Trust Me (49 page)

Sandra
walked beside Creighton, his arm protectively around her waist and she noted several couples glance up to them, whispering as they passed. The hostess led them to a small table in the corner of the restaurant and stepped aside as two waiters appeared to hold the chairs out for Aryana and Sandra. Creighton said something in French to the young woman who nodded, setting the menus down and disappeared between the tables.

Accepting
the menu the waiter opened for her, Sandra glanced to Creighton who watched from the seat next to her. The lights from the Parisian night twinkled around them and Sandra was temporarily lost in the splendor. The view was breathtaking and she smiled when she felt a warm hand on her knee, thankful the table was covered with a long white cloth.

“Like
it?” he asked her and she nodded.

“I’ve
never seen anything so beautiful,” she said and blushed when he raised an eyebrow toward her.

“I
have,” he whispered, squeezing her knee through her gown.

“
Monsieur
,” a waiter said as he arrived at the table, a bottle of champagne in his hand, a white cloth across his arm. Creighton looked at the label and nodded, as the waiter wrapped the cloth around the bottle and poured a small amount into a crystal glass in front of him. Creighton took it, sniffed it and tasted it before nodding. The glasses were quickly filled and the waiter placed the bottle into a bucket on a stand next to the table, which a second waiter brought over. Sandra couldn’t help smiling; it was just like a romantic novel or movie; so elegant, so dignified.

“What
would you like?” Creighton asked as Sandra feigned the ability to read the menu. “They have a wonderful
beef bourguignon
.”

“What
exactly is that?” Sandra asked softly, so only Creighton could hear her.

“Cubed
beef in a wine sauce, with carrots, onions, mushrooms and bacon. It’s really quite delicious.”

“Sounds
nice, but I was thinking about fish. Do they have anything like that?”

“They
have a
bouillinade
; it’s a fish and potato dish. It’s really quite good. Or they have
cotriade
; it's a fish stew. They have
lotte a l’imperatrice
; it’s a monkfish, also very nice.”

“It
all sounds good,” she said with a frown as she tried to decide.

“I’m
going to do the
bouillinade
, want to tempt fate and go with that?” he asked with a warm smile. Sandra nodded and closed her menu. She couldn’t really read it anyway. Creighton leaned over and kissed her cheek softly, whispering in her ear.

“So
Sandra,” Aryana began after the waiter had taken their orders. “How did you and Cray meet?”

“On
the beach of Cote d’Azur,” she said flatly. “One smile and I was lost.”

“Ooo,
romantico
,” she cooed.

“And
you?” Sandra asked, trying not to giggle at the expression on Daniel face;
typical
, she thought,
male eye rolling whenever romance was mentioned
. “How did the two of you meet?” Aryana leaned closer to her husband, wrapped her arm around his and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Through
Cray,” she said wistfully. “Daniel was the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, next to Cray of course. I couldn’t help but fall in love.”

“How
long have you been married?” she asked as Creighton placed his hand back on her knee.

“Three
wonderful months.” Aryana sat up suddenly and looked at the green eyes watching her. “Oh, I know, such a short time and me with
bambino
, but I love him, and we are happy. That’s all that matters, no?”

“Let’s
hope you can convince your father of that,” Creighton said sternly as the waiter brought them each a lettuce and fruit salad and set the tiny plates in front of them.

“I
don’t want to see him, Cray. He will be
arrabbiato
.”

“It
doesn’t matter how angry he gets,” Daniel said sternly. “You are my wife, and he will just have to accept it. If he doesn't, then he will never see his daughter or his grandchild again.”

“He
would not like it at all.” Aryana picked up her fork and started eating her salad; her attention turning to a sulky pout and Sandra immediately remembered what Creighton had called her;
a spoiled prat
.

“I’m
sorry Mr. Ashford; I've been trying to get Aryana to call her father and tell him that we were married for months, but she’s frightened of him.”

“She
should be. She left school without warning to come here with you; she got pregnant, and now she’s married. I know she doesn’t think things through, but I thought more of you Daniel. You should have used better judgment.” Creighton said with a deep frown. Sandra sat quietly listening as she ate her salad, feigning no interest in their conversation.

“I
know we acted impromptu, but we found out she was pregnant. I couldn’t very well abandon her; my heart would not let me.”

“I
admire your honesty and your chivalry, but you both need to explain this to her father. Because of him, I’ve got his boys looking for me and he’s threatening to have my balls as a key chain and quite frankly, I’m rather attached to them; I'd like to keep them intact if you don’t mind.” Sandra choked softly on her champagne, trying not to sound too amused at the man’s expression. Creighton glanced at her and offered her a half grin as she quietly returned to her salad.

“We
will explain it to him,” Daniel said as the waiter arrived to remove their plates and refill their glasses. “Aryana has promised to go to her father and tell him everything, but only if you go with us. She thinks you’re the only thing to keep him from locking her in her bedroom until she’s ninety.”

“Sandra
and I will take the two of you there and I will speak with him; other than that it’s up to you. He’s your problem; I just want to make sure he understands that I am not responsible for that baby in her stomach.”

“That’s
my child and he will either accept it or not; it's his choice. However, we will make an effort to convince him.”

“Good,”
Creighton said glancing back to Aryana, who had remained silent during their discussion. He addressed her in Italian, forcing her to look up at him. They had a private argument for several moments before she nodded and said, “
sono d’accordo
.”

Supper
was served and each ate their meal, chatting about non-consequential things. Sandra told them about Kansas, about her job and her family, while Daniel talked about his family; he was the seventh child of a carpenter, his upbringing in Cork Ireland and his work with Creighton’s telecommunications firm. Aryana talked mainly about the baby, her plans for their future as a family and shopping. It seemed she loved to spend money more than she enjoyed breathing; a habit Daniel was limiting.

When
their cherry dessert of
le clafouti
was served, they had come to the agreement to leave Paris around three o’clock the day-after tomorrow, since Aryana had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t skip it. Sandra didn’t have much time left before she returned home and Creighton was eager to be done with this troublesome nonsense.

It
was just after nine o’clock when Creighton paid the ticket and they left the restaurant. He bid the couple farewell and warned Daniel to keep a tight hold on his wife, so she wouldn’t try to run away again, then hailing a cab and put them into it, paying the driver in advance. He was irritated with the way the evening had ended and his aggravation remained as he and Sandra walked to the entry of the Eiffel Tower’s second floor lift that took them to the top of the metal structure. They bypassed a line of tourists, as a young woman stepped aside, opening a silk guide rope and allowed them into the lift.

“She
seems like a nice girl,” Sandra said after a few silent moments.

“She’s
a little nit,” he growled. “She need of a good spanking.”

“Not
by you I hope?” she asked and smiled when he turned a shocked, angry eye to her. He relaxed when he saw the amusement pass through her eyes and slid his arm around her waist. The lift was empty except for the two of them allowing them to speak freely.

“The
only woman I plan on spanking is you,” he told her, pulling her to face him, his hands caressing her buttocks as his lips found hers. The lift arrived at their destination all too soon for their taste and the doors opened onto the evening’s cool breeze.

Sandra
followed Creighton out onto the observation deck of the metal monster’s third floor and gasped as they walked toward the railing. The sights were spectacular. She could see the entire city from here, the lights of the night twinkling below them; the shimmer of the moon as it reflected off the
Seine
was breathtaking.

“Give
me your camera and turn around,” he instructed in a quiet tone. Sandra opened her purse and retrieved her camera, handing it to him and turned with her back toward the sights. She smiled as he snapped her picture not once, but three times.

“This
is amazing,” she told him turning back to look over the railing. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“My
pleasure, darling,” he whispered reaching for his phone and handing it to her.

“The
last part of our agreement,” he said gently. “Call your sister and tell her everything you’ve done today.” Sandra looked at his phone and frowned. She thought over everything that had happened; the tattoos, the piercing, the shopping, the pictures and the visit to Rochelle. She knew in her heart, she could not tell Cathy. She knew everything Creighton had told her about her sister keeping her securely in her shadow was correct.

Sandra
shook her head and turned her back toward him, looking out across Paris again. He returned his phone to his jacket pocket and stepped closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m
sorry I had to be the one to open your eyes, my love,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Why
didn’t I see it?” she asked in a shaky tone.

“Because
you love her, as you should. She has been good to you and she does love you. It’s just time you found your own voice and moved into the sunlight.”

Creighton
held her tightly and began to nuzzle her neck, licking a hot moist path up to her ear where he nipped and tickled the tender skin beneath. She felt dizzy and closed her eyes, pushing all visions of her sister from her mind. She leaned her head back against his shoulders and breathed in the crisp evening air, feeling the hard evidence of his desire press against her bottom when he pulled her closer to him.

“What
if someone comes up?” she whispered as the heat of desire began to course through her veins. She felt the vibration of his chuckle against her delicate skin as he moved lower on her neck, branding her shoulders with his lips.

“I’ve
reserved the tower for the next forty-five minutes,” he told her, smiling as she turned a stunned expression toward him. “It’s ours to do with as we wish.” He kissed her upturned face; trailing warm kisses down her cheek, across her jaw, over her chin until at last capturing her lips beneath his. His mouth held her prisoner while his tongue invaded the sweet moist cavern beyond. He found his prey easily and began a slow rhythmic dance with her tongue, caressing it and tasting it. Sandra moaned deeply, feeling his warm hand as it slid beneath her shawl and down the top of the bodice of her gown. She wiggled slightly, fear of being observed threatened her stance, but he held her tightly against him, his thumb brushing the hard erect nipple.

“I
want you…here…now,” he told her and without waiting for her to answer, he turned her in his arms to face him, closing the space between their lips again. The sound of a zipper registered in the back of her mind and Sandra knew there would be no escape; not that she wanted one. Creighton lifted the material of her dress with one had as his other held her secure around her bottom, so not to touch the new artwork on her back. He slid her panties aside and moaned as he pressed the tip of his penis against her moist opening, thrusting into her, hard and full. His mouth against her swallowed up her shallow objections until she no longer wanted to argue.

“Hold
on,” he ordered. “This is going to be another quick romp.” Sandra did as he instructed and wrapped her arms around him while he lifted her left leg, supporting it with his strong arm, moving quickly in and out of her. His lips found hers again as the need grew steadily with each thrust. Within a few moments, she knew she was lost. The heat of him spread through her like liquid fire and when he reached between her legs and began to stroke the hard nub of her desire, she surrendered to him fully, clinging to him in a quick, dizzy climax, taking him deeper into her until she heard his savage growl against her mouth.