The Billionaire's Sudden Bride novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213

Summer’s POV

“Leo?” Jean–Pierre repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “He was my student, though he left France many years ago. You know him, Miss

Taylor?”

“Yes!” I explained.

Jean–Pierre’s eyes immediately lit up. “That’s wonderful! I haven’t seen Leo in so long. How is he doing these days?”

“He’s doing great!” I assured him. “Leo’s at Stark Group now, and he’s actually my direct supervisor. He was supposed to join us today, but he’s been feeling under the weather.”

“No worries,” Jean–Pierre waved dismissively. “We’ll have plenty of opportunities to catch up later.”

James slowed as we approached the security gate of the exclusive villa community. “1808, please,” I told the guard, handing over the

access pass.

The guard’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, Mr. Stark’s place? Mr. Stark hasn’t been here in ages.”

I smiled politely and passed the card to Jean–Pierre. “This is one of my husband’s properties. It’s been vacant for a while, so you’ll have total privacy. Everything’s been prepared for your stay.”

While James showed everyone upstairs to choose their rooms, I inspected the kitchen. The place was spotless, the refrigerator stocked with fresh groceries–Brandon’s thoroughness never ceased to amaze me.

I was checking the coffee supplies when a familiar voice made me freeze.

“Well, well, well! Look who we have here!”

Dr. Sean leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and wearing his trademark mischievous grin.

“Dr. Sean?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s my line, Mrs. Stark,” he quipped, eyebrows rising playfully. “This place has been sitting empty for two years. I figured Brandon had finally decided to use it. Where is he?”

“He’s meeting with Edward Lee today,” I explained.

Sean gestured for me to follow him outside and pointed to a villa two doors down. “See that? 1806–that’s mine. When Edward developed this area, he gave each of us bros a place. Mine’s right there.”

“So you don’t live at the Sullivan estate?” I asked.

Sean laughed. “Is that really so shocking? Brandon doesn’t live at the Stark mansion either!” He wandered back inside. “So what’s the deal? Moving in? That would make for some entertaining neighborhood dynamics.”

“Dr. Sean, I think you’ve misunderstood,” I corrected him. “We’re not moving in.”

“No? Then what brings you here?”

I gestured toward the upper floor. “Brandon brought in a chief engineer from overseas who needs to stay in New York for a year. I thought a hotel wouldn’t be comfortable for that long.”

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“Sounds more like your idea than Brandon’s, Sean smirked. “Not only practical but saving a fortune on hotel costs. Smart move.”

I narrowed my eyes but didn’t deny it.

Brandon really lucked out marrying you,” Sean commented before stretching. “I should probably get going. Just finished my night shift, then had an emergency surgery this morning. I’m beat.”

“Sounds rough,” I sympathized, walking him to the door.

“Let’s get everyone together soon,” he suggested. “You, Brandon, Edward, the whole crew.”

“Sounds good!”

When everyone finally came downstairs, I had prepared fresh coffee,

“Jean–Pierre, Danielle, would you like some coffee?” I offered.

Jean–Pierre took an appreciative sip. “I’m impressed, Mrs. Stark. Your coffee–making skills are excellent.”

“You’re too kind,” I replied. “I’m just an amateur. If you want truly exceptional coffee, my friend is the real expert.

I glanced at my watch. “Would you like to explore the city? Have you had much chance to enjoy Manhattan before?”

“To be honest, not really,” he admitted. “My previous visits were all business.”

“Well, since you’ll be here for quite a while, you should definitely take advantage,” I suggested. “Today I thought I might introduce you to some authentic New York cuisine.”

Danielle looked uncomfortable. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d prefer to rest. I’m feeling a bit under the weather from the travel.

“No problem,” I assured her. “I’ve arranged for a personal chef if you’d prefer to stay in.”

An hour later, Jean–Pierre and I stood outside Scarlett’s coffeehouse.

“American coffee culture is truly fascinating,” he remarked, admiring the charming storefront.

“Wait until you taste what’s inside,” I promised. “My friend that I mentioned is the owner. She majored in French, by the way.”

“Is that so?” Jean–Pierre looked impressed. “You and your friend both seem like remarkable young women.”

As we entered, Scarlett spotted me immediately. “Summer! You made it!”

She looked perfectly in her element–simple white button–up shirt, well–worn jeans, dark brown hair casually pulled back with a

headband.

Jean–Pierre, this is my friend Scarlett Smith, I introduced them.

“Hello, Jean–Pierre, Scarlett greeted him warmly.

“Bonjour, Scarlett. Je suis Jean–Pierre,” he replied with old–world courtesy.

Scarlett led us to a special section away from the main seating area a cozy nook she reserved for special guests.

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“What would you prefer, Jean–Pierre?” she asked, gesturing to various coffee beans.

“I defer to the expertise of my host, he replied graciously.

My phone rang–Leo’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello? Leo?” I answered, surprised.

“Are you with Jean–Pierre today?” he asked. “Where are you? I’d like to join you.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise but gave him Scarlett’s address. Meanwhile, Jean–Pierre and Scarlett had slipped into French conversation.