Temptation: a billionaire erotic romance (17 page)

*****

Serena awoke to the sound of her phone’s blaring text tone, one that Val had set earlier to make sure that she would always hear his messages to her.  At first, she reached for it, but then giggled in her sleep grogginess and turned over.

She mumbled something and yawned, burying her face into her sheets.  God, it was warm.  Warm and comfortable and delicious.  She could stay here for the rest of her life, she was sure of it.  Here in Val’s bed….

Her eyes opened.  Wait.

Serena sat up, taking in her surroundings.  No silk sheets, no massive window looking into the garden, no restraints…

She groaned and fell back onto the pillows.  Not Val’s bed, and not her bed in the mansion either.  Of course it wasn’t.  She had gone back to her apartment.  How could she have forgotten?

Serena pulled herself up, stretching and yawning against the sleep that clung to her eyes.  The clock by her bed blared 11:00, and the noon sunlight was falling through the window onto her bed.  Serena stumbled around, dressing and managing to wash up in her zombie-like state.  She had never been a morning person, and the stressful events of the last few days wasn’t helping on that front.

It wasn’t until she had had her first sip of coffee that the full reality of what had happened hit her. 

Her hands began shaking, and she found a seat at the kitchen table. 

Shit, shit, shit.

She had gone and done the one thing that Jacques had warned her not to, and now he was right.  Val was pissed.  No, Val was beyond pissed.  She wasn’t sure there was a word in the English language that fully captured how furious Val had seemed when she finally admitted the truth.

Serena laid her head on the table and groaned.  Why did this kind of thing happen to her?  What could she even do?

Wait
. 

Serena sat straight up.

The phone
.

God, she was an idiot when she was asleep.  Someone had texted her on Val’s phone, and she was totally ignoring it.  Maybe Val was calling?  Maybe he wanted to talk about last night?

Serena bit her lower lip.  On the one hand, she was terrified of speaking to Val now that he knew she had broken his trust.  But on the other, she had to.  It was her only chance to talk some sense into him, to make him understand that she hadn’t meant to betray him like that.  She had to convince him to let her see him again.  She couldn’t live without him, and she knew it.

Quickly, Serena scrambled over to where her cell phone lay on the bedside table.  Her phone’s notification read:

1 new text

from Jacques Lepin

Jacques?

Serena bit her lip. 

She went to her messages and found the text from Jacques, sitting down on the bed and gathering her strength.  She had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to be good. 

The text from Jacques read:

We need to talk.  I’ll be over at ten.  –J

She groaned.  Yes, definitely a sinking feeling.  Definitely not going to be good.  She glanced at the clock and groaned again when she saw that it was 9:45.  Here goes nothing.

She wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, running her fingers down the soft wool of her robe.  She imagined what it would feel like to touch Val’s silk robe again, but the shuddering coldness that grew in her hurt too much. 

Instead, she shoved it away.  No time for self-pity now.  What she needed to do now was get ready.

In the little time she had left, she threw on a dress and raked a comb through her hair, making herself at least a little presentable.  By the time she heard the doorbell ring, she looked as if she was a half-functioning, decent adult.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  At least Jacques wouldn’t know how badly she was crumbling on the inside.  Or at least not completely.

Serena marched to the front door and took another sigh, settling herself.  When she opened it, she saw Jacques in his impeccable suit, holding a file in one hand.  His eyes were concerned and his smile was weak and worried.

“Good morning, Serena,” he said, giving her a short bow.  It reminded her of how cordial he had been the first time they met.  Thank God she had Jacques here.  Sometimes he seemed like the only person she had on her side.

“Jacques,” she said quietly.  “Come in.”

“You alright, Screamer?” he asked softly.  He stepped past her hung his coat up on the coat rack, keeping his gaze on her, her expression concerned.  “I can come back later if you aren’t ready.  I’ll understand.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “Come in, ignore me.  I know I look like death,” she said with a weak laugh.  “But I’m glad to have you.  Would you like a cup of tea?  Maybe coffee?”

Jacques paused, then nodded.  “I’d love one.  Excuse me for making assumptions.”

“No, no, you’re right for making them.  I’m sure I look as terrible as I feel.”  She led him to the kitchen that had been tidied up only moments ago.  He took a seat at the table as she began pouring tea.  “Anyway, there’s no point in crying.  It doesn’t get anything done.  Might as well go on with life.”

Jacques gave her a small smile, taking the tea from her.  “You’re a strong person, Serena.  Don’t let anybody tell you any different.”

She couldn’t feel any happiness at his compliment.  Not when Val was totally out of her reach.  She knew she would have to go back later, but she was dreading it.

She took a seat across from him and watched him take a tentative sip of the tea.  “Good,” he murmured.  “You know, I might have to ask how you make it, it tastes wonderful, and—”

“You don’t have to stall, Jacques.”

He glanced up at her and sighed.  “You’re right.  Sorry, Screamer.”

From inside the folder, he slipped out an envelope and slid it across the table to her.  “From Val,” he said.  She took it and examined the seal on it—Val’s seal.  There was no signature on it, which stung.  He hadn’t even given her a signature to remember him by. 

She couldn’t bring herself to open it.  Instead, she kept it on the table and placed a hand over it so that she couldn’t see the seal that reminded her of the man she lost.

“Is that all?” she asked.  “He asked you to deliver a letter?”

“No,” Jacques said, shaking his head.  He placed his cup down on the table.  “He also asked me to deliver a message.”

He hesitated, his voice catching for a moment.  Serena braced herself for whatever was coming.  She had the feeling she wasn’t going to like it.  Jacques looked at her as if she was a kicked puppy that he was going to have to kick again.

“Serena … Val has asked me to tell you that….”

He looked down into his cup, his voice pained, like he was struggling to go on.  Serena sighed and placed a hand over his.

“Go on,” she said.  “I’m ready.”

Jacques looked up at her with a pained expression.

“He said he doesn’t want to see you again,” he said.

Her heart stopped.

“What?” she whispered.

“He wanted me to tell you he wants you gone, and he doesn’t want you coming back.  I’m not sure why ….”

His eyes widened for a moment, and then they regained their sad expression.  He reached over to place his hand on her hand.

“No,” Serena said.

“Serena, you can’t fight this.”

“No!” she cried.  “I … I can’t….”

 “He doesn’t want you,” said Jacques, his eyes sad. 

She felt something break in her.

He leaned forward and squeezed her hand.  “I’m sorry I’m the one who has to tell you this, but it’s the truth.  Serena, please.  You have to understand, this is the only way.”

She choked up, unable to handle it.  How could Val be so cruel to her?  How could he crush her like that?

“He didn’t…” she choked.  “He didn’t want to tell me himself?  He didn’t want to come or call or … anything?”

“That’s the other thing,” Jacques said.  He reached forward and tapped the letter that was on the table.  “He asked that you read that once I had left.  I suppose it’s a private letter.”

Serena nodded numbly.

“I presume it’s about Harlow,” he continued.  “Something has come up.”

She hated the way his tone had turned.

“What is it, Jacques?”

He looked into her eyes, some new pain in his expression.  At first, he seemed as if he was ready to be strong and say it straight, but he choked.  Instead, he looked down and sighed.  “He’s giving in.  We’re giving in.  To Harlow.”

“No, no you’re not,” Serena said in a daze.  “Val told me before.  He said you were just pretending …  He said you were just pretending, and you would get Harry back, and ….”

Jacques shook his head.

“Something has come up.  We’re not pretending anymore, Serena.  We can’t afford to.  In a little bit, we’re going to Harlow, and we’re turning ourselves in.”

“But Val …  Harry….”

“Harry will come back, we’re sure of that much,” Jacques said, squeezing her hand again.  “There’s that at least.”

“But Val….”

“Stop.  There’s no use in being torn up about it.  There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”  He leaned forward and looked into her eyes.  “Just accept it.”

Jacques stood up. 

“You need to stay away, Serena,” he said.  “For the good of both of us.  And for your protection.”

“But—” she stammered, standing up to go after him.

He put a hand up, stopping her in her tracks.  “Please, Serena.  Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

With that, she watched her last chance walk out the door.

*****

Serena lay on her bed, staring at her ceiling, alone.  The crying had stopped a few hours ago.  It wasn’t because she had stopped being sad, of course—she doubted that would ever stop. 

She had lost Val.  She had lost Harry.  She had lost everyone and every chance she had. 

No, she had stopped crying because crying couldn’t express fully her sadness anymore.  It was as if she had sobbed so much she had no tears left, only the dull throbbing in her chest and the soreness in her throat.

She knew she should get up and do something, anything.  Laying here like a corpse did nothing for her, and it only left her with her depressed, hopeless thoughts.  But what could she do?  Val had been her only hope, and now she had blown it. 

He was gone, all because of her carelessness.  She would never be with him again.  She had lost him, and he wasn’t coming back. 

She turned her head to the alarm clock on her bedside table, watching as it clicked from 7:59 to 8:00.

She wanted to get up, to run to the mansion and demand to see Val.  But what could that do?  He would chase her out again.  No, not even that.  He wouldn’t even face her, he would send Jacques again to tell her to leave.  Or maybe Ellen.  She didn’t think she could handle that, seeing wonderful Ellen coldly tell her to go.  Jacques, she could handle; he was a businessman after all, and even though she could see it hurt him, at least she knew it was nothing personal.  But Ellen she felt something more for, something warm and loving as if Ellen was her mother.  To have her reject her too would be totally unbearable.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Serena dragged herself out of bed and to the table where the letter was.  Her eyes raked over its words, still unwilling to believe what they said.  She felt her eyes sting with welling tears as she read over it yet again, the meaning of it still not fully sinking in.

Typed on Val’s official letterhead was a message:

Dear Serena,

If you have received this letter, I trust Jacques has visited you and explained everything.  I do not wish to see you again—this is an order I am giving you as your master.  Something has come up, something very big, and I am no longer able to be with you.  I will be turning myself over to Harlow within the next few days.  You are not to contact me and not to visit; this is for the protection of both of us.

Your Master,

Valentine Marquette

She read his name over and over.

Valentine Marquette, like something out of one of those trashy romances novels her mother used to read.  Val, who made her laugh and cry and frown in confusion.  Val, who did things to her sexually that she would never understand.  Val, who was going to die now because of what she had done.

She rested her head down on the table.  How could she have fucked up so royally?  How could she have done this to herself?  To the both of them?

She remembered what Jacques said that night at the party, the night she learned what Val really was and everything changed.  She remembered the way he had looked at her when he warned her not to let on that she knew.  And then she went ahead and did it anyway, and now look what had happened.

And then those horrific meetings with Harlow’s men.  She had never hated Spencer and Edwards so much.  Well, Edwards was anyway.  She wasn’t sure if Spencer was even still alive.

She remembered the disgusting, snake-like look of Edwards’ eyes when he had come to that last meeting to accept Val’s proposition to Harlow.  Or any of the other meetings he had come to, the way he always looked so cold and dead.