by Aubrey Rose
BIG GIRL PROPOSAL IN PARIS
An Erotic Romance
by Aubrey Rose
She’s caught between her dreams and reality.
Shannon is madly in love with Julian, but t
his time he’s gone too far. When he disappears from their hotel room in Paris, she’s on a mission to find out whether or not he can actually be trusted. Little does she know, he’s on a mission of his own…
The steamy last installment of Shannon and Julian’s story! The End… or is it just the beginning?
See the end of this book for a look into my new novel,
Me, Cinderella?
Now available on Amazon!!
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Copyright 2013 by Aubrey Rose
First Kindle Edition: July 2013
ISBN: TBD
Cover design by Aubrey Rose
CHAPTER ONE
“I could finish my senior thesis with just these.” Shannon leaned back on the bed’s headboard, scrolling through her camera to see the photos she had taken of the band’s tour in Paris. A picture of the Champs de Mars, with tens of thousands of people swarming the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower. Julian on a street corner cafe stool, playing an acoustic guitar to indifferent cafe goers sipping wine. The whole band walking down the edge of the Seine, bodyguards holding back the crowd of girls screaming on the other side of the wall.
“You’re amazing. And talented. And amazingly talented.” Julian lay next to her, his fingers trailing down her arm, a pillow plumped under his head. She was wearing the lovely black silk slip he had bought her as a present for coming to Europe to tour with her. At first she had protested such an expensive gift, but he assured her that she would have to get used to his spoiling her.
“Thanks, Julian,” Shannon said, laughing gently.
“Thanks for what? You’re the incredibly amazingly fantastically talented photographer.” Oh, Julian. Even his smirk was charming.
“Thanks for making me feel good about myself.” Shannon frowned at one photo of Alex and Asher. She would need to crop it slightly to make it workable.
“Oh, I know how to make you feel good.” Julian said. He pulled himself down under the blanket, and Shannon realized what he was doing only after he slid down and positioned himself between her thighs.
“Julian!” She gasped as she felt his mouth breathing hot against her panties.
“Keep working, photographer,” he said, his fingers tearing her underwear aside. “You have to graduate, you know.”
“You’re making it—ah!—very—ooh!—difficult for me. Ohh!”
His tongue was on her most sensitive part, sliding across her, and she pushed her laptop to the side.
“You’re working, right?” His voice was muffled.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, her back arching as he sucked her right there. “Yeah, I’m working. Oh, god that feels good.”
He reached up under her slip and pinched her nipple. Shannon yelped. Julian poked his head out from under the blanket.
“Working?”
“I can’t even think about work with you doing that.”
“Well,” Julian said, his head tilted teasingly to the side. “I guess you deserve a bit of a break.” He flicked off the light and pulled the blanket back over his head.
“Oh!” Shannon cried out. “Ohhh!” Then everything was warmth and darkness and Julian’s mouth on her body.
Afterwards, Julian pulled himself up to lie beside her.
“Ow,” he said, sitting upright. “What is that?”
“Sorry,” Shannon tugged her right hand out from underneath him, being careful not to scratch him with her jewelry. “It’s dangerous to cuddle with me, don’t you know?”
Julian grabbed the hand with the offending ring. He sucked her finger whole into his mouth, using his teeth to slide the ring off before she knew what he was doing.
“Don’t! Brynn gave that to me.”
“Your roommate? Am I going to have to fight her for you?”
“It’s just a fake emerald. She won it at the fair.”
“And gave it to you?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”
Shannon laughed. “You wish. No, she doesn’t wear jewelry—”
“A girl who doesn’t wear jewelry?”
“I know, right? Brynn’s just like that. Cares more about math than anything else. Anyway, she knows I like emeralds, so she gave it to me.”
Julian put it on his pinky.
“Fits just right. How do I look?”
Shannon sighed. “Stunning. You need one on every finger.”
“You think?”
“Bling it up, rock star.” Shannon yawned. “I’m exhausted.”
“I’m not tired.” Julian hopped out of bed and picked up his pants.
“What are you doing?”
“Gonna go take a walk around the block. Just want to clear my head before the photo shoot tomorrow. Want to come?”
“Nope!” Shannon drew the blankets up around her. “Be careful of all your adoring fans.”
“I’ll go out the back way,” Julian said. “Nobody will see me.”
“Okay,” Shannon said. “I love you.”
Julian bent over and kissed her once, softly, on the lips. “Love you too.”
The photo shoot. Shannon wiggled sleepily around in the bed, anxious about tomorrow. Jean Maniere was the foremost celebrity photographer in Paris right now, and Pat had somehow gotten a deal to go shoot band photos in Versailles, just outside of Paris. Shannon normally couldn’t stand the band’s manager, but she had to admit that he had done his job well with this. Jean Maniere! He was an icon in fashion photography. She couldn’t wait to watch him work. Shannon’s photography was good, but she was anxious to see how a professional did it.
CHAPTER TWO
Sunlight trickled in through the window, and Shannon rolled over to throw her arm around Julian’s shoulder. Only Julian wasn’t there.
“Julian?” Shannon sat up in bed, looking around the room blearily. Her back was damp with sweat. How late was it? She checked her cell phone. Ten o’clock! She dialed Julian’s number. No response.
“Julian!” She opened the bathroom door, half-expecting to see Julian asleep on the toilet, but there was nobody there. She peeked her head into the hotel hallway.
“Julian?”
Giving up on calling Julian, she dialed up Alex instead. The band members were almost like brothers. Surely one of them would know what was going on. But Alex’s phone went straight to voicemail, and none of the other band members would pick up. The only person she reached, in fact, was Pat.
“Pat?”
“Yeah, uh huh, put it over there.” The manager was speaking to somebody else in the background. “Who is this?”
“It’s Shannon. Is Julian there?”
“Is Julian there? What? Am I a babysitter now? They’re supposed to be here in a half hour.”
“But he’s not there yet?”
“Let me check, hold on.”
Shannon waited nervously, pulling on her clothes with the phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder.
“Shannon, you there?”
“Yes?”
“Yeah, he’s not here yet. I’ll let you know when he is. You’re coming too, yes? I gotta give security here a headcount.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be there soon,” Shannon said. She hung up.
What the hell? Shannon paused. Had Julian even come back the night before? She had drifted off to sleep without thinking, but she didn’t remember him coming back home. Maybe he had gotten into trouble. Maybe he had stopped off at a bar—
Shannon’s hands shook as she locked the hotel door behind her. Too impatient to wait for the tiny elevator, she ran down the four flights of stairs, stopping at the concierge desk.
“Can I help you, miss?” The concierge folded his hands in front of him on the counter.
“Yes,” Shannon said, breathless. Her heart was beginning to pound so hard she could barely hear. “Where’s the nearest police station?”
At the police station, Shannon paced back and forth as she waited for a translator to come out. She had run the ten blocks as fast as she could, and in the Parisian heat sweat was coming out of every pore, soaking her shirt. All the time, she was thinking about what could have happened to Julian. He could be dead, she thought, stabbed by a mugger. Or maybe a freakishly devoted fan had kidnapped him. A far out possibility, to be sure,, but right now she couldn’t rule out anything. Or maybe he had just stopped into a bar, gotten drunk as hell, and ended up passing out on a bench in the park. Shannon tried to force all of these thoughts out of her mind, but she couldn’t stop herself from biting at her nails worriedly.
Finally an officer came along with the translator. They both looked irritated, as though Shannon had interrupted their breakfast. The translator looked down at her haughtily.
“What is the problem, miss?”
“My boyfriend. He’s missing. I have no idea what happened to him.”
“How long has he been missing?”
“This morning. He didn’t come home last night.”
The two policemen looked at each other knowingly, and Shannon bit her lip to keep from screaming.
“Miss,” the translator said, “we can’t do anything until he’s been missing for at least a day.”
“But he should have come home! And he’s not answering his phone—”
“We can’t open a missing person’s case until we know for certain.”
“I do know for certain!” Shannon’s voice echoed through the police station, and a few cops turned their heads to see what was going on. The translator sighed impatiently.
“We’ll take his information down, but we can’t do anything unless he’s been gone for twenty-four hours, you understand?”
“Please,” Shannon begged. “You don’t understand. He’s in a very famous band. Someone might have tried to hurt him,”
The translator talked to the officer in French, and Shannon tried to follow what they were saying. But finally the translator turned back to her with a sheet of paper.
“Fill out this form, miss. When he has been missing more than a day, you can come back with this and we will follow up.”
“But—”
One of the officers put his hand on her shoulder to lead her out of the station.
“I’m sorry, miss. We can’t do anything now.”
“But—”
Shannon was about to raise hell, but her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. Alex.
Shaking off the policeman’s hand, she strode out of the police station and raised the phone to her ear.
“Alex? Is Julian there?”
“Hey, Shannon. What’s up?”
“Is Julian there? Can I talk to him?”
“Oh, right. Sorry to freak you out. Julian’s off getting something for the photo shoot, he left his stuff here. We’ve been so busy, we didn’t even think to pick up the phone.”
“What? Where was he? Why didn’t he call me?”
“Hm, not sure.”
“Was he drinking last night?” Shannon asked the question, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. Maybe he had gotten drunk and didn’t want to face her. That was the only explanation that made sense.
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” Shannon was skeptical. It would be just like Alex to cover up for Julian when he did something stupid.
“I think he wanted to surprise you or something.”
“Uh huh. Right.” Shannon kicked at the sidewalk. Jesus, he was so irresponsible. A surprise? This was a surprise, alright. Waking up without him next to her in the bed was a surprise she could really do without.
“Where are you, anyway?” Alex asked.
“I’m at the police station. I was filling out a missing person’s report.”
“Oh shit,” Alex said. Shannon could hear laughter on the other end of the line.
“Don’t laugh, Alex, this is fucking serious!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, really, Shannon. But no, he wasn’t drinking. And you definitely don’t need to go to the police.”
“Is he okay?”
“It’s okay, he’s okay. Just get down here when you can. You have your train ticket, right?”
“Yeah. Can you tell Julian to call me when he gets back?”
“What? Sure, sure. Look, it’s really busy here. We have to set up for the shoot, and that photographer guy is already here.”
“Jean Maniere?”
“Yeah, you wanted to see him, right?”
“ARGH!” Shannon tilted her head back. “Yes! Alex, what the hell is going on?”
“Just get over here, Julian will be back by the time you arrive.”
“Fine. Okay. Fine. Tell him I’m going to kill him.”
“Will do!” Alex seemed chipper about the whole ordeal.
Shannon hung up in frustration. Why would Julian not let her know where the hell he was? This whole week, he had been so sweet. But now, to disappear like that…how unreliable could he get? She thought he had changed, that he would be a responsible boyfriend. But it seemed like every time she thought things were getting better, he would pull another idiotic “surprise.” Well, that was it. She was done worrying about Julian. When she got to Versailles, she would give him more than just a piece of her mind. If he wanted to stay with her, he would have to promise never to do anything like this again. If he wanted to play games, then fine, that’s his choice to make. But Shannon wasn’t going to stick around for it.
CHAPTER THREE
After running to catch the train to Versailles, her camera slung over her back, Shannon still had another mile or so to walk to the castle. The first person she asked for directions insisted that the castle was closed “tous les lundis” and couldn’t understand why Shannon still wanted to go there. Once she found the right road, she thanked heaven that she was wearing her sneakers—it was a long walk. By the time she came up to the huge gilded gate in front of the castle, the sun was beating down hard and her shirt was soaked through again with sweat for the second time that day.
Julian. It was his fault that she was going to meet Jean Maniere in a sweaty blouse.
The security guard at the front called through and, looking a little surprised that someone dressed like Shannon was going to be allowed into a fashion shoot, escorted her personally to the castle entrance. The first part of the shoot was in the antechamber where Louis XV had kept his hunting dogs. Shannon gasped in awe as she entered the room. Assistants were setting up camera and lighting equipment everywhere in the small antechamber, and the walls were ornately carved in every square inch and gilded in gold. There were a half-dozen sleek brown pointer dogs off leash in the middle of the room, and Shannon realized with a laugh that the band’s drummer was rolling around on the floor with them.
“Asher, are you supposed to be down there?”
“Shannon!” Asher sat up just as a dog licked the side of his face, covering him with slobber. “Sure, I’m just getting into character.”
“What on earth are you wearing?” Shannon said. Asher had on suspenders and tailored brown trousers with high socks almost up to his knee.
“You like it? It’s part of the shoot. All seventeenth century stuff.”
“Eighteenth century,” one of the assistants interjected, moving between Shannon and Asher to plug in a large lamp. “It’s all period appropriate. We have Asher as a servant for this shoot.”
“Where’s Julian?” Shannon asked.
“Eh, somewhere.” Asher waved his hand non-specifically. “We just finished this part of the shoot. I think he went to go change.”
“Can I go see him? Where’s the dressing room?”
“Oh, you know, I’m not sure—”
“I hate dogs!”
Shannon and Asher turned simultaneously toward the doorway. Daniel stood there in a torn dress shirt with giant poofy ruffles at the collar and sleeves, two dogs on either side of him. He was holding his bass up over his head protectively, but the dogs seemed to want to play, jumping up to his waist and pawing him as he twisted uncomfortably. If Asher was dressed as a
“Come here, puppies,” Asher called to the dogs. They barreled over to the drummer and buried him in a pile of wagging tails and scruffy fur.
“Ugh,” Daniel said, coming over to Shannon. “I think one of them scratched my bass. Do you see a scratch?”
“Looks fine to me,” Shannon said.
“I think I see a scratch,” Daniel said, his face puckered in a frown. “This is ridiculous. I look ridiculous.” Shannon agreed, though she would never say so.
“You look like David Bowie,” Asher said, his head poking out from the mass of dogs.
“I don’t want to be like David Bowie,” Daniel said, tugging at the ruffles around his collar. “I want to be like Stuart Hamm.”
“Stuart Hamm wasn’t half as pretty as you, Daniel,” Asher teased. Daniel rolled his eyes and turned to leave.
“Did Julian say anything to you about why he left without telling me this morning?” Shannon asked Asher, bending down to pet one of the dogs. Her eyes darted to the entrance every time an assistant walked in or out. She couldn’t wait to see Julian, to confront him about what the hell he thought he was doing, leaving her in a Paris hotel.
“Um, not…no?” Asher said, his voice unsure.
“Asher, don’t lie to me. Why didn’t he come home last night?”