc ground his teeth. As he’d already found out, none of them had the Midas touch of the legendary perfumer himself. Who in heaven’s name would they have found and brought in to turn things around? Absolutely no one from any other perfume house in the world had Maxim Ferrier’s genius. Not in this generation. Probably not for another hundred years.

“Spill it!” Luc muttered furiously to the TV anchorman, who knew this broadcast was making the kind of news the media lived and died for and was milking it for all he was worth.

“Our station is the first to announce the name of Jasmine Martin, a total unknown, who has been put at the helm. She’s an unmarried twenty-six-year-old with no formal job experience and has brought no resume to the position of the multibillion-dollar corporation.”

“What?” In a state of shock, Luc shot to his feet.

“It’s an unprecedented move since only two men have ever held that coveted position in the Ferrier perfume empire...Maxim Ferrier, and before him, his uncle, Paul Ferrier, whose father had run a flower farm in the very beginning. Right now, we’re taking you live to the sacrosanct laboratory of the brilliant perfumer in Grasse. Our anchorman, Michel Didier, is standing by there, ready to interview her.”

While Luc walked over to the TV screen to get a closer look, the other anchorman introduced himself.

“Good evening from our network in Grasse. I’ve been invited inside the room where Maxim Ferrier himself developed his famous formula for Night Scent, a perfume that won every award and still tops perfume sales around the globe. This is a privilege for me and all our viewers. The whole world is waiting to meet you, Jasmine. May I call you that?”

“Of course.”

As the camera panned in on her, a cry of shock escaped Luc’s throat. No—it couldn’t be!

Hers was the beautiful face he’d seen at the dock on Yeronisos! He took a deep breath, trying to comprehend it. The woman who’d given Luc battle before he’d watched her charge up those steep steps, possibly to her death, was Jasmine Martin? The new CEO at Ferriers?

His dark head reared. He’d never thought to see her again. Yet there she was in the flesh, that fiery beauty he’d been fantasizing about every night.

How was it that she of all people on this planet had been made head of one of the most iconic companies in France? She was a daredevil who’d insinuated that Luc was on his way to middle age before she’d ignored him and gone straight up the cliff to jump off. He rubbed the back of his neck in consternation.

It defied logic that a woman so careless with her own life was now running a billion-dollar corporation. Luc was so incredulous over what had been announced, he couldn’t make sense of anything.

This evening she wore her hair caught back at the nape. Instead of wearing a T-shirt and bikini, she was dressed in a peach-colored suit that revealed her gorgeous figure.

Behind her were stacked rows of hundreds of bottles, reminding him of the wizard’s shop in the Harry Potter film he’d seen with two of his nephews. Those magic potions that still delighted moviegoers everywhere.

Yet the potions behind this woman had worked their own special magic in the cosmetic world, yielding billions of dollars in revenue.

“I have many questions to ask. But for all those watching our broadcast around the globe, this question is foremost in everyone’s mind. How did you of all people, of all women, get picked, and at such a young age?”

An impish smile broke out on her alluring face. Luc’s breath caught. The memory of their heated exchange had caused him one restless night after another since his return. Twenty-six meant she was older than he’d thought, but it still rankled that she’d dared to accuse him of trying to pick her up.

She folded her arms and lounged against the edge of the lab table.

“You’re going to get your scoop now, Michel,” she teased with that same audacious maturity, so at odds with her lack of judgment when it came to her safety. There was a twinkle in her dark blue eyes. The first time they’d met she’d been wearing sunglasses. Luc had to admit he’d never seen anyone so natural in front of the camera. “I’m Maxim Ferrier’s youngest grandchild.”

Grandchild?