by Ashe Barker
“A slut and a brat? Sounds as though you were busy.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No, but I am hoping to inject a bit of perspective here. You don’t strike me, now, as either of those things.”
“I am not. I swear it.”
“Okay, so…?”
“After we parted, I went to a lot of clubs. Fetish clubs, you understand. BDSM clubs. I played with any Dom who asked me to—and quite a few did—at first.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a beautiful submissive, Genie.”
“Are you not angry? Jealous?”
“Are you angry and jealous about any of the subs I’ve been with since we split? There have been several. Would that make me a slut too?”
“Of course not. You are a Dom. You can do what you want.”
He chuckled. “Hardly. But it’s true I’ve not led an exactly celibate existence for the last three years, so I’m not about to take issue with you for doing the same. No double standards here, Genie.”
“But, I was not a good submissive, not then. Not now, even. I was a brat. I would deliberately goad and irritate my Dom, doing what I could to make him punish me.”
“Ah yes, I do remember that trait of yours. You were never easy.”
“No. But I am trying to change. I will change. And you said you could love me, even now.”
“I hope you won’t be changing too much, because as I recall, you were pretty spectacular—complicated, demanding, downright bloody exasperating sometimes—but you were worth it. Well, most of the time.”
“So, you liked being my Dom? Most of the time?”
“Fuck, yes!”
“Then, I do not understand. Why were you so determined not to forgive me?”
Aaron paused for a few moments, considering his next words. “It wasn’t so much a question of not forgiving you, but of protecting you from my cack-handedness. I believed I was the wrong Dom for you. I couldn’t get my head around what had happened, and that being so, I couldn’t work out how to manage scenes with you in the future. I should have tried, or trusted my instincts better. Or even trusted you. I definitely should have talked to you—I see that now. You were owed an explanation. But I didn’t do any of those things. All I have to say by way of mitigation is that I was less experienced then too.”
Eugenie furrowed her brow, as she seemed to be trying to make sense of this. He knew in her apparent rush to blame herself she had not considered that he might assume at least some responsibility. He had been just as ready to blame her and he considered that unforgiveable. The least he could do to make amends was ensure she understood the reality of their situation.
She glanced up at him, her expression uncertain, but hopeful. “And now?”
He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “Now I do understand what happened, and what went wrong. What I did wrong, and why you reacted as you did. I’m grateful to have another chance.”
Her face was transformed by the beginning of a smile. “Me too. I am so glad I saw that advertisement. I might not have, though. It was only by chance, as I waited to go into a meeting. I saw it as my opportunity to stop being La Brat. But I never expected to find you as well.”
He kissed her again. It seemed the natural thing to do somehow. “La Brat? I reckon that suits you. Perhaps you can be my brat now, earn yourself a few more canings. And as for chance, I think maybe you were always meant to be here. As I was. Whatever, you are here now, and so am I. Let’s see where it takes us to.”
Eugenie wriggled in his arms, wincing a little as her sore bottom made contact with the duvet.
“Still hurting?”
“Mmm, it feels wonderful, Sir. Did you say a few more canings?”
“I did, ma petite brat.” He gave her bum a playful pat. “Now, sleep. Tomorrow we hit the tourist trail.”
* * * *
Aaron couldn’t recall having enjoyed a day off so much in a long time. It started well enough, waking to find Eugenie still snuggled up close, warm and soft in his bed, and just got better.
She moaned her appreciation, writhing delectably under him as he made love to her while she was still half asleep, her body responding even before her brain kicked in. She opened her eyes, her smile one of welcome as she laced her fingers behind his neck.
“Bonjour, Monsieur. Comment vas-tu?”
“Je vais bien. Tu?”
“Très bien, Monsieur.”
“Good. And now that I have your attention, do you think you could wrap your legs around my waist?”
“Of course—oh, Sir.” Her words were lost in a long, deep moan as he deepened his thrusts, fucking her very slowly and very thoroughly.
They had toast and coffee perched on tall buffets at Aaron’s small breakfast bar. As he pushed a second mug in front of her, Aaron thought she had never looked more beautiful. He pondered whether to mention that, but settled on something more prosaic.
“I’ll buy you a cooked breakfast while we’re out.”
“Out, Sir?”
“Yes. We’re going sightseeing, remember? You need to go back to your apartment and get dressed. Sensible shoes. We’ll be walking.”
* * * *
An hour later, they were strolling along the Champs-Élysées, their fingers laced together. Although they were both familiar with this part of the city, the magic never seemed to fade. As the golden arches of McDonald’s came into view, Aaron steered her inside.
“I promised you breakfast.”
“Here, Sir?”
“Here. The full works—a breakfast wrap with coffee and a hash brown.”
“Ah, you are so English, Sir.”
“I am. McDonald’s is American, though.”
“True. Do they do croissants?”
“We’ll ask.”
They ate outside, watching the growing crowds scuttling past. Even on a Sunday morning, Paris absolutely buzzed with activity, the pavements of the city seeming to throb under their feet.
“You know, it is said that if you sit on the Champs-Élysées for long enough eventually everyone in the world will pass by.” Eugenie mentioned this snippet as she contemplated the bustling crowds.
“Yeah?” Aaron was too engrossed watching her to contribute more to the conversation. She truly was exquisite. Her slim build hinted at fragility, but he knew better after yesterday. Now that he was coming to understand her emotional responses too, he really believed they could make a success of this. He could make a success of it.
“Sir? Am I boring?” She gazed at him, her expression quizzical as she licked crumbs from her fingers.
“No, you’re being absolutely breathtaking.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her pretty little pink tongue as she captured a stray flake of her sausage and egg bagel from the corner of her lip. Christ, what plans he was making for that tongue.
“Sir?”
He leaned across the small metal table to brush his lips over hers. “I’m glad you’re here, Genie. Here in Paris and here with me. Have you finished?”
“Yes. Thank you for the breakfast, Sir. It was delicious. I do not usually come here.”
“You should. I like it. It helps to keep me grounded.” He loved the luxury and perfection of the hotel, the Michelin-starred perfection of their haute cuisine. Perhaps this was why he enjoyed the contrast with the bright plastic glare offered by this star of the fast-food industry.
He stood and held out his hand again. Eugenie took it, and they resumed their stroll along the wide pavement. They gravitated toward the Arc de Triomphe, resplendent at the western end of the Champs-Élysées. They dodged the traffic to reach the island at the center of the Place Charles de Gaulle where the monument was situated, then stood to admire the architectural precision laid before them. The length of the Champs-Élysées stretched away as far as the Place de la Concorde at its eastern end. The Jardin des Tuileries continued the vista, the whole cutting a perfectly straight line through the heart of the city, testimony to the precise art of to
wn planning. Beyond lay the palace of la Louvre, once home to the kings of France but now housing one of the finest art collections in the world.
“Should we go see the Mona Lisa?” Eugenie turned her face to Aaron, her smile eager and hopeful.
“If you like. I’ve never seen it.”
“Me neither. Not the original anyway. Shall we walk there?”
“Of course. Ready?”
They took over two hours to reach la Louvre, stopping to window-shop under the ornate galleries of the Rue de Rivoli then lingering to enjoy the lawned perfection of the Tuileries. Eugenie declared this one of her favorite haunts and told him she often came here when she had a couple of hours off. Previously, she had always been alone, though.
Aaron squeezed her hand, reminding her that she was not alone anymore.
Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece did not disappoint, despite being so much smaller than most of the other canvases on display. They spent a few minutes admiring its timeless beauty, the haunting image seeming to follow them with her eyes as they moved on through the galleries.
“So, how are the wedding plans coming along?” Aaron asked as they sat at a table on the wide pavement outside a café, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. The scene was so typically Parisien that Aaron couldn’t contain his self-conscious grin. Never much of a tourist as a rule, he’d somehow slipped into the role without even trying. He also noted that he and Eugenie were now tending to converse entirely in French and that felt natural too.
“It’s early days, but good so far. It’s to be a civil ceremony—that makes things simpler, perhaps. Farah has provided a long list of her preferences for music, color scheme, flowers, food. The guest list is not as long as I had expected, but there are some high-profile names on it, including some royals. Between them, Farah and Lucas seem to know everyone.”
“Yeah, a pair of real A-listers. I’ve been looking at the guest list myself to identify any security issues that need dealing with.”
“Will there be problems?”
“Not on my watch. The trick will be nailing everything down tightly, but without strangling the occasion.”
“You can do it, though?”
“Yes. I’m not complacent, but I think we’ll be fine. I’m bringing in a lot of extra personnel for the three days the wedding party will be with us and for the couple of weeks leading up to it. Everything’s under control—or it will be. What about your end of it?”
“The same, really. I still have to source the flowers and a photographer that they both agree on, and I’ve yet to find enough limousines to get everyone here from the airport within a six-hour window. There are no budget issues, though. It seems money is no object. Even so, I’m not prepared to throw their cash around too much. There’s no reason not to drive a hard bargain—we deal in value as well as excellence.”
Aaron nodded his approval. “I’ll need to vet any suppliers so let me have the details as soon as you can. Ready to start making our way back?”
Eugenie folded her napkin and stood, clasping his hand when he offered it.
“Will you be staying over again tonight?”
“I would like to, but I should not. I have to be at my office very early tomorrow.”
He was aware that a delivery of wedding stationery was expected at six thirty in the morning, so her response came as no surprise. What did surprise him, however, was the pang of disappointment he felt. He wouldn’t jeopardize her work, though. “I knew you’d say that. Have dinner with me, then?”
“Thank you, Sir. I would love that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Eugenie had been working at Totally Five Star for nearly five weeks and those had been the busiest weeks of her life. Every day was packed to the rafters with meetings, correspondence, phone calls and Skype conversations with Farah’s team in the Gulf. It was coming together, though, everything dropping into place as she plotted and planned and itemized every aspect of the coming wedding. Nothing was too minor, no detail too small for her attention.
Eugenie liked to think she ran a tight ship. She drove herself hard and expected others to meet her standards. So did Aaron. It was one of the traits she liked most about him. He was every bit as meticulous as she was, determined that there would be no loose ends, no opportunity for any disruptions. The hotel was a hive of activity as new surveillance equipment was installed, additional staff recruited, briefed, trained.
On one occasion, Eugenie had been horrified to discover a heap of discarded packaging in a corner of the ballroom. This was in direct contravention of Aaron’s rules. No unattended packages were tolerated in the hotel at any time, and right now that extended to works materials too. Eugenie had marched up to the team of electricians on their tea break in the staff cafeteria and demanded that the offending items be removed immediately. She stiffened her shoulders at their protestations that they had tidied up after themselves and insisted that their foreman accompany her back to the ballroom. Once there, he’d scratched his head and declared himself baffled. Not the word Eugenie would have used to describe such dereliction, but she’d let it go at that.
The foreman had promised to get the mess shifted. Ten minutes later, she’d checked the ballroom again to find the floor cleared and swept. Satisfied, she’d returned to her office.
This morning she was running late. She decided to take a shower before work then had trouble finding her notebook. Everything, absolutely every detail of her plans, notes from meetings, contacts, it was all in that notebook and she carried it everywhere. Not the most efficient recording method perhaps, certainly not the most high-tech solution, but it just worked for her. She always had her information at hand. There was no point setting off for her morning of back-to-back meetings without it, so she hunted around her small flat until she unearthed the slim, leather-bound volume from under a cushion. She grabbed her keys, her phone, her bag, shoved everything inside and dashed out of the door.
The deep carpeting in the hallway absorbed her rapid footsteps as Eugenie hurried toward the elevator. She offered a polite “Bonjour” to a petite maid dragging a vacuum cleaner along the corridor. The woman replied in a low murmur, bobbing her head at her as Eugenie dashed past.
Eugenie jabbed her finger at the call button, checking her watch as she waited for the lift door to open. She had just eight and a half minutes to get to Elise’s office for their regular morning briefing. Anton would be there. Aaron, too, probably, though he might be tied up with final details for the electronic surveillance equipment, which was still being installed in all communal areas, and some of the guestrooms. The prospect of CCTV in the suites themselves was controversial and sensitive, and she knew Aaron would require all his powers of diplomacy to get the wedding party to agree to it.
If anyone could, he could.
The elevator showed no sign of arriving. Eight minutes now. She’d be quicker to walk, surely. It was only seven flights and down at that. With an exasperated sigh, she turned and headed back along the hallway to the top of the stairs.
Her strappy sandal loosened as she dashed across the hall, her foot slipping from it. This was all she needed, to break her neck on the stairs. She stopped to perch on the top step, her bag beside her as she reached to refasten her shoe. Satisfied, she started to rise.
The next thing she knew, she was hurtling forward, tumbling head first down the stairs. She curled into a ball instinctively, bouncing painfully on the edges of the stairs as she rolled. Her hips, her shoulders, her knees, the pounding felt brutal as she tumbled toward the bottom of the stairs.
It was over in moments, her headlong fall finished as quickly and as unexpectedly as it had begun. She ended up in a sprawled heap on the landing below, winded and shocked, every inch of her hurting.
Christ, I must have broken something. Everything. The thought flittered through her mind as she waited for the real pain to hit her, the pain that would confirm just where the damage had been sustained. She didn’t want to open her eyes, preferring to wa
it for the little maid from the floor above to come rushing to her aid. But the woman must not have seen her. The soft thud of muffled footsteps hurrying along the corridor above receded to be concluded by the distinct click of a door closing.
Eugenie experimented with one or two tentative movements and was astonished to discover that her legs still worked. Her arms too. Amazing. Thank God and all the saints for the ankle-deep Axminister that covered all the floors in the hotel, even the staff accommodation. It had certainly helped to break her fall. She sat up and flexed her shoulders, turning her head to peer back up the steps she had just descended in such an ungainly manner. Her bag still sat at the top, but otherwise the stairs and landing were deserted.
She dragged herself to her feet and made her slow, painful way back up to the top. As she picked up her bag, she realized she was shaking. And she ached everywhere. Good sense dictated that she should go back to her flat, phone Elise to say she’d taken a tumble and needed to lie down for a while. Their briefing could wait. Probably. Better still, she should call Fleur and ask her to come and check her over for internal injuries, a concussion or whatever.
She did none of those sensible things. Instead, she headed for the elevator. The doors now stood open, the car having at last arrived in response to her earlier summons. It waited for her, the gleaming metallic cocoon representing safety. She stepped in and pressed for the first floor where the offices were situated.
A few minutes later, she slipped through the door into Elise’s office, no more than a couple of minutes late. She eased herself gingerly into a spare chair, nodding to the other directors already present—Elise, Anton, Annette. Mercifully, Aaron wasn’t there. He would have noticed in an instant that she was not her usual self. She extracted her notebook and a pen from her bag and did her best to pay attention to the morning’s business.
All in all, she thought she’d made a decent pass at it. Her ass hurt, her left shoulder throbbed, her knees were stiffening by the minute, but Eugenie managed to ask the right questions and answer those put to her. More or less. Elise had to repeat herself a couple of times, but Eugenie covered her tracks by appearing to refer to her notes. She was not sure why she didn’t just tell her colleagues what had just happened. Mainly she was embarrassed. Who falls over their own feet at the top of a flight of stairs, for heaven’s sake, and manages not to break every bone in their body?