French Blue (6 page)

“You’re late.”

“Yes, but I—”

“
Very
late.”

“I know, but my meeting ran late and my taxi was stuck on the
Peripherique
.”

“Please, spare me the traffic report.”

Lisa balked at his curt words. “What? Look, really, I—”

“You’d better come inside before I change my mind.”

Lisa knew he was probably in the zone—just playing—and that she wanted an uncompromising, dominant lover, but something snapped inside her brain. Maybe it was delayed fatigue from her last job, the disturbed nights with Bella or the nerve-jangling tension of anticipating her appointment with him. Whatever, she unleashed the full force of her conflicted emotions. “Before
you
change your mind? You’ve got a nerve. Mimi said I was lucky that you’ve decided to take me on, but you know what? I’ve changed
my
mind.”

Her voice echoed to the skylight and seemed to bounce and magnify around the spiral staircase. Her hand flew to her mouth. Shit, everyone would hear. The French were known for passionate arguments, but a slanging match in this exclusive Parisian apartment block—and outside the penthouse, no less—would be sure to attract an audience.

Olivier folded his arms. “That’s fine. I won’t make you do anything, but why not come inside before someone thinks I’m killing you and calls
les flics
?”

Lisa felt horribly close to tears, and he hadn’t even touched her. “No. Our appointment is cancelled. Good evening, Monsieur Lemaitre.”

“Wait.”

His voice cut through the air as she turned back towards the stairs, her heart racing with disappointment and frustration. She thought she heard his footsteps behind her and started to jog, almost tripping. She’d reached the floor below when she realised he hadn’t followed her after all, and that his letting her go was more horrible than him chasing her. She stopped, dashing tears from her eyes, and glanced up.

His face stared down at her, his elbows leaning on the banister rail two floors above, amused, arrogant, mesmerizing.

Had the past two years since Jody had left her for a work colleague been wasted? She’d scraped herself up from the darkest place she’d ever been to in her life, salvaged a career that had been almost destroyed and started her freelance business. She’d used Jody’s betrayal as a chance to start afresh, and she was proud of that, of the way she’d kept moving forward, never letting the pace slacken.

And yet…the past few years had taken a toll on her, for how else could she explain the confusion, the cocktail of emotions that Olivier had unleashed in her? She surely wasn’t in a fit emotional state to embark on this journey with him—but she couldn’t seem to tear herself away either.

She hauled her wobbly legs back up the stairs. Olivier had moved to the top of the stairs now, and as his face grew nearer, he spoke coolly but not unkindly.

“I’m sorry, you’re obviously distressed. I shouldn’t have been angry with you.”

“You did warn me not to be late,” said Lisa grudgingly.

“You must have a good excuse. Why don’t you come inside and tell me?”

“You said that if I stepped inside, that would be it…no going back.”

He slipped his arm around her, charming again now. Lisa felt the warmth of his flesh through her jacket and blouse, and his cologne piqued her nostrils. He smelled spicy, earthy and enticing.

“I’m not unreasonable, and perhaps it’s not your fault that you’re late.”

It is
, thought Lisa. It was her fault, because she shouldn’t have gone to the meeting. “I’m not sure whether it is or not,” she said.

“That’s honest. I admire you for admitting it, but it does throw up an intriguing dilemma for both of us, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come inside and we’ll discuss it.”

Lisa followed him through a small vestibule into the main salon and almost did a double take. Wow. She’d expected the penthouse to be large, and indeed anything would seem spacious after her own rabbit hutch, but the salon was very grand. Along one wall, three floor-to-ceiling windows opened up a vista of the Paris skyline, a million lights twinkling in the dark streets as twilight descended. In the distance, the illuminated outline of the Eiffel Tower stood out above the tangle of rooftops.

The grandeur of the room itself was softened by plump chairs, sofas and a huge chaise longue, all an eclectic mix of ultramodern and
fin de siècle
furniture. It was probably what she might have expected from a wealthy artist’s home and she almost burst out laughing. What had she expected to find in his apartment? Whips and chains?

She also expected to be asked to sit down, but Olivier simply stood opposite her on the huge Persian rug, silently studying her. The tension that had eased when she’d finally found the nerve to walk into his apartment tightened her muscles again.

“I’m sorry I was late…”

He shrugged and said reasonably, “If you really couldn’t have avoided being late, then that’s fine.”

She tried not to show how relieved she was.

He smiled. “But if you could have avoided it, there will, of course, be consequences.”

Lisa’s muscles twitched in alarm. “You can’t mean a punishment?”

“I prefer to call it a ‘correction’ because that implies that you’ll be learning from your mistakes. However, it may not be necessary. Why were you late?”

He spoke so matter-of-factly about the correction that Lisa’s limbs felt watery with fear, yet her womb clenched sharply with desire. “I took my sister to the airport, and her little girl was sick, and I had to stay and help,” she explained with a voice that didn’t seem to belong to her anymore.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It certainly wasn’t your fault, and I’d have done exactly the same. How’s your niece now?”

“Bella’s fine, now. Abi—that’s my sister—landed at Heathrow an hour ago and has just got back to my parents’ home. She’s phoned the doctors, and they advised her just to keep an eye on Bella.”

He nodded. “That’s good to hear. You couldn’t help that, but…forgive me, but if your sister landed in London an hour ago, allowing for the time she needed to get to the departure gate, and the flight, the extra hour’s difference between here and the UK…” He paused. “Where have you been since then?”

His tone was a silky-soft caress, but Lisa shivered inwardly. Shit. This was worse than being interrogated by the head at boarding school after she’d bunked off to a rave, and Olivier’s correction sounded a hell of a lot scarier than getting a detention.

And a lot more fun.
Hell, her knickers were damp. Her very sensible business-suit Sloggis, the ones she hadn’t had time to change for the lacy thong she’d bought especially for their first appointment.

“Lisa?”

“I…uh…had to go to a meeting with a client.”

“Important?”

“Very.”

“So it was unavoidable?”

Lisa shifted her feet uncomfortably. “Sort of. It was with a CEO of my next assignment company, and he was only in Paris a couple of days. I could have met him tomorrow, I suppose, but the meeting was on my way from here to the airport, and I thought I had bags of time and…”

Olivier looked at her intently. “So.
Not
unavoidable, then?”

Lisa hesitated, knowing Olivier had just hung her fate on one word: yes or no. She had the power to invite or avoid his correction. The meeting
had
been important, and honestly, she
really
had thought she had plenty of time, but now that didn’t matter. Olivier had given her the choice to take his correction or not, whatever it was.

Surely, she thought, as a fiery glow burned around her sex, honesty was always the best policy. She’d tried to live by that principle in her job. Even in public affairs, she believed it was possible, but she also knew that sometimes, a little bending of the truth was less painful all round. This wasn’t a client meeting or a press conference. It was just her: her life, her pleasure—or pain. Would it hurt more to admit the truth—or lie? What would Olivier expect? What did she expect from herself?

“Lisa?”

She lifted her chin. “No, it wasn’t unavoidable. I could probably have put it off until tomorrow afternoon.”

A sharp little breath caught in her throat as he studied her for a few seconds. Then, with a gentle sigh that was almost regretful, he spoke. “In that case, I’m afraid that I have no choice but to give you a correction.”

Instantly, her gut twisted in knots of desire and fear.

“Now? Already? What will the correction be?”

He stepped forwards and tilted her chin upwards, laughing softly. “Don’t be in such a hurry to find out, and besides, we have other formalities to get through first.”

Liquid heat pooled in her lower belly. What would the correction be? A spanking—or worse? Surely not, not for her first time. Something unusual or weird? Nipple clamps? Penetration? A dozen scenarios flew through her mind, all exciting, frightening and shameful. Oh hell, what the fuck had she got herself into?

“We need to agree on a safe word for you to use.”

“Oh yes. I’d forgotten.”

“And you know when to use it?”

“Of course I do,” Lisa replied, though mind and body were a seething tangle of confusion.

Olivier didn’t seem convinced. “Hmm. Just in case you’re unsure, I’ll remind you. You use the word if you feel that our play has gone beyond your limits of pleasure. I know you’re going to be nervous, scared sometimes, and yes, there is going to be pain.”

Her whole body tingled deliciously as he ran his finger down the line of her jaw.

“I’m not going to sugar the pill, Lisa. Any pain should be erotic pain, the kind that intensifies your pleasure, perhaps not immediately, but as part of a whole experience. There will be things I do to you that you think you’re not enjoying or that push you beyond your limits, but I want to be sure of your consent at all time. Yes, I want you to be apprehensive and nervous at times, but not
frightened
. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I think I do,” Lisa answered, not sure at all of what he meant.

“So, do you have a word?”

“No. Everything I’ve thought so far seems ridiculous.”

He laughed softly. “That’s kind of the idea. It should be a word that’s so obvious we both know that things must stop instantly. What about a painter’s name, like DaVinci?”

This was excruciating. “Yes, of course…”

“Say it for me, then.”

Lisa squirmed but spoke loud and clearly. “DaVinci.”

“
Bien
. That’s the housekeeping notices over. Now, I’d like you to get undressed.”

“What?”

“Your interview will be conducted nude.”

A jolt of new shock shot through her. “Now? Just like that?”

He folded his arms. “
Oui
.”

“Aren’t you going to shut the drapes first?” she asked and immediately regretted using sarcasm to hide her nervousness.

“I don’t think anyone can see you this far up, unless you’re afraid of shocking my neighbour’s cat. I hope you’re not going to keep on questioning me.”

Lisa glanced at the French doors that opened onto the balcony. The lamplight was on in the room. Olivier was right, there was no apartment opposite. The building fronted onto a broad avenue, and opposite was a square. His flat occupied the whole of the top floor. You’d have to stop in the street and consciously strain your eyes to see through the windows, if you could see.

But damn him, he knew she was uncomfortable by the possibility that anyone might see her strip off. This wasn’t a locker room or a beach, she was okay with that, but it was a sexual act.

“When you’re ready, then,” he said, as if he was waiting for her to read from a book or play a piece on a piano.

While he sat down in the chair and rested his hands on the padded arms, as relaxed as a cat, Lisa’s heart pounded. She wasn’t sure how much of her nerves were genuine anxiety at stripping naked in front of him for the first time or pure arousal. It was one thing fantasising in the comfort of her own bed, quite another now this was real. Wasn’t that what Olivier wanted? To keep her on shifting sands the whole time, unsure and uncomfortable?

He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You know, the sooner you undress, the sooner we can get the interview and your correction over with. I’m sure you want that too?”

Her stomach flipped. “Well, yes!”

“While we’re playing, you will address me correctly in French and show some respect.”

Lisa shoved down every urge to tell him where to go, looked him straight in the eyes and said: “
Oui, maître
.”

“Better, although I’m still not convinced. However, we can work on your attitude issues. Now, take off your clothes.”

Lisa opened her mouth, shut it again and reminded herself this was a game between them, and one she had craved for a long time. She took a breath, knowing she had to begin somewhere. Her low-heeled pumps were the safest thing, and when she pulled them off, the thick rug was lush beneath her bare toes.

Next her suit jacket. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, but it was open, and she slipped it off her shoulders.