Chapter 10 #2
“On the news. He was arrested for breaking and entering in one of Paris’s most high security banks. How is he here now?”
Fabien shrugs. “Maybe he was found not guilty.”
Or maybe he doesn’t have to stay in jail if he doesn’t want to.
Interesting.
“Pretend we’re talking.”
“We don’t have to pretend, we are talking.”
That earns me a grunt in reply, and another warning to behave myself.
“Haven’t you heard?” I say, remembering the words of a tee shirt I saw at the airport. “Well-behaved women rarely make history.”
“Well-behaved women rarely get spanked, too, which sounds more like it’s your speed, doesn’t it?”
My pulse accelerates. “If you say so.”
His breath in my ear’s so warm and sensual, I quiver.
“I can smell your arousal from here. You’re so hot, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” I lie. “Uh uh. And you’re the one lying, there’s no way you can smell my arousal.”
He sure can if he truly is part predator.
“You’re imagining yourself beneath me, aren’t you?”
“I am now.”
“I bet you’re dying to know what it’s like to feel my mouth between your legs.”
“I wasn’t, but now that you mention it…” I barely recognize my own voice.
“Shh,” he whispers suddenly. “We’re going to dance over to my cousin Milo. Slowly.”
I lay my head on his chest and allow him to hold me close to him. He’s an excellent dancer, and it’s easy to follow his lead.
I love the feel of him holding me. I love the simple elegance of dancing together, my steps following his. I love the scent of his cologne, the feel of his broad hand on my hip and the other in mine. I love the way I feel as if I were designed to fit right up against him like this.
“Cousin.”
His cousin stands at a bar, nursing a drink on the rocks.
“Fabien.” He nods. “Nicolette.”
He must’ve heard my name at the table. Still, it unsettles me. Fabien’s the only one I trust in this entire room, and that’s not saying much.
Though he’s polite, I get the sudden feeling I’m talking to a domesticated wolf.
“We need to chat. Do you have time?” He swirls me around in time to the music. I feel light on my feet, a fairy in flight.
“Of course. I always have time for you.”
Fabien dances me closer.
“The Carnival de Sartène approaches. I’m sure you’ve gone into great detail preparing security at The Underground.”
It seems outrageous that one of the made men of the Gerard family’s the head of security, but I suppose it’s also quite convenient if it involves masters and slaves.
“We have.” His cousin’s wolfish grin spreads across his face, his eyes zoning in on me. “And what might that have to do with you?”
His knowing look tells me he knows what Fabien’s interested in.
“You want to bring her to The Underground.”
“I do.”
Milo frowns. Someone hoots with laughter behind us, and a woman screams with glee. “And what does that have to do with the Lyon family obtaining the talisman?”
“I don’t need money, Fabien, you know that.” Milo looks bored. “And we’re talking about something worth two hundred million euros.”
“Two hundred and fifty,” I supply, then realize that was maybe not super helpful. Fabien only snorts. I do pay attention to detail.
“You’ve wanted a part of our business for a long time,” Fabien says, clearly saving this bargaining chip. “I’ll give you ten shares.”
I swear his cousin’s eyes look almost green with greed. Still, he shakes his head.
“I don’t want that, either.”
He can’t tell him Lyam’s in danger. He has to pretend he wants the talisman for the sake of it.
Fabien exhales. “What do you want, then? Name your price. You know how important this is to me.”
“I do. So does most of your family. You’d have to shut your brothers up.”
“Let me handle that.”
“They’re bringing the talisman in the Tuesday before the parade. It’s highly secured with six armed guards and will be locked in a secure location I can’t reveal.”
“Without the right price,” Fabien presses.
Milo’s eyes meet mine. I know what he’s going to ask for before he says it. Sudden nausea clenches my belly.
“One night with Nicolette.”
Fabien’s entire body goes rigid. We stop dancing. “You son of a bitch.”
“Uh, Fabien, that might not be the best response to someone we really need,” I whisper in his ear.
“One night,” Milo insists. “One night and you’ll have it all. Location. Security name. I’ll even tell you what time and the number to get in.”
Fabien spins me around and heads back to the dance floor.
“Fabien!” I protest. “You want this. It means so much to you!” He can’t back down now.
“It’s not worth his price.”
I’ve been with so many men, I’m not sure why the thought of being with his cousin makes my skin crawl.
“But you can’t give up,” I press.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re okay with his proposal?” I knew the first time I laid eyes on Fabien he was a dangerous man. I’d almost forgotten that, until now.
I swallow. “I don’t like the idea, but I promised you.”
The song comes to a stop. Fabien’s lips are pressed in a thin, tight line. I swallow.
“I’m just saying—”
He throws up a hand to stop me mid-sentence. I watch as he breathes through flared nostrils. Alright, then, he needs a minute.
“We’ll revisit this later,” he whispers in my ear as his cousin comes back over. This time, the threat sounds ominous.
“Alright, alright, that price isn’t worth it to you.”
I don’t look at him. I don’t know why someone like me, who’s been used so many times I’ve lost count, feels uncomfortable with the thought of being a bargaining chip.
I like the thought of him not sharing me.
This time when he pulls me to him, there’s no distance between us. My breasts are smashed against his chest, his hands are in my hair, and when we dance to the slow tempo of the music, I feel as if we dance as one.
“I don’t share, Nicolette.” The way he pronounces my name sounds like a prayer, the delicate enunciation of each syllable a plea to the sacred.
“I won’t share you. Our deal excludes all others while you’re with me.
” Though he doesn’t say it, I feel the rest of his words deep in my belly. And all others after.
I close my eyes against his chest and wish, for one brief moment, this was real. That I hadn’t agreed to a short-term arrangement. That he’d won me fair and square, and that when the music stopped playing, I wouldn’t have to go home. Alone.
Discarded.
I want this to be real.
“I like that,” I tell him honestly. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want to follow through on the plan we agreed on, and I’m not sure the best way to make that happen. And your brother…”
“Wait. You’ll see. Milo is trying to get under my skin, but he wants the money. He’s bluffing. I’ve never known a greedier man in my life. Why do you think he’s in the position he’s in? He doesn’t need the job.”
It dawns on me with crystal clarity. “He likes the power. The leverage.”
“Exactly. So what do you think is our best chance of convincing him to give us what we want?”
Ahh. “We give him even more power and leverage.”
“Precisely.” He releases me only long enough to kiss my cheek. “But tonight, we dance. Tomorrow, we attend the wedding. And then, we set our plans into motion.”
The bride and groom take their leave a short while later. The wedding, like many French weddings, will be an all-day affair, first the legal matter of vows, followed by a church wedding, then the reception and dancing. I’ve heard they can run into the wee hours of the morning.
As the number of guests begins to dwindle, I notice more people looking our way. Milo paces back and forth as if mulling over the request from Fabien.
“Will you make a counteroffer tonight?” I ask in a low voice only Fabien can hear.
He shakes his head. “I’ll let him mull on it overnight and discuss it again with him in the morning. I may have dropped a hint I have another contact in Sartène that can help.”
“Do you?”
He huffs out a breath. “She’s sitting right in front of me.” I watch as he takes a final swig from his nearly empty glass.
“You think pretty highly of my skills, Monsieur.”
“I do. I have something to show you before we head upstairs for the night.”
We say our goodnights and walk down the same hall that leads to our room, but he doesn’t stop at our door. Instead, he leads me further down the hall, past an end table, past a set of closed doors, to a small, narrow door at the very end of the hall.
“Is this your cupboard under the stairs?”
“You could say that.”
Withdrawing his phone from his pocket, he slides open an app and places it by the door. A light flashes, and a click tells me the door is unlocked. He presses his thumb against a small panel, a second security measure it seems, before he pushes the door open.
At first, I think he’s taking us into a utility closet.
It certainly is about the size of one. But when he shuts the door behind us and flicks on a light, I see we’re in a narrow storage room about the size of a walk-in closet.
Are those… mannequins? Well, no, just hangers showcasing a variety of not just clothes but…
costumes? A large section to the far-right houses clothes on hangers hanging from thick metal bars, and another display features sturdy shelves with rows upon rows of shoes neatly arranged by type—boots and sneakers, sandals and loafers.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing at first, until he gives me a demonstration.
“Come here, Nicolette.”
I step over to him so I’m standing right in front of him, shadowed under his height.
I watch him press a circular button beside one of the wooden panels.
With a gentle whir, a door slides open. Fabien reaches inside to retrieve a wild, curly, red-haired wig.
He places it on my head with a flourish, then hands me a pair of thick black glasses.
When he holds up a mirror, I hardly recognize myself.
“Take a look,” he says almost proudly, a little bashfully, as he shoves his hands in his pockets and gestures with his head.