Chapter Sixteen
Christien rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Madelaine, and made his way down the hall to collapse on the couch, head in his hands, trying desperately to control his breathing.
It had been ages since he’d dreamt so vividly, so this one took him by surprise. ’Twas as if it happened only yesterday.
He groaned and ran a hand down his sweaty face. How many times had he wished he’d taken her up on the offer to bed her? How many regrets did he have of that night? He often wondered what the outcome would have been if he’d known that was the last time he would see her. Would he have bedded her?
He surged off the couch and paced to the bank of windows. For once the view of the lake and the reflected lights of the city didn’t soothe him. His heart beat hard against his ribs and his blood pounded through him at the memories that wouldn’t let him go. He drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
Had the count known? Was that why Christien and his men were suddenly called away that night? These questions haunted him to this day.
He looked at the time. Three in the morning. He would not be going back to sleep now, not after the dream, and he didn’t want to toss and turn in bed and risk waking Madelaine, so he snuck back in his room, grabbed a pair of jeans and his phone and headed to his office to make some overseas calls.
But when he reached his office, he had a message from the private investigator he’d hired to look into Madelaine’s background. He listened to the message, the blood draining from his head, leaving him dizzy. Slowly he replaced the receiver and stared into the darkness.
Lainie stepped onto the elevator and nodded to the man guarding the entrance to Christien’s private quarters.
It was Friday night and the club was packed, but all she wanted to do was get upstairs, change out of her work clothes and collapse into Christien’s arms. That wasn’t possible though because Christien was working.
Maybe a hot bath, a chilled glass of wine and soothing music would do the trick.
She leaned against the elevator wall and blew out a breath.
Two hours ago Giselle had come to her with a big project, the biggest project Lainie would be in charge of to date.
She’d been excited Giselle had finally put a little more faith in her and gave her more responsibility.
Maybe they’d turned some sort of corner.
But then Giselle told her the project was due Monday morning.
She would have to work all weekend and it still didn’t give her enough time to complete it and Giselle knew it. Once again she was being set up for failure.
Part of her wanted to walk out of the office and never come back. She could take Christien up on his offer of the trust for her father and find a job she loved.
However, at this point in her life those thoughts were fruitless so she buckled down and worked until her eyes burned and her back ached because she wanted to prove to Giselle she could do this. And she wanted to prove to herself that someone like Giselle wasn’t going to beat her down.
She and Christien had plans for Saturday. They were going to move the remainder of her stuff out of her apartment, and Christien was going to take her to lunch. They’d never had a “real” date and she’d been looking forward to it. Now she’d have to work.
Damn Giselle.
Lainie entered Christien’s apartment. Their apartment. He kept reminding her it was hers too, but she found it hard to accept these lavish furnishings were actually hers.
The silence pressed down on her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. As much as she wanted a hot bath and chilled wine, even more, she didn’t want to be alone. And why should she when she had an entire club beneath her?
She didn’t have “clubbing” clothes, but she chose her favorite jeans that skimmed her hips and made her legs look longer, and a low-cut, somewhat tight blouse that accented her ample chest. It was the best she could do on such short notice.
She ran a brush through her hair, applied some lip gloss and headed back down in the elevator.
As with most Friday nights, the place was hopping and a long line of people waited to get in.
Lainie slipped through the crowd and made her way to the bar where she planned to have one glass of wine while she did some people-watching before heading to bed.
Christien wouldn’t return until the wee hours of the morning, close to when she would awaken and head back to work.
Ah, well. They had plenty more weekends together.
“Madelaine?”
She turned to find Christien weaving through the thick crowd, moving unerringly toward her. He took her hand, his gaze serious. “What is wrong? Are you all right?”
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m fine.”
“What brings you down here?”
She shrugged, not wanting to admit she was lonely and not wanting to dump her work problems on him when he was obviously very busy. “I thought I’d have a drink and take in the scene.”
He smiled and kissed her fingers. “I’m delighted you came. I know the perfect place to put you, away from the action, but still able to see it.”
He led her to the end of the bar, far from the front door and very close to the elevator leading to his private quarters. He introduced her to the bartender who’d served her the first night she’d come looking for him.
Christien kissed her on the forehead. “I truly am glad you are here,” he said above the beat of the music. He smoothed her hair, his gaze sincere.
She smiled and waved him away. “Go. Do your thing.”
Christien shot Ken the bartender a pointed look. “Take care of her,” he said and disappeared into the crowd.
The dance floor was filled with writhing bodies and women barely dressed. The flashing lights reflected off the sparkles in their halter-tops and strapless dresses. Scattered among the dancers were couples wound tightly together.
“Try this.” Ken slid a glass of blue liquid toward her.
“What is it?”
“Blueberry martini. My specialty.”
She took a careful sip and smiled. It tasted like a melted ice pop so she took another sip and turned back to the dance floor.
Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of Christien as he moved through the crowd.
A man put his hand on Christien’s shoulder and Christien bent his head to listen, laughed and moved on.
Both men and women stopped him and he would listen attentively before continuing through the crowd.
Lainie fought unexpected jealousy when women touched him.
Some provocatively, others possessively and still others just to get his attention.
Christien, however, didn’t seem to notice. He treated everyone the same.
Except for Sabine.
Immediately Lainie felt the connection between the two. They moved in tandem, one on one side of the room, the other on the other side, yet they communicated silently with just a nod or a glance. It was obvious they had worked together a long time.
Sabine also talked to whoever stopped her, but was very adept at sidestepping the wandering hands of a few drunken men with a laugh and an admonishment.
Another blueberry martini appeared at her elbow and Lainie took a sip. Sabine slid onto the barstool next to her.
“Welcome to The Chevalier,” she said with a wide smile.
“Thank you.”
Ken handed Sabine a drink of what looked like carbonated water with lemon and Sabine sipped it.
Lainie tugged on her plain, knit shirt and ran her palms along her jeans, eyeing Sabine’s silver spangled halter-top that dipped low between perfect breasts and her tight, black leather pants that made her legs look a mile long.
“Are you having fun?” Sabine asked.
Lainie nodded, her tongue suddenly thick and awkward.
A waitress motioned Sabine over and she slid off her stool. “Back to work,” she said brightly with a small wave toward Lainie.
Christien met up with Sabine and the waitress and the three powwowed with their heads bent together. Christien’s dark hair brushed against Sabine’s nearly white-blond hair and Lainie’s stomach churned.
Of course Christien had a life before Lainie.
He was a good-looking guy and it would be stupid of her to think he’d never had a girlfriend.
The internet articles with the pictures of the supermodels proved he had.
She drank half the martini in one gulp to drown the jealousy suddenly rearing its ugly head.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had boyfriends. She’d had lots. Dozens. Scores. Legions.
Okay, maybe just two and a few dates that never panned out.
Someone slid onto the stool Sabine vacated and jostled Lainie’s arm.
“Sorry,” said a masculine voice.
“S’okay.” She turned to the newcomer and smiled.
He smiled back and offered his hand. “John,” he said.
She shook. “Lainie. Good to meet you.”
“You come here often?” He laughed. “That sounds like a lame pick-up line. It’s just I’ve been here a few times and I’ve never seen you.”
Lainie straightened, recognizing the interest in his eyes. His smile was warm and welcoming. He leaned closer and she caught the clean scent of soap.
“I’ve been here a few times.” Three to be exact, but the one didn’t count since she’d been running to Christien for help and he’d swept her through so fast she doubted anyone saw her.
“It’s a cool place,” John said.
He had red hair. Lainie liked redheads. He had freckles on his hands too. How cute was that?
“Yeah,” she said. “Cool.” She stuck with the one-word answers because suddenly she couldn’t get her tongue to work.
“What are you drinking?” He lifted his chin toward her drink.
Lainie held up her nearly empty glass and peered into it. Hadn’t Ken just filled it? “Blueberry martini.”
John smiled again. “You’re hammered.”
Lainie shook her head. The lights swirled. She lost her balance and had to grab hold of the bar to keep from falling off her stool. “Nah,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“Want another?” He motioned to Ken.
“Sure.”