Bartered (The Encounter #1)(17)

This was the weirdest conversation I’d had with anyone to date. “I’m comfortable living in the villa, of course.” The villa, which was aptly named Villa Blanc, was suitable for royalty. Whomever would detest that would be insane. “Hugo… well… I’m sure he’s just being himself.”

“Are you saying he’s a jerk?” The word jerk rolled with a heavy accent.

“Something like that,” I replied as I reached for a croissant and pulled it apart. “Is he always so… rude?”

She thanked the butler for bringing her an ashtray before looking at me again. “Hugo is one of a kind. He’s forward and cuts to the chase—a trait I admired most after being a mistress to a married man for five years.”

Whoa.

Swallowing the piece of bread that got stuck in my throat, I gave her a frown. I had always wondered about my father and his women, and I had never really met anyone who openly admitted being a home wrecker.

She made a nonchalant shrug before taking a sip of her hot drink. “Don’t look so shocked. You’ll be surprised how most women around here are.”

Good to know that tidbit. “Oh…”

“Hugo Xavier is a good man. I consider him a friend, like family, even if that doesn’t make sense to you…” She paused looking away. “Sherry mentioned that you’re only with us for six months?” She gazed back at me with a raised brow.

Her immediate shift of the subject made me tense.

“Six months and not a day more.”

She made a nod before reaching out to touch my hand that was on the table. “You seem like a nice girl—maybe too young to handle a man like Hugo Xavier, but he chose you.” Her brown eyes sought mine. “He’s enigmatic and an excellent lover. He will shower you with everything and will say beautiful words that will make you feel hopeless, but I warn you, never fall for him. You don’t want that kind of life.” There was something ominous with her warning, as if she wasn’t telling me the entire truth.

“Of course I won’t.” Did she think I was that desperate? I loved Damen. “There’s no risk of that,” I assured her as I gave her a straight, pointed look. “Besides, Hugo might be handsome, but trust me when I say that I have given my heart a long time ago.”

“That’s reassuring to hear, Isobel.”

If I didn’t see the warmth in her eyes, I would’ve assumed this woman was out to get me because she herself was in love with Hugo. However, there was something in her expression that told me her coming here to warn me had been done with good intentions, thus I went with my gut, truly believing her.

“Do you have any plans today? I have a spa appointment, and it would be lovely if you could join me.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’d love to join you.” She beamed at me before taking another cigarette out and lighting it with gusto.



We spent a few hours at the spa getting massages, facials, and manicures. During that time, we chatted about our lives with a few helpings of Rosè.

I found out she was twenty-eight and had fled Paris when things hadn’t panned out with her affair with the married man that had lasted for five years. Chantel was apparently in college when she dropped out and had left Paris to heal her wounds. As much as I tried to pry the name of the man in question, she would make this small laugh and brush the subject off. So I abandoned the subject, leaving me wondering about her life.

In return, I spoke about Damen—my first love, and the love of my life. Though she didn’t ask much about my deal with Hugo, her empathizing about my situation made me feel a little better. Apart from Father, it was great to know there was another human being I could openly talk about it with since my father was such a coldhearted bastard. I didn’t even doubt that, after this deal, he’d go on thinking this was simply a mandatory duty as his daughter. He wouldn’t dare say thank you because that would be beyond his capabilities. Bemoaning about my unfortunate father wouldn’t get me anywhere, however, therefore I left him out of the picture and vaguely described him as a non-parent, parent.

The rest of our time, we didn’t speak much about Hugo or his history. It was spent about her reminiscing over the beauty of Paris and how she’d love to go back someday. When she was ready to face her wounded past, she’d make that trip to memory lane.

Entering the vast foyer, Chantel and I had just arrived at the villa when the house vibrated with sounds—and I meant heavy moans and pounding.

The echo of a woman’s screeching and screams as she was being pleasured made me stop in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the circular foyer, I stared ahead in the vast, freshly waxed, marbled hallway, mystified and visibly in shock. There was no doubt that it was Hugo’s skillful efforts that made the woman shout to the rooftops. And since I was with Chantel, the woman singing his praises was Sherry.

Was this an insult to me? Maybe I was overreacting, but I somehow felt offended, because last night he blatantly dismissed me like I was some rubbish.

Chantel came up behind me. “Have you ever seen him in action?” Her question made me frown.

Shaking my head, I glanced back at her, wondering what she was thinking about.

She winked at me before taking my hand. “Come, he usually doesn’t mind.”

“Usually doesn’t mind?” I parroted like a frightened idiot. “Hell, no. I’m fine.”