Forbidden Monsieur: Princes of Avce Read online

  Forbidden Monsieur

  Princes of Avce

  Victoria Pinder

  Forbidden Monsieur

  Copyright©2018

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2018 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to both the Heart of Denver Romance Writers and Colorado Romance Writers who are two great groups that have made me feel welcome in moving. Both groups have been great as a way of meeting romance writers.

  Contents

  Join Victoria Pinder

  Series information

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Forbidden Marquis Preview

  Forbidden Princes and Forbidden Lords

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About the Author

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  Please check out the entire Princes of Avce Series and get caught up.

  Princes of Avce

  Princes of Avce

  Forbidden Crown

  Forbidden Prince

  Forbidden Royal

  Forbidden Duke

  Forbidden Earl

  Forbidden Monsieur

  Forbidden Marquis

  Forbidden Count

  Forbidden Noble

  Princes of Avce 1-3

  Princes of Avce 4-6

  Chelsea Bright flipped her long blonde hair back, adjusted her large, designer sunglasses over her face and strutted onto the lawn of Bei Giardini manor for her nephew’s baptism party—chic in a pink sheath with matching pink jacket. Any man here would be lucky to have her.

  The fact that the Earl of Sky had ever been on her list of potential husbands made her pause as she saw how Remington Burke doted on her sister, Cassidy, and their son, Cristian.

  Cassidy seemed at ease among the family and visiting royalty present for the reception and had flourished in her duties during the past year. Chelsea took a champagne glass from a passing waiter and tried to calm her racing heart.

  No more delaying the inevitable. No more painting to express herself. She needed to get married and support her parents so all of them fit in with the royals of Avce.

  In Paris last month, her mother had pointed out that they were living on borrowed time thanks to her sister’s match, but it was now up to Chelsea to ensure the Brights had a future.

  She’d not let anyone down.

  Scanning the party, Chelsea didn’t see any single, eligible rich men of consequence. Cassidy waved her over to where she stood with her baby boy, both of them dressed all in white. “Chelsea, there you are. Come take a family picture with us.”

  Chelsea, her freedom about to be cut short, had lost herself in painting all morning. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Her sweet, smart older sister was lucky, too. Chelsea saw that now. Cassidy had married her best friend who happened to be one of the richest men in the country. Chelsea put her champagne glass, untouched, down at the family table and headed over for a photo where someone snapped their picture.

  Despite the bright sun overhead in the sky, the afternoon was almost over, and she’d missed most of the party. Her sister hugged her with one arm, the other holding baby Cristian on her hip, and for a brief second, Chelsea wished they could really talk.

  However, Remington, dressed in suit and tie, turned Cassidy to shake hands with the Queen, who was saying her goodbyes.

  Chelsea kept her head bowed until the Queen left.

  Cassidy nudged her. “Will you stay and have a good time, sis?”

  “I just wanted to say congratulations, but I have another obligation.” Chelsea adjusted her sun glasses.

  Cassidy bounced the baby in her hands. “Mom tells me you all are headed back to Paris tomorrow.”

  “It’s time to do my part.” Duc Astorre Manfredi was her mom’s favorite bachelor in Avce, and it was past time she set out to meet the man who would likely be her husband.

  Cassidy pursed her lips, clearly holding her opinion to herself, which Chelsea appreciated.

  Chelsea glanced at the outdoor spread of white tables and white chairs with tasteful flower centerpieces in Avce’s royal colors. The royal family drank champagne and visited with her brother-in-law, like they were old friends. Everywhere royals and nobility of Avce picnicked in celebration of one of the newest members of society, her pink-cheeked nephew. Chestnut curls like his mom, and his dad’s brown eyes, Cristian was already one of the richest men in Europe, despite being less than a month old. “He’s adorable. Can I hold him?” She held her arms out for the happy baby.

  “Of course.” Cassidy handed him over. “You are his godmother.”

  Right. Her sister actually thought she’d be a good replacement for her? Impossible. Cristian smelled like baby powder and felt like warm sweetness in her arms. Her sister and brother-in-law clearly made beautiful children, and holding Cristian brought an ache to her own heart.

  She’d probably never a baby of her own, not if she married her mother’s choice. Children were unnecessary, and her sister’s belief in true love wasn’t possible even if she now profited from her beliefs. Cassidy’s computer program to find true love for the nobles of Avce had gained international recognition and people were willing to pay top dollar. Now that Cassidy was a countess and she’d opened her online business, her money troubles were over.

  Her sister had no idea that their father had lost the money he’d gotten for Cassidy’s marriage to Remington and he refused to talk to Cassidy and Remington about bailing him out of a jam. This was why their mother was now pushing her to charm the Duc Astorre Manfredi, Duc of Modena, into marriage.

  Cristian cooed in her arms. Maybe after she married, in the off chance she had a baby, she’d finally fill the emptiness in her soul. The baby’s sweet cooing was almost as beautiful a sound to her as the feeling she had when she visually expressed her version of beauty on a canvas.<
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  After Paris, she’d make some time to paint her godson before he got too much older. Her heart filled with his brightness and made her happy, but she gave him back to her sister. “I have to go, sis.”

  “Hot date?” Cassidy asked. “I know the single nobles of Avce were all too busy to come today so I assume there is some big event.”

  “You know me,” Chelsea said with a wink. “The life of a party.” She sashayed off like she always did aware that she sounded stupid.

  No one said goodbye to her as she went around the conversing guests to the patio door and through the house to leave.

  Her older black Mercedes sparkled, newly waxed to look perfect for tonight’s party shone from the lights that just turned on. Near the door, the Duke of Oakley kissed his wife as they waited for their car. Cassidy’s program had matched the couple who seemed truly in love.

  In another life, Chelsea might have believed that love existed but in her current state it didn’t matter. She’d kiss a frog, hold her nose and just get over herself.

  Dreams had never been worth even a penny. Her mother hadn’t pushed her own paintings and instead when they weren’t nobles, she’d helped their father with his advertising campaigns. Cassidy valued hard work as the means to financial success. So Chelsea understood that her own paintings weren’t worth much to anyone except her.

  The valet brought her car around and she got in, the sun setting behind her, making her sister’s estate shine like gold in the mirror behind her. Going from light to dark, she drove toward the notorious Matteo Korbel—home to the Count of Golchin. Her spirits sank but she kept her head up—she’d promised to make an appearance.

  Music pierced the air as she made the last turn toward the house. She tugged off the fitted suit jacket she’d worn to the reception to reveal her properly inappropriate low-cut pink dress.

  She pulled up in front of the mansion and put the car in park. With a fluff to her straight hair, she stepped out of the car and tossed the keys to the waiting valet.

  Instantly her gaze locked on the Marchese of Normanni, Stefano Durnovo. He had one heel on a Roman column as he smoked his cigarette, but he tossed it the second she joined him at the front door. “You look sweet enough to eat tonight, Chelsea.”

  “I’m not on the menu.” He was the closest male friend she had but no way could they get married. He went through women like desserts to sample at a buffet. “I can totally ask my sister who your true love might be, so stop ogling.” She rolled her eyes and peeked into the party going on, hoping she’d find someone she’d overlooked, so she didn’t have to run off to Paris.

  He made a kissing sound with his lips, so she turned toward him. “You’re the one putting them out there on display for me and every other guy to notice, Chels.”

  If only she was attracted to Stefano. But honestly, he was too handsome, and he’d never be faithful to any woman. He wasn’t born to commit. He and Matteo, the owner of the house, had always known where to find trouble. While her sister had been the good girl, Chelsea preferred to spend her time with those who didn’t care about anything but blowing their inheritances, not that she had one to blow.

  Stefano pushed off the column and together they walked into the mansion that hosted the nightlife of Avce’s rebellious young nobles.

  Chelsea heard Olivia’s sultry laugh at the bar where she sat with two men on either side of her. One shook a silver cocktail shaker and topped off her glass while she teased the other with an olive on a toothpick, rubbing it across his lower lip. At boarding school, the only girl who hadn’t bothered with any of this was Sheena, as she valued her art and intended to be taken seriously as an artist. Chelsea stayed close friends with her, wishing she was that determined, but more often, she spent her weekends with Olivia and these people.

  And once again, everyone played their parts and Olivia did her stupid trick of tying the cherry stem in a knot in her mouth.

  Chelsea kept walking past the dance floor and finally saw Matteo, with his arms wrapped around some redhead who was so white, she’d burn in the Avce sun. Or she’d burn up Matteo’s mattress tonight. She wouldn’t interrupt his clear plans for the evening to ask if anyone new was here.

  She glanced behind her to where she’d left Stefano. Some dark-haired woman with rather large breasts had stopped Stefano from joining her, but that was fine. Good for Stefano—unfortunately, the invited men seemed to be guys she knew.

  A waiter in black offered a tray of shots in chilled glasses. She chose one and sipped. Vodka—always Matteo’s drink of choice. Wine seemed too tame a drink for this type of party, but Chelsea found the vodka too sour.

  Olivia laughed from the bar as one of the men refilled her glass—again.

  This was her life. These were her people. She glanced around the room. Matteo kissed the red-head and would soon take her to one of his bedrooms. She’d painted half of these people already in one way or the other as dark creatures longing for something more.

  Not that anyone would ever see her paintings.

  Not that she wanted them to. The last thing she needed was their opinions about how she saw them, but the truth was, she no longer needed to rebel. Before she was a noble, she’d gone to elementary school in California where her friends had all been different than this crowd she surrounded herself with now. Part of her wished to return to Cali and just start over again.

  She took a tiny sip of her sour vodka and her arms ached as she remembered holding Cristian—he’d been so sweet. Good was supposed to be in this world too and not just these mindless games where people didn’t matter.

  Her heart pounded a warning that she no longer belonged here. Chelsea put her glass down on a table and decided to leave.

  Tonight was her last night before she transformed herself into whatever this Duc Astorre Manfredi, Duc of Modena, wanted her to be. She’d figure that out once she actually met him. She could play any part.

  But for now, it was best to go. She kept her shoulders high, smiled and made her way out the door. Stefano was too busy with the new woman to say goodbye, not that it mattered.

  The valet hadn’t even moved her car yet. Perfect. She slipped him her last five euros and took her keys back.

  As she turned on her ignition, she realized no one even noticed her departure which was probably for the best. But it felt empty too, just like when she’d left her sister’s party.

  Her parents would be at her sister’s for hours still, and the night was young. Chelsea needed to remember Cristian’s coo in her arms, and the emptiness her friends made her feel. Tonight, she’d find a way to express that in a painting no one would ever see.

  Perhaps then she’d find a way to let whatever bothered her go. Life wasn’t supposed to be empty like it was now. At least not hers. Somehow, she’d have to fix whatever was wrong with her.

  Chelsea’s easel and paints waited in her hidden studio, in a part of the mansion that hadn’t been repaired. She prayed that the emptiness inside wasn’t part of her soul forever. Was she one of the lost that she was about to paint?

  Facing the stainless steel vat, Alexandre Travers adjusted the settings on his state-of-the art, all-stainless steel, filtration unit that would automatically pipe into the vacs. With the capacity to produce as he’d predicted between crop and equipment, he was on track for multiple contracts that would put his wine in every country and make him richer than anyone he knew. He gave the screwdriver one last twist, then turned it on and waited for the first bottle to fill.

  Because of all his hard work, this year’s grape crop was the best yet and would turn his vineyard into everything he planned.

  He’d kept the old oak vats that people associated with a winery in case he opened a storefront like a few of his neighbors. If only the old ways made enough wine to sell in every supermarket, but while the taste was superior, there was a market for younger wines. The machines he’d invested in tripled what his grandparents could even imagine from every grape they produced.

&n
bsp; Satisfied that everything worked, Alexandre wiped his hands and headed back out into his vineyard, ignoring the slight chill in the air. The fall equaled harvest, and this evening was one step closer to closing his first contract.

  The local families who’d worked the vineyards for generations had picked grapes most of the day and were now packing to go home. At least he’d found a way to keep them on with the new quantity so the tranquil village remained undisturbed by change.

  Henri led a few of the workers to lock up the new machines used to harvest 90% of the grapes with the locals only having to deal with the grapes the machines missed. Everything flowed seamlessly.

  He’d done it! He’d modernized the Travers vineyard against all odds, and this year his Luegrille Piquant brand would be marketable well beyond the local venues.

  Alex stepped toward the family vineyard, crushing a broken grapevine. The scent of earth and vines wafted into his nose. Life was good.

  Something banged through his field behind him and he turned, heart hammering with alarm as he looked for the source of danger.

  Crash.

  Screams echoed from the laborers as they backed away, but he ran toward the sound. Puffs of dirt from the field lifted into the air but the source of the problem was hidden around a curve.

  He ran faster. His mother, thank God, was in the house. What had happened?

  He smelled gas and smoke. As he turned onto one of his fields, he saw his staff fleeing while flames burst everywhere.

  His heart stopped. If the flames hit the vines that remained to be harvested, he’d lose his crop. He slowed and looked around. Where was the closest garden hose?