smile, trying to reassure her. "I used to get called the ghost."
"Why?" Clarence laughs.
"Because apparently I was too quiet. Sort of invisible, you know."
"Madeleine and Séraphine are redheads, like me. They’re definitely going to get it…" their mother sighs.
"You see? We can’t protect our kids from everything. A little joke here and there, it gives you character!" the black hunk philosophizes, yawning. "OK, I'm really sorry to be such a weakling, but I'm going to have to leave you ladies – it’s time for my nap!"
"Make the most of it because in two hours, it’s my turn," Clem tells him. "And the twins will be back."
"What joy," the new daddy grumbles, as he vanishes from the room.
My best friend has circles under her eyes, she has a bib on her shoulder, her hair is verging on dreadlocks, her tummy is far from being flat and yet, she is glowing. Which I point out… at my own risk.
"Oh, stop it, Alma, that’s a bunch of bull. Such a cliché!" she laughs, a little embarrassed.
"I don't think I've ever seen you so happy," I whisper, suddenly moved.
"He is the one you should tell," she whispers, rocking her son against her chest.
"A little miracle…"
"Yeah. And the next one will be yours. A mix of Vadim and Alma. He’ll be a heartthrob on the playground! And if it’s a girl… Oh my God, Imagine it! Well, her father will hire bodyguards, to make sure the little guys don’t get close to her," she says, laughing at her own runaway imagination.
"Don't give him any ideas!"
"Right, and what about the wedding?"
"It’s going to be a rat race for the next month! I mean, twenty-eight days… We’re both buried in work and I’m still in shock, but I’m going to have to give myself a real kick in the butt…"
"I can help you out for that kick in the butt…" my best friend smiles.
"Thanks but no thanks. I’d rather you help me make strategic decisions. Actually, Vadim has just hired a wedding planner. She doesn’t seem exactly accommodating, but apparently all the VIPs are snatching her up."
Daphné Legrand wears her name well. The 5 ft. 10 beanpole is as tall as she is thin. Very comfortable in her designer mini-skirt, the thirty-something woman with a strong character doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise. As for Vadim, he gets all the attention. Not only does the blonde drink up his every word, but she literally eats him up with her eyes.
Fortunately, hers are slightly cross-eyed…
Mean – me?
"Welcome to Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte!" our planner chirps. "After pulling some strings, I managed to free it up for the weekend you wanted. It was worth the hour-long drive, don't you think? The place is for the elite only, obviously, meaning you, Mr. King."
Vadim doesn’t even grant her a glance. His billionaire’s experience has made him indifferent to this kind of superficial remark, and stupid flattery. My handsome Russian is much too busy admiring the setting to reply. And so am I. The huge facade that stands before us makes my head spin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an impressive building.
When he came to pick me up from Clémentine’s, after lunch, I had no idea what he was scheming. It wasn’t until we got out of the car, just ten minutes ago that I realized where we were.
"It’s a work of art," my lover murmurs, bewitched by the château. "This is where you’ll say 'I do'…"
I press up against him a little closer and catch myself dreaming. It’s incredible to imagine that the huge feudal construction – the biggest private property classified as a historical monument – and its four pavilions are opening its doors for us. That our wedding will be held here, in less than a month, with hundreds of guests. I ask Vadim to pinch me, and he does. I’m not dreaming – we burst out laughing.
For over two hours, we stroll hand in hand through the halls of this architectural treasure and its formal French garden. I get excited at every turn and my King just gives a few