Hostage to Love

“It’s nothing, Madame. Just dealing with the catering company’s incompetence. Two of their staff have developed food poisoning. They are trying to find alternatives but—” He threw up his hands in an uncharacteristic Gallic display of frustration.

Belle hid her smile behind her hand. Only Bertrand would see someone coming down with food poisoning as a personal affront to his well-laid plans.

“Do you need me to do anything?” she offered.

“Non, Madame, merci. It is a mere hiccup. I will deal with it.” He straightened his cuffs and picked up the phone again.

“Great. Thanks, Bertrand.” She couldn’t suppress her smile as she returned to her room. Suddenly, it felt good to be home.

…

Their anniversary day dawned bright if a bit on the chilly side. After a frantic call to Liz, her friend had offered to come to the salon with her. Belle tried to ignore the cynicism in Liz’s tone when she’d heard the reason for the salon session. They met at a swanky café on the Kings Road, a few streets from the spa, and they’d barely sat down with their mocha lattes before her straight-talking friend plunged into conversation.

“You and Nick are truly back together together, I see,” she said with a meaningful glance at her wedding rings.

“Yes, and before you start giving me a hard time again, I want you to know it won’t be like last time. I love him, Liz, but I’m no longer living under his thumb. He knows I won’t take that. This time we’re both going into it with our eyes wide open.”

“And what about the children issue?” her friend pressed.

“We’ve discussed it, and I know where he’s coming from. That’s all I can say on the matter.” She bit her lip. “The bottom line is, I want to be Nick’s wife, and he wants to be my husband. We’ll work the rest out,” she said philosophically.

Her friend regarded her silently with shrewd green eyes, her elfin like, no-nonsense face serious. Then after taking a sip of her drink, she said, “You know what? I believe you. You’re not the same half-broken girl I helped pack for Nawaka two months ago. For his sake, I hope Nick knows how special you are. But never fear, I’ll be around to remind him just in case he forgets. And I shall be armed with a very fat stick. Now, do you want to tell me what the half-dozen-bodyguard thing is all about? I read a little about the guy who

’napped you. Surely you don’t think he’ll try anything here?”

The reminder that the danger wasn’t over put a damper on her happy day. “It’s not quite over yet. But I’m determined to enjoy my anniversary.” She summoned a bright smile.

By the time they reached the spa, the easy camaraderie that had made them best friends despite their starkly different personalities had been restored.

Belle arrived back home with two hours to spare before the party started. Shutting the door behind her, she immediately sensed something was wrong. Bertrand, who appeared from the kitchen to relieve her of her bags, appeared tense. Her trepidation increased.

“We have a visitor, Madame. Monsieur is in his study with her.”

“Her?” Nick hadn’t told her he was expecting anyone.

“Oui, she gave her name as Madame Bravington.”

Belle nodded but then saw Bertrand was still frowning. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

She forced herself to stay silent as the butler wavered. “If I may say, Monsieur was not very happy to see her.”

“Thank you, Bertrand. I can take it from here.” She waited until he’d disappeared down the hall before walking toward Nick’s study. As she approached the door, she bit her lip, in two minds whether to interrupt.

In the end, her peace of mind didn’t give her a choice. She knocked and entered.

The woman who sat with quiet composure facing a stone-faced Nick across his desk appeared to be in her early sixties. With blonde hair worn in stylish shoulder-length layers and a superbly cut pink skirt suit that screamed haute couture, she held herself in almost regal elegance. One hand was folded over the other in her lap, and Belle saw a huge pink diamond on her ring finger.

It only took a second to take all this in and focus on the face that turned when Belle entered. It took another second to see the resemblance and realize this woman was none other than Nick’s mother.

Nick got up, his movements jerky and unlike his usual graceful, sexy walk as he came toward her.

“Tinkerbelle, I wasn’t expecting you until—” He paused and glanced at his watch, his face registering surprise at the time. Leaning down, he placed an uncharacteristically chaste peck on her cheek before reluctantly turning to the other occupant in the room.

“Let me introduce you to my mother, Amanda Bravington. Mother, my wife, Belle.” The clinical precision with which he made the introduction made Belle cringe. Before she could respond, the other woman came toward her, both hands outstretched.

“Belle, I’m so pleased to finally meet you. I’ve been waiting so long to meet Nick’s wife, and now that I have, I curse myself for waiting this long.” Taking both Belle’s hands in hers, she kissed her on the cheek, and when she straightened, her lashes simmered with tears.

Emotion clogged Belle’s throat as she fought for a response. “It’s good to meet you, too, Mrs. Bravington,” she responded, aware of Nick’s stiffness beside her.