What had he called her? Greedy, unscrupulous and dishonest.
And perhaps she’d deserved it. After all, it had been dishonest to use a ticket that wasn’t hers.
To call her greedy and unscrupulous was a bit over the top, but, given the outrageous price of the tickets, she could see how he might have thought that about her.
And to make matters worse there had been that incredibly sticky moment when his father had expressed his undiluted joy that his son was finally in a loving relationship.
Remembering the look of thunderous incredulity that had transformed Angelos’s features from handsome to intimidating, Chantal slid lower in her seat.
That had been the biggest mistake of all: voicing her dreams and fantasies to the elderly man who had helped her so much. But she’d adored him on sight, and he’d been so kind to her. So approachable and sympathetic. Almost a father figure, although she didn’t really know what one of those looked like. As far as she was concerned, the species was extinct.
Perhaps that was why she’d been so drawn to him.
Angelos’s father.
She gave a whimper of disbelief and regret. Of all the men in the room, why had she chosen him as a sounding board for her fantasies?
Telling herself firmly that it was in the past, and she needed to forget it, Chantal straightened her shoulders and tried to think positively about the future.
Obviously she couldn’t stay in Paris. She needed to travel to somewhere remote. A place where there was absolutely no chance of bumping into one very angry Greek male. The Amazon, maybe? Or the Himalayas? Even a man with a global business wasn’t likely to have an office in Nepal, was he?
She sat for a moment, trying to stir up some enthusiasm for her next step.
It was exciting to be able to travel anywhere and be anyone. She was lucky to be free to make the decisions she wanted to make. How many other people had absolutely no ties? Most people had jobs to restrict their movements, or families to think of. She had no such restrictions.
She had no family to answer to. No one who cared what she did. She could move continents tomorrow without having to ask anyone’s permission, and she could be anyone she wanted to be.
Chantal waited for the usual buzz of excitement that came from the prospect of reinventing herself yet again, but nothing happened. Instead of the thrill of adventure, her mood was totally flat.
She felt as though she’d lost something and she didn’t understand why she would feel that way.
What had she lost?
‘Chantal!’ The café owner’s voice cut through the embarrassing memories like a sharp knife. ‘I am not paying you to rest! We have customers. Get on your feet and serve them! This is your last warning.’
Chantal sprang to her feet, realising with another spurt of embarrassment that she’d sat down at the table she was supposed to be cleaning.
Her cheeks pink, she quickly gathered up the empty cup and two glasses and hurried into the kitchen.
‘More time working and less time dreaming, or I’ll be looking for a new waitress.’ The small, rotund little Frenchman gave an unpleasant smile, openly staring at the thrust of her breasts under her white blouse. ‘Unless you want to apply for a different role.’
Chantal lifted her eyes to his, his comment triggering a response so violent that it shocked her. It took her a moment to find her voice. ‘Look for a new waitress,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I resign.’ And, just to reinforce that decision, she removed the ridiculous little apron that she’d been forced to wear over the vestigial black skirt and white blouse.
The café owner thought that it attracted customers. And it did. But they were almost always the type of customer she would have chosen to avoid.
Vile self-loathing curled inside her and she thrust the apron into his hands, not even bothering to ask for the money he owed her.
She didn’t care about the money.
She just wanted to get away. The truth was that Chantal, waitress, had never really worked for her. Neither had Chantal, chambermaid, or Chantal, barmaid.
The darkness of her past pressed in on her and she hurried towards the door, desperately needing to be outside in the warm Paris sunshine.
The café owner was subjecting her to a tirade of fluent French, but Chantal ignored him and virtually ran out of the door.
She’d move on. Travel somewhere exotic where she knew no one.
Maybe Egypt would be exciting. She could see the pyramids and swim in the Red Sea—