Sandra Marton - The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

Danielle sat up and switched the phone to her other ear. ‘A film company? Don’t tell me you finally landed an acting role, Val! Oh, I’m so happy for you. I know how hard you—’

‘I’m not exactly in the film, Danni.’

Danielle frowned. ‘What kind of job do you have, then?’

‘Well, see, I heard about this film Barney Wexler was casting, and I thought I’d have a go at it. I’d met Barney a few years ago, when I was doing a charity fashion show in LA, and—’

‘I thought you just said you weren’t in the film.’

‘I’m not.’ Valerie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, just as it had when they were children. ‘But I’ve got my foot in the door. I wangled a job as Barney’s secretary.’

The thought of Valerie, who didn’t know a typewriter from a typesetter, working as secretary to a film producer made Danielle laugh aloud. ‘Come on, Val, don’t try to kid me. I know better.’

Valerie hesitated. ‘Well, actually, Barney didn’t hire me to do a whole lot of secretarial stuff. I’m more of an administrative assistant. You know, I set up his appointments, arrange his day…’ She hesitated. ‘And I guess you could say I’m his liaison to the French-speaking crew members.’

Danielle blinked. The only thing more outlandish than imagining her cousin as a secretary was imagining her as an interpreter. ‘His what?’ she said slowly.

‘His liaison. Well, only in day-to-day stuff on the set. I type up notices and post them, that kind of thing. Barney has a French guy for all the rest, to deal with the officials and the townspeople and…’

It was hard to know whether to laugh or cry. ‘But you don’t speak French,’ Danielle said gently.

‘I studied it, the same as you,’ Valerie said defensively. ‘Well, you were better at it than I was, sure, but…’

Danielle shook her head. Amazing, she thought. Val hadn’t changed a bit over the years. When they’d been teenagers, she’d managed to talk her way into and out of almost everything. It was how she’d got Danielle to do most of her homework and chores.

But this little escapade took the cake. Val, acting as liaison to French-speaking crew members on a film set? It was impossible. It was—

‘… as good as you ever were, Danielle. Right?’

Danielle cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry, Val. Did you ask me something?’

‘I asked if you still spoke French as well as you always did. But you must, if you’re teaching it.’

‘I suppose. But what—?’

Her cousin let out her breath. ‘Do you know, we’ve been on location almost a week now,’ she said. ‘And I just keep thinking about you, and how much you’d love this place.’

Danielle sighed. ‘You’re right. I told you, I’m green with envy. What’s the name of the town you’re staying in?’

‘Ste Agathe. It’s in the mountains.’

Danielle closed her eyes, visualising the rocky escarpments rising behind the little villages that dotted the golden Mediterranean coast. ‘It must be lovely,’ she said softly. ‘I wish I could—’

‘You can,’ Val said quickly. ‘That’s why I called. I want you to come and spend your summer vacation with me.’

Danielle sat bolt upright. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said I’d like you to vacation here, in Ste Agathe. Won’t that be terrific?’

The offer stunned her. No word from Valerie for months, and now, suddenly…

‘Danielle? Do I have my timing right? School’s almost out, isn’t it?’

Danielle touched her tongue to her lips. ‘Yes. It ends Friday. But—’

‘Please, say you’ll do it.’ Valerie’s voice rose with excitement. ‘Just think—you can see the Côte d’Azur and the Riviera, you could even go to Paris for a couple of days, and it won’t cost you a penny.’ She laughed. ‘Well, not much more than a penny. You’d have to foot the side trips and your fare. But the rest would be free. You’d have an all-expenses-paid summer here.’

Danielle laughed shakily. ‘Val, listen, I can’t just—’

‘The company’s put us all up—I have two rooms in a beautiful old auberge, it’s more than big enough for the both of us. And I can’t even put a dent in my per diem meal allowance. Come on, Danielle, say you’ll do it. We’ll have such fun together—it’ll be like old times.’

Like old times. Danielle’s cramped bedroom seemed to shimmer in the pre-dawn greyness. For a moment, the pine-panelled walls glowed with a pale pink light, the dark furniture turned gold and white, and the room was transformed into the one she’d shared with Valerie after Aunt Helen and Uncle John had taken her in following the deaths of both her parents in less than a year.

‘You girls are sisters now,’ Aunt Helen had said, clasping their hands together. ‘Won’t that be lovely?’

But they’d barely been friends. Not that Danielle hadn’t tried. Always a shy child, she had been devastated by the sudden loss of her parents, and she’d longed to get close to her beautiful cousin. But they had been worlds apart. At twelve, Val had been caught up with boys and clothes and make-up; Danielle had been too shy for boys and too plain to worry about make-up and clothes. In fact, the only thing they’d really had in common, aside from their shared bedroom, had been their classes and their chores, and eventually it had been Danielle who’d borne the responsibility for most of those.

‘Danielle? Danielle—for goodness’ sake, have we got a bad connection or something? I can’t hear you at all.’

Danielle blinked and swung her legs to the floor. ‘Thanks for asking me, Val,’ she said slowly. ‘But I really don’t think—’

‘Come on, say you’ll come.’ Val’s voice grew soft. ‘Aren’t you my favourite cousin?’

‘I’m not just your favourite cousin,’ Danielle answered automatically, ‘I’m your only —’

That’s right. You are. And it’s time we spent some time together, the way we used to.’

Danielle drew a breath. ‘Val?’ she said slowly. ‘Is there some kind of problem there? I mean, is something wrong?’

‘For heaven’s sake, nothing’s wrong. Haven’t I already said that? Mother is fine. Her latest tests were all negative. Daddy’s fine, too. I just called because you’re my favourite—’

‘Come on, Val. What is it?’

There was a brief silence, and then the whisper of Val’s transatlantic sigh. ‘There is a little favour you could do for me if you came for a visit. You see, somehow or other, Barney—Mr Wexler, my boss?—well, somehow he got the idea I speak French better than I really can. I mean, he deals with a lot of French people here.’

‘I thought you said all you had to do was post notices.’

‘Well, that’s what I thought. But other things keep cropping up, and Barney’s interpreter isn’t always here. Sometimes he’s in Nice on business, or—’

‘Did you tell this Mr Wexler you were fluent in the language?’

There was another silence. ‘No,’ Val said finally, ‘not exactly. I just told him the truth, that I’d done very well in my French classes.’

Despite herself, Danielle began to laugh. ‘Val,’ she said patiently, ‘ I did very well, remember? You used to copy my homework. And I drilled you like crazy before each exam.’

‘And you could do that now,’ Val said eagerly. ‘Well, not drill me, but you could help me deal with some of the office work. And you could field some of the calls that come in—honestly, French people talk a hundred miles an hour. It’s so hard to understand a word they say.’ Her voice softened. ‘Mom thinks it’s a terrific idea.’

‘You already spoke to Aunt Helen about this? But—’