DORIS KNEW she was being petty but what could she say? She was wired that way.
It was already an hour past the initial time they had agreed on and she was well aware Antoine Baudelaire and his lawyer were already in the meeting room but she deliberately wanted to make them wait. Two days ago, The Baudelaire's lawyer had contacted them, requesting to settle out of court. It was a long, strenuous debate between her, Elena, and the legal team. She was so adamant and wanted nothing more than to see that Baudelaire delinquent sniffing metal rods behind the slammer but Elena didn't want to press charges since they agreed to settle. She knew that taking legal action would be expensive and time-consuming, and she didn't want to waste any more money and time, but Doris was reluctant to let the matter slide. "We have a strong case and I'm confident in our chances," Doris said, her voice inundated with conviction. "Honestly speaking. . . we don't have a strong case. This may not turn out to be a favorable outcome, considering we don't have hard evidence," The legal team leader said, laying down the facts. "All we have are witnesses and Julianne's video. A good lawyer can find a loophole to weasel him out of this situation. Since they've already held a press conference, addressing the issue and apologizing in public, it's only wise for us to accept their request to settle out of court before this issue backfires." After some thought, Doris conceded that the woman was right and reluctantly agreed to drop the case. However, she decided to be present when Antoine came to grovel. And that alone would be just compensation enough for everyone. Especially, Elena. Doris strode towards the meeting room with Elena, Geneviève, and the legal team leader right behind her— Avengers-style, to confront the enemy. Actually. . . to settle with the ENEMY! Emphasis on enemy. She pushed open the glass door to the meeting room, revealing two men inside. One of them stood with his back to the room, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window with his hands in his pocket. Probably viewing the bustling city below, or lost in his own thought–God knows what. But Doris' eyes were fixed on Antoine Baudelaire, who sat in one of the chairs lining the walls, his head bent over his phone as he tapped away. His posture was tense, and his jaw was set, betraying his impatience." When Antoine noticed their entrance, he rose from his seat, his posture stiff and his expression arrogant. His every move exuded a sense of entitlement and privilege as if he was used to getting his way. He met their gaze with a smug look on his face. His clothes were impeccably tailored, from the unbuttoned shirt that revealed his muscular chest to the gleaming leather pants that clung to his legs. His hair was slicked back, and a pair of designer sunglasses sat on top of his head, completing the picture of a man who cared deeply about his appearance. He looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. On any other occasion, she would have applauded his fashion sense but given the circumstances, nothing about him was remotely appealing. In fact, there was something off-putting about him, like opposite ends of a magnet. Just then, a deep, masculine voice called out, "Doris. . .?" She turned her head sharply to locate the source of the familiar baritone. She hadn't heard that voice in over four years— Oh, right, they did meet at the airport a few days ago. "Brad?" She whispered breathlessly. OH, COME ON! NOT NOW GIANT BUTTERFLIES! NOT NOW! But it was too late, they were already flapping their wings in her stomach, her heart picking velocity. Brad Bruce stood in the far corner of the room beside the window, his bronzed skin that hinted at his Brazilian mother's heritage made his dark green eyes all the more striking. His dark hair was short at the sides and longer on top. He was flawlessly groomed in his crisp dark suit, gray shirt, and blue tie. How was it that this man never looked bad? Not even once. Doris' resolve shook its head in disappointment. She was weird. Her heart was weird. This was the man who'd broken her heart without a second thought, ending their relationship almost immediately as it started. Okay, so maybe they had agreed not to attach any strings to their sexual relationship but she couldn't tell her heart not to feel what it wanted to feel. Her fragile heart which wasn't built to withstand emotional blows had shattered, causing her to crumble into a pile of emotional mess. For days, she'd holed up in her apartment, listening to depressing music and crying the Atlantic until she felt drained of every emotion. Even then, the pain lingered, and she found herself unable to escape it. In her past relationships, she'd always been able to move on just as quickly as she fell in love, but with Brad, it was different. He was like a drug that she couldn't seem to quit, no matter how hard she tried. She'd known it was about time to leave when everything she set her eyes on reminded her of him. When she'd begun to secretly visit his home—more than once—just to get a glimpse of him. When she'd called him from payphones just to hear his voice. But after all that, how was it that her heart was thrumming a crazy beat in her chest just watching his smile light up his features? "We didn't get the chance to say a proper greeting at the airport," he said smoothly, approaching her with the languid grace of a lifelong athlete. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Doris." His eyes held hers captive for a long moment and instead of responding she debated what he meant by "pleasure". The word choice was probably an accident but her stupid imagination was going wild again. And, of course, those green eyes of his didn't miss her blush. He seemed to track its progress avidly as the heat flooded up her neck and spilled onto her cheeks, pounding with a heartbeat of its own. OH, GOD! He still affected her as much as ever. "Do you two know each other?" Geneviève asked. Yikes! She'd been oblivious to everyone else in the room. Get a grip, woman! "Oh, yeah!" She responded casually. Having no desire to dive into her rocky past relationship right here, in front of all these people, she gave Brad a polite nod. "Let's get started, shall we?"Brad figured this had to be the weirdest week of his life. From getting dragged all the way from LA to settle this absurd case to bumping into his ex-lover—TWICE—who he'd thought had disappeared from his life. But, hold on a sec. . . When he'd carried on a quick research on the president of D&M Agency out of curiosity, he'd found a Geneviève Moreau. However, knowing Doris who always wore her heart on a sleeve, he was convinced she was the boss here. His hunches were never mistaken. Doing his damnedest not to be distracted by the sight of Doris' long legs, Brad paid close attention to the settlement. He was here for business. He was not here to reminisce how those legs had wrapped perfectly around his hip. NO, HE WASN'T! A few moments later, apologies were made, agreements were ratified and it was time to run for the hills while he had the chance but unfortunately, the one person he was trying to get away from was right behind, calling his name. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and slowly turned to face her. Her amber polka dot dress skimmed her slight curves and was accented by a belt with a thin butterfly-shaped buckle emphasizing a trim waist. The hem ended just above her knee, showcasing her legs in high-heeled black sandals. His eyes dipped to the gentle sway of her hips in the amber silk, the hint of thigh visible in the short slit at the side of her skirt. He didn't recognize the dress, but the thighs were a different story. He and Doris had been crazy about each other's bodies, tearing one another's clothes off at the slightest opportunity. Her wavy hair, dyed to a vibrant shade of reddish-brown, rippled in the breeze as she walked hastily toward him. She had grown her hair out, he noted. Back then, she'd worn it at a collarbone length, cut in a razor-sharp style. Now, it fell past her mid-back in soft waves that framed her figure, the ends trimmed in a V that seemed to point to the sweet curve of her lovely ass. "I need to speak with you," she informed him as their gaze met. He'd forgotten how beautiful her hazel eyes were, shaded by those thick, long lashes. "I figured you might." Her gaze shifted to Antoine, who was still, hovering by his side. "Privately," she added through clenched teeth, tilting her head slightly towards the exit. The younger man hoisted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and made his way out of the building, leaving them alone. Doris grinned, her eyes dancing. "Uh, Brad. . . It's been quite a while. Are you not the least bit curious about me?" Of course, he was curious. He had many questions. He wanted to know why she'd disappeared from everyone. Why no one had heard from her for over four years? Had she been in Paris all this while? But then he realized that he didn't have the right to ask those questions. Brad gave her a quick once-over. "You seem to be doing quite well," he said instead. "I mean, I'm impressed by how successful your agency is, and I have to say, you're doing a great job running it." Her eyes widened briefly in surprise, then quickly returned to their normal state. But he had noticed the change, however fleeting it was. She must be wondering how he'd figured that out. "Well. . . When you put it like that," she shrugged with a faint smile. "Anyway, how long do you have to stay in Paris?" "Two days, tops." "Oh? Okay! Do you have any plans tomorrow?" "Not really. Why do you ask?" "Uh. . . well. . . actually, I'd like us to meet and talk. If it's okay with?" She added the last part hurriedly. His brows wrinkled slightly. "Is there any problem?" "Of course, not," Doris said with no hesitation. "There's something important I need to tell you . . . something you have to know. That's all." "Oh, really?" Brad nodded slowly. "Okay." "Here!" Doris handed him her business card. "Let's talk it over dinner at Le Bistro Chabot. Say. . . 6:00 p.m.?" "6:00 p.m. is good," he said, taking the card from her. "I'll see you tomorrow then." Brad wasn't sure meeting with Doris was a reasonable idea. In fact, he knew it was a terrible idea to be in the same space with her for even more than a second. He knew Doris. He knew how easy it was for her to fall. He didn't want to give her the impression there was ever going to be a rekindling of the flame they had once shared. But she had something to say and it was only decent to listen to her.NO WORDS could begin to depict what Doris was feeling at the moment, seated at one of the tables at Le Bistro Chabots, awaiting anxiously for Brad to walk in. Le Bistro Chabot was a sight to behold, with its high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and plush velvet upholstery. The dark wood floors and paneling gave the restaurant a timeless elegance, while the large windows overlooking the Parisian streets added a touch of modernity. The tables were adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling crystal, and the waiters bustled about in neat uniforms. The atmosphere was one of sophistication and refinement, with the gentle buzz of conversation and the soft clink of silverware on china adding to the ambiance. But the true beauty of Le Bistro Chabot was in the details. The art on the walls was carefully curated, and the flowers on each table were perfectly arranged. The crystal glasses sparkled in the candlelight, and the wine list was filled with the finest vintages. But perhaps the m
"I THINK it's about time we consider expanding D&M Agency," Geneviève opined with certainty the moment the executive committee meeting started. Doris wasn't in the best state of mind, not after that humiliating and infuriating ordeal yesterday. Everything still felt surreal to her. She still couldn't believe she'd been stood up by that... that... Inhale and exhale, Doris! She mentally instructed herself. There was no point calling him derogatory names. Be the bigger person. But no matter how much she breathed, it still couldn't calm the rage and hurt she was feeling that kept bubbling out of proportion whenever she envisioned him having a laugh in his hotel room while she sat at the restaurant for over four hours waiting for him. ASSHOLE! There she said it. Today wasn't it for her. Particularly not to discuss business matters. Work was the last place she wanted to be at today, she'd just wanted to stay in the comfort of her home, wrapped in her thick duvet cov
SQUEALING, THE little boy climbed onto Doris' lap, giggling mischievously. "Hey, Sweetie!" Doris singsonged, planting a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I tried to stop him," Annie apologized ruefully. Then she made a face at the kid. "But he's such a naughty boy." "It's okay, Annie," Doris replied chuckling. With a polite nod and one last funny face directed at the boy who, likewise, gave in return a bit of his own display, the petite brunette was out the door. "Hey, Sweetie, what are you doing here?" Doris asked, stroking the little boy's head who was still giggling on her thighs. "Oh my gosh, Mummy! I was like super duper bored, and I begged Nanny Lucy to take me to the playground. And when we got there, I saw all my friends from school, like Johnny and Sarah and Grace and Jacob! We played tag and hide-and-seek and we even got ice cream after. The ice cream shop had chocolate and vanilla and strawberry and even some fancy flavors I've never heard of
"YOU'RE PUTTING that place up for rent?!" Jason asked, a note of surprise in his voice. Even over the video call, Brad could sense the shift in his friend's demeanor, from casual and relaxed to amazed and curious. He sat up a little straighter, his eyes wide and questioning. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. Perhaps it was the suddenness of the announcement or the fact that he hadn't expected him to make such a decision. Either way, it was clear that the news had caught him off-guard. Jason Lyndon was about the only best friend Brad had in the universe that he could trust with his life. They hadn't actually started out as friends. They had begun as mortal enemies. They'd met in the third grade of their elementary school when Brad had just transferred to the school Jason attended. He had been the new kid and didn't know much or cared to. Their animosity had begun when someone broke the overhead proje
THE DINING room was bathed in early morning light, as the sun shone through the large windows. A soft breeze drifted in, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers. Brad and his daughter, Nora sat at the table, each lost in their own thoughts while Mrs. Hopkins bustled around the kitchen, making sure everyone had what they needed. Brad was so engrossed in reading the morning paper that he barely noticed what was happening around him. As he reached for his coffee to take a sip, his eyes drifted for a second, and caught a glimpse of his daughter with eyes fixed on her breakfast. She absentmindedly poked at her cereal, taking a few half-hearted bites, but leaving most of it untouched. She sat hunched over, her shoulders rounded, a far cry from her usual bubbly self. Something was clearly bothering her, and Brad's parental instincts kicked in. He set his paper down and turned to his daughter, concern etched on his face. "Hey, sweetie," he said, his voice gentle. "Is every
IT TOOK all Doris' life force not to laugh her lungs out. The look on Brad's face was epic. It was one to be captured, printed, enlarged, and hung in a museum as the emblem of shock. It was a look of pure, unadulterated astonishment, the kind that could make even the most jaded person do a double-take. Doris took a quick look around the living room. Things didn't seem to have changed that much around here, she thought, nodding in acknowledgment. The living room was a study in contrasts, its sophisticated decor interspersed with the adorable and the whimsical. On one wall, a gorgeous oil painting hung in an ornate gilded frame, its colors rich and vibrant. On the opposite wall, a row of childlike drawings hung from tiny clothespins, their crayon strokes haphazard and uneven. In the corner, a plush toy monkey peered out from a giant potted plant, its tail curling around the leaves like a vine. The couch was upholstered in a deep, rich velvet, its cushions plump and inviting.
IT WAS nearly a week since Doris had arrived in Los Angeles and it felt weird how much the city had changed in a span of four years when she was away. On the other hand, when she'd spent all those years growing up, it never felt like anything changed at all. She wasn't exaggerating. The candy shop she'd frequented had been the same, in the same spot, throughout her grade school, high school, and even after college. But now, she couldn't even locate her favorite coffee shop. Where in the world was Mr. Shawn and his family? Their coffee shop had been her heaven and their coffee her kryptonite. They were the only ones that made coffee savory enough to make even an insomniac forget the harm of too much caffeine ingestion and just enjoy the goodness and richness of coffee. Luckily for her, despite the transformation, her scattered brain, and her zilch sense of direction, she was adjusting quicker than she expected. Thank goodness! But one thing in LA that hadn't
DORIS PUSHED the buzzer to the Evan's Mansion, waiting patiently for someone to get it. She could be written down as the most unfilial daughter in the history of unfilial daughters. She officially earned it. She felt guilty how she'd never reached out to her father all those years. Not even once. She wouldn't even blame him if he released wolves and lions on her. She punched the buzzer again. Twice. Why was no one answering? They'd probably seen them from the surveillance camera. She glanced at her son who was rocking on his feet, fidgeting with excitement and impatience to see his grandfather for the first time. At that moment, the door swung open and the grinning face of Nanny Nancy whom she'd missed so much, greeted them at the entrance. "Nanny Nancy!" Doris screeched, falling into the older woman's outspread arms with enthusiasm. Nanny Nancy was nothing but her true mother. She was the only one who had made her feel what motherly love was all about