57. Chapter 57 Margot
Chapter fifty-seven
“Princess, I would never ever hurt you. Just relax, okay? Just look in my eyes.”
“My perfect girl,” he coos, kissing my temple, “you did so well. I’m so proud of you. You took it all beautifully, such a good fucking girl.”
Go to Paris. Find the sexiest Frenchman you can and climb him like a tree. Live every second of your life to the fullest.
A knock on my door jolts me from my thoughts, and I take a deep breath to steady myself.
My personal life is in shambles, and I feel as unsettled as I have in years.
Of course the period when I felt in control of myself and my life, emotions, relationships…
that lasted, God, how long? A month, tops?
Of course. It’s comically predictable at this point.
At least I had the bright idea to make sure I was ready for my date with Jack before I sank into my melancholy.
I’m dressed in what’s become my look of choice lately—head-to-toe pink.
I suppose what’s old is new again, or maybe it’s true that every woman goes through style cycles.
When I asked Jack for our dress code tonight, he only replied “to the nines,” so with that unhelpful bit of information, I did what I could.
I’ve had this dress forever, waiting for an occasion to wear it, which is a stupid way to think.
What if I had been hit by a bus with this dress sitting in my closet?
Then they could have buried you in it!
Jesus, Margot. Morbid, even for you.
Making my way to the door and grabbing my clutch, I take one last look at myself in the full-length mirror in the entryway, smirking. This pink is so pale it’s almost white, and the tea length paired with the corseted waist overall gives a rather bridal look. I bet Jack panics and chokes.
Opening the door, I see not Jack but his driver. “Ma’am, Mr. Carter will be meeting you at the venue, if you please.”
Well, if he can’t be bothered to pick me up himself, maybe this isn’t as much of a date as I thought.
Finally, we arrive at the destination, my chauffeur refusing to give even a hint about where we’re headed.
Stepping out of the car and over a puddle because there’s no sidewalk, I look up at…a big, abandoned factory? Great, the chauffeur has dropped me off in a questionable area, clearly at the wrong address, and driven away to leave me…
“Miss?”
I look up to see a man in full formal serving attire beckoning me into the wrought-iron gates of the imposing building.
“I’m Remy. Mr. Carter apologizes for the delay and hopes you’ll come inside. He’ll be with you in a few short minutes.”
Rolling my eyes, I decide being kidnapped is less likely since everyone clearly knows who Jack is, so I follow Remy into the building.
Initially, we’re in a nondescript hallway, and I see cracked windows looking into the huge, disused production area.
Before I know it, he’s opening one more set of doors, and tears fill my eyes as I see a logo I would recognize anywhere.
L'éclat du Chocolat. The Chocolate Sparkle.
One of my many obsessions as a child was an offset of one of the larger chocolate producers in the United States.
The founder and main chocolatier was the daughter of the CEO of the chocolate company, who wanted a chance to make smaller batches with organic ingredients and leave her mark on the family business.
Having access to it was a real treat since the batches were so small, so Mom would conserve it for very special occasions.
I know the woman who founded it moved to France years ago and stopped marketing the chocolate, so I’m not sure where I am right now.
Unlike the derelict larger facility just outside, this kitchen and workspace is immaculate.
White tiles, dark green accents, and antique appliances that have been seemingly maintained all these years.
It’s decorated, too, with a seating area featuring a small round table set formally for two, delicate flameless candles and a bouquet of peonies completing the romantic setting.
I sniffle. Well. I underestimated Jack Carter. Again.
“Well, Princess. Maybe one day you’ll stop. But I don’t mind. It makes it all the more exciting to continue to hurdle your expectations of me.”
Jack steps out of the shadows just beyond the table, and my confused heart clenches at the sight of him.
He took his dress code very seriously, wearing a black tuxedo that fits him like a second skin.
Jesus fuck, he’s untied his bow tie, allowing it to hang on either side of his dress shirt, the top three buttons undone as always.
He looks like a rake who’s lured me here under false pretenses to steal my virtue in my little pink dress.
Not so sure I didn’t know the pretenses when I agreed to come, though.
“I know for a fact I didn’t say a word out loud,” I defend myself. I keep my internal back and forth internal, thank you very much.
He laughs as he reaches me, taking my hand to kiss my knuckles and take my clutch from me. “You don’t have to say things out loud, darling. I see them on your face. You forget how well I know your tells.”
Before I can open my mouth to scramble for a witty response, a bright, cheery voice rings out behind us.
“Bonjour, mes amis! Welcome to my little slice of paradise!”
A diminutive, distinguished woman wearing a starched white chef’s coat joins us, kissing both Jack and me on each cheek.
“My name is Susanne Ferrer, and it’s a pleasure to welcome you tonight. I love love, so when Mr. Carter reached out, it was a no-brainer to accept his offer,” she says, beaming up at us with a twinkle in her eye.
I’m not even going to touch the love comment, deciding that despite my turbulent internal thoughts earlier today, I’m just going to go with the flow tonight. I can be breezy. I can do this.
“It’s an absolute honor to meet you, Chef Ferrer,” I say.
“Please, call me Susanne!”
“Thank you, Susanne, that’s so kind of you. I have to ask you, where are we exactly? When we arrived, I was a little nervous about the state of the building, but this kitchen is so beautiful, I was surprised!” I follow as she leads us over to the cooktop.
“I’m so glad you find it as magical as I do, dear.
This is my secret hideaway, as I used to call it.
This was the kitchen that started it all when L'éclat du Chocolat was just a passion project I was trying to get off the ground. My father carved out this section of the factory for me and let me renovate it. Even once I was producing bigger batches, this remained my main test kitchen whenever I was in the city. Eventually, I moved to France to chase my wife, and I decided it was time to step back from the business, but one of our longtime employees lives here and acts as a caretaker for the property. Any time I’m on the East Coast, I try to pop in to play a bit! ”
She gives us a full tour of her antique ranges and specialty chocolate-making tools, then pulls out a chocolate mold I would recognize anywhere.
I gasp, reaching just behind me where Jack has been hovering closely, paying rapt attention to Susanne’s stories, and grab his hand as I extend my other reverently to the mold.
“Is that…?” I whisper.
“La petite vache?” she says, amused. “Yes, my favorite mold I ever worked with. The little cow. I loved every collection we released with this. They were so whimsical, and I’ve always loved cows!”
I can’t stop the tears in my eyes, thinking of how thrilled I was every time the cow chocolates were released, and how Mom hoarded them for my special occasions. Jack squeezes my hand, and I realize I never let it go after I grabbed it earlier.
I don’t let go now.
After two courses of dessert, we convince Susanne to give us a short break to digest before she brings us the finale.
“There’s no way that’s true. I would remember locking you in the pantry.
Plus, that doesn’t sound like me. I was a perfectly well-behaved little girl.
I would never get up to mischief like that.
” I laugh, remembering the exact instance Jack is describing.
He wouldn’t tell me what he was getting me for my birthday, so I tricked him into one of the creepier pantries off the kitchen and wedged a door stop under the door so he couldn’t escape. “How old would I have even been?”
“You were eight,” he says, removing his cuff links and pocketing them, then rolling up his cuffs. “The most menacing eight-year-old who has ever existed, I’m convinced. See, look at the scar I have from trying to climb out of the transom window to get out of that damn pantry!”
Sure enough, a long, thin white scar crosses underneath his forearm.
I roll my eyes. “Oh please, that could be from literally anything.”
His eyes sparkle. “Come on, Princess. Would I really lie to you?”
“Princess, I would never ever hurt you. Just relax, okay? Just look in my eyes.”
He realizes what he’s said as soon as I do, and the playfulness from the moment before fades. I take in the soft lighting on his face, the tightness around his eyes as he thinks he’s lost me, lost this wonderful night. Is that what I want?
Aggressively pursue happiness.
With a little shake of my head, I bring us both back into the lighter energy we enjoyed all night, feeling in my bones that this decision is a fork in the road for us, and hoping I’m choosing the right direction.
“No, Jackie. I don’t think you would,” I say, and his dazzling smile is his only response.
With a herculean effort, Jack and I finish off Susanne’s pièce de résistance, a simple but decadent chocolate cake dripping with ganache, topped with a little cow chocolate.
Jack has my clutch and a box of chocolates under his arm, a parting gift from Susanne.
But I have her number now, and it’ll be hard for her to get rid of me.
We’ll have to be friends. I have so many questions for her about her time running a small business as a woman, and…
Jack’s warm hand on my lower thigh stops my train of thought. He’s looking the other way, out the window on his side, almost like he’s afraid to see how I’ll react. I wonder briefly if he’ll always think I’m going to swat him away, and resolve myself to change that.
I’m two steps above him on the stairs in front of my building, which puts me just about eye level with him. Maybe a little taller, which I kinda like.
“I like being taller than you. I feel very powerful. Dominant. Maybe I need to find taller heels. Or you could try being shorter?” I ask, playfully patting the top of his head, which I usually can’t see or reach. God, his hair is nice. Has he changed up his shampoo?
He raises one eyebrow, trying to look speculative, but he fails when I rake my fingers through his hair once, causing his eyes to roll back into his head. When they return to mine, they’re heated, and a thrill shoots down my spine.
“I’ll happily get on my knees for you anytime you want, Princess. You’ll be much taller than me, then. And you’re welcome to dominate me, if you wish,” he whispers, challenging me to take the bait. And I do.
“I’m not really into that,” I admit, feeling a bit like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to by flirting with Jack. Like I’m a teenager sexting with her boyfriend while hiding her phone under the covers.
“Oh?” Jack asks, slowly advancing us up the stairs one at a time. I step up backward, steadied by both his hands on my waist.
We finally reach the landing and are on equal footing. Our usual height difference is restored, and he looms over me like a tree.
“Yeah,” I whisper, both of us leaning closer until I’m almost speaking into his lips. “I’ve kinda found out that I rather like the other side of that equation.”
Like a viper, he strikes, and in half a second, I’m pressed between the hard wall of my building and his even harder body, with one of his huge hands around my neck and his tongue down my throat.
I’ve never been kissed like this. I don’t know if he felt the shift tonight, the decision I made…or if some tether that’s been loosely connecting our souls has finally snapped taut again after years of being slack.
My clit throbs, and if I don’t stop this now, I’m going to chain this man up in my apartment and never let him go.
But we still have things to sort through, and this is not the night to just fall back into bed together.
He’s not getting the message, though, based on his hard length rising to meet me through his pants.
Finally, I bite down on his tongue, hard, to get his attention.
He pulls back to look at me, eyes blown and crazed, like he’d give me the world if I asked him to. And one day I just might.
“Thank you for the best date I’ve ever been on, Jack,” I whisper.
“Yet,” he says in response, and I give him a questioning look.
“The best date you’ve ever been on, yet,” he says with finality, then steps back, realizing his dismissal without me having to say it.
He backs down every step without looking back, knowing when he’s reached the bottom and stopping to watch until he sees me go into the building.
Did he count them on the way up? Why is that so hot?
A stair-competency kink? Really, Margot?
Moving so I don’t look crazy just standing here, I give him a soft smile and wave, which he returns, before moving past the grinning doorman into my building.
I’m sinking into my bath a little while later when a phone chimes, but not the tone I was expecting.
Instead of a follow-up text from Jack, it’s my Sir.
Sir:
This week, I’d like you to wait for me in your collar but not naked. Wear lingerie, something bright red.
Fuck, I was not ready for how this text would make me feel.
I give myself ten minutes to sit calmly, fully exploring my emotions about the situation, and make a decision.
Once I do, I feel sad, but it’s as if a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.
Nothing is set in stone, but it's time to figure some things out.
Me:
Sorry, I can’t this week.
He responds instantly, just giving my message a thumbs-up, but before I decide how I feel about that, my real phone chimes. I smile when I see Jack’s name, thanking me for the best date he’s ever been on yet.
I’m still grinning like an idiot when I get out my vibe, and when I come tonight, a specific man is on my mind with no mask in sight.