Captivated By The Brooding Billionaire (Holiday with a Billionaire 1)

Could he finally forget the past and embrace the glorious life he wanted with Abby? He could deal with his family’s censure, but there was one thing he couldn’t endure. That would be to let her get on a plane and fly away. He couldn’t let it happen.

* * *

Abby had never had so much fun in her life as they spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through the city filled with medieval and renaissance architecture. They would eat a meat pastry here, and a piece of fruit there. Raoul would tease her with a chocolate truffle, then kiss her while they walked on hand in hand.

At five they went to a shop called Clarisse. Abby was afraid to look at the prices. When she found the stunning cherry-red crew neck sheath, she loved it on sight. It had three-quarter sleeves and large colorful flowers on the lower half of the skirt and sleeves. After putting it on with her black heels, she emerged from the dressing room to show Raoul.

The way his black eyes played over her, Abby felt herself to turn to flame. “That’s the one.”

More than ever she knew this dinner meant something of importance, and she was glad she would be wearing a dress he liked. She gathered her other clothes and they went out to the car.

“Where is the dinner being held?”

“Over at the five-star Grand Hôtel la Cloche. It’s been classified as an historic monument overlooking the capital of Burgundy.”

In a few minutes, he pointed out the nearby famous Place Darcy. They drove to the private parking before walking inside the hotel to the sumptuous hall with flower-laden banquet tables. At the front of the hall she spotted a rostrum.

Two of the forty or so men and women assembled turned out to be his uncles. Everyone looked elegantly dressed. No wonder Raoul had offered to buy her something special to wear. The seated guests nodded to Raoul while they stared at Abby in what she could only describe as astonishment. After attending the funeral, she ought to be used to it.

“It’s already full,” she whispered. “Are we late?”

He put his arm around her waist. “It doesn’t matter. Now we won’t have to wait so long for me to get my part over with. Our place is up in front at the head table.”

In seconds, she found herself seated in the middle on Raoul’s left. The food had been served and people were starting to drink their wine. He introduced her to a distinguished middle-aged man with a trace of silver in his dark hair on her left. The man couldn’t take his eyes off her, but she knew instantly it wasn’t because he found her attractive.

“Mademoiselle Grant? I’d like you to meet Monsieur Raimund Godard, owner of the prestigious Pascal Godard Domaine here in Burgundy,” Raoul spoke in English. “And on his left, his daughter Solange.”

Abby smiled. “How do you do, Monsieur, Mademoiselle?” She assumed his daughter wasn’t married since Raoul hadn’t attached a different last name to her.

“Mademoiselle Grant,” the man murmured.

The other woman leaned forward to see around her father. Abby had heard the expression “staring daggers” at someone. She now saw it for herself. Solange de la Croix Godard, a real beauty with copper-red hair sweeping her shoulders, came close to impaling Abby with the dark brown eyes she’d inherited from her father.

By now Raoul had gotten involved in a conversation with an older man seated on his right. Abby ate in silence until another man, seated at the end of the table, walked up to the rostrum. He tapped his wineglass with a fork to get everyone’s attention and introduced himself. After a welcoming speech in French, he asked Raoul to come up.

“I won’t be long,” he whispered against her ear before he made his way to the podium. She was still reacting to the contact when he started speaking. Throughout the five-minute speech she didn’t understand, she sensed Solange’s eyes on her, but Abby refused to let her know she was aware of her.

There was a burst of applause before Raoul returned to the table. Two other men gave speeches and dessert was served. Raoul put an arm around the back of her chair. “If you’re ready, we’ll leave now.”

That was fine with Abby, who didn’t like being the center of attention. He held her chair while she got up, and then the two of them left the banquet hall, aware every eye had followed them out of the room.

“There. That wasn’t so bad.”

She gave an ironic chuckle, but didn’t say anything as he helped her into the car. When he got behind the wheel, Abby turned to him. “What was your speech about? You got a resounding ovation.”

“Remember when I told you that France’s grape harvest was among the smallest in thirty years, down ten percent from the year before?” She nodded. “I passed on some thoughts my grandfather and I discussed recently. It’s still too early to draw a conclusion about the quality of the wine this year. In truth, the future weather conditions haven’t been predicted by the experts to be all that bad even if the quantity of the wine will be economically tight.

“That’s why it’s advisable for some vineyards that have a system of reserves to hold back se

lling a part of the production year to year. That practice serves as insurance to help ride out those times when there is a poor grape harvest.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing on your estate?”

“And will continue to do. My grandfather and I are in lockstep on that score, even if some of the family have a hard time wanting to conserve,” he emphasized.

“I’m sure that’s why you’re in charge.”

“Many of my family members would like to replace me if it weren’t Decorvet tradition that the eldest son becomes head of the estate if the present owner dies or is unable to function.”