Scent of Desire : A Parisian Exotica: An Ultra Luxury Billionaire Romance Read online

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  Scent of Desire: A Parisian Exotica

  An Ultra-Luxury Billionaire Romance

  By: Amanda Horton

  Chapter One

  “You’re pregnant!” The doctor announced.

  Suddenly all grand plans for the future was like gritty wood shavings in her throat. Carla Hornsby swore she was actually choking on it. She couldn’t breathe even if her mouth was wide open. The dream of a neat office surrounded by glass pane windows with her name on the door was fading fast. It was like those sci-fi movies where everything turned into molecules, everything dissolving completely into the unknown.

  Nothing registered, not even the face of the doctor who delivered the news. She had probably witnessed this scenario a hundred times in the past.

  “This wasn’t planned then?” The question came from a wind tunnel.

  “It was only that one time…only for one night!” Carla gasped.

  “Well those little suckers don’t really care. You should have been on the pill if you were planning to have sex.”

  Carla caught the censure in her voice. The name plate pinned on the left side of her breast pocket revealed the name Janelle Beasley, MD. The woman sighed probably remembering who she was.

  “Miss Hornsby, my guess is you’re approximately three weeks pregnant. I’ll know more after the blood tests come back. What you thought was indigestion was a little person growing inside you,” she paused allowing the news to sink in and then continued, “I don’t know what you plan to do about that life growing inside your belly, but if you are not ready to have a baby, we can discuss other options open to you. Please put on your clothes and come to my office.”

  Carla rose from the examination table. She was surprised her body still functioned as it was supposed to because she felt like Atlas carrying the sky on her shoulder as atonement for her sin.

  “Oh god, no! I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  The excuse sounded lame. An accusing voice whispered at the back of her mind that pregnancy was always possible. Jesus! She was a grown-ass woman. Didn’t she see it coming? True, she’s been single for months and didn’t see the need to take the pill. But sex was the last thing on her mind when she thought of Falcon Manchester.

  Really? The accusing voice mocked. Carla rolled her eyes. The shock was wearing off and despair was setting in. Despair turned into desperation. She needed to put the blame on someone else.

  “This is all Lindsay’s fault,” she muttered.

  Lindsay Davenport. Her friend. A product of the best finishing school in Lausanne Switzerland, a school for those born in to money, where they were taught social graces like extending a pinkie when sipping their tea, before being introduced to society. Lindsay Davenport who could speak three languages and was one of the highest paid models in the world. Names like Tom Ford, Donatella Versace, and Giorgio Armani could be found in her phone contacts.

  Lindsay was stunning with the kind of chameleon beauty that was perfect for the runway plus the kind of perky breasts that made couture dresses flow naturally down the slender frame.

  She was Falcon Manchester’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, to be fair. But in Lindsay’s world the next bigger catch was always in the horizon. She went through her relationships like a box tissue and a runny nose. When she announced she broke up with Falcon, Carla was not really surprised. It was more Lindsay’s request that threw her off.

  “Keep an eye on him for me. Tell me if he starts seeing someone else. You know…keep me on the loop.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Carla retorted, shocked.

  Please, Carla. I’m not sure if Hans and I will work out. I just need to keep my options open.”

  “You’re such a gold digger,” Carla countered hotly.

  Lindsay managed to look embarrassed, then pouted as she studied her perfect manicure. “I know. But Hans is a duke. I could be a duchess someday if things work out. But incase things don’t, I can always go back to Falcon.”

  Carla was shocked at the callousness. Lindsay said it like it was the most rational thing in the world. What girl didn’t aspire to be married to royalty and still want a fallback? Logical, right? But to keep Falcon in her radar would be spying on him for Lindsay’s sake.

  “But why me?” Carla asked.

  “Because you’re friends. You get along fine. He thinks you’re a sweet girl. And you’re my friend too.”

  Carla didn’t need Einstein’s IQ to understand. Lindsay meant Falcon would never be attracted to someone like her. It hurt. But it was the truth. Carla always felt like a shade of nothing, a shadow, around her best friend. Lindsay often said she wanted more of Carla’s burnished copper hair and golden-brown eyes. Of course, Carla never believed that. She was aware that her 5’4” frame with breasts that were full and narrowed down to a size 26 waistline was mediocre compared to the Lindsay Davenports of this world.

  “So, what are your plans for now?” Carla asked.

  “I’m leaving for Monaco tonight with Hans.”

  “I guess you should start packing then,” Carla replied with sarcasm.

  Lindsay sighed and reached out to her. “I’m 28 years old,” she said softly. “I only have a few more years before I am considered too old for the runway. Modeling is a cruel job. You’re only as good as your looks. Falcon is a great guy and we’ve had fun together. And I still want that. But the way I see it, I’ll grab at every opportunity I can so that I don’t grow old miserable and poor. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Strangely, Carla understood. It was a universal desire. To feel safe and secure about her own future was at the top of her agenda. Her own career at Brighton and Young as a junior architect partner was finally paying off. In a year she could start her own practice. She just needed the funds to start her own firm. It was so close she could almost taste it. She could take her satchel, pens, trace paper roll, tape measure, and scale to a whole new level.

  It was a far cry for Lindsay’s modeling world of rowdy after-parties peppered with exciting personalities like film producers, movie stars, musicians, disc jockeys, and other celebrities. But Carla would never exchange her own world for that.

  “Good luck then, Carla said kissing Lindsay on the cheek.

  “You promise to keep an eye on Falcon then,” Lindsay asked.

  “Yeah, okay,” Carla answered, shooing her out the door.

  Deep inside she knew it was a promise she had no intentions of keeping. She liked Falcon. She really liked him a lot. It was a secret she kept to herself.

  She met him through Lindsay in one of the parties Lindsay dragged her to. Carla never felt comfortable in a noisy raucous atmosphere with disco lights flashing and music booming. It wasn’t her scene but it was a great way to meet future clients. There was always that actor whose movie made millions and was on the lookout for a second house, or the wealthy producer whose mistress wanted one.

  Unfortunately, beautiful women plus rich male celebrities equaled a pairing frenzy that was surreal. She was talking earnestly to a music producer when his eyes faltered and followed a passing model. Carla knew the opportunity was lost.

  Carla looked
around in search of Lindsay. She saw her near the bar clinging to the arm of a guy she introduced earlier. Falcon, Carla remembered. He was very good-looking and appeared to be in his element, waving to friends and making small talk. There was a magnetic appeal in the way he held his glass and how he lowered his face to catch what Lindsay was saying. Carla couldn’t take her eyes off him. She wished it was her clinging to his elbow instead of her friend. She moved away scared that he would think she was some kind of stalker.

  After a fourth glass of champagne she felt a migraine coming. She slipped through a door hoping it would led to some kind of exit. Instead, she found herself in a balcony overlooking the city. She inhaled deeply hoping the fresh air would stave off the looming headache.

  “You’re Lindsay’s friend, right?”

  Carla was startled. She didn’t know anyone else was in there.

  “My name is…”

  “Falcon,” Carla cut in, immediately wishing she didn’t. There was something slightly pathetic about remembering someone’s name when he probably didn’t remember hers. “Yes, Lindsay introduced us earlier. My name is…”

  “…Carla. Carla Hornsby, right?” Falcon asked.

  Carla was elated and nodded.

  “So, Carla Hornsby, what are you doing out here alone?” Shouldn’t you be in there interacting and telling people how good you are at your job?”

  How did he know? Was he watching her? The idea felt…good. Not freaky at all.

  “It gets stale after a while,” she admitted.

  Falcon laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  He looked at the spread below. Carla felt comfortable in his presence. Instinctively she felt he didn’t belong to that breed of men who needed to impress with their achievement. There was a quiet confidence about him that enhanced the fine lines around his eyes. Carla pegged him to be no more than in his late thirties. She wondered what he did for a living.

  “I assume you’re not here to sell yourself,” Carla asked jokingly.

  “No, I’m not. I think the company is doing well by itself. I’m here to show my support as sponsor to the New York fashion week.”

  “And what company is that?” Carla asked.

  “Live Glow.” He replied.

  Carla gasped. The cosmetic company was one of the biggest in the world. But it wasn’t just cosmetics. The company had branched out into watches, jewelry, perfume, and herbal products. They retailed worldwide.

  Something clicked in Carla’s brain. Falcon Manchester as in Manchester Global Enterprises. The guy had megabucks to go with the fabulous name. No wonder Lindsay was clinging to him. The image was a damper.

  “How about you, what do you do?” Falcon asked.

  “I’m an architect. I design houses. It’s all boring stuff really, compared to what others do,” Carla replied, thinking of Lindsay.

  “I always loved creating things from nothing. Tell me all about it,” Falcon replied.

  And just like that, they formed a bond. She felt he was a genuine guy. When he and Lindsay started dating and eventually became a couple, Carla was disappointed. It was a disappointment she brushed aside because it was mostly hers.

  Carla was certain that the romance doorway was never there for her. Whether Lindsay was around or not, she knew she wasn’t Falcon’s type. He treated her more like a sister. She still saw him quite frequently because Lindsay was the type who needed a posse to show off her triumphs. And Falcon was one of her trophies.

  Each time they saw each other, Falcon was friendly, oftentimes, teasing her about work. He’d even throw in a referral every now and then. Lindsay tolerated the friendship because Carla knew she posed no danger to her. No competition at all. Until they broke up and Lindsay asked her ridiculous request.

  The one Carla had no intentions of doing until late one evening….

  Carla exited the door of her office building. There was Falcon parked at the curb. Surprise made her freeze on the spot. The joy at seeing him again was overwhelming.

  Honestly, Carla thought she lost a friend. Their friendship was hinged on Lindsay’s presence in his life and now that she was gone, Carla doubted she’ll ever hear from him again.

  “Hi,” he waved a hand at her from across the street.

  Carla waved back walking towards his car and trying to erase the surprise on her face. It felt good seeing him again yet she wondered at the sudden shyness she felt.

  “Hello stranger, she greeted, “where have you been hiding yourself?

  Falcon stepped out of his BMW i8 and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I just flew in an hour ago. Are you free for dinner? I’m not in the mood for my own company.”

  Carla was taken aback by the sudden invitation. It was the last thing she expected. Guilt assailed her and she felt torn. If she accepted it was like betraying Lindsay by saying yes to an ex.

  She broke up with him. Don’t be stupid!

  The thought did occur it was that easy for him to choose when to disappear or reappear in her life

  “Travelling huh,” she muttered as she sunk into the cedar brown interior of the luxury car.

  “France actually,” he replied.

  France was near enough to Monaco. Maybe he went after Lindsay. The notion made her feel cold. But it did bring Lindsay back to the forefront of her mind and she needed to know if they were back together.

  “Did you make it work,” she asked innocently.

  “I always make things work,” he replied enigmatically.

  Carla swallowed. Her suspicion was right. They did make up.

  You were meant for each other,” Carla replied softly.

  “That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw it.”

  “It?” She asked suddenly confused.

  Falcon glanced at her and replied, “yes, the piece of property that I bought. The owners gave me hell before they agreed to sell.”

  “Oh! I thought you were talking about…”

  “Riquewihr, it’s a small town 5 hour from Paris, France. I bought a vineyard. I thought about producing my own wine. Why? What else were you thinking?” Falcon asked puzzled.

  The sense of relief that flooded was unbelievable. But she brought the white elephant into the conversation. Now she had to address it.

  “Lindsay. I thought you went to see her. I never saw you again after you two broke up and I wanted to say I’m sorry about that.”

  She felt him stiffen. But when he addressed her, there was hardly a trace of emotion on his face. “Thank you, Carla. That’s really sweet of you.”

  Silence fell between them. Then Falcon reached out and tapped her knee, “I really feel like celebrating tonight. I didn’t realize the French were such tough negotiators. But I got it. I always get what I want.”

  He brought her to a quaint rooftop restaurant at the waterfront district where the steak was so tender and the margaritas strong. Falcon was attentive filling her glass from the pitcher while regaling her with stories of the land deal. He was triumphant and elated.

  It must have been the margaritas or the knowledge that he and Lindsay weren’t back together that made Carla euphoric.

  “I brought home bottles of the wine they produce at the vineyard. Would you like to taste it?”

  The question was innocuous and rang true to his elation over the land.

  “I’m game,” Carla giggled as they stood to go.

  It was a decision she regretted now, the very reason she was still in shock over the knowledge that she had gotten herself pregnant.

  Chapter Two

  “Goddammit! Where is that woman?” Falcon threw his cell onto the bed in exasperation. He must have called Carla a dozen times in the past month.

  He glanced at the stack of documents on his desk waiting for his signature. The pile had grown since he arrived two days ago. His private secretary at Manchester Global brought them over probably hoping he could give it his attention. Falcon picked up a document and tried to focus. It was useless. He tossed it back to the pile
.

  He walked to the glass window and tried to calm his mind. He never knew how tedious French laws were about foreigners owning property in their country. He was glad for the team of lawyers he had hired.

  Unfortunately, it was the constant traveling that agitated him now. Each time he thought his schedule would finally allow him the chance to call and see her, another urgent matter would crop up. This was his fourth trip in less than a month. It frustrated him that Carla wasn’t taking any of his calls. Even his messages were left unanswered.

  “I should have called her sooner, he muttered. “I’m such an asshole.”

  He really intended to, Falcon swore, remembering that particular night. She was gone when he woke up with a massive hangover. The stack of empty wine bottles in his living room was enough proof that they had a wild night. He was surprised that despite the wine, every detail about the sex was so clear in his mind. So clear that it gave him a hard on just thinking about her.

  Then he received that call from his lawyer in France informing him of a problem that needed his attention. He headed straight for the airport and the urgency to make that call was forgotten.

  Falcon ran a hand through his hair wishing he didn’t have to go now. He wanted desperately to see Carla. But the deal was coming to a close. The French lawyers promised him the final documents for the sale was now awaiting his signature.

  His private jet was waiting at the hangar and the pilot warned him about an impending storm that needed a different flight plan. If they missed the scheduled take off, he would miss the 8 a.m. meeting at the office of the French Notaire Fees. It was the final step. The deed would be his.

  Falcon was torn about leaving again. Then he sighed and realized how much time and effort he had already invested in Riquewihr.

  “I’ll fix this,” he vowed, imagining what Carla must be thinking.

  It’s been nearly a month since that night and they haven’t talked or seen each other. He was aware of the implication. “Carla probably feels humiliated,” he thought.