Chapter 51
Gen
After fast, animalistic sex and a slow, civilised breakfast on his shady terrace, Anton has Cédric drive us into Cannes to meet up with the others. I could happily have stayed sequestered in his villa for the whole day, but I suppose we do have a business venture to get off the ground.
Besides, delicious as it is to have Anton to myself, I have to admit it’s pretty spectacular to stroll down the town’s iconic promenade, La Croisette, with his arm draped easily over my shoulder.
We’re turning heads, and I don’t know if it’s because of the size of my smile or the fact that I’m canoodling with one of Europe’s most eligible billionaires that’s doing it.
I don’t care, actually. Just as I don’t care about his eligibility or his bank balance.
I’m content with being staggeringly grateful that we’re giving each other a chance, because whatever doubts I had are being swept right away by his kindness, and his passion.
By his seemingly endless appetite for me and, most terrifying of all, by how easy it feels with him.
Starting my day by riding his face like a shameless sex maniac was an effective icebreaker. I’ll admit that much.
We grab lunch at The Carlton’s chic beach club and then meet up with the other members of Anton’s team as well as Lola, an attractive and highly efficient local events manager who’s lined up several potential venues for us to view.
Max looks particularly pleased with himself today, even by his usual standards.
‘How’s your “friend”?’ I ask him teasingly as I kiss him.
‘Insatiable,’ he answers with a smirk. He’s impossible to dislike. He nods at Anton, who’s frowning at something Lola’s telling him in rapid French. ‘So you two finally got it on,’ he continues. ‘Took you long enough to get on board.’
I attempt to dissemble. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He laughs. ‘Give me a break. I saw his hand on your arse before you spotted us.’
I’m not sure why, but I blush. I can feel the heat crawling over my face. ‘Fine. We’re… I don’t know. Together, kind of.’
He nods. ‘I’m glad. Just don’t mess him around, okay?’
That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. ‘I have no intention of it. Obviously.’
‘Good. Because he’s obsessed with you. I’ve never seen him like this before.’
The heat grows at his words, and I glance over at Anton. As if sensing the weight of my stare, and the unasked questions I have, he rakes that gorgeous mop of hair off his face and shoots me a smile so warm, so crinkly, so open, it floods my entire body with wellbeing.
He’s obsessed with you.
Can it really be so?
How can I possibly be this lucky? He’s shown me, last night and this morning, the level of his appreciation for my body, and I suppose he’s also shown me by way of his high-handed gestures, not the least of which was tricking me into staying alone with him at his villa.
Boy, am I glad he pulled that stunt.
But any words he’s said have been sexual. Words of desire and need. Commands. We haven’t talked about feelings. To even consider bringing up feelings at this stage feels insane.
It’s only been a single night.
But I have an entire weekend with him. A whole weekend of leisurely lounging and fucking and chatting and getting to know each other against one of the most stunning backdrops this part of the world has to offer.
Again, how can I possibly be so lucky?
Max notices me demurring. ‘He’s a really good guy,’ he adds in a lower voice. ‘Seriously, one of the best. Yeah, he can be ruthless, but only because he knows what he wants and he always goes after it.’ He shoots me a sidelong look. ‘Which I don’t think is a bad thing.’
* * *
Neither of the first two places we look at are quite right.
The first is the entire penthouse of a modern and extremely luxurious apartment building.
It includes a roof terrace and boasts its own infinity pool with amazing views over the sea.
But it’s too small, and it’s not discreet enough.
I don’t want a venue where our patrons have to share the lift with residents.
Neither party would be impressed with that option.
The second is a Belle Epoque villa in Super Cannes.
It’s huge and has exactly the vibe I imagined when Anton first pitched this concept, but on closer inspection it’s a little run-down.
A little grubby. Not luxurious enough for our efforts, and a big renovation is out of the question for an imminent pop-up.
But the third place is fucking perfect. Anton and I grin at each other as soon as Lola sashays through the entrance.
It’s more suited to the Hollywood Hills than Cannes, a huge, low box that’s white-walled with glass everywhere.
The grounds are massive and secluded, with a stunning pool running the entire length of the house.
It screams party pad. It’s flash, it’s glamorous, it’s decadent, and it feels fresh and modern.
My mind’s eye instantly conjures up throngs of beautiful people fucking on the white mattresses and day beds that we’d scatter all over the lawn, while those glass-fronted bedrooms I can see along one side could be the perfect choice for those who like to be seen.
Inside it’s even better. There’s an enormous open-plan reception area, all white, with a square pool at its centre and stupendous art providing energetic splashes of colour along its serene walls.
I thought it was single-storey, but I was wrong.
It’s built on a slope, and a shallow cantilevered staircase curves down to a lower floor that wasn’t visible from the front of the house.
We count fourteen potential private rooms, as well as plenty of space for a floor show and a freestanding bar. This place is a blank canvas, and the sexy things we could do with lighting are endless.
‘How is it even available for the summer?’ I ask.
‘The owner is moving to Melbourne for a year,’ Lola informs us. ‘It was a last-minute decision. So they will not require it until next spring.’
Lara, Anton’s events manager, and Lola debate the owners’ likely latitude in allowing us to customise the space. The upshot is: a lot. If we want to hang cuffs from the ceiling, we can do it. At the price they’re asking, we’ll make it worth their while to clean up our handiwork afterwards.
As they chat, Anton steers me off to one of the bedrooms on the main floor.
It’s small and minimalist and perfect, with a glorious view out to the pool area.
This place is so cool that we may well attract people who wouldn’t normally visit a sex club.
People who are maybe less experienced in our field but open-minded enough to come to a stunning private party and see where the night takes them. Where they can experience true freedom.
True alchemy.
I step up to the French doors, and Anton presses himself right up against me, his hard body radiating heat through his clothes and mine. I allow my head to fall back as his proprietary hands roam over my stomach.
‘I’m going to fuck you in here, up against this glass,’ he says, bending his head so his voice is in my ear. ‘In the dark, so you can watch everyone fucking outside as I take you, or with the lights on, your beautiful tits pressed against the glass so everyone can see how fucking stunning you are.’
His tone is carnal, and his vision is piercing. Arousing. I’m instantly assaulted by an understanding of just how it would be. My body naked, my nipples pressed up against the glass, writhing on Anton’s cock like the most salacious peep show.
I turn my head and tilt it upwards.
‘I’ll let you do whatever you want with me,’ I say into his mouth.