CHAPTER 267: CHAPTER 267 ASHTON: DINNER WITH THE ENEMY

‘Hey, you, stop!’

I turned and saw Antoine Marchand charging down the court steps, his face tight with anger.

To produce a man-child like Pierre Marchand, he must have had parents who’d spoiled him rotten. It turned out the indulgent parent wasn’t his mother, but his father.

An hour earlier, Antoine had burst into the courtroom with an entourage of lawyers. It was absurd overkill for a simple assault case. Thanks to their wrangling and, as Lea whispered to me, a bit of grease on the right palms, Pierre had walked away with barely a slap on the wrist.

Antoine wasn’t happy. He wanted me locked up for aggravated assault, criminal damage, resisting arrest and every other offence his legal team could dream up.

When the prosecutor let me off with a warning and a fine, Antoine went spare. He was angrier than his son, the one I had actually hit.

‘Don’t you think you should at least apologise?’ Antoine panted as he stopped in front of me.

The tailored suit did nothing to hide his bulging midriff. He was out of shape and out of breath.

I shrugged. ‘No.’

Lea gave my elbow a light tug.

I understood what she meant, but I was not about to grovel to a middle-aged, arrogant prick so he would stop smearing me in the papers. Grovelling never worked.

Antoine’s scowl deepened and the fleshy parts of his face folded in on themselves, making him look like a butcher in a caricature. ‘You hurt my son,’ he said.

‘He started it.’

‘He was only trying to talk to his wife.’ His gaze flicked to Lea with contempt. ‘Are you defending her because you’re sleeping with her?’

Lea went pink.

I frowned. ‘That explains where Pierre learned his foul mouth.’

‘Ignore him. He’s a grouchy old man with a sailor’s mouth,’ Françoise Marchand said, smiling in a way that smoothed the air. ‘Crude words aside, he has a point. Mr Laurent, would you mind telling me exactly what your relationship with Lea is?’

‘She’s a friend,’ I said.

‘I see.’ Françoise nodded and turned to Lea. ‘Lea, love, drinking with a man in a bar late at night does not look good for us. Pierre’s reaction is understandable. He is still your husband.’

‘Not once he signs the divorce papers,’ Lea shot back. ‘He’s dragging his feet.’

‘I’ll talk to him. He’ll come round eventually. He’ll see you’re not well matched and ending the marriage will be best for you both.’

Antoine snorted. ‘I should never have let him marry you. What a mistake.’

‘Antoine,’ Françoise said sharply before turning back to me. ‘Mr Laurent, I’m sorry we have dragged you into what should be a private matter, but you brought this on yourself when you shut down our Arlo SoHo hotels.’

‘I didn’t shut them down,’ I said. ‘The fire brigade did. Your hotels had safety violations a mile long.’

Françoise did not flinch. ‘I have sacked the manager and ordered a full investigation. I would like us to sort this so that when the hotels reopen, there are no surprise inspections, and our suppliers do not suddenly sign exclusive deals elsewhere.’ She held my gaze.

‘That’s simple,’ I said. ‘Once Lea is free from Pierre’s harassment, your hotels will stop getting surprise inspections and unexpected tax audits.’

‘Don’t you dare threaten me!’ Antoine growled. ‘You have no idea what I can do to ruin you. One phone call and your dirty laundry will be all over the news.’

I met his stare without flinching.

Françoise squeezed her husband’s arm. ‘Antoine, calm down. We came to make amends, not enemies.’ Her business smile slid back on effortlessly. ‘Pierre will need time to see our point of view, but I’m confident I can persuade him. For now, let’s keep business and personal matters separate, shall we?’

Normally, I would have agreed with that principle, but Lea was worth making an exception.

I said nothing.

Françoise checked her watch. ‘Why don’t I invite you to dinner, Mr Laurent? Lea, you as well. We can sit down, have a proper meal and talk things over. I’m sure we can reach an understanding.’

‘Will Pierre stick to it?’ Lea asked.

‘I’ll make sure he does,’ Françoise answered.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Tell me the time and place.’

‘Excellent. I’ll text you as soon as I have the booking.’ Still holding her husband’s thick wrist, she guided him towards a waiting limousine.

‘You really think dinner with them is a good idea?’ Lea asked once they had gone.

‘It’s worth a try. Françoise seems reasonable. If she convinces me she can keep Pierre in check, I’ll think about easing up on their businesses.’

I climbed into the waiting car and Lea followed.

‘Where to now, sir?’ the driver asked.

I almost told him Mira’s hotel but stopped myself. ‘Hotel Saint-Rivière,’ I said instead.

The car pulled away.

I booked a suite next to Lea’s. We went over what to cover at dinner and the conditions she considered non-negotiable. Pierre’s shares in Titanova were at the top of the list. She needed them back.

‘I should never have let him buy those shares,’ she said ruefully. ‘Without them, I could have cut ties and walked away clean.’

‘Françoise will sell them,’ I said. ‘Those shares mean nothing to her and she won’t want me going after her Skyline businesses.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

I checked my phone. There were work emails and updates from Dominic but no messages from Mira. A low-battery warning flashed.

‘Give it here and I’ll plug it in,’ Lea said.

I handed her the phone and went for a shower.

When I came out, I asked, ‘Any calls for me?’

‘No. Just a text from Françoise with the restaurant details.’

I checked. The battery was full and the call log was clear.

I put the phone in my pocket. ‘Let’s go.’