French Blue (2 page)

Olivier raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I’m the one who should ask if I’ll be safe in her hands?”

Mimi laughed and toasted him. “I doubt it, but you can have fun finding out.
A bientot
.”

All she needed now was for Mimi to give a theatrical wink, thought Lisa, but what had she expected? Mimi knew what Lisa was looking for, or thought she did, and it was too late now. Olivier was next to her and no doubt assessing whether he wanted to take her on—or not.

Realisation slammed into her. He
had
to take her, no matter how badly her head warned no, she needed this. She wanted
him
.

He pointed at Lisa’s almost empty glass. “So, shall I get some more champagne?”

“Thanks.” She let him take her glass, feeling as if she’d just handed over more than a glass to him.

He swapped the glass for a full one from a passing waiter and gave it to her. “Then I think it’s best if I put you out of your misery, don’t you agree?”

Wow. Lisa ran a tongue over her dry lips and then realised he was watching her intently. If she’d thought she was a good student of body language, this man was a native speaker.

“I don’t normally do this kind of thing, you know…” she stammered.

“What kind of thing is that? Drink champagne? Come to a gallery opening? No one is forcing you to do anything, and if you want to back out, then say so now. I won’t take on any partner who doesn’t know fully what she’s getting into.”

“I do know what I’m getting into,” Lisa said, stomach swirling at the idea he might walk away as much as at the sudden bluntness of his words. “I’m just…unsure.”

His gaze seared into her. “Unsure as in unwilling, or unsure as in curious?”

“Curious,” she shot back. Wow, that was emphatic. Maybe it was the wine making her bold, or maybe she’d finally decided she wasn’t going to lose this chance.

“Then, let’s lay our cards on the table. I want you to know how I operate and if what I’m offering is truly what you want.” He sipped his wine, still watching her over the rim of the glass. “But first, may I suggest we move to the far end of the room? There’s a particular painting down there that I’d like you to see.”

He motioned to the opposite end of the gallery, away from the entrance where most people had clustered around the patron, Roman. Lisa caught a glimpse of Mimi’s blonde bob at the billionaire’s side.

“Yes, why not?” said Lisa, feeling more cut off from reality than ever. They made their way through the crowd to a far corner, and Olivier stopped in front of a painting of a fiery sunset.

“Is this the one?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Any one will do. I didn’t want us to be overheard.”

Lisa could almost feel the heat from the fiery ball in the painting. “What you really need to know is that I’m not into the Paris BDSM scene or any scene. I’ve been to clubs, and I was into the BDSM community once, and it’s fine if you want to be part of that world. But now I’d rather spend a week in the catacombs. I prefer private arrangements these days.”

“Oh, me neither. I hate the clubs too.”

He frowned briefly, and she could see his interest was piqued. “So you
have
been to a fetish club? Mimi gave me to understand you’re completely new to this kind of experience.”

“I am new, but I did go into a fetish club once. Sort of, and I…um…literally ran out of it after about thirty seconds.”

“Why?”

“A woman was having her bottom thrashed in front of the other clients.” Lisa squirmed. The conversation had moved from the French Impressionists to public flogging in a few minutes. Her cheeks were on fire, but her knickers were already damp with arousal.

He laughed softly. “That’s generally what happens at a fetish club. Was the woman objecting?”

“Not in a serious way. She seemed to love being beaten even though it was quite…um…robust.”

“Robust, huh?” His mouth quirked. “Sounds interesting. Was he using a crop or a flogger?”

“It was a small whip with leather thongs. I think it was a flogger.”

He looked thoughtful. “It sounds like a French martinet to me. Was she naked?”

“No. She had a leather basque on but no knickers. She was moaning and…strapped to a red padded bench…and…” Lisa glanced around her, face burning at the thought that everyone in the room could hear their conversation.

“And?”

“I rushed out.”

“Why?”

“It was the public aspect of it all that I couldn’t cope with. In my line of work, I can’t risk being recognised, and like you, I want a private arrangement too. I’d rather not be recognised by one of my clients while I’m tied to a St Andrew’s Cross while some random guy lashes my backside.”

“Hmm. And there’s a high likelihood you might see someone from your bank.”

“You’re joking! I was.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I happen to know that one of the senior execs is a member of the most exclusive BDSM club in Paris.”

Lisa had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop her shocked giggle. Olivier laughed too, and briefly, heads turned in their direction. Yet Lisa still felt the tension flow out of her taut muscles. Making a joke out of the reason they were both here took the edge off the embarrassment factor.

“You know, I think you and I are going to get along very well. So, what exactly do you want from
me
?” he asked, and Lisa stopped laughing.

The sudden switch back to their arrangement was like a sting on bare flesh. She was used to asking for what she wanted in her job, but his frank request made her knees wobble.

“Um. Well, what I’m looking for…I suppose…is a discreet relationship with someone I can trust who will…guide me. You see, I’ve just finished a long contract for a client, and I have a few months off before I start my next assignment. The past few years have been pretty stressful.” She managed a tight smile.

“I understand,” said Olivier before sipping his champagne and appearing to think her words through.

Did he understand? How could he? Or had he guessed that stressful didn’t even come close to the reality of the past two years. Yes, her last contract, with the French division of an investment bank, had made her tear her hair out at times, but she’d successfully steered the company through a tricky period of transition and her client had been impressed enough to recommend her to his company’s US office. The work had exhilarated her, she’d embraced the long hours, the adrenaline of advising communications directors and fielding questions from international journalists.

Maybe he already knew about her new job. Maybe he knew about Jody from Mimi.

“My next client doesn’t need me for a few months, so I’m having some downtime before I head off to the States,” she said.

“America? Wow. A high flyer.”

“Not really. It’s less glamorous than it sounds.”

“Said with typical British understatement.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I can do overstatement too. In fact, I’m bloody brilliant at it, if I do say so myself.” Lisa laughed, and Olivier’s eyes gleamed, making her believe that, yes, he really found her lame joke amusing. Shit. This was bad. Even if she hadn’t wanted a Dom, she’d still have wanted to leap on his gorgeous body. There was a spark between them, a connection between minds and hearts as well as lust and sexual tastes. Sure, she wanted to enjoy his company and have a like-minded, funny, intelligent man to share the next few months with—but she was determined to quash any other feelings.

“Before we go any further, I’d like to make it clear that I’m not looking for another relationship,” she said. “A short-term fling with a stranger; someone who expects no commitment, is perfect for me, and also, I’ve wanted to try out this…this kind of thing for quite a while, and when Mimi hinted she knew someone who might be able to help… She said that you were trustworthy and discreet, and that you never get involved with your partners, not in that way.”

He looked at her steadily, perhaps a little surprised at the way she’d laid her cards on the table so plainly. Lisa knew she’d sounded stiff and uptight, but she was so out of her depth here that she’d had to retreat to her normal self.

“
Bien
. Mimi must have already told you that I don’t do long-term either, nor any of the clichéd hearts-and-flowers stuff. It would give me great pleasure to take you on, and of course, the arrangement will be purely businesslike in one sense. But you do realise that it won’t be like your usual contracts?”

He looked at her intensely, clearly having picked up on her obsession with the relationship being businesslike.

Lisa felt a little shaky inside but answered him confidently enough. “What do you mean?”

“That whatever challenges you’ve faced in your work, I promise that I’ll have greater ones for you. Along with intense pleasure, of course…” His brief touch on her forearm was as soft as a butterfly landing on it, almost as if he was showing her he could and would be gentle as well as harsh. “There will be times when you can’t or won’t want to meet my demands.”

That seductive accent, like velvet underpinned with steel, had her toes curling. “And when those times come, there will be consequences. Consequences that you’re not sure you like or want to accept but that I won’t hesitate to impose. I expect nothing less than total commitment from you, and I accept no excuses. There is no room for negotiation in this contract, do you understand?”

Chapter Two

Oxygen returned to Lisa’s lungs. Olivier’s words were unequivocal, yet hearing them was the vocal equivalent of having warm syrup dripped over her flesh. In any business situation, of course, his orders would have been met with a polite but firm set down. Lisa would have left him in no doubt that she would not be intimidated. Instead, his commands set her pulse fluttering and fanned the glow between her legs.

“I understand.”

“
Tres bien
. Now, why don’t we find a quiet place to talk, and we can arrange the next step?”

He held out his hand to indicate she should lead the way to the vestibule at the side of the main gallery. Did that mean she’d passed his test, or was there more to come? As for butterflies in her stomach, a whole colony had taken flight now. She’d had no idea before now how badly she wanted—and feared—what Olivier could offer.

Grabbing two fresh champagne flutes from a passing waiter, he followed her through the guests to the entrance of the salon. Once outside, the buzz receded and her heels echoed as they clicked across the marble floor, making her even more conscious that she’d left the mainstream behind.

The room, with its high, painted ceiling, was deserted apart from one other couple entwined around each other on a velvet banquette in the centre of the floor. One wall was lined with tall windows, with long crimson drapes closed against the night sky. Olivier headed for one of them.

After he'd handed her the glasses, he opened the curtains, and Lisa saw a deep alcove with a window seat. He gestured to the padded velvet seat. “Please, sit down.” Then he took the glasses from her and placed them on the window ledge.

Though relieved to have solidity to support her watery limbs, she shivered a little as he drew the drapes behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. Lisa placed her hands in her lap as she’d trained herself to do, to hide her nerves when she was under pressure. Yet, she was painfully aware that this wasn’t a press conference or a boardroom meeting and that the nerves making her hands tremble came from the anticipation of intense pleasure as well as fear of the unknown.

“Nervous?” he asked.

Lisa guessed that there was no point denying it or lying to him and that he must
want
her to be nervous. That was a huge part of the game for both of them: the anticipation and fear, the building of the excitement. “Yes,” she admitted, determined he know she knew exactly what they were both doing here.

“And I guess ‘nervous’ is a new experience for you?”

“Not new, not at work so much these days. You need to develop a cool head and a thick skin when you’re handling PR crises for big companies. But…I confess it’s been a while since I had this kind of situation to deal with.”

“A
while
?”

Lisa gave a sigh and smiled. “Okay. I’ve never had this situation to deal with before.”

“And are your skills and experience helping at all?”

“Not a lot.”

Now it was Olivier’s eyes that crinkled at the corners. His low laugh was warm and genuine, and once again Lisa asked herself how he could be a Dom. She wasn’t naive enough to expect him to stride into the exhibition in leather with a whip in his hand, but he was so…normal and friendly—apart from being a sexual magnet.

“Can I ask a few questions before we um…get started?” she said.

Olivier took a sip from his glass. “
Bien sur
. Ask away. I want us both to be clear about this arrangement before we go any further.”

“Mimi said you’ve lived in Paris for years and you speak French like a native, but you also sound like—well, like me, at times.”

“That’s because I’m only half French. My mother lives in Provence, but my father was British and we went to school in England.”

“We?”

“My brother Alex and I.
Maman
wanted us to have an English education and to be bilingual, so she packed us off to boarding school.”