Nodding, Lucien says. “Why are you going to Tokyo? Is it just for pleasure?”
“Ian’s going for business and wants me to come to take some time to sightsee.”
“Ah. Are you two serious?”
I play dumb because I don’t really want to discuss it with him. “Serious?”
“I mean in terms of commitment. I assume you are romantically linked with Mr. Blackmon?”
I can’t help it; I blush. I barely know the man and he’s asking personal questions. Why does he care?”
“Uh, yes. I suppose you can call it a committed relationship,” I reply, thinking in my head that often I think Ian should be committed—to an institution—so, yes.
He smiles. “He’s a lucky guy. Is he comfortable about our working closely together?”
“He’s fine.” I change the subject. “So, are you going back to Paris now?”
“Tomorrow.”
The waiter returns with our wine, pouring Lucien the first sip and then fills both glasses after he approves the wine with a nod. I take a sip and it’s delicious: Lucien must know his wines. Ian does, too. Every time I think of Ian, my heart hurts. I don’t understand why he’s avoiding speaking to me and it’s leaving me unsettled.
“Oh, my literary agent mentioned that she knows you, Lucien.”
“Really? What’s her name?”
“Mo Jackson? She said she met you at a gallery opening?”
“Ah. I can’t say I recall the name. Describe her to me.”
I do, and he nods his head. “Yes, I recall meeting her now. She seemed very interested in my project. So, she’s your agent? I wasn’t aware that you’re a writer, Ella. A woman of many talents, I suppose.”
“Hardly. I wrote a book on a lark, as a Christmas gift for my friends. They started sending it around and it went viral online. Before I knew it, I had a contract and a film deal. It was rather absurd.”
“A film deal? Really? What’s the title of the book?”
“Oh, do I have to tell you? I’d rather not.” Saying that to him is like dangling a carrot in front of his face. Now, of course, he’s dying to know what book it is. “Can we discuss the St. Sauveur interview?”
Smiling with an enigmatic look in his eyes, he allows the conversation to move on. Whatever else he is, Lucien is a gentleman. “Surely. Do you have any questions?”
We discuss the interview in minute detail throughout lunch—which was absolutely delicious. After we polish off the bottle of wine, Lucien asks me to take a walk with him, agreeing to show me the Bridge of Sighs and Piazza San Marco. He even buys me a bag of food to feed the pigeons, an experience so exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Anyone who has ever seen Hitchcock’s The Birds can’t help but think of it when all those pigeons come swooping down toward the poor person holding the feedbag. I throw the rest of the bag of food down in a big hurry, and run toward Lucien, who is laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach.
“Oh, Ella, it hurts to laugh so vigorously on a full stomach. Did you not expect that outcome?”
I shake my head, a rueful grin on my face. “No, I suppose I don’t always think ahead. Where to next?”
“Let’s take a look at the Palace of the Doges,” he suggests and takes my hand unexpectedly. I don’t pull it back but I’m immediately uncomfortable. It seems an awfully intimate thing to do and inappropriate for our relationship as colleagues who’ve just met recently, no less. Once again, I think of Ian’s reaction to Lucien and wonder if it indeed has merit.
After seeing the Doges’ palace, we stop for espresso at a bar. I have to admit that Lucien is a lot of fun to hang with. All around us, women are eyeing him as if he were made of chocolate. When I’m with Ian and other women flirt and swoon over him, it makes me jealous and insecure because I consider him mine, right or wrong. With Lucien, though, it’s fun because they all think he’s mine, yet I don’t mind the flirting since he’s not. I can and do appreciate his finer qualities and I wonder what might have happened between us if I hadn’t already been with Ian when this job arose.
At dusk, Lucien walks me back to my hotel. As soon as we step into the lobby, I turn around. “Thanks, Lucien. I had such a good time. I appreciate your showing me around the city.”
“You’re so very welcome, Ella. I like working with you and I’m looking forward to getting back to New York and further collaborating.” He grasps my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it softly. “I hope you have a safe trip back to Portland. I suppose I’ll see you in a few weeks.”