Chapter 28 Aliénor
ALIéNOR
With my first paycheck, I bought a nice gown to wear to this fancy party. It had one sleeve that crossed over my chest to my shoulder, and it had another slit over my stomach. The front was short, all the way to my upper thigh, and the train in the back was long with puffed curls in the fabric.
It was actually a piece by Diamant, and because of that, I was able to get it at a discount, but it was still a pretty penny. I curled my hair to match the puffiness in the train of the dress. I wore a gold necklace around my throat and matching pumps.
He stilled slightly at the sight of me, his eyes suddenly becoming glued in place.
He took me in with obvious approval, his eyes moving down then bouncing back up again.
He recovered then approached me, a powerhouse in that suit, looking like a million euro when he was already worth a billion.
He didn’t say I looked beautiful or say anything about the dress—but his eyes sure did.
His arm circled the small of my back, and he brought me close, angling his neck down to kiss me because the strain to his spine was worth it.
His other hand slipped into my hair, and he kissed me so softly, like he didn’t want to ruin my lipstick or my hair but he couldn’t resist. When he pulled away, he looked at me again, taking in my appearance like he needed a second glance. Still, he said nothing.
But that was fine with me.
He noticed the duffel bag on the counter and grabbed it before he opened the front door for me to walk through.
We headed downstairs and got into the back of his SUV.
There were two captain’s chairs, but Luca was big and broad enough that he could easily rest his hand on my thigh, absent-mindedly pushing away what little fabric was there so he could feel my bare skin right next to my panties. He stared at the road ahead.
I looked at him, seeing the veins pop in his neck above his collar.
He’d shaved before he got dressed, and his fair skin was clean, the little bones in his jaw even more noticeable.
His natural expression was that of intensity, so he looked mad when he was feeling nothing at all, and there was something about it that I liked.
He must have felt my stare because he turned to look at me.
I’d been caught like a giggling schoolgirl, but I didn’t look away.
When he realized I had nothing to say, his stare became less sharp. He looked at me as I looked at him, and then after almost a minute of staring, he looked out the window again.
We hadn’t said a word to each other since he’d entered my apartment, but it wasn’t tense or awkward or uncomfortable.
It felt right.
The SUV got in a long line of cars and eventually arrived at the entrance to the Louvre, which was decorated with pedestals of flowers on either side of the walkway, banners hanging down the front of the building with the French flag.
Luca got out first then helped me because of my heels and the long train of my dress. When we were situated on the sidewalk, he didn’t put his arm around me. Instead, he took my hand in his, his fingers encircling mine, and walked me to the entryway where other couples waited to enter.
He’d never held my hand before, and something about it felt more intimate. A man put his arm around his date, even a friend, but he didn’t hold hands with a woman unless there was deep affection there. Unless there was commitment and unity.
I let him guide me, the top of my head reaching his chin in my heels, the man reaching at least six-four.
I’d never asked how tall he was, so I had no way of knowing exactly what his height was, but it had to be about there because my heels were at least six inches tall, and I still felt like a valley to his mountain.
We waited in line behind everyone else to check in and get past security.
“You never drive.”
He turned to look at me, slight confusion in his eyes.
“It’s just funny that I hopped into your car when you were driving, but you don’t seem to drive yourself often.”
“I do sometimes.”
“Well, I got lucky.”
We slowly moved farther up in line and eventually were granted entrance.
It was empty without tourists there to see all the works of art on display in the greatest museum in the world.
Instead of going through the whole museum like tourists, we were escorted into the main attraction—the room with the Mona Lisa.
The painting was protected by two layers of glass, shielded from bullets and whatever means of destruction an asshole would try to wield against one of the most famous pieces of art.
There were standing tables with white tablecloths and tall centerpieces throughout the room. Waiters traveled through with trays of champagne and canapés. The room was already full of people, and I assumed we would eventually be ushered into another room for the formal dinner.
I came from money, but this was still by far the fanciest party I’d ever been to.
He guided me through the crowd, but he barely made it a few feet before he encountered people that he knew. He was the most charming I’d ever seen him, greeting people and remembering them by name, kissing their wives on the cheek, talking about their last meeting together.
I smiled in silence, trying to be invisible and supportive at the same time. I didn’t expect Luca to introduce me.
But he did. “Timothe, this is my girlfriend, Aliénor.”
We kissed each other on each cheek.
He introduced me to others, and then we moved to one of the empty tables. A waiter came by and brought us two glasses of champagne. Luca appeared to take it to be polite, because he left it on the table and didn’t drink it. “I hope that was okay.”
“What?”
“The girlfriend thing.” He scanned the room and didn’t look at me.
“Of course it is.” We’d already established we were a pair, but to hear him refer to me as such in public was a new high.
“I don’t like the label, but I didn’t know how else to describe it.”
And then my heart deflated like a balloon. “Oh…”
He must have picked up on my tone because he looked at me. With narrowed eyes, he examined my reaction.
“You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to.”
He remained focused, like he was trying to solve a complicated math problem in his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”
“You just said you didn’t like the label.”
“I don’t. I feel like a teenage boy in secondary school.”
“Okay.” I grabbed the champagne and took a drink.
He continued to look at me. “I don’t understand what’s happening here—”
“There’s my boy.” Bastien appeared in a black tuxedo like Luca’s, and his eyes were bright and alive because he seemed to enjoy the party a lot more than Luca. He stepped over to Luca, and they did the grip thing guys often did together. “Have you tried the bacon-wrapped scallops? Some good shit.”
Fleur greeted me warmly, with a smile that seemed genuine, and she hugged me hard. “You look beautiful.”
“You look beautiful too. I love the blue.”
She pulled away and my eyes caught on the ginormous ring on her left hand covered in so many diamonds, including the big one right in the center. So large, it was distracting, equally a threat and a status symbol. “How have you been?”
“Good. Love my new job.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
“What about you?”
“Bastien and I just took a trip to the Loire Valley. Stayed at a hotel there and visited the castles and wineries. Really beautiful, even before spring.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“He pushes me up against any flat surface he can find,” she said with a chuckle. “Not exactly romantic.”
“That sounds pretty fucking romantic to me.”
Bastien continued to talk Luca’s ear off. “And they had these filet mignon bites coated with bleu cheese. That’s good shit too.”
But Luca continued to stare at me like he was stuck in our previous conversation.
“Are you even listening to me, man?” Bastien asked.
“Give me a second.” Luca stepped away from him and came over to me. He didn’t even say hello to Fleur. “I told you I’m not good at this shit. So tell me what I did wrong because I can tell I pissed you off.” He spoke so loudly that Bastien and Fleur could both hear.
And they stared like they could hear perfectly.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Forget it.”
“I don’t forget anything,” he snapped. “So, tell me.”
“We don’t need to do this right now—”
“Yes, we do,” he barked.
“Fine,” I said with a breath. “If you don’t want to call me your girlfriend, then don’t.”
His eyes moved back and forth as he tried to understand.
“Don’t say what you don’t mean.”
“I did mean it.”
“But then you said you hated it.”
“I do hate it. Girlfriend is a stupid label.”
“Then don’t use it.”
Now Luca looked confused again.
“If I may…” Bastien inserted himself between us. “I think I know what’s going on here.” His eyes were on me like I was the one who needed to be addressed. “Girlfriends are for pussies. It’s not a term we like to use—”
“Then don’t use it—”
“What he means is you’re more than a girlfriend. You’re his woman. But that’s not a term that others understand, so he has to call you his girlfriend, but he hates that because it doesn’t accurately describe what you have. That’s all he was trying to say.”
Luca didn’t interject or disagree, like that was how he felt.
“Make sense?” Bastien asked.
My eyes shifted to Luca.
He continued to stare me down.
Bastien stepped aside and moved back to the table, his arm sliding around Fleur’s waist.
Luca waited for me to do something.
I moved back into him. “I’m sorry I misunderstood you.”
“It’s okay. I told you I’m not good at this.”
“I think you’re better than you realize.” I came close and moved my hands to the crooks of his arms, my favorite place to grab, the bulges of muscle. I leaned in and kissed him.
He kissed me back, and when I pulled away, the tension had disappeared from his face.
“Luca, you’ve got to try this.” Bastien was back at the table, taking the canapés off the tray.
Fleur smirked like she was amused. “Men and food.”