Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(85)

Olivier pounces on me like an animal, and I let out a loud yelp and dissolve into giggles as he proceeds to attack me from head to toe with kisses, his hands trailing all over my body.

I feel nothing but relief with him on top of me.

I feel nothing but butterflies in my chest and love in my heart.

I let myself be ravaged by my Frenchman—mind, body, and soul.





EPILOGUE

OLIVIER

Six months later

“Bon matin,” I hear Sadie whisper in my ear.

I push the fragments of my dreams aside and slowly open my eyes to see soft sunlight spilling in through the windows. The light here in California is so similar to the light in the South of France, especially in winter. It’s pale, and it glows, just enough to give you warmth, enough to keep your spirits lifted.

But the light isn’t the only thing that keeps me up.

It’s Sadie.

My dear, beautiful Sadie, lying on her side in bed with me, positively angelic in this light, in every light.

When I decided to come to America and start over with her, in what she would call a ballsy move, I knew it would be a risk. I knew it would be a challenge. But I didn’t for a moment think it would be a regret.

It hasn’t been. It was worth it ten times, no, a million times over to take that leap with her and focus on creating a life together.

At the moment, our life is just starting to settle down, find its footing, put down roots.

We’re actually living in a guest cottage on Renaud’s vineyard.

His house is on the other side of the thousands of rolling acres of merlot and cabernet sauvignon. And in between us, nestled near the Dumont Napa Winery and production facilities, is the foundation for the Dumont Hotel.

People work fast in the US. We broke ground a month ago, and in a few more months, just in time for summer, the hotel just might be up and running.

I’ve never been so excited about a project in all my life.

Especially now that I have two projects.

The first is the hotel, set to be not only my first real boutique hotel with only twenty rooms, but also my first one in America.

The second is that I plan on making Sadie my wife.

I know on the surface we’ve known each other for only seven months, but the truth is, I’ve discovered more about myself in those seven months than I have in my whole life. And more than that, I’ve learned what it is to know my heart. To know what it is to love.

To know what it is to be loved.

With Sadie, I’ve found all that. I’ve found myself in her—the true Olivier who isn’t bound by contracts and deadlines and guilt. A place where I can finally be free.

But, of course, it all comes at a price.

The company is still in the hands of Gautier, Pascal, and Blaise.

My sister is still working there . . . working for them.

It pains me to even think that, to know that what we worked so hard for, all my father’s morals and accomplishments, has been washed away. Sure, his legacy will always survive, but Gautier is running the company completely differently now. The online store is up and running. He’s collaborating with artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat in limited-edition runs, which is producing a flurry in stores. Even the branding has changed, becoming something flashy and cheap.

Sales are up. I guess I never assumed his plans and ambitions for the company wouldn’t work—rather, that they were never needed. Sales are up because this is a novelty, but I have doubts they will stay up in the long run.

And Seraphine is there, trying to deal with it all, knowing that my father is most likely rolling in his grave.

But she won’t give up. I talk with her at least once a week, trying to convince her to leave, or at least to come here and visit.

She won’t. She’s too loyal for that. Too determined and stubborn. She wants to do this for our father. She wants to stay on board to have her say, even if no one listens to her. She wants to be there just in case, to keep our enemies closer.

She says it’s the only thing she knows how to do, the only thing she wants to do.

I worry about her. Not just about her safety, I worry most about her sanity. What it’s like to work in that building alongside Blaise all day. She insists he drives her crazy, and I believe that. I also worry that she may start putting trust in him when she shouldn’t. She says that Blaise has been distancing himself from his brother and uncle and that his confessions to us are still holding true. But I don’t know. She can be too trusting about the wrong things, and I wish I were there to keep an eye on things myself.

But I don’t want to leave Sadie, even though she’s used to having my brother, Renaud, around, and I often fly her mother down to visit. I don’t want to leave construction either, not at this crucial time.

I know that going back to Paris will have to happen sooner or later. I’m able to conduct my business here without having to be in Europe, especially with a board of managers and directors underneath me doing the work, but even so, I need to check in on Seraphine.

I need to check in on my uncle.

I need, in some way, to let him know that I haven’t run away, I’m just biding my time. Neither he nor Pascal have contacted me. I guess there’s no need. I’m out of the picture. I lost. My father is dead. I have no control over the company. They set me up, and they won.

Still, I have a feeling my uncle isn’t going to let me forget what I did to him. He doesn’t take humiliation lightly. I can only hope that he’s too wrapped up in the company to come after us, even though I’ll be watching my back for the rest of my life.