Unwrap Me Daddy_A Holiday Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  She was about to call Guillaume for an explanation, but the elevator chime told her the bird had arrived. Olivie sat up straight and did her best to look busier than usual while Marie grabbed her appointment book and stood up to greet her boss. “Bon...”

  “Bonjour, Marie,” Arnaud hummed. “Olivie? How are you today?”

  Olivie gulped, surprised he even knew her name. He usually only spoke to Marie. Was this some kind of a trick? A trap? Terrified, she looked at Marie in a panic. Marie’s response was to wave an encouraging hand at the shocked assistant while silently mouthing, bonjour!

  “Eh... b-b-bonjour, Mr. du Lac... uhmmm...”

  Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Marie began reading out an itinerary to distract him from Olivie’s barely coherent mumbling as they entered his office. Just before she shut the door behind her, she managed a final warning glare at Olivie that said, stop panicking!

  *****

  “Amanda?” the young trainee said as she popped her head into the lab.

  Amanda loved the way the French pronounced her name: Ah-maan-DAH, with a nasalized “n” and the stress always on the last syllable. “Yes, Nanette?” she replied.

  “You have a visitor in the lobby,” Nanette said by way of explanation before popping her head back out the door.

  Probably Sav, Amanda thought as she looked at the clock. It was lunchtime. Taking off her lab coat and gloves, she made her way to the lobby, wondering why her friend was there. They usually met at their bench before making their way to lunch.

  “A gentleman to see you,” said the receptionist, gesturing with his chin before looking back down at his screen.

  She turned in the direction that he had pointed to and gaped.

  “I was hoping you’d have lunch with me,” said Arnaud as he walked up to her.

  She was amazed at just how happy she was to see him. She was also amazed just to see him there. What came out, instead, was, “Arnaud!? The hell are you doing here?”

  His slight, cocky grin fell as he stopped. “I’m sorry, I should have called. But I didn’t know how to reach you by phone.”

  Amanda imagined shooting herself in the head as she smiled. “Yes. We were too tired to exchange numbers, weren’t we?” she replied teasingly. “I’d love to have lunch with you, but I already have a date. But you’re welcome to join us. Come on,” she gestured to the main door as she made her way to it, not bothering to wait for him.

  Trying to put a brave face on, he followed. “A date? Already?”

  “What do you mean, ‘already?’”

  He shrugged.

  “After lunch, I’m going back to work, not having desert with you in the car, kapish?” Amanda stopped. “Which reminds me... is it true? Are you really a nobleman?”

  “I’m a du Lac. My family goes way back. Not that it matters today. I mean in this day and age.”

  “It doesn’t, no. Which is why I’m treating for lunch. Come on, then. Sav hates to be kept waiting.”

  “Sav?”

  Savitri got to their bench just as Amanda did and was equally surprised to see Arnaud. “Well, well, well... if it isn’t his majesty! Eh... should I bow?”

  “Sav!”

  “And how should we address you? Duke? Earl? Baron?”

  “Madame,” Arnaud said as he made an exaggerated bow. “That isn’t necessary.” Privately, he was relieved that Amanda’s date wasn’t with another man. “And simply Arnaud, will do. So ladies, where to? My car awaits.”

  Savitri grinned, “We’ll walk if you don’t mind, Simply Arnaud. It’s just around the corner.”

  Arnaud put on his best smile even though he was a little annoyed. He wasn’t used to being treated so casually, but if putting up with the Indian woman’s flippant attitude was what it took to spend time with Amanda, then so be it.

  Savitri was right when she said it was just around the corner. The place was a small Indian restaurant that sat barely twenty people, but it was clean, Spartan, and quiet. It had none of the garish colors and annoying Bollywood music many played on tinny speakers.

  Arnaud was surprised. He thought he knew the area well, but he’d never even noticed this place. “How long has this been here?” he asked Savitri.

  “This is the start of our fourth year,” said the European woman who handed them their menus.

  He turned to her. “You own this place?”

  “My husband and I. He does the cooking. He’s Indian,” she explained defensively, anxious to prove that the food was genuine.

  “It is genuine,” Savitri said in the woman’s defense. “Trust me, I’d know. This is Lisa, by the way. Lisa, this is Arnaud du...”

  “Arnaud,” he cut her off. “I like your place, Lisa. It’s beautiful.”

  Lisa beamed, pleased at having had her establishment’s credentials confirmed by what was obviously a bona fide Indian. “I hope you’ll like the food, as well.”

  “Oh he will, Lisa,” Savitri insisted. Having ordered the food, she smirked at Arnaud. “I’m dying to know all about you.”

  “So am I,” Amanda added. “You know what we do, so let’s start there. What do you do?”

  “Ladies, this isn’t fair. It’s two against one.”

  “You can take it,” Amanda insisted. Suddenly realizing how else that could be understood as, she blushed. “I mean...”

  Arnaud grinned.

  “Perhaps I should have mine for takeout?” the Indian woman suggested.

  “No!” Arnaud protested, though he thought it was a great idea.

  Amanda shook her head emphatically despite thinking the same thing he was. “We girls have to stick together. So, Arnaud. What do you do? You do work, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I own several businesses. Mostly construction, but I also trade in precious metals.”

  Savitri nodded. “Busy man, you are. Impressive. So, how’s business given the lousy state of the economy?”

  Arnaud sighed and the women exhaled in sympathy, despite not knowing the details. To his surprise, he was actually enjoying himself. He wasn’t used to being treated and spoken to so informally. His employees were all terrified of him, while most of his social equals tended to be more serious. Still others kept their conversations limited mostly to business. That people could be genuinely interested in him was something new.

  Despite France’s avowed republican ideals, the aristocracy was still something that fascinated the average French man and woman. When they heard his surname, most still tended to automatically fawn over him.

  It was Amanda’s turn. “And where do you work?” At his reply, both women sat up straight. “But that’s just down the street from us! And you still took a car to visit us??”

  “I was hoping to take you to a restaurant a little further.”

  Savitri sighed. “Now I really think I should have my lunch for takeout.”

  “Absolutely not,” Amanda insisted.

  “No,” Arnaud piped in. “Please eat with us. Amanda’s treating me.” That, too, was something he was grappling with. It had never happened before.

  “Never let it be said that I’ve never wined and dined royalty,” Amanda beamed.

  He groaned. “Could we please stop with the royalty thing?”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Savitri said with a straight face, her palms joined together before her. “As you wish.”

  Amanda couldn’t resist, either. “Agreed, your worshipful lordship.” She twirled a napkin before her as she made a bow.

  Arnaud sighed, leaned forward, and lightly banged his head on the table as the women laughed. “Someone kill me, please,” he moaned.

  They all laughed.

  *****

  Arnaud stepped into his building humming an off key tune with a slight smile on his lips.

  “Bonjour, Mr. du Lac,” the severe-looking head receptionist said almost tentatively.

  “Bonjour, madame.” Instead of heading straight to the elevators, he stopped, turned, and approached the front desk.

&nbs
p; The women behind the counter gulped. “Yes, monsieur?” the head receptionist asked, doing her best to hide her nervousness while the two others with her gaped.

  “Madame, how long have you worked here, may I ask?” He bent down to look at her breasts; or so it looked that way. “Tiberghien? Madame Tiberghien?”

  The woman, who’d stood to greet her boss, swayed on her feet as she nodded. Despite stringent laws that protected employees in France, Arnaud fired people at whim and got away with it. There had been two terminations in the last year, alone, both of which happened when the bird flew south.

  “S-s-seventeen, seventeen years, Mr. du Lac. I started here when your father was still... still...”

  Arnaud nodded. “Thank you for all your service.” He sounded like he meant it, too. He turned to the other women who nervously gave their names. “I trust you all had a good lunch?”

  “Uh, y-yes, Mr. du Lac,” Mme. Tiberghien stammered. “Very good.”

  “I’m so glad. There’s a lovely Indian vegetarian restaurant called the Raj on Rue Linné, just at the corner of the MNHN? You should try it sometime.”

  “Eh, oui, monsieur. We certainly will since you recommend it so highly.”

  “I do! Well, good day, then,” he said before heading off toward the elevators.

  Tiberghien picked up her cellphone and called Marie. “The bird has gone lulu.”

  “Lulu? Explain!”

  “You wouldn’t believe what just happened, woman. He asked for our names and recommended an Indian restaurant.”

  Marie was about to demand an explanation when the elevator chimed. Arnaud had arrived. He breezed in, still humming out of tune. He smiled at Marie and greeted Olivie by name, sending the mousy blond into a wide-eyed panic. Not that he noticed as he raved about some Indian restaurant just down the corner before stepping into his office.

  Marie sighed and smiled knowingly. “You know, Olivie? I think the bird will be flying north for some time to come.”

  “Madame?”

  Marie shook her head. She’d worked for the man’s father and knew that he still struggled to get out of the senior du Lac’s massive shadow. It’s why he was such a perfectionist. Arnaud had been at the helm of the du Lac Empire for almost ten years, now, and despite being forty-five, he was still being compared to his father.

  “Never mind,” Marie said as she got back to work. If Olivie couldn’t see what she saw, then all the better. But others wouldn’t be as dense, Marie knew. And before long, tongues would wag.

  Chapter 4

  Amanda couldn’t believe her luck. She’d never been in a Porsche before, Boxster or otherwise, and there she was, being driven in one over the Pont de Sully Bridge. She smiled at Arnaud. It had only been a little more than three weeks since he’d nearly run her over on this same stretch of road. Or more specifically, his driver, she was careful to add. And in a limo, at that.

  “I’m driving slowly, as you can see,” he said with a grin. Not that he had a choice as rush hour had begun.

  “Yes, I see. So where are you taking me, this time?”

  He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  She realized that it didn’t. It was enough to be sitting next to him.

  “How much of this city have you seen, so far?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I got here in late July, stayed with Sav for almost two weeks while waiting for a friend of hers to vacate his place, then moved in... ooh, a little more than a week before you nearly killed me.”

  “That’s not fair!” He looked genuinely hurt.

  “I was just joking,” she laughed. “I started work on my third day here, so central Paris is pretty much most of what I’ve seen on my jogs.”

  “You jog?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Explains why you have such a good figure, eh?”

  “Not as good as yours. Not that you’ve seen my figure, yet, come to think of it,” she smirked.

  He smiled. “Not bad for my age, eh?”

  “Hah! Forty-five is nothing. And I’m twenty-eight, thank you for not asking.”

  “But I thought it was rude to ask her woman her age.”

  “It is. But I know you’re wondering and why I said, ‘thank you.’”

  “A twenty-eight-year-old beautiful young woman with no boyfriend back in London?”

  Amanda sighed. “Listen. It’s still too early, right? So let’s just enjoy this evening while it lasts.”

  “Meaning no questions asked?”

  “Some questions are fine. It’s just...”

  “Nothing too personal?”

  “Bingo.”

  Arnaud nodded as he digested that information. So she has someone back home. Or did. It was hard to tell. Her carefree smile had vanished, replaced by a reserved calm as she gazed at the city they drove through. He wished he hadn’t brought the subject up. He liked her smile.

  So he changed the subject. “Well, besides Indian vegetarian food, plants, the environment, and jogging, what else do you like?” It was the right thing to say, apparently. She relaxed back into her seat as she began phrasing her thoughts.

  He liked her voice. It wasn’t high-pitched and grating, something that hurt his ears. It was rather a modulated in-the-middle tone that was pleasant to hear. And he liked the sound of her accent. He’d studied at a British university long enough to know that while hers wasn’t an accent the English considered high class, neither was it a lower class one such as Savitri spoke with.

  “There’s really nothing interesting about me, I’m afraid,” Amanda finally managed. “You, on the other hand, must be far more fascinating. You’re the first noble I’ve ever met. I must say, you’re far more pleasant than what I expected an aristocrat to be. Any kings in your background?”

  “No. The du Lacs have been dukes and barons, but never kings or queens.”

  “Well, I for one am grateful your direct ancestors escaped the Terror. Otherwise, I’d never have gotten to ride in a Porsche. Or a limo, at that.” She grinned. “You must live in a castle, or...”

  “A house. Just a house.”

  “Just a house, huh? I’ll bet.”

  “But I do have a chateau not far from Paris.”

  “Ah-hah! See? You’re the interesting one.”

  “But a man is not his property. Besides, I only inherited them. We’re an old family, remember?”

  “How can I forget,” Amanda said as she put a hand on his thigh. “I’m still sore, truth be told. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Arnaud suddenly had difficulty focusing on the road.

  *****

  Amanda wasn’t exaggerating when she said her place was tiny. It barely measured twenty square meters, her studio, but it had everything she needed including a well-stocked American style kitchen. Better yet, she had her own bathroom, unlike many other studios in the city. Best of all, however, was the fact that it was a corner one that had windows on two sides.

  Not that they were there for a tour of the place. Arnaud felt positively huge in the compact space, terrified he’d knock over something and break it. Not that Amanda cared. She’d barely slammed the door behind them when she kissed him roughly, eager for a repeat of last night, albeit a slower version of it.

  She was still devouring his mouth as she fumblingly led him to the bed a mere few feet away. They made it as far as the kitchen counter, instead, because it was right next to the door.

  Arnaud pulled out of the kiss, chuckling. “There’s no need to hurry.”

  “There is! I need you inside me. Now!”

  She pushed him toward her bed, adding, “And I want to see what you look like beneath that three-piece suit I always see you in.”

  With that as provocation, Arnaud slowly took off his jacket, doing a strip tease as he grinned at her. She laughed, getting into the game. When he began unbuttoning his dress shirt, she did the same with hers. Her bra came off when his undershirt did, and she couldn’t stop ogling. He was very muscular, indeed, though not as b
uff as a body builder.

  “You really do work out,” she huffed. “Nice!”

  “Sure you don’t go to the gym, yourself?” He pointed at her abs.

  “My years at ballet school. Outgrew it, eventually, but not the exercises,” she explained as she shucked off her dress.

  When he finally took off his underwear, she had no room for words. She’d felt his size, but seeing the full extent of it was another matter. No wonder she still felt sore. Can’t believe I managed to take that whole thing in, she mused as she licked her lips.

  Arnaud stood before her in his entire naked glory, completely unself-conscious as her eyes devoured him. He was hot and he knew it. Plus he enjoyed being admired. Especially by a woman as unrestrained as Amanda obviously was.

  Restraint wasn’t on her mind as she continued to ogle. Arnaud’s muscles remained well-defined despite the thick pelt of black hair covering his chest, arms, stomach, groin, and legs. Muscles jerked and tensed as he maintained his balance, highlighting the almost animal-like magnetism he oozed even when fully clothed.

  She walked up to him then quickly stepped back as he reached for her, but not before his big hands grazed her heavy breasts. “This is my tour, now, understood?”

  He nodded with a slight smile as his eyes continued to graze upon her body. They didn’t rove long. They widened as Amanda kneeled before him slowly. The bright blue of his firmly latched onto her jade green ones as she leaned forward.

  His massive weapon jerked up and down in anticipation as her face came closer to it, already dripping precum at her approach. Amanda breathed in his man smell: sweat mingled with cologne, cotton fabric, and the pungent tang coming off the thick, wet, clear thread oozing out of his manhood. Reaching out, it broke off as she took it in her fingers and met his eager gaze. Arnaud was breathing harder, his muscles standing out even more as a result.

  She tentatively licked her fingers, tasting his salty thread. It wasn’t too bad. Smiling wickedly, she took his rod in one hand, amazed that her fingers wouldn’t meet each other at the other end. Arnaud groaned and leaned back as his length continued to pulse in her small, warm hands.

  Amanda enjoyed having such power over a man. Especially a man like this one. She kneeled below while he towered over her with his powerful legs spread apart. With his hands resting on his waist, his posture was the epitome of manly pride and arrogance. Yet she was in control and she loved it.