Chapter 20
Twenty
It turned out that flying in a private jet had other benefits besides the opportunity to quaff champagne. They also sped through security in a matter of minutes and were riding away in a chauffeur-driven car before the hoi-polloi would even have made it to baggage claim.
Eve could have pinched herself.
The drive out of Paris didn’t reveal any of the beautiful buildings or boulevards she’d been imagining in her mind’s eye. She conceded that main roads leading away from airports rarely held much charm and, as the density of houses dwindled, she started to appreciate the open space instead. After forty-five minutes, they turned into a broad, straight avenue that led inexorably to an elegant chateau.
The last rays of the setting sun glinted in its windows. The sparkle of frost starting to set in, twinkled in the sweeping lawns. Eve rubbed at the goosebumps that rippled up her arms.
“Wow. This place is beautiful.”
Lucien squeezed her knee. “I’ve had it a while. I mean, it’s been in the family for years. Being in Paris, it’s a balm to me.” He ran a contemplative finger along his own bottom lip. “You’ll see.”
The car crunched to a halt on the gravel. Their driver retrieved their bags from the boot and deposited them at the base of a sweeping flight of stone steps.
Lucien got out too and extended a hand to Eve. She slid out into the cold December air, its icy fingers reaching beneath the short skirt that no longer seemed appropriate. Her killer heels sank into the stones.
“I think that these might have had their moment.”
Lucien held out his arm for her to take and guided her up the steps. “You never know.” He had that glimmer in his eyes again.
“Where are we going this evening?”
He tapped at his nose. “Somewhere the like of which you will never have been to before.”
“Mysterious.”
“A private club. Very exclusive membership.” A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth.
“You’re teasing me.”
“No. It’s somewhere I think you, of all people, will appreciate.”
Intriguing.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“If I told you we were going to The Hellfire Club, would it mean anything to you?”
Eve shrugged.
Er, no.
“Well, there you are.” Lucien opened one of the ornate front doors and ushered her inside. “Then all I shall say is that we are going to a club in the ancient depths of Paris. You’re going to love it.”
He led the way into the hall. The interior decor was old-fashioned French meets modern art, a clashing juxtaposition of aged oak and David Hockney. Something odd was suspended in a jar, seemingly pickled. Eve squinted curiously at it while Lucien stepped back out to grab their bags.
He shut the door with a glass-juddering bang. “ Céleste? ” he shouted out, “ Céleste, es-tu là? ”
There was a clip-clop of heels coming from somewhere out of sight beyond the base of the stairs, and then a woman appeared, wiping her hands on a cloth. She was around Eve’s age, maybe a year or two older, and wore a figure skimming dress of dark red.
“ Lucien, mon chéri. C'est si bon de vous voir .” She slid a hand around Lucien’s waist and kissed him on the mouth. Lucien put a hand to her face and then said, “Celeste, this is Eve.”
Celeste turned her head while her body stayed aligned with Lucien’s. Her eyes ran over Eve from head to toe.
“Eve,” she said in a soft voice. It wasn’t exactly welcoming, but not entirely unfriendly either. It made Eve’s skin crawl.
“Celeste, was it?” Eve smoothed down her skirt and, when she caught the glimmer of a laugh on Celeste’s face, stood a little taller.
“That’s right,” said Celeste in a purr. She was almost as tall as Lucien and thin as a rake. Her dark hair was cut into a sharp chin-length bob and her eyes were green and cat-like. She stood over Lucien like she owned him.
“Eve is a special friend, Celeste. Let’s make her feel welcome.”
“ Bien s?r ,” Celeste said, and Lucien stepped away from her to pick up the bags.
“You got my message?”
“I have freshened up the master suite and the blue room for your special friend . Dinner will be another half hour. You are early.” She raised an admonishing eyebrow at him and Lucien bit at his lip.
Well, this is fucking weird.
Eve shuffled from foot to foot. Who the hell was this woman?
Celeste prized Eve’s bag from Lucien’s hand and it looked like an excuse to touch him. Crazy jealousy seared in Eve’s chest.
“You must be tired,” Celeste said in a low voice. She turned away and made for the stairs, brushing against Eve as she passed. “Follow,” she said and sashayed up the stairs like a cat padding away. Her body moved with a kind of feline grace that was as irritating to Eve as she suspected it was sexy for Lucien.
Eve looked at him wide-eyed. He shook his head and waved Eve on. He was coming too.
At the top of the stairs, however, he peeled away to the left while Celeste went right.
“I’ll see you downstairs in a minute,” he said, and then disappeared through the closest door. Eve followed her bag and Celeste into a room on the other side of the staircase, which was indeed mostly blue. Celeste dropped the bag to the floor and Eve kicked off her heels. Teetering about was doing nothing for her confidence.
Celeste sat down on the bed and stretched out her long legs.
“You’ve known Lucien long?” she asked.
“Not that long, no.”
“I see.” She smoothed a hand down her body to the hem of her dress which rested mid-thigh.
“We met at the museum, the British Museum. I’m working on his exhibition.”
I’m not some dumb floosie, bitch.
“Of course you are.” Celeste arched her body and flexed her shoulders. “Are you fucking him?”
Eve choked out a laugh. “I don't think that’s any of-”
“I can give you some tips. Tell you what he likes. What do you say?” She tipped her head. “The English are so stiff.”
“I think I can handle it.” Who the fuck did this woman think she was?
“Whatever you say.” Celeste swung her legs so her feet touched the floor and stood up. She came to Eve’s side and ran a finger along Eve’s jaw before she could pull away. “Feisty. That might help.” She sashayed to the door. “But I doubt it.”
“Don’t let me keep you. That dinner won’t cook itself.”
“ Peut-être serez-vous le dessert ,” Celeste said in a low voice and closed the door.
Eve gawked after her. OK, so Lucien’s housekeeper was definitely an old lover. Hell, the way she was behaving, she might well be a current lover. Eve pushed down the green-eyed monster that was fighting its way to the surface.
Everyone had a history. Did she think he’d been a monk his whole life? A man who could fuck her like Lucien was clearly not a new kid on the block.
Get a grip, Eve.
She didn’t have any rights to him. She clenched and unclenched her fists, even so. There was something about the two of them that felt like more than just a casual fling, something extraordinary. Now she wasn’t sure if she was kidding herself.
Eve pushed Celeste to the back of her mind. She needed to freshen up and get back downstairs.
When Eve got to the base of the stairs, it was the flicker of firelight that drew her into the room to her left. It was the dining room, and it was magnificent.
Tall windows stretched along one wall, providing elegant views of the ground’s sweeping lawn and lamplit driveway. Rich oak paneling dressed the walls while a huge jewel-colored Persian carpet covered most of the flagstone floor.
The table was long enough to accommodate twenty guests, and a series of candelabras threw golden pools of light down onto its rich mahogany. Their flames flickered on the polished surface. A fire roared in the fireplace and Lucien stood before it, basking in the heat.
The room seemed alive with heat and fire: in the reflections on the table; in the hugely oversized fireplace, even in the art above the mantle. Eve recognized it.
“The Great Dragon by William Bake,” she said, and Lucien turned to look at her.
Flames danced in the golden flecks in his eyes. “Oh, you know it?”
“You can’t work at the British Museum for five years and not learn something of the great masters.”
She walked around the table to join him on the other side. Two places had been set for dinner, at entirely opposite ends.
“Have you got your mobile on you? I think we’ll be chatting by phone.” Lucien gave her a shrug. “Celeste’s little joke.”
“She’s a card.”
Lucien poured red wine into a deeply cut crystal goblet and passed it to Eve. “She’s not used to sharing me.”
Eve raised an eyebrow at that. Lucien caught up the corner of the fabric place setting and dragged the whole lot down the table to sit by the other at the opposite end.
“I’ve been coming here for a long time.”
“Since you were a kid, right?”
Lucien shrugged. “She’s very… protective.”
“I see that.”
But she didn’t really see it at all. Celeste was around her own age. A couple of years more, tops. If Lucien had been coming here since his childhood, there was no way she could have worked here all that time - she just wasn’t old enough.
There was something weird about her. It was that vibe again. The undefinable something that she’d been feeling around Lucien too. She looked at him as he stared into the fire and tried to identify it. Light from the flames licked around his chiseled features and danced in his eyes. Darkness held the light away, somehow. A shadow hovered over his skin like a veil. She reached out to touch it and Lucien flinched to turn, whip smart, to bite her.
Eve was so surprised, she squealed. Lucien released her and laughed. “Let’s eat,” he said. “I’m so hungry, I’m almost eating you.” He guided her to the table to find that loaded plates now awaited them.
Eve scanned the room. Celeste was nowhere to be seen.
Lucien pulled out a chair for Eve to sit. “That’s some service. How about that?” She sat down and Lucien settled himself too. She laughed to cover her unease.
“Seared fillet, rare. I hope that’s OK.”
Eve cut a slice. Blood dripped to the plate. “I think mine’s still alive.”
Lucien grinned. “The French don’t like to overcook their meat. Is it OK? Seriously I can get her to–”
“No,” Eve interrupted. She could imagine the sneer on Celeste’s face if she asked for it to be cooked some more and the charcoaled remains she was likely to get as a result. “It’s fine.”
Lucien watched as she put it in her mouth with enquiring fascination. It was pretty much raw. Its metallic juices flooded her mouth, and she swallowed it down.
Lucien nodded then took a bite of his own. “The club is in the center of the city. It won’t take us long to get there so we can take our time.” He leaned over to kiss her, his tongue flicking over her lips. She still had food in her mouth so ducked away. Eating and kissing felt like a strange combination. She wiped at her mouth with her napkin. She was being wrong-footed at every turn.
Lucien went back to his steak.