by Hamel, B. B.
But apparently not. Or at least I’m not capable of it.
And so I take it easy. I don’t push her. I don’t stress her. I make her do her job but I don’t give her tasks that are unreasonable or impossible just to see how she handles it.
I don’t need to see. I know she’ll be able to take care of it.
Maybe that’s the real difference. I trust her now for some reason. Something clicked inside of me and I simply trust that she’s competent and smart. I don’t need to test her anymore. I don’t need to push her.
It’s almost frustrating, actually. I like watching her squirm. I get satisfaction from it, from watching her get pissed off but unable to express herself for fear of getting something worse. I think she’s sexy when she’s holding back her anger and I want to see her like that all the time.
And I think she likes it too. I think that’s why she stayed with me for so long.
But we go a week like things are normal. The days continue, life moves on.
There’s flirting, of course. I mean, fuck, of course there’s flirting. I can’t get the memory of her body in that hotel room out of my mind. She’s gorgeous, sensual, intense. I can’t pretend like that didn’t happen.
But we don’t act on the flirtations. We keep a respectful distance…
Mostly, anyway. There are moments where we come closer than we need to, where I brush against her just to see her blush and shiver with delight.
The simmering is still there and the heat is still on, but I think we both know it’s better if we wait until it’s boiling again. Until the tension can’t be ignored.
Things change abruptly one week later when I get a call on my personal cell from a number I don’t recognize. Normally I’d ignore it, but it’s a foreign number, and it could be any one of my overseas partners.
I should’ve known who it would be, though.
“Leon!” Maxime’s voice is bright and shiny like he’s the happiest person in the world. “So glad to hear from you.”
“Hello, Maxime,” I say, smiling a little. He’s acting like I’m the one who called him, not the other way around.
“How are things?”
“Things are good, Maxime. I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”
“Yes, well, you know. Always busy, always making deals.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“The homeland!” He takes a loud, deep breath. “Ah, can you smell it? The crisp, clean air? Monaco, my friend, it’s a beautiful country. Much better than that city of yours, that New York. So smelly, so crowded, and the people? Disgusting.”
I sigh. “Maxime. We can’t all live in some rich person’s paradise.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” He chuckles, almost to himself. “I know how you New Yorkers take pride in your city. I did not mean to offend.”
Yes, he totally did mean to offend, but I don’t press him on it.
Better just to let it slide.
“What can I do for you?” I ask him.
“I am calling about our deal, yes? Our arrangement.”
I can feel myself getting impatient, but I spot Paige walking past my office. I snap my fingers at her, catching her attention. She steps into the room and I motion for her to sit, putting the phone on speaker. She frowns at me for a second until she gets up to speed.
“Of course, Maxime,” I say to him, nodding at the phone for Paige’s benefit. She smiles and leans back in her chair to listen. “I assume everything is moving along? We’re just waiting on the proper permits.”
“Yes, yes,” Maxime says and I hear a hint of stress in his voice. “The permits, of course.”
I glance up at Paige and I think she understands. In this case, the permits are really just permission from the royal family.
“There’s no problem then?”
“Ah, well. We have been trying, yes, pushing paper, bribing officials, that sort of thing.”
I wince. “I didn’t think you needed bribes.”
“No, well, we don’t, but you know how it goes. Monaco is a city built on money and so everyone wants a little taste.”
“But you’re related to the monarchy.”
He’s silent for a second and part of me wonders if any of that is actually true.
“I know I am,” he says quietly, sounding like a different man. “Unfortunately, blood matters little in business these days.”
I frown at Paige and she’s frowning right back. I feel like the project is teetering on a cliff after finally deciding that it’ll really work out. Years of my life, years of hard work, suddenly…
About to go up in smoke.
“Maxime, what can I do?” I ask him.
“Ah, well now,” he says, sounding more himself. “There is something you can do after all.”
“Spit it out, please,” I say, getting impatient. Paige gives me a look, but Maxime just laughs.
“I love that phrase, you Americans, so crass.” He laughs again. “Very well, I will spit. They want you to come to Monaco.”
I hesitate for a second. “Who is they?”
“The monarchy. Prince Albert himself, though I doubt you will meet him, more likely some distant cousin such as myself, but more in favor with the court.”
I feel a jolt run through me. A trip to Monaco…
“I can do that,” I say.
“It will have to be soon. Immediately, in fact.”
“Immediately? I have business here, plans to finish, meetings to attend.”
“My friend, you do not understand. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and all this deal needs is a little push in the right direction, yes? That is the saying?”
I clench my jaw. “When do I need to come?” I ask.
“Immediately,” he says again. “They want to meet you in two days.”
I blink rapidly and look up at Paige. She just shrugs and shakes her head, like, What else can we do?
“I’ll come,” I say. “I’ll charter a plane this afternoon.”
“Wonderful!” Maxime says, nearly shouting. “Oh, wonderful! I was so worried you’d be unable to make the trip, my friend!”
“This deal is important to me, Maxime. I’m not playing games.”
“No, no, neither are we. Come to Monaco, let us show you the city, give you a trip of a lifetime, and then we become rich. Yes?”
“I’m already rich,” I say to him. “Let’s just build a hotel.”
He laughs, clearly delighted. “Very well. We build! I will see you soon then, my friend. Forward me your details and I will take care of the rest.”
He hangs up the phone and I sit back with a sigh, closing my eyes.
Fucking Maxime. And of course I didn’t hear from Cerise at all.
This is more complicated than he’s letting on. I suspect he thought he could make the monarchy approve this plan easily, but he’s running into roadblocks. He needs my help to get it done.
This was supposed to be the easy part. He said he could make this fucking happen.
Goddamn it.
I open my eyes and Paige is sitting there, back straight, hands in front of her, worry in her eyes.
“Should I book a flight?” she asks.
“Private,” I say. “Find a plane for today. And pack your bags.”
Her eyes go slightly wide. “Excuse me?”
“You’re coming.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Forget about the fake relationship for a second. I wouldn’t go there without my personal assistant anyway.”
She nods slowly and lets out a breath. “So we’re going to Monaco.”
“That’s right. Make the arrangements. I’m going home to pack and I suggest you do the same when you’re finished.”
She nods and we both stand. I give her a long look and feel that thrill run up my chest.
The simmering desire that’s always there…
Starting to boil over again.
Monaco with Paige, with this woman I want. And the deal o
f a lifetime on top of that.
I don’t know if I could ask for more.
11
Paige
The next twenty-four hours are a total blur.
I charter a private jet that’ll fly us to Heathrow, refuel, and then finish the trip down to Monaco. The flight will take a long time, the longest flight of my life, but the private plane is gorgeous. I hurry home, pack, and am in the process of trying to figure out how I’m going to get to the airport when Leon’s car arrives outside of my apartment.
From there, it’s just autopilot. We board, get seated, get served drinks, and are up in the air within the hour.
It’s impossible to describe what it’s like being alone in a plane with Leon. The plane itself is amazing, the seats are basically beds, and there are two flight attendants tasked with doing nothing but making us happy and comfortable.
But that’s not the best part. I mean, it is, but it’s more about Leon. The way he looks at me, the way his eyes flash over my body. I know he’s thinking about that day in the hotel, just like I am.
I’ve been waiting for him to take me again all week, but he hasn’t. He’s kept his distance and although I don’t know why, I haven’t tried to broach the subject.
I’ve just been waiting. I can feel it building inside of me, like a volcano that’s been dormant for a long time suddenly building up pressure. I don’t know how much longer I can take being so close to him without having his hands on my body, but he seems intent on not giving me what I want.
The whole flight I just keep waiting for him to touch me. But instead, we barely even speak a word. He’s so engrossed in getting finished with all the work he’s leaving behind that I’m almost an afterthought.
I should be angry or annoyed but mostly I’m just hurt.
I thought we had more. I thought there was something happening for real, beyond whatever fake arrangement we have.
But maybe not. Maybe this private flight is about as real as it gets. Fancy and gorgeous and almost absurd but still just temporary. Still just a means of getting from one place to the next.
Maybe that’s how he sees me. Just a means to an end. I don’t know why I’d ever think he’d see something different.
The flight passes and I keep feeling it, deep down in my chest, deep down between my legs.
The yearning. The fire. Every glance, stoking it.
I don’t know how much more I can take.
* * *
“Welcome to Monaco!”
Leon steps off the plane first, walking down the steps and onto the tarmac. It’s a nice day, sunny but not hot. I follow him and we’re greeted by a thin man wearing a fancy black suit. Three women stand behind him, each one more beautiful than the next, each of them looking down at the ground.
“Leon, I presume?” the man asks, speaking English with a British lilt overtop his French accent.
“Yes,” Leon says, shaking the man’s hand.
“I work for Maxime,” the man says. “My name is Claude and these are my assistants.” He gestures at the girls but doesn’t give them a name. They barely even look up.
“Where’s Maxime?” Leon asks.
Claude winces. “He sent me instead. He wishes for me to get you into your room, get you settled. Have you been to Monaco before?”
Leon glares at Claude. “No, I haven’t.”
“Well, come, it is a lovely place. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Without another word, Claude and his three assistants start walking toward the terminal. Leon gives me a look and I can see how annoyed he is. I’m guessing he expected to see Maxime, but instead we’re being passed off to this strange, thin man instead.
I follow Leon as Claude talks. He tells us about the history of Monaco, about how it has turned into a thriving economic powerhouse despite being a tiny place in comparison to other countries.
“Strict control, my friend,” Claude says. “And the highest standards. That is how we stay relevant!”
“That’s how you stay filthy rich,” Leon grumbles.
Claude’s smile wavers for only a second before he continues rambling on.
We get a private limo from the airport and it takes the scenic route. Monaco is a port country and the views are incredible. Long sweeping cliffs, brightly colored buildings. Not a scrap of trash on the ground. It’s like a pristine place, probably because so much money is concentrated into such a small space.
“We will be staying in Monte Carlo,” Claude says. “You are familiar, yes?”
“Yes,” Leon says curtly.
That doesn’t stop Claude from launching into an explanation that I can only half understand. I know Monte Carlo from James Bond. I know it’s like the richest, most elite part of Monaco, and the casino there is like the cream of the crop. We’re not staying there, of course, but nearby.
I’m not disappointed though as we pull into the hotel’s front lot. It’s a lavish place in an old colonial style. Fountains and flowers and trees line the immaculate courtyard. Claude leads us inside while his three mute assistants stay in the car.
“I leave you here,” Claude says in the lobby of the hotel. I’m too busy gaping around to notice how annoyed Leon’s looking.
“When will we see Maxime?” he asks.
“Soon, soon,” Claude says. “I promise, very soon. You stay here, enjoy, have some fun. Go to casino, yes? Win a fortune?”
“I already have one of those,” Leon growls.
Claude smiles and excuses himself. Leon stands there glaring around him like a caged tiger, but I barely notice.
The hotel is gorgeous. Sweeping marble, plush carpets, beautiful plants, priceless artwork. I’m blinking around like a moron when a porter appears and takes our bags without saying a word.
“Come on,” Leon grumbles at me. “Might as well go to our room.”
I blink up at him. “Room?”
“Maxime only booked us one. Since we’re together, of course.” Leon does not look pleased about anything right now, but I feel a flutter in my chest.
We follow the porter up an elevator and down a short hall. The suite he shows us to takes my breath away.
It’s even more beautiful than the one we stayed in back in New York, if that’s even possible. Where that was modern and chic, this is old world and reeks of money. Crystal vases, crystal glasses, a big crystal chandelier. The sitting room has beautiful velvet wing-backed chairs and antique fainting couches. I walk around looking at everything, barely suppressing an impressed giggle.
This is the nicest place I’ll ever be in my whole life. It’s by far the gaudiest and over the top and just…
Rich. This is what the richest, most wealthy, elite people in the world must live like, and I’m getting a taste.
I’m too overwhelmed by the room to notice Leon’s mood. He stalks to the window and looks out, not speaking as I look around like a giddy schoolgirl.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Paige.”
I look over at him and I can see the mood etched into his face. I frown a little. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re being passed off.”
I blink for a second. “Passed off?”
He growls and shakes his head angrily. “That Claude man? That’s one of Maxime’s assistants, but not even his top assistant. That man is a nobody.”
“Maxime probably didn’t have time to meet us at the airport.”
“This deal is important and he doesn’t show up himself?” Leon is tense, jaw tight. “That’s bad. That’s very bad.”
“I don’t understand.”
Leon walks over to me slowly, his eyes intense and hard on mine.
“You must understand something, Paige. We aren’t back in New York anymore. Things work differently here.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I can feel a spark of anger. “I know that.”
“No, you don’t. Monaco is a tiny state bordering Italy and France, two of the most powerful countries in the world. It has retained its independence thr
ough the years because power flows through this tiny place.”
“So what?” I ask him. “What does that have to do with Claude?”
He stops inches from me. I can see the tension in him, the anger… and the hunger. It’s there again, blazing in his eyes.
The hunger I’ve been waiting for.
He sighs and reaches out, gently stroking my cheek. “Power here is wielded like a cudgel,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper. “Image and appearance is everything. Sending a low employee to deal with someone suggests they aren’t important. Showing up on your own, however, shows that you matter. To people here, all of this means something. It’s a great game and now we’re in the middle of it.”
I bite my lip, slowly understanding, as he grasps my hair again, making me groan. I feel a thrill run up my spine. I’ve been waiting for this, waiting for this touch. I love it, the way he grabs my hair and holds me tight, controlling me, dominating me.
“So sending Claude was an insult,” I whisper.
“An insult, maybe. I’m not sure what it means yet, but it’s not good. We need to figure out what’s going on and quickly.” He leans forward, lips brushing my cheek and ear. “I need you, Paige.”
“Yes?” I whisper back.
“I need your help. I need… all of you.”
I can hear the hunger in his voice.
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good girl.” He pulls back and kisses me gently before turning me and pushing me over toward the bar. It’s up against the far wall, oiled wood gleaming.
I groan and put my hands on its surface and he leans his body against mine. He kisses my neck and I feel him hike my skirt up over my hips. I gasp, his hands on my ass, on my legs, his lips against my neck.
“I need you, Paige,” he growls. “My little Paige. Don’t let them seduce you with this fancy bullshit.”
I feel him spank me hard. I gasp, writhing my hips against him.
“Don’t let them seduce you with this empty beautiful nothing.” He spanks me again and again. “You know what’s real, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moan. I’m ringing with desire, my ass stinging and red under his palm, my hair pulled back and my body tense. I’m dancing on the edge, waiting for him, needing it.