Chapter 13
RAFE
The villa is blessedly silent the next day. Amazingly Paige-free. The only sounds are from Antonella and the staff setting up for the evening’s dinner.
I work in the study on the second floor and keep the double doors open to see the lake and the surrounding mountains as I work.
They’re not as high as the Alps on the Swiss side, in the village my father came from. Close to where we still have a chalet. In the village where so many of my family are buried, including Etienne, who was never meant to lie there at only fifteen.
I dreamed of him last night. I knew I would. When I don’t lock things down tight enough, the memories come roaring back.
There are no mountains in Paris, the majesty of nature’s hand exchanged for the ingenuity of man’s. There are none in New York or London. It’s only when I’m here or back in Switzerland that I can see them, their grace and their deadliness, and the nightmares increase in intensity.
And yet I always feel better when I see them. When I’m reminded of why I carry the guilt I do, why I let it ride me like a bull rider with a whip.
My ribs still hurt when I breathe too deep. Usually I welcome the faint twinge of pain, but now it reminds me that Paige noticed me leaving. I promised her celibacy in exchange for her own, which wasn’t a hard deal to make. It’s based on her misreading.
But I’ll have to be far more circumspect the next time I leave to fight.
It’s been a long time since I had to answer to anyone.
By mid-afternoon, I’ve worked through several calls with my executive team and two meetings. I’m drafting an email to my executive assistant when my phone rings.
Few people have direct access to that number.
A quick glance tells me it’s my banker. “Good afternoon,” I say in French.
“Mr. Montclair,” Camille says. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but we’re seeing some unusual activity on your card.”
“Let me guess. It’s being used in Milan?”
“Yes, across a variety of stores. Granted, they are mostly stores you own through Maison Valmont.”
“Good.”
She pauses for a breath. “The sums are significantly higher than you normally spend. Can I assume this is nothing out of the ordinary?”
“Oh, it’s very much out of the ordinary. I have a new wife,” I say dryly, “and she has the card for the day.”
Camille laughs politely. “I see. Do you want us to enforce a limit?”
“No.”
There’s another faint pause. “Are you certain, Mr. Montclair? The amount is already far exceeding your usual—”
“I’m sure.”
“There is a purchase you might want to be aware of,” she adds. “It was at a place we’d… well. I would hate to overstep.”
I run a hand over my face. My life has become absurd. “Tell me.”
“There’s been a charge of two-thousand-euros in a store called… We ran the translation from Italian. The Divine Spirit of the Flesh. I believe she’s also paid the deposit on a…”
“You can say it.”
“A penis enlargement treatment.”
Despite it all, my lips tug. Of course she wants to embarrass me. Game recognizes game. “I see.”
“Still no limit, sir?”
“No limit,” I say. To do that would be to lose the little duel we’re engaged in here, Paige and I. And I’m not going to cede a point to her.
She’s a tennis player, after all. I play too. And I’m not losing this set.
After we hang up, I send a single text to Paige. Our conversations have been brief before this, with only a few short, logistical texts. The last one was from me, while sitting and waiting for her on the jet.
Rafe
I assume you’re just getting started? This barely stings.
I shower and change into a suit ahead of the investment dinner. I’m in the closet when she answers my text.
Paige
What color would you like for a new Rolls-Royce?
Never mind, I’ll just go with my gut.
I scoff and throw my phone back on the chair in the corner. There are no Rolls-Royce dealers in Milan. She’s reaching, but she’s good at what she does.
A fucking penis enlargement treatment. It would be funny if it wasn’t her.
I turn to the mirror and start doing up my shirt. With each button, the scar along my torso disappears. It’s faded over the years, but it’ll never go away. I don’t deserve for it to.
By the time dinner starts, Paige still hasn’t returned.
I’m not surprised. Being late is her MO by this point. But if she thinks she’s alone in playing this game, she’s dead wrong. I’ll discover what bothers her soon enough. Darling, for starters.
The guests start arriving, dropped off in black cars or parking their own on the courtyard.
Tonight’s dinner is the start of the summer season in Como.
Most of the top executives at Maison Valmont will be slowing down the pace of work, preparing for the fall season.
Most, if not all, will come here to report to me at some point during the summer.
Many of the designers from Milan will swing by here too, and several of the French ones will fly in. It’s a good tradition.
Every single guest congratulates me on my marriage.
More than one has a hint of speculation in their gaze, heavy with questions they won’t ask. We’re already seated for dinner on the terrace when Antonella taps me gently on the shoulder.
“è tornata,” she murmurs in Italian.
Paige is back.
I excuse myself and head into the house to meet her. She comes walking in through the front door, wearing a tiny slip dress and an oversized blazer despite the heat. A pair of sunglasses are pushed up in her blonde hair.
There are at least ten bags from various luxury brands in her hands.
Colors and brands I recognize.
“Hello, husband.” Paige drops the bags on the marble floor. “Have you missed me?”
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Did you have fun?”
“A great deal. Thanks.” She pulls the card out of the pocket of her blazer. Her very familiar blazer. “You were right. No limit.”
“I told you.”
“Did I make it hurt? Just a little?”
“Do you think I’d admit it if you did?”
She takes a step closer. “No, of course not. Forgive me. Here I thought I was playing with an amateur.”
“Were you photographed?”
“Yes. And I had lunch with Leelyn, out in public,” she says.
That makes my lips tighten. I didn’t know they’d become such fast friends after meeting only last night, but I’m not about to admit what a smart move that was.
“I did my duty to the cause,” she says sweetly. “And I bought a little something just for you.”
I look her over. The sleeves of her blazer are folded up, and despite her height, it’s obviously too big on her. “That’s my jacket.”
“It is. Do you like it on me?” She turns, and damn it, those long legs are back on full display. “I found it in your closet.”
“You were in my closet?”
“I was, yes. All those perfectly ironed shirts… just begging to be wrinkled.”
Such a fucking brat. My hand curls into a fist in my pocket. I need to start locking doors in this villa. “You’re not allowed in my rooms.”
“What’s mine is yours, isn’t that right?” She reaches for my collar, and I don’t flinch. I stand still as she straightens my already perfect collar. “That’s what we said, after all. You gained access to my company by marrying me. Is it so bad that I ask for a teeny, tiny suit jacket in return?”
“You scheduled a penis enlargement.”
Her smile widens. It’s an annoyingly dazzling smile, all full lips and white teeth. “I did. Because I care for you.”
“I don’t need it.”
“See, a man with so many cards and houses and cars… I think you’re compensating for something.” She tilts her head. “And I never, ever want to find out if that’s true or not. So I handled it for you.”
“You bought sex toys.”
Her smile widens. “I did. Do you want to see them? I got one specifically for you, now that you’re forced to be celibate.”
“No, I do not.”
“I wanted to scandalize your accountants. Do you think I succeeded?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Remember what I told you. I don’t want to hear a single moan from your bedroom.”
Her fingers drift from my collar to my shoulders. They flatten out against the fabric. “I don’t think I could come,” she says, “if you were within a hundred miles of me.”
My lips curve into a crooked smile. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. That’s how not attracted I am to you.”
“And yet,” I say, leaning in another inch, “you’re the one touching me, and we don’t have an audience.”
Her hands drop. “I was proving a point.”
“And what’s the point?”
“That I won’t flinch again.”
“Good,” I say, and tilt my head toward the back of the villa. “Because there’s a ready audience out there. Put your bags away and come touch me out there.”