Page 9 of Meet Me at Sunset

‘Is that even a question?’ Lucas laughed. Paulo knew his weak spot.

‘Michael’s a pro, he gets how it works. Of course we’re going to want a photograph of him and his beautiful wife. We’ll throw in a good bottle of champagne, and in return we get the kind of publicity that most restaurants could only dream of. It’s win-win for everyone.’

‘I guess,’ Lucas said uncertainly, as he began grinding almonds for the picada. He suspected that his friend was right. After all, Paulo was better at that side of the business. That had always been the deal – whilst Lucas would concentrate on the food, Paulo would take care of the rest.

Despite their friendship, the two men were very different. Lucas was uncomfortably aware that he’d been something of a brat in his youth; with wealthy, high-flying parents, he’d never had to worry about money. He’d had a bohemian kind of upbringing, travelling the world with his parents, but everything had changed in his late teens when his mother had designed a bag that was crowned that season’s ‘It’ bag.

Suddenly the Fontaines were playing in a different league – one that involved private jets and chartered yachts and VIP access to whatever their hearts desired. The influx of money meant that Lucas could live the life of a louche playboy; by his own admission, he’d been an arrogant bastard. Paulo had been his friend since they were kids – and he had stuck by him, despite all this.

Then everything changed, once again, with Andre’s death. Lucas’s carefree existence was shattered, but his father’s death gave him a reality check and a renewed sense of purpose, a desire to achieve something for himself. He’d almost lost his life too, but he’d been given a second chance and was determined not to waste it. The scar across his cheek was a permanent reminder of everything Lucas had been through – he couldn’t escape it, forced to confront his past every time he looked in the mirror. It had altered his pretty-boy looks, too. Lucas was self-conscious about the change in his appearance, but Paulo kept telling him women found it sexy as it gave him an edge of danger. But Lucas’s outlook had changed anyway; no longer interested in one-night stands and playboy antics, he was determined to work hard in his career. Any serious relationship would have to be with the right woman, one who understood that the restaurant meant everything to him.

Paulo hadn’t come from money, so always had his eye on a deal or a get-rich-quick scheme, and he was an instinctive hustler when it came to both women and business. That was how it worked with the restaurant – Paulo’s extrovert, cheeky side was perfect for the front of house and working the PR channels, charming the critics and reviewers. He had a little black book stuffed full of contacts, but he was less concerned about always taking the legitimate route. If a plan required a backhander, or was of dubious legality, Paulo had no scruples in pressing ahead regardless and kept the details sketchy for Lucas, who would undoubtedly disapprove.

‘Just leave it all to me,’ Paulo insisted. ‘All you need to do is smile and look pretty in the photo. Speaking of which,’ he added, under his breath.

‘There you are!’

A familiar voice, speaking in French, made Lucas turn sharply. The woman striding across his restaurant was a vision – long, slim legs in tiny denim shorts; a cropped white T-shirt that showed off acres of toned, tanned stomach; long, blonde hair that fell almost to her waist – and an angry expression on her beautiful face. It was his girlfriend, Elle Mettier.

‘Why aren’t you answering your phone?’ she demanded, planting her hands on her hips, her gold bracelets jangling.

Lucas slapped the pocket of his chef’s whites, a guilty expression on his face. ‘I must have left it in my bag.’

‘I’ve been trying to call you all day. I guessed you’d be here,’ Elle said with a sniff, as she glanced disdainfully around the kitchen.

‘Hi Elle,’ Paulo said deliberately, clearly annoyed that she hadn’t acknowledged him.

‘Oh, Paulo, I didn’t notice you there,’ Elle replied dismissively, walking straight past him and planting a kiss on Lucas’s mouth. ‘Why are you working so hard, baby?’ she pouted, wrapping herself around him like a python.

‘I told you. We’re hosting a dinner for Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones tonight.’

Elle’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course! Oh, I can’t wait. I’ve always wanted to meet them.’

‘I don’t think you’re invited,’ Paulo told her gleefully.

‘Well, I might just happen to be in the restaurant supporting my boyfriend,’ she replied sweetly, though her eyes were narrowed as she shot daggers at Paulo.

‘I don’t want her in the photo,’ Paulo said instantly to Lucas.

‘What photo?’ Elle demanded.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ Paulo retorted. ‘By the way, Lucas, has Camille arrived yet?’

‘Yes, she flew in yesterday. We met for lunch.’

‘Oh, I can’t wait to see your mother again,’ Elle squealed in excitement. ‘Is she coming tonight?’

‘Yes, she’s hosting the dinner. She’s designing a dress for Catherine.’

‘This is perfect,’ Elle gushed. ‘And did you speak to her about what we discussed?’

Lucas screwed up his face. ‘Remind me, what did we discuss?’

‘Me being the new face of Camille Andre, of course!’ Elle playfully tapped his chest. ‘You didn’t really forget!’

‘We didn’t really get the chance to talk about it yesterday. We were catching up, discussing family matters …’

He trailed off as Camille’s expression turned into a pout. She stretched out her long, slender left arm and gazed at it sadly. ‘My arm looks so bare,’ she sighed. ‘What it really needs is a Camille bag and a huge diamond engagement ring.’