Vivienne Cartwright can have anything she wants in life except for the man she loves.
She chases it only to find herself crashing down after the ultimate high.
Oliver Yates doesn't seem to be the man she's loved all these years and his secrets are...
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Paris, France
April 2005
"This seems a bit tight, I think," my father said as he stood in the middle of the apartment and did a slow sweep of it. "What do you think, Stellan?"
My brother put down the pair of boxes he'd moved from the hall outside to the small pile starting to build in one corner of the living room. He straightened up and surveyed the space, sending me an amused smile.
"This place can house a family of at least four people. I don't think it's tight at all," he said and I just laughed and went to slip an arm around Dad.
"Stellan's right, you know?" I said, smiling up at the high ceilings and the large windows that looked out to the the heart of Paris. My new apartment was in one of the many classic Haussman buildings that dominated the 7th Arrondissement and offered the quintessential romantic view of modern Paris—the Eiffel Tower and Seine River outlined in the distance through your window, the tree-lined cobbled streets, the high-walled gardens and endless rows of shops. "This is more space than I really need. I don't think you have to worry about me."
Dad glanced down at me with a soft grin. "But where will Stellan and I stay when we come visit? We'll be here at least once a month."
I raised my brows. "No, you won't. And even if you did, there's a spare bedroom."
"And there might be an art gallery that he's buying in the Latin Quarter, just along the Sorbonne, so he has an excuse to regularly visit," Stellan said, earning a glare from Dad.
"It's a small investment," Dad defended without much conviction.
I really shouldn't be surprised. Despite running the large international cruise chain our family has owned for a few generations now, my father dabbled in a several small ventures, some of which conveniently placed him in cities where I lived in the couple times I had to live away from home. We already had a house in New York but he bought an old building in the Meatpacking district to develop into rental office space. Now an art gallery in Paris.
I love my Dad and his overprotectiveness might smother some people but I understood it about him. We'd lost important people we loved in our family too soon—my Mom, Gabriella—the woman Dad had fallen in love with after he and my mother grew apart—and Cassandra, the daughter they had together who is mine and Stellan's baby sister. That taught Dad to hang on tight to me and my brother as much as he could.
"You know you're going to have to let me go a little bit, Dad, don't you?" I asked him softly. "I'm all grown up now."
Dad swallowed hard, his eyes wistful. "I know you are, sweetie. I'm trying, alright?"
