Boxed Set: A Possessive Billionaire - Vol. 1-3: His, Body and Soul (6 page)

A breath on my neck. As light as a breeze. And a kiss behind my ear, like a feather. I don’t want to open my eyes, I don’t want to wake up. I feel too good, the library can wait a little longer…

“Emma, I can tell that you’re faking! Don’t you have to go to school today?”

I’m not dreaming! I open my eyes. Charles Delmonte is there, lying next to me. His head on his hand, he looks at me with laughing eyes. I know we are naked under these thick sheets, and everything comes back to me. The dress, the restaurant, his little game…and one unforgettable night, here, together. I return his smile. I don’t want to move, I don’t want to say anything. I don’t want to do anything that could disturb this feeling of completeness. But he’s already standing. Naked. In front of me. I envy his naturalness. The way he has of being at ease in any situation.

“Can I make you a coffee, sleeping beauty?”

“Sure.”

“I was dying to hear the sound of your voice!” he jokes, before disappearing.

I languorously stretch before taking a careful look around the room – I barely had time to do that last night. Anyway, it’s not really a ‘room’, it’s more of an attic. There’s space for a bed and not much else. But you can see that this is intentional, and by no means due to a lack of space. It’s as if he had dug a den into his immense apartment. A hideout hidden from everything. The walls are draped in a very sensual, yet very comforting red fabric. The ceiling is low. The dark grey sheets are heavy and warm, they almost feel like flannel. And there are piles of art books everywhere on the floor. All of this gives me the impression of being in the lair of a rich Cossack, who must have kidnapped me. It doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea. I notice, amused, that I’m still wearing the diamond necklace.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Cream, please.”

Quick, I need to find something before he comes back with the coffee. He may be incredibly comfortable in any situation, but I personally am not yet ready to drink coffee wearing nothing but a priceless necklace. His shirt! I know it’s a cliché, but I always thought this was incredibly sexy. It still has his woodsy smell and the scent of our lovemaking. I blush. There he is. He seems amused by my little ploy. I’m embarrassed, but I tell him how I think his room has a Russian feel to it.

“Hey, it’s true, I never thought of it that way!”

And off he goes again! I’ll never get used to it. What’s he going to come back with this time?

He’s wearing some sort of bathrobe, or rather a coat. In any case, it’s red and very richly decorated with golden arabesques. It looks Mongolian. In his hand, a saber. Enormous. He unsheathes it all of a sudden while insulting me in some strange language. Russian? I’m almost afraid. No, actually, I really am afraid. I don’t understand anything. I’m wearing a man’s shirt and my lover is crazy. He moves closer and grazes me with the tip of his saber. I think that he’s giving me orders. My lack of response does not seem to satisfy him. He lifts his saber to cut me down with it. Oh my god! He hit me! I open my eyes. I’m not hurt. But my shirt is open. I’m naked again. Still wearing the necklace, though. But it seems that he’s softened. He puts down the weapon and comes to take my face in his hands. He murmurs something in this language, which I don’t understand.

And suddenly, he takes me by the hair and pins me down on the bed. He covers my eyes with what seems to be a silk scarf. I beg him to stop. Seriously.

“Relax, Emma, it’s a game. I’m sure you’re going to like it.” And he resumes his incomprehensible litany. I’m on my stomach, nude. At his mercy. I wait. Nothing happens. Apprehension gives way to excitement. Suddenly, I feel the blade of the sword on the inside of my ankle. I’m afraid. A little. But I’ve never been this excited. My Cossack caresses me with a sword that is probably over two centuries old. He gently moves up the inside of my leg. I shiver. He still holds onto my hair firmly, so that I can’t move. The suffragette inside of me is shocked that I could find any sort of pleasure in this. Yet…the cold blade makes me forget that this is a potentially dangerous weapon. My breath quickens.

“You’re going to drive me crazy…”

Oh my god! It’s me who’s saying this. He stops, as if frozen my something. I broke the spell. What did I do? Was it because I said something? Because I spoke to him in informal French? I keep quiet, but I get the feeling that it’s over.

In fact, he gets up and says in a distant tone:

“I have an appointment, I forgot. Sorry, Emma, I have to go.”

I feel that he’s lingering at the side of the bed, looking at me. I take off the blindfold. A glacial cold fills the room. To the point that I curl up under the sheets. He brusquely turns towards the bathroom.

I take advantage of the opportunity to jump out of bed and look for my clothes. I quickly get dressed. Okay. And now? Do I have to wait for him to get out of the bathroom? Knock and leave? Leave a note? I’m standing in front of this door, wondering about what I’m supposed to do while he’s the one who’s kicking me out. Luckily he leaves the bathroom quickly, wrapped in a towel. He passes in front of me as if I didn’t exist and starts rummaging through a chest of drawers.

“Uh, Charles? Um, I’m going…”

“Okay. Have a good day.”

I leave with as much dignity as I can muster. I don’t want to look like I’ve never dealt with a romance before. Lovers? I’ve had tons. We have passionate romances with no tomorrows, and then everyone runs off to work the next morning. I’d love to be that kind of woman. Except I’m not. And now I’ve been crying in the shower now for twenty minutes, I don’t even know why. I’m upset, that’s for sure. To be kicked out so coldly, naked and blindfolded…who wouldn’t be upset?

There’s also the fact that I’ve almost forgotten all of my principles over this insensible man. You can’t call yourself a feminist and at the same time accept priceless gifts while letting yourself be pulled around by the hair like a slave, and that’s what I’ve done. I’m ashamed. I feel like an idiot. And humiliated. And I think I still like him, despite it all. His dimples, his lion’s body, his way of laughing at everything, his passion for things from other eras, his games, his hands, his mouth…Everything about him fascinates me. Even his dark side. That cloud, which suddenly darkens his eyes, it’s not a game. He’s not sadistic, I’m sure of that, he didn’t coldly kick me out this morning just to make fun of me. There’s something going on, I can sense it. But what is it?

“Maybe he’s afraid of commitment?” Manon guesses at the cafeteria.

“I didn’t ask him to move in with me…I didn’t suggest anything to him, he’s the one that started this little game with the sword…”

“Sexy.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Still, I’m confounded! You went from being a frustrated nun to a courtesan in the wink of an eye. I’m almost jealous.”

“Sure, except you’re forgetting how it ends. The minute the courtesan returns to her garret apartment to cry like a baby.”

“Sure. Which brings us to our problem.”

Hey, it’s become ‘our’ problem now…I don’t say anything, since it makes me happy that she’s interested in my personal life. I’d go crazy if I was left alone with all of these doubts. I really need a friend right now.

“Maybe he’s married?”

“My cousin would have told me. Or Elisabeth. Or I would have seen his wife.”

“Unless he’s hiding her in the attic? Or maybe she’s really, really ugly…or really, really old!”

“That’s it…”

“Or widowed? Imagine: since the tragic death of his beloved wife, the inconsolable Charles Delmonte can no longer get emotionally attached to a woman, afraid of suffering once again…

“That’s great, but it doesn’t seem likely. Besides, it’s much too romantic.”

“Romantic? You, the slave of the Cossack, think it’s too romantic?”

I laugh. Analyzing this over a plate of meat in brown sauce does me a lot more good than I would have thought it would.

“If we’re going to be non-romantic, then, we could just say that he’s boring and doesn’t know what he wants. You know, it’s a frequent neurosis among people who have everything.”

I sulk. That would really turn me off. But that’s what I had thought of him before sleeping with him. Maybe I was wrong about him. No!

“I take back what I said! The great Charles Delmonte could never be so boring. All evidence points to a secret wound! Very serious and very secret. Just like the person, naturally.”

“Now that sounds more like it!”

“Or maybe, he’s a werewolf? Or a vampire?” Mathieu adds.

When did he get here? I have no idea. In any case, he also seems to be involved in ‘our’ problem. Alright. At least he’s making me laugh.

“Or the mafia is watching him and swore to kill anyone who he gets close to? Or the Chinese triad?”

“Or he’s a dangerous psychopath being hunted by police all over the world?”

That would be the craziest explanation! They go at it full force…

“Or what if…he’s your father!”

“Shit! My father!”

With all of this going on, I actually forgot about my father. It’s today. The letter arrived yesterday, I barely read it, my mind was elsewhere. He missed me so much that he decided to come surprise me with a visit. I have two more hours to find him a hotel room, organize my things and get into the right mood. I leave my friends without delay…

I take an endless shower, as if it could help erase the latest escapades. I carefully arrange the gifts from Charles underneath the bed. I keep the necklace for now. We’ll see how things go, as to whether this really is a relationship, once my father leaves. For this short week, I go back to being Emma Maugham, the model student who I never should have stopped being. Hey, I still have some time to get back into my books while waiting for my father.

He’s here. I can’t believe it. My father in Paris. Seeing him here, in the doorway of my garret apartment, wearing tweed as he always does, holding his small suitcase, is really incredible. I jump into his arms. After five long minutes, he holds me at arm’s length and looks at me as if I’m some sort of rare fossil.

“Hey, that’s strange.” I feel my checks blush. Is it obvious?

“What is it?”

“Nothing, really. You look the same as you always have. I send you to France and I find my little girl exactly as she was. Unless it’s…”

“What?”

“I love you so much that I’d always see you the same way…”

I laugh, relieved. What would he think if I told him that I’m in a relationship (or am I?) with my multimillionaire and temperamental landlord?

I couldn’t have imagined a more embarrassing situation, not in a million years. We’re waiting for the elevator when Charles and Elisabeth arrive. I have trouble breathing. Luckily, Elisabeth takes charge.

“Emma! What a lovely surprise! How are you?”

Charles looks at us, suspicious. I want to stick my tongue out at him. Yeah, I know your friend! We’re pals, we even had coffee at your house while you were gone!

“Hi, Elisabeth! Elisabeth, Charles, I’d like you to meet my father, Robert Maugham.”

Charles, still glum, makes an effort to smile and goes to shake my father’s hand, apparently charmed by this encounter. Elisabeth keeps talking, to my great relief.

“Mr. Maugham, will you still be here Saturday evening?”

“Unfortunately no, my plane leaves Thursday night.”

“That’s too bad, you could have come with Emma to the opening of the Petrovska Sisters exhibit. Perhaps another time. In any case, Emma, I’ll see you there.”

“Of course, see you then!”

I wait until we’re out of sight to savor my joy. If he wanted me out of his life, it’s too late. I’m going to the gallery opening and my dad is a witness to that. The Petrovska twins really are business contacts, despite their appearance. I wonder what kind of art they make…While wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost forget about my father. He seems happy too. He walks around without a care in the world, looking around him, as curious as a child.

“What a nice couple!”

“Huh?”

“Your friends, in the elevator.”

“Ah, but they’re not a couple. And I don’t really know if they’re my friends, actually…Charles Delmonte is my landlord, a multimillionaire, Lexie’s old landlord too. And Elisabeth owns a gallery in the left bank of Paris.”

“Oh, okay. Guess I was wrong. Really nice people, in any case.”

My father isn’t as impressed as I hoped he would have been. I’m sure these sorts of things mean nothing to him. In his mind, Elisabeth is a nice girl and Charles is a kind thirty-something. Whether they live the high-life or flit around the arts world doesn’t concern him in the least. In the end, he’s got the right idea.

We spend the day aimlessly wandering through Paris. October is especially mild this year and we enjoy a drink at an outdoor café, watching the Seine River.

I would have liked to be able to share these kinds of moments with someone else. With Charles…who knows if we’ll ever make a habit out of spending our days together?

“Something wrong, Emma?”

“I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Me too. I was actually going to ask you to take me back to my hotel. I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Ok, I’ll take you there. We still have all day tomorrow to conquer Paris!”

It’s a curse! I can’t stand in front of this elevator without him showing up. It was really annoying when I was with my father. And now this morning, there’s no Elisabeth to make conversation. I feel like this descent is going to take forever…our fingers touch on the control panel. It’s like an electric shock. A flash, the stop button, my tights…I close my eyes to pull myself together.

“Mr. Maugham, how are you?”

“Hello! Good, good, thank you.”

“I assume your daughter is taking you to see the mamenchisaurus?”

“You must be joking, there’s a mamenchisaurus in Paris?”

“Unfortunately no, it’s a reproduction. But it’s still worth going to see. The rest of the exposition is also rather impressive…it’s at the Museum of Natural History.”

“Is that where you were taking me, Emma?”

“Yes, actually! But Mr. Delmonte ruined the surprise!”

“Sorry, Emma. I have to run. You two have a nice day.”

He ruined my surprise. Likely story. I didn’t know anything about this exhibit. I take some time during our coffee break at Starbucks to find out more about it. The natural history museum, a special exhibit on sauropods, the largest dinosaurs in the world. How could this have gotten by me? I must really have my mind elsewhere…And Charles? I find it hard to believe that he’s also interested in dinosaurs! Really, the more I get to know him, the more his antics don’t seem to make sense. Still, I prefer to think that he found out about it to please my father…who is delighted by the idea of seeing a mamenchisaurus.

“Do you realize how great that is? A mamenchisaurus? You know that they’re one of the largest dinosaurs to ever have existed?”

“Yes, dad. You already told me all about it.”

“What a great idea it was for you to come here! And your neighbor, what a classy guy!”

Charles Delmonte, a classy guy! I can’t help myself from snorting. It’s true that he seemed very friendly this morning. He must be in a good mood…but for how long?

These four days pass too quickly. We quickly revert to the close relationship that I missed so much. We don’t talk a lot, but we’re happy to be together. I take him everywhere, including the university cafeteria where I invite him to enjoy a dish of meat in brown sauce. He seems to find this incredibly amusing. Manon and Mathieu take him to see all the nooks and crannies of the campus, the libraries, the laboratories…it’s like seeing Harry Potter going back to school.

And then, before I know it, it’s all over. I walk downstairs with him, where the taxi’s waiting. I feel depressed. He takes me in his arms, smiling.

“Thanks for this trip, it’s been a long time since I had so much fun…I’m really happy to see you doing so well here. You’ve got some nice friends. I’m sure that you’re going to experience plenty of excitement here!”

Excitement…Yes, of course. But at what price?