Inferno Anthology (3 page)

A heavy set woman with a scowl permanently etched on her face came out on the front steps and looked critically at the pair then skeptically at the expensive car. “Mademoiselle Cummings?”

“
Oui
,” Taryn said, hoping the woman would simply hand her the key to her new abode and not ask a million and one questions.

No such luck. The woman spewed out a torrent of French words that left Taryn staring blankly at her from the curb.

“
C’est tres bien
,” Errol said.

The woman disappeared into the building.

“What was all that?”

“Your standard rules. No parties. No loud music. No late payments. She’s going to get your key.”

“Good. Thanks.”

They waited for a moment, a moment that left Taryn terribly aware of all the sensations that coursed through her body. An hour ago she was just another girl from New York trying to find her way in Paris and now she stood shoulder to shoulder with the world’s most renown, not to mention the sexiest, chef.

“
Voila
.” The woman handed the keys to Errol and barely glanced at Taryn.

Even at her age, the woman was taken in by Errol’s good looks and charm, Taryn thought with a wry grin.

“
Merci
.” Errol affectionately patted the woman’s hand as he took the keys, and even offered her a flirtatious wink.

That was enough to turn the permanent scowl into a brief, girlish smile.

With suitcases in hand, they walked up the dingy and dimly lit stairs to the third floor. Errol inserted the key and looked at Taryn. “Ready.”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He opened the door and Taryn gagged.

The tiny, miniscule apartment was as dingy as the stairwell. From where she stood, she could see the entire apartment; the kitchen counter to the right, a half-moon dining table pushed up to the wall on the left and a bed set in the middle of it all.

“This is the only place you could find?” Errol asked with unabashed disdain.

“It was the only one I could afford.” Tears stung her eyes as a sudden bout of homesickness engulfed her. She took a few uncertain steps into the apartment and gagged again as the odor of mold and mildew assailed her nostrils. Putting her hand over her mouth and nose, she looked down at the bare mattress. It was heavily stained and several springs were painfully visible. “I can’t believe…” she muttered.

“This is an abomination. How dare that woman. I wouldn’t let a dog sleep here.”

His comment did nothing to lighten her mood.

“I have to let some fresh air in here.” Taryn headed to the window and pulled the flimsy curtains aside. A large spider, comfortably nestled in folds that had apparently not moved in ages, dropped to the window sill. “Oh, my God.” The hysterical scream shot out of her.

In an instant, Errol was at her side and with his bare hand, put an end to the ugly arachnid.

“Oh, that was so gross,” Taryn said.

“You’re welcome,” he shot over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen sink to wash his hand.

Taryn turned to him when she heard him grumble. “Now what?”

“I don’t know which is dirtier; my hand or the water.” Rusty colored water drizzled out of the ancient faucet.

Taking a deep breath, Taryn dropped her gaze to the floor as the weight of the world settled nicely on her shoulders. Paris… Glamour, fashion, the Eiffel Tower… and this. She looked outside and wasn’t at all surprised when she realized her window faced a stone wall barely four feet away.

A large lump of emotion rose to block her throat. Don’t you dare cry, she berated herself. You’re from New York, for heaven’s sake. Don’t you dare cry… especially in front of Errol King.

She unlatched the window and tugged it open. The strong, pungent and nauseating scent of urine quickly entered the room. “Oh, my God.” She slammed the window shut.

“This place is unlivable. It should be condemned.”

“All the other apartments in this building are rented out, so it is livable. I guess I just need to spend a bit of time sprucing it up.”

“Sprucing it up?”

“Yeah.” She tried to put some cheer in her voice. “A nice coat of paint; yellow or maybe pink. I could buy some kind of mattress cover and top that with colorful linen.”

“Really? And what about the smell?”

“Stores are full of room deodorizers. I’ll buy one that smells like vanilla.”

“I think you’ll have to buy more than one.”

Trying to remain optimistic, she ran her hand over the old porcelain kitchen sink, but immediately brought her hand up when her fingers ran through something sticky. “Ew.”

“That’s enough,” Errol said with finality. “No amount of paint, linens and deodorizers is going to make this place livable. We’ll have to find you something else.”

“Okay,” she relented. “Tomorrow, I’ll look through the papers and try to find something more suitable, but like I said, my budget doesn’t allow for anything more expensive than this.”

“Budget or not, you’re not staying here.” He took a hold of her elbow. “Not even tonight.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” she said. She freed herself and looked pointedly at him. “I’m not rolling in dough as you apparently are. This isn’t something I can just fix with the snap of my fingers. I can’t just whip out some gold card and have everything I desire. This is literally all I can afford. I don’t even have any money left over to take the bus to get to school.”

“All the more reason for you to leave this place.” With more determination, he grabbed her arm. “You really think you can walk this distance to and from school every day? And after the days you’ll be spending on your feet sautéing, grilling and roasting? You won’t last a week.”

“You underestimate me.” Though she didn’t pull her arm free, she planted her feet to the floor and resisted his tug. “I’m from New York… New York City. Do you know what that means?”

“You think that tough New York grit will be enough to help you survive here? I’ll say it again; you won’t last a week.”

“But…”

“Listen to me. If you’re as serious about becoming a chef as you say you are, you’ll come with me, because all you’ll get from staying here is a failing grade, and maybe diphtheria.”

“And where are you planning on bringing me?” An erotic thrill shot through her as the sudden thought of living with him came to mind. No, she quickly corrected herself. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

“A place where you can actually inhale.” With that he guided her in front of him, picked up her bags and nudged her forward.

In the car, Taryn watched as dingy old buildings turn into immaculate, historic jewels. The sidewalks were wider, the lighting brighter and the view of the Eiffel Tower… Taryn gasped when she saw it.

“It’s such an iconic symbol of Paris. I can’t believe I’m actually looking at the real thing.”

“Get used to it.” Errol guided the car into an underground parking lot and led the way to the elevator.

When he opened the door to an apartment, Taryn was immediately face with a spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower. Letting her bags fall to the floor, she rushed to the large windows and looked over Paris.

“But I can’t possibly impose myself on you,” she said, wishing desperately that he’d argue the point. As inappropriate as it was for her to be there, it was exactly the Paris she’d hoped to experience. The place was breathtakingly beautiful.

“It’s no imposition. I’m happy to help out.”

She turned to him and wondered what excited her more; being there with him or being in such a fabulous part of Paris. “I’ll look for a new place and I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“There’s no rush.” He walked to his immaculate kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?”

“I’ll pay you what I was going to pay for the other apartment.” On finishing her sentence, she bit her lip. “Well… actually, I had already paid for the other one and I’m going to be a bit low on cash, so…”

“Look, don’t worry about all that. I’d rather have you here where you can eat and sleep and work hard in my class than to have you in that cesspool that would no doubt have left you unable to function in class at all.” He held up a blue glass bottle. “Water?”

She nodded and accepted the bottle. “Well, that’s really nice of you, but I want to do something to repay you. Maybe there’s some work I can do around here, you know… tidy up or something.”

“I already have someone who takes care of that, but I’ll give your offer some thought.”

“I feel better if you did.” She took a sip of the expensive looking bottled water and was disappointed to find that it simply tasted like any other water she’d ever tasted.

“Less like an intruder?”

“Less of a burden.”

“You know, there is something you can do for me.”

“Great. What is it? Paperwork? Laundry? Cooking?”

They looked at one another and laughed.

“I think I can handle the cooking,” Errol said. “No, Taryn, what I had in mind was something completely different.”

Most of her friends called her Taryn and she was often quick to invite new acquaintances to do the same, yet she was certain she hadn’t asked Errol to do so. She was caught off guard by how swiftly he’d become familiar with her.

“To tell you the truth,” he went on. “I hadn’t planned on mentioning it so soon, after all we’ve just met, but since the opportunity has presented itself…” He set his bottle water on the granite countertop and stepped closer to her. With his eyes intently fixed on hers, he slipped his hands under her jacket and pushed it off her shoulders.

Taryn gulped down a strange combination of arousal and fear. What was he doing?

“I couldn’t wait to meet you, Taryn.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and delicately fingered her cheek with his free hand.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion while her body screamed out its desire to be fully satisfied. The strong, warm fingers that played on the small of her back nearly drove her wild, and having his so close…

This can’t be, she thought. I’m dreaming. Or is this some freakish nightmare. “How…?” Unable to form any semblance of a question, she simply looked into the deep pools of his blue eyes.

“Your application.” He let his answer sink in before going on. “From the very moment I saw your photo, I was intrigued. And when I read your personal essay…” He chuckled, a sound that rumbled with eroticism. “It made me all the more eager to meet you.”

Baffled, Taryn stared at him. This man, this sex god who’d starred in more than one erotic dream of hers… he was intrigued… by her? It couldn’t be.

“We come from similar backgrounds, Taryn.”

Her name had never sounded so sensual and she longed to hear him say it while in the throes of passion.

“I know the area of New York you’re from. Just looking at your photo and reading about you, I knew I had to…” He swallowed and narrowed his eyes as his gaze dipped into the opening of her shirt. Licking his lips, he brought his gaze back to her eyes.

Her mouth filled with the need to have him, to taste him. She wanted to lose herself in the depths of his blue eyes and never come up for breath.

“I have to admit, though. The photo didn’t do you justice.” He reached for a lock of blond hair. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

While the girly girl in her was flattered – after all, it wasn’t every day she got noticed by a celebrity chef, not to mention one who was so undeniably hot – the strong-willed woman who worked hard to build a promising career was a little miffed.

“Are you telling me you accepted my application based on my looks?”

He cocked a surprised brow. “No, not at all. I was equally impressed by your qualifications. Besides, it’s a committee that has the final say, and they are the ones who accepted you… much to my pleasure.”

The hand at the small of her back played over her skin, exciting her more than she would have thought possible. When he brought his hand to her waist and gently stroked his thumb just under her breast, she let out a startled gasp.

“You’re my teacher,” she muttered in mild protest.

“Yes,” he said in a deep voice. The hand that had stroked her cheek trailed its way to her lips. “Such beautiful lips,” he grumbled. “You can drop my class, you know.”

He passed his thumbs over her lower lip and slowly worked his way into the warmth of her mouth.

Without questioning her actions, she sucked on the digit and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to drop his class. He was the reason she wanted to go to the Institute. She wanted to learn everything she could from him. She wanted to know him, get closer to him…sucking on his finger only made her want to explore more of him. “No, I want you…” she barely whispered. Shocked by her own admission she was going to stop sucking on his finger when he pulled out and begin tracing her lips with it so softly and sensuously, it felt like a kiss.

“I knew I’d find pleasure behind the innocent pout to these sultry lips.” He leaned in to kiss her and his tongue received the same treatment his thumb had. Her mouth latched on, devouring his tongue with the passion she had harbored for him, after all those years of having a celebrity crush on him.

He kissed her back passionately, his tongue entwining in hers, stroking her mouth until she shuddered against him. “What I’d questioned was the response of your body.” That said, he passed the thumb that he’d stroked beneath her breast over her nipple.

The response was swift.

“Yes,” he whispered into her ear as his thumb worked around the erect nipple. “You liked being touched, don’t you, Taryn.”

Her answer came in the way of a sensually charged groan. Though the thin fabric of her bra allowed for a wonderful sensation, she longed to feel his fingers against her skin.

He cupped her breast. “I noticed it in your eyes the moment I saw you. You’re spirited and independent, but you respect authority and are accustomed to doing as you’re told. That makes for a good student, but it also makes for a good…” He pressed the hardness of his erection against her. After a brief, but thrilling gasp from Taryn, he pulled back.

In the back of her mind, she knew she had an argument to make, but her body refused her that luxury. It was fully enthralled by the working of his hand over her breast, urging it to delve under the fabric of her bra with every subtle arching of her back.