Falling For His Unlikely Cinderella

Can he persuade his Cinderella…

…they’re meant for one another?

Billionaire Raoul Fontesquieu is starting a new life with his recently discovered son—and everything must be perfect for Alain’s arrival. Enter temporary housekeeper Cami Delon! Exquisitely beautiful both inside and out, Cami enchants Raoul with her kind yet cautious nature. But will he be able to convince her that she fits perfectly into his privileged world…because she already has his heart?

REBECCA WINTERS lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels—because writing is her passion, along with her family and her church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website at rebeccawinters.net.

Also by Rebecca Winters

Holiday with a Billionaire miniseries

Captivated by the Brooding Billionaire

Falling for the Venetian Billionaire

Wedding the Greek Billionaire

The Princess Brides miniseries

The Princess’s New Year Wedding

The Prince’s Forbidden Bride

How to Propose to a Princess

Escape to Provence miniseries

Falling for Her French Tycoon

Falling for His Unlikely Cinderella

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Falling for His Unlikely Cinderella

Rebecca Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90343-5

FALLING FOR HIS UNLIKELY CINDERELLA

© 2020 Rebecca Winters

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To my darling, devoted Rachel, who’s a dear friend

and a saint besides being a spectacular wife and

mother to three adorable children. Over the years

we’ve talked about everything under the sun. As you

can guess, the poor thing has had to put up with me

telling her about my ideas for new novels. With her

expertise as a voracious reader, marathon runner,

nurse and carpenter, she has supplied marvelous

suggestions that have helped me develop characters

in my books. What would I do without you, Rachel?

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Monday, December 1

IN A STATE of euphoria, Raoul Fontesquieu left the apartment at the Château Fontesquieu in Vence, France, and headed for his office. He was now officially on vacation from work. Once he’d gathered up a few things and had talked to his cousin Dominic, he had big plans. But on the way, he heard his cell ring. It was only six in the morning!

A grimace marred his features when he saw his father’s name on the caller ID before picking up. “Qu’est ce qui se passe?”

“I’m calling from the Sacred Heart. Your gran’pere was transported to the hospital a few minutes ago. He’s in room 407 and isn’t expected to live past the next hour. We expect you here now!”

Matthieu Fontesquieu, Raoul’s intransigent father, didn’t know how to do anything but demand obedience. Being his parents’ only child, he’d borne the emotional scars of such treatment for as long as he could remember.

Over the last week the family had sensed this day was coming. Armand Fontesquieu, the eighty-five year-old, impossibly autocratic CEO of the Domaine Fontesquieu in Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur, was drawing his last breath.

News of his death would ring throughout Provence and the wine world, but Raoul wouldn’t mourn him. As a little boy he’d tried once to establish a relationship with him, but had been shot down and had never tried again.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Once he’d hung up, Raoul turned his car around and drove out of the Fontesquieu estate for the hospital. Upon reaching it, he took the elevator to the fourth floor and strode down the hall. His mother and father had been watching for him. She seemed particularly anxious, which was not a good sign. Something was up. He just didn’t know what.

“Your gran’pere is waiting for you,” his father murmured.

Waiting? While he was on the verge of death?

Raoul frowned, looking around for Dominic. Neither he nor his dozen other cousins were here. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll understand in a minute. Let’s go in.”

Raoul entered the hospital room filled with his aunts and uncles and saw his grandfather lying in the bed hooked up to IVs and oxygen.

His father nudged him. “Tell him you’ve arrived.”

He was sick of his father’s orders, but now wasn’t the time to defy him. He walked over to the bed. “Gran’pere? It’s Raoul. I’m here.”

The old man didn’t open his eyes. How sad that even now, Raoul couldn’t conjure any feelings for someone so cold.

“Raoul?” He spoke in a loud enough voice to reach everyone. “I want the family to hear from my own lips that you are now the CEO of the Fontesquieu Domaine.” In another minute his grandfather, plagued by liver disease, exhaled and was gone.

His father took hold of his arm. “The family has arrangements to make,” he whispered. “Stay available. We’ll talk later today about your new position and get you installed.”

He sucked in his breath. The last position Raoul would ever want would be CEO of the Fontesquieu family wine business. He was already busy with plans for a future that had nothing to do with the family.

Before dying, that grasping excuse for a human being had colluded with his favorite son Matthieu to put Raoul in charge for one reason only. By making him the CEO, it was their last bribe to bend Raoul to their will.

They assumed this grand gesture would force him to call off his divorce to Sabine Murat. Both families had been fighting it to preserve all the Murat millions with the Fontesquieu fortune. Both fortunes together enabled the families to continue to buy more assets.

But no coup could have accomplished what they’d hoped for. Raoul had never loved Sabine. Now it was over and finished, grace à Dieu. His divorce from Sabine Murat had been finalized yesterday afternoon. That was all he’d been waiting for.

This morning Raoul was free to embrace his new life with his precious eighteen-month-old son.

Overjoyed that Alain’s existence no longer had to be kept a secret from the world, Raoul left the hospital for the modern Fontesquieu office building where all the family head offices were housed, including his own as president of marketing and sales. It was located behind the immense seventeenth-century château on the estate of the famous Fontesquieu vineyards drawing tourists from around the world.

He phoned Dominic. They were closer than brothers. It was Dominic who’d insisted Raoul stay with him in his suite at the château throughout his two months’ separation from Sabine. During that period Dominic had gotten married and moved out for good. Now it was Raoul’s turn to leave the château and never come back. This morning he had so much to tell Dominic, he was going to explode if they couldn’t talk right now.

To his relief, Dominic, the funds manager for the Fontesquieu corporation, had opened the door of his own office suite to wait for him. “Come on in. I only heard the news about our grandfather a little while ago. It seems wrong not to mourn him, but I don’t have those feelings.”

“Tell me about it,” Raoul muttered. “I got the call at six. Papa ordered me to get to the hospital. I arrived just in time for our grandfather to announce to the room that I was the new CEO before he took his last breath. You and I both know the reason why.”

Grim faced, his cousin nodded. “Even with death approaching, they planned it down to the last minute.”

“He and Papa don’t give up, but as you know, I would never have taken over, and before long I’ll be leaving the family business. The good news is, last night I got a call from my attorney Horace. The divorce decree was granted yesterday at the end of the day. I would have called you, but the news came too late to disturb you. Dom—I’m a free man and can live like one!”

“Raoul—” Dominic hugged him so hard he almost knocked him over.

“It wiped out a good portion of my assets, but it was worth it.”

“If you need help, I’m your man.”

“I know that and am grateful, but my new business is growing and I’m already recouping. Papa said he’d call me later in order to install me, but I have news for him. When he phones, I’ll refuse to accept it and wish him luck in his new position—the one he’s always coveted. Now he can be both comptroller and CEO.”

Dominic nodded. “We might have my father, three uncles and two aunts, all Fontesquieux, who are more than capable of taking over Grandfather’s empire, but you and I both know your father is the one who’ll run everything now. He’s made in the old man’s hard-boiled image with my father a clone of both of them.”

Raoul stared at him. “Good luck to him. Little does he know I’m resigning soon. Already I’ve gathered new clients for the company I’ve started. Over the last two months the list has been growing.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Great Uncle Jerome was the genius who gave me the idea before he died.”

“Nevertheless, I can’t imagine the company without you.”

“I’ve been wanting to leave for years.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was bound by a secret and couldn’t tell you the real reason why I didn’t join you in Paris. But with Grandfather’s death, I no longer have to stay silent. The truth is, I would have joined you in Paris when I turned eighteen, but by then Jerome was diagnosed with lung cancer.”

“You’re kidding—”

Raoul shook his head. “He swore me to secrecy and didn’t even tell Danie. You know what he was like. Because he was a scientist, he handled his health care in his own way and turned to alternative medicine.”

“How did he do it exactly?”

“He used holistic interventions of supplements, herbs, enzymes, plus he changed his diet and he prayed. Knowing he would eventually die, I couldn’t leave him because I loved him too much. But it was hard not being able to tell you the truth at the time.”

“I understand totally. Gran’pere Armand never liked or acknowledged him, but Jerome had you and loved you like the son he could never have.” Dominic eyed him solemnly. “What’s so sad is that your father has to know he lost you years ago.”

“Amen,” Raoul ground out. “Before the day is out everyone will have heard about the divorce being granted, but that’s irrelevant. Right now, I’ve got to see about getting my villa furnished, starting with the nursery. Alain needs a crib. Want to come with me for a couple of hours?”

“What do you think?” an elated Dominic cried. “I’m all yours for now.” He gave some instructions to his assistant Theo, then turned to Raoul. “Let’s go!” They left the building and climbed into Raoul’s Jaguar.

At 8:00 a.m., twenty-six-year-old Camille Delon, known to her friends as Cami, packed a lunch for her and her mother. Together they left their apartment on the main floor of the eight-plex located in the lower income area of Vence, France. They walked toward the van parked around the side with the company logo, Nettoyage Internationale.

A chilly breeze would have blown Cami’s shoulder-length black hair around if she hadn’t formed it into a chignon. Her blue pullover sweater felt good over her T-shirt and jeans as she got behind the wheel. From the time she’d started working with her mother seven years ago, they’d agreed Cami should do the bulk of the driving since her mom didn’t feel that comfortable maneuvering the van in heavy traffic.

She closed the door and drove them to the housecleaning office in the heart of Vence to get their next assignment. NI, a premier housecleaning and housekeeping service, had offices all over Provence and were great employers.

“Bonjour!” the manager, Helene Biel, greeted them when they walked inside her office. Three other full-time coworkers, Jeanne, Marise and Patrice, who usually worked together, had come in another company van and were already assembled.

“Now that you’re all here, I’m sending the five of you out on a lengthy assignment. The new owner of a property with a large, ultra-exclusive villa needs a total housecleaning: walls, ceilings, woodwork, windows, thorough scrubbing of kitchen and bathrooms, main rooms, fixtures, vents, floors, fireplaces, patio, you name it. The only room you’re not to touch is the study on the main floor, which will be locked.

“He wants it spotless before he can start furnishing the place. After visiting the site, I estimate it will take you ladies four to five days. I’ll let them know you’re on your way now. That’s it. This is the address.”

After hearing its location, Cami eyed her mother wordlessly. This villa was located in the most elite, prestigious area of Vence. Only billionaires could afford to live on the top ridge of hills that overlooked the whole spectacular landscape stretching to the Mediterranean.

With an address like that, it had to be near her favorite fairy-tale-like Château Fontesquieu, one of the wonders of Provence, set in the middle of its world-famous vineyards. The thought brought incredibly happy memories associated with her father. When Cami had been little, her dad, who’d been a taxi driver before his fatal car crash, had driven her and her mom to the estate every fall to see it and she’d never forgotten.

She must have been five years old when he’d first taken them on a tour through the vineyards at harvest time so they could watch the workers picking the grapes. Every year after that during the harvest he did the same thing, stopping each time for them to take in the sights.

One particular incident stood out in her mind and had always lingered there. At the age of twelve, she’d seen an older man walking through the vineyard with a young dark-haired man, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was so handsome, she’d put down the back window so she could lean out and look at him a little better. They appeared to be supervising the workers before they reached the man’s elegant black car with the gold hood ornament. As the younger man turned to get in, he caught Cami staring at him and smiled.

A thrill ran through her young girl’s heart and she smiled back before the other car drove off. When she asked her father about the ornament, he said it was the emblem of the royal Fontesquieu family, which had existed for hundreds of years.

Cami sat back. In her mind’s eye the younger man had to be one of the royals, the fictional prince who lived at the château. Nothing could have delighted her more and caused her to dream about living in there with him one day as his princess.

But in November of that very year her father had been killed. The pain and shock of losing him stripped her of such a foolish fantasy. No more trips to the vineyard or anything else. By the time she’d turned twenty-one with a brief, failed marriage behind her, she’d been forced to face another personal crisis.

Her doctor had said that in time the genetic heart murmur she’d been born with would have to work too hard. He explained to her that she had a bicuspid aortic valve. The surgeon ran tests and decided to put off surgery until the symptoms began to affect her life, possibly when she turned twenty-six. By then the technique would have been perfected and become less invasive, possibly avoiding open-heart surgery altogether.

She was allowed to do her normal work, but there could be no running marathons or doing any physical activity that raised her heartbeat to too high a level. To make certain she was taking care of herself, she had to go in for regular checkups. The doctor said she could continue to clean houses, but to do no heavy lifting.

This last October the doctor scheduled her operation for mid-December. The heart surgeon had plans to leave the country over the holidays, so the operation had to be done before that time.

There were no guarantees where her recovery was concerned. As the time grew near, Cami had to live with that prospect, even though the doctor sounded reasonably optimistic. But the alternative of not undergoing the surgery meant her days would be numbered.

Except for their extended family in Nice, Cami and her mother had never told anyone that she had to have an operation, not even Helene or their coworkers. She was lucky to have this job and needed it too much to lose it. At her last doctor’s appointment, they had set the date of the operation for December 18, giving her the holidays to recover.

But what if she didn’t?

As the doctor had told her, every surgery held a risk. In order not to dwell on it, Cami worked harder than ever and determined to make the most of her life—until she couldn’t.

“You’re to park in front and go to the front door,” Helene explained. “Call me if there’s any problem. Now off you go.”

Since they had all the equipment they needed in their vans, they filed outside under a semicloudy sky. Cami got in the van with her mother and they started driving toward the verdant hills in the distance. The other van followed them. Slowly they wound their way serpentine style to the summit. How would it be to live up here in this glorious paradise?

As they passed by the entrance to the Fontesquieu estate and vast vineyards open for tourists, she eyed the impressive grilled gate with its gold ducal crest. Her mother noticed it too. “You probably don’t remember what your father said the last time he drove us around there years ago.”

“No, but I do remember all the times Papa took us there.” Passing by here reminded her of that special day when the handsome young man had smiled at her. “Tell me what he said.” She’d loved her dad and had suffered after he’d died.

“The Fontesquieu family lives at the footsteps of the gods.” Her mother shook her head. “I can’t comprehend their kind of wealth and never want to. All that money doesn’t bring happiness.”

“Probably not,” Cami murmured. At least that’s what you told yourself when you didn’t have it. Her wonderful mother had worked so hard all her life, turning to housecleaning after high school to make a living. She’d never stopped.

Cami had just graduated from Sophie Antipolis University in Nice with honors in business and finance. If all went well with the operation and recovery, she’d start work in January at La Maison de Chocolat Gaillard in their finance department where she’d interned during her last semester.

Guaranteed an excellent starting salary, she was determined to pay back the small balance left on her student loan and take care of herself and her mom. No more housecleaning for either of them! Of course, that all depended on the outcome of the operation.

After several turns, they finally reached their destination. The rose-colored two-story villa appearing through the lush greenery was so beautiful, it didn’t look real. Several sections of steps rose up the terraced landscaping to the main entry.

Cami pulled the van to a stop in front, thinking that the family who would live in this villa shared those same footsteps her father had once talked about. Feeling as if she’d arrived in a wonderland, Cami got out and started up the stairs with her mother. Before she had a chance to knock, the door opened.

An attractive blonde woman, probably a little older than Cami’s mother, smiled at them. “You must be from Nettoyage International.”

Her mother spoke first. “I’m Juliette Delon. This is my daughter, Camille.” Patrice introduced the others.

“Wonderful. I’m Arlette Gilbert. Thank you for being so prompt. Please come inside.”

Cami and her mother followed the woman into the foyer with its fabulous parquet flooring. A graceful winding staircase divided a salon on the right, empty of furnishings, and the sitting room on the left. The interior contained only two chairs and a modern-looking couch. Both rooms were set off with elegant wood carved French doors.

“Won’t you be seated?”

Cami sat on a chair next to her mother. The other three sat on the couch.

The blonde woman studied them. “The owner will be in and out. In the meantime he’s put me in charge and I’ll be here all week. I assume your manager has explained what needs to be done. I’ll take you on a quick tour of the villa and let you decide how to divide up your workload.

“After the tour, I suggest you drive your vans up the driveway where you can park in the rear between the garage and the outdoor swimming pool. I’ll unlock the back door so you can bring in your equipment. If you need me, you’ll find me here in the sitting room.”