Chapter 2 Blue
I hate eating so late at night, but my father and Xavier St. Anton had another one of their secret business meetings outside the city. Even though I don’t know the details about what they’re into, Xavier’s a local drug lord. The Mexican cartel leaves him alone, but as to why, well, that’s another mystery. I try to stay out of their criminal underworld, but I hear things.
My fiancé, Justin, keeps a death-grip on my hand as we walk into Maison Creole. I want to rip mine away, but I can’t cause a scene. My father would be furious, and I have no idea what Justin would do.
We walk into the restaurant where high ceilings trap the summer heat. Intricate French chandeliers cast a dim glow over the room.
The walls are decorated with a blend of rich, dark wood paneling and vibrant, vintage wallpaper, creating a perfect balance of classic and contemporary styles.
Ornate mirrors and carefully curated artwork, featuring scenes of New Orleans’ vibrant culture and history, adorn the walls, adding a touch of refinement and local flavor.
Plush, upholstered chairs in deep jewel tones surround elegantly set tables, each adorned with crisp white linens, sparkling crystal glassware, and polished silverware.
My father’s waiting at a table with my sister, Lacy, and her husband, Xavier. Lacy’s shorter than me at five feet seven inches. Her blonde hair is caught up in a sparkling diamond and gold clip. Her calculating brown eyes sweep across my outfit.
“Gaultier?” she asks, studying my dress.
“Well, hello to you too.” I roll my eyes as I sit beside her at the round table. I sweep the floor-length silk chiffon skirt under the table. The tropical leaf print set against a bright fuchsia background stands out in a sea of black dresses. You’d think we were at a funeral with all the darkness in this place.
“I’m only asking because Xavier is sending me to Paris next month and I want to know which designers I should make appointments with.”
“It’s not designer,” I say, trying to placate her.
“You should come with me.”
“No,” my father interjects. “Her wedding is fast approaching, and she’s needed here. Have you met with the planner to discuss flowers yet?”
“Next week.”
I honestly don’t give a damn about anything related to the wedding. I don’t want to marry Justin. He’s a disgusting, womanizing pig, just like Xavier. But unlike my sister, I can’t be bought. She seems perfectly content to let her drug lord husband run around behind her back. Love isn’t in her vocabulary. The only word that gets her hot and bothered is money. Xavier has a ton of it, so she’s happy.
“How’s the search for a new house maid going?” Father asks.
“What happened to the last one?” I glance from Lacy to Xavier.
“She disappeared,” Xavier says while eyeing his wife with suspicion.
“A lot of women seem to vanish from your service,” I comment.
My sister smiles, but there’s nothing pleasant about it. She’s been married to him for five years. In that time, at least five women have gone missing from their house. I have a very dark theory about what’s going on. Her husband likes to screw the staff, but if any of them get too close to him, Lacy has them removed. So far, none of their bodies have been found, but my guess is they’re buried in a swamp somewhere.
A waiter in dressed in classic black and white attire approaches our table. He glances at the men as if trying to decide who has the most seniority. They’re all in their fifties—just one more reason I don’t want to marry Justin—but equally ruthless. The waiter settles on my father, which pleases him, but pisses off Justin and Xavier.
“The wine list, sir.” He passes the supple burgundy leather book to my father. “Can I get you any appetizers? Escargot? Crawfish beignets?”
“Oysters Bienville,” Xavier says.
“Shrimp remoulade,” Justin says.
“Very good choices. I’ll be back to take your drink order in a moment.” He scurries off without giving the slightest consideration to what the women at the table might want. It annoys the shit out of me.
“What are you having for dinner?” Lacy asks, not bothering to glance up from the menu.
“A burger and fries,” I say, knowing it will frustrate my father.
“Do you want to look like a hog in your wedding dress? You’ll be having the blackened tuna with creole mustard sauce on the side. Fish is a much better choice,” he says.
“They don’t have hamburgers on the menu, darling.” Justin reaches for my hand under the table, but I pull it away, pretending not to notice while reaching for the glass of water in front of me.
“Maybe once I’m married, I’ll be able to eat like a normal person,” I mutter.
“Your father is just trying to help you keep your figure trim,” Justin says in an admonishing tone. “He wants the best for you, and so do I.”
Funny how they say that even though they don’t care what I think. No one asks my opinion about anything. I’m supposed to stay silent and be a beautiful ornament on the arm of whichever man chooses to display me. If I could run away, I would. But that’s impossible with my father’s guards always following me.
The waiter returns with our appetizers. Fortunately, I won’t have to fight about eating any because my stomach’s in knots. Even if I wanted to scarf everything in front of me, I can’t. Not after what I did earlier.
Giving Vapor that napkin could have gotten me killed. There’s no doubt about it. It was a huge risk, but I had to do it. Hopefully he understands what I tried to tell him. I pray he follows through, because if he doesn’t…
I shudder to think about what will happen.
After taking both the drink and dinner orders, the waiter leaves. He returns a few minutes later with glasses of wine for everyone but me. I ordered hot tea with honey. Protecting my voice is the only thing my father and I agree on.
As the men discuss business, my sister chatters on about her wedding and about how she hopes mine will be just as beautiful. I think she actually means it. My sister and I don’t hate each other. We just don’t see eye to eye about most things. I wish we were thick as thieves, but we’re not. We don’t have the same values, and that makes a close relationship impossible.
“When are you going dress shopping?” Lacy asks.
“Didn’t you choose one already? You need time for alterations,” Father says.
“Jacques, you really shouldn’t ask about the dress. It’s bad luck,” Justin admonishes.
“I don’t have one, so there’s nothing to talk about.” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest. Justin’s gaze drops to my breasts. He’s obsessed with them. It’s revolting.
“Blue, we should go to the powder room before the main course arrives.” Lacy stands and grabs my hand, pulling hard. “We’ll be right back.”
As I follow her through the restaurant, more than a few men stare. My father forced both of us to wear waist trainers as soon as we got our first periods. He also made sure that his chef kept us on a strict diet of fish and vegetables. Lacy’s free from his restrictions, but she sticks to the rules anyway. She enjoys flaunting her body.
I despise the rules I’m still stuck following. I’ve never had a cheeseburger, or any other burger for that matter. Never had a single slice of pizza.
If I was ever set free, I’d eat it all and not give a single fuck if I got as fat as those roasted pigs at the St. Edward’s Fair. I’d try deep fried butter and corn dogs. Cotton candy and caramel apples. I want to cry at the thought of everything I’ve been missing.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lacy asks as soon as we’re in the sitting area inside the bathroom.
I plop down on a pink fainting couch and study the walls. They’re adorned with delicate, vintage wallpaper featuring subtle floral patterns. The floor is laid with polished marble tiles in shades of cream and gold. It seems strange to have such a contentious argument in a beautiful room.
“Well?” Lacy crosses the room to study her reflection in the large, gold-framed mirrors over the gleaming granite countertop. Fresh flowers and high-end toiletries in antique dispensers decorate the space. The air is filled with a light, floral scent, drowning out the aromas from the kitchen.
“I don’t want to marry him.”
“Obviously. But why the hell not? He’s richer than Xavier, which is no small feat. You’ll have everything you could ever want.”
“Except love.”
“Love?” She laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous word in the English language. “That’s the stuff of fairytales and other bullshit. Money will get you everything you love and more.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that your husband sleeps around with other women?”
“Only if they get access to his money.”
“And what if that happens?” I ask.
“They have a funny way of disappearing if anything like that occurs.” She arches a brow before pulling a tube of blood red lipstick out of her purse. I don’t know why she’s putting on more when we’re about to eat. Although I guess it doesn’t matter since she picks at her food like a bird.
“What do you do to them?” I whisper, glancing toward the bathroom stalls. I’m fairly sure we’re alone, but this is a delicate conversation I wouldn’t want anyone to overhear.
“I don’t do anything.” She smirks. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We’re discussing your future. Don’t you want to be set for life?”
“Not if it means I won’t get to experience falling in love.”
“I did that once. Not recommended.” She waves her hand.
“Really? Who was it?” I didn’t even know she was capable of that emotion, let alone felt it for someone.
“Doesn’t matter. He means nothing to me now.” There’s a coldness in her voice that chills me. A million questions dance on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them all back.
“You should be grateful for what Father is doing for you. He loves us. I know you don’t understand it, but I do. We’re two of the luckiest women in New Orleans, maybe even all Louisiana. We’ll never have to work. The only job we’ll have is to give them heirs.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“No. It’s our duty as women.”
“What century are you living in?”
“Reality. I wish you’d snap out of your childish fantasies and see the world for what it is. Cutthroat and dangerous. With these men, we’ll never have to worry about being hurt by any other guys, physically or otherwise. For that, I’m willing to lay on my back and let him fuck me until I get pregnant.”
“I’m not like you.”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t love him? Not even a little bit?”
“I love his money, and that’s good enough for both of us. You can find a lover after you’ve given him a few children. I’m sure he’ll look the other way.”
“Why don’t you have kids yet? It’s been five years.” I don’t ask her to needle her. I’m genuinely curious.
“The fertility specialist I went to said he probably has a low sperm count. My eggs are fine. His nuts aren’t.”
“You’re so crass when you’re not in public.”
“Whatever.” She waves away my comment. “We just got a new pool boy who looks similar enough to Xavier that if he gets me pregnant, Xavier will think it’s his.”
“You’d take that risk with all the DNA testing available?”
“Xavier’s not a complete idiot. He’d probably suspect something. But he’d be so happy about finally having a child that I’m sure he’d look the other way.”
“Or kill you. Lacy, that’s a crazy plan. Why don’t you just bring him to the fertility doctor?”
“And insult his manhood? Never. He may not be the most attractive man, but he treats me well and I know my place. Everything will work out just fine. You’ll see.”
“We should get back,” I say.
To her credit, Lacy opens all the stall doors to make sure no one was in the bathroom with us. They’re all empty.
“Keep this to yourself,” she says.
“Of course.”
“I’m glad I can count on you, sis.”
As we return to the table, Justin stands to pull out my chair. At least he’s a gentleman in front of my father. Sometimes when we’re alone, he gets far too handsy. Father never sees that side of him, but it’s there, simmering just under the surface.
“Are you feeling okay?” Xavier asks Lacy.
“Just a bit flushed.”
Dad eyes her before smiling. “Are you late?”
“Daddy!”
“Just wondering.”
“You’ll be the first to know when I get her pregnant,” Xavier says, chuckling. “I’m a patient man, but after five years, I’m sure it will be soon.”
It sounds too much like a warning. Dad completely ignores his undertone.
“We’ll celebrate with the finest Cuban cigars.”
“Not around the baby, you won’t,” Lacy says.
“Darling, of course not.” He gives her a placating look as if he’s talking to a child.
Dinner is served. I dump the entire side of sauce over my fish. Dad’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t stop me. These little defiances keep me from completely losing my mind.
As I eat, my thoughts drift back to Vapor. I’ve rarely met anyone so tall. I’m five feet, ten inches, and he towered over me. He must be at least six feet, five inches.
With slicked-back hair as black as a raven’s, darkness hung around him, but not in the way it lingers around my father and his associates. No, the aura around him was one of caged violence, as if he could explode at any moment.
Based on what I know, he’s the president of a local motorcycle club. Rumor has it that they’re involved in ending human trafficking in the area. I don’t know the details, but they had something to do with getting Lulu’s, a thinly veiled house of prostitution, temporarily shut down.
I’m counting on him in a way I’ve never counted on anyone before. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him with what I gave him, but who else could I tell? He’s the only hope I have.
Waiting for news is going to be hard. I don’t know how I’ll manage it, but I’ll need to find a way to talk to him at the gala. We’ll need to be alone, which is almost impossible. Between my father and his guards, I’m never without someone watching my every move. Hopefully I’ll find a way to be alone with him.
A thrill of desire thrums through me. I’ve never met a man as muscular and sexy as Vapor. He’s got enough muscle on him to be his own football team. And those jeans! Tight in all the right places.
The man’s huge hands gave me something else to obsess about. I couldn’t help but glance at the bulge in his pants. Anytime I wear that dress on stage, every man in the audience gets a hard-on for me. Normally, I’m disgusted by it. But not with him.
I wonder what it would be like to be touched with those big, strong, ultra-masculine hands. He has scars on his knuckles that indicate a history of violence. But somehow, I trust those hands to do the right thing.
Something in his eyes gave me the confidence to take such a huge risk. It had nothing to do with the desire in his gaze and everything to do with the intelligence behind those eyes. I don’t see that trait in many people. He’s different from other men. I sense it, not just because he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met. No. There’s more to it, and I’m counting on that.
I just hope I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life.