by Ruff, K. S.
Rafael turned as I brushed past him. “Do you need any help?”
I glanced back at him as he trailed after me. “I couldn’t find any chocolate chips last time I was in the kitchen, but I found a big block of chocolate. If you truly don’t mind, I could use some help breaking that up into chunks for the chocolate chip cookies.”
Rafael seemed to be enjoying the role of co-conspirator. He closed the distance between us. “You don’t need a recipe?”
I laughed. “I could make chocolate chip cookies in my sleep… with my hands tied behind my back.”
We took turns washing our hands in the kitchen sink. I pulled the block of chocolate out of the cupboard and handed it to Rafael.
His eyebrows rose as he studied the thick block of chocolate. “I might need a chisel and a mallet for this.” He immediately began digging through the drawers.
I pulled the butter, brown sugar, and eggs from the refrigerator, then dug through the pantry for the flour, sugar, baking soda, vanilla, and salt.
Rafael winked as he handed me a large mixing bowl, measuring cups, and a wooden spoon. “I thought you might need these.”
I grinned. “The bowl could prove useful.” I was practically giddy by the time I began mixing the butter, sugar, and eggs together. I shot Rafael a grateful look. “I think this may be the most fun I’ve had since arriving in Paris.”
Rafael chuckled as he continued chipping away at the block of chocolate. “Don’t let Monsieur Garcia hear you say that.”
“Let me hear what?”
I jumped skittishly. “Michael, you scared me!”
Rafael’s face fell as Michael narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you doing in here?”
I offered a tentative smile. “I’m baking cookies.”
Michael scowled. “We can purchase cookies from the finest pâtisseries in France.”
My shoulders fell. “I know, but I really want to bake. I make really good cookies, Michael. Please… just this once? Let me bake while the cook is out.”
Michael shook his head as he tugged me from the kitchen. “I don’t want you in the kitchen. You are not a servant, and I won’t have you behaving like one.”
I gasped. I yanked my arm out of his hand and quickly stepped in front of him. I folded my arms across my chest. “Servants aren’t the only people who cook, Michael. All kinds of people cook.”
Michael’s jaw clenched. “Not where I come from. Where I come from, it is important to maintain a certain degree of separation between the employer and the hired servants.”
I literally saw red. I had to take a number of deep breaths before my vision finally cleared. I was fuming over Michael’s superior attitude until I caught Rafael shaking his head and rolling his eyes behind Michael’s back. I burst out laughing.
Michael narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”
I resisted glancing back at Rafael. I didn’t want to get him in trouble. My voice held a bitter note. “This is funny… ridiculous even. I’m not the employer, Michael. You are. I don’t even have a job anymore because you robbed me of my job. You expect me to feel comfortable here? You want me to consider this my home, but I’m not even welcome in the kitchen. I am nothing more than a glorified guest!” My fists clenched as I stared Michael down. “Scratch that. I’m not a guest. I’m a prisoner. Once again I’m a prisoner in my own home.” I turned and stalked out of the room before he could respond.
Michael made some effort to apologize later that night, but he wouldn’t budge from his position. The kitchen was to remain off limits.
* * * * * *
Rafael tried redirecting my energy. He presented me with two new books... one on French history and another on French cuisine, which he thought would help me better navigate the menus when Michael and I went out to eat. That kept me engaged for all of a day.
The gardener, an elderly gentleman named Theron, took pity on me. He started joining me in the garden terrace shortly after I was banned from the kitchen. He encouraged me to work alongside him, dividing and nursing the flowering plants. Sifting the dark soil through my hands proved more effective than therapy. No matter how homesick I felt, the garden terrace always left me feeling at peace. The gardener’s English was about as good as my French, but I found the small, gray haired man utterly charming. Rafael warned me whenever Michael was nearing the garden, so I had sufficient time to wash my hands and plaster a bored look on my face. If Michael knew about my rendezvous with the gardener, he never let on. He either chose to turn a blind eye or he truly didn’t know I was gardening with Theron.
Michael began secreting gifts in random places for me. My favorite by far was the iPod that I discovered on a table in the library. He had already preloaded it with hundreds of songs by a variety of American, French, and British artists.
A few days later, he left a new pair of athletic shoes and some exercise clothes in the center of the closet. When I inquired where I might run, Rafael informed me that Michael had converted a storage room next to the pool into a state-of-the-art gym for me. I hadn’t even seen the construction crew in the house. The gym proved to be a Godsend. From that point on, I took my frustration out on the treadmill.
Days melted into weeks. Michael remained patient with me, even when I grew sullen and pined for my family and friends. Despite my occasional bouts of sadness, he relaxed more with each passing day. I made a concerted effort to be more receptive to his affections, and this seemed to chip away at the tension, the manipulation, and the threats that had previously plagued us. The man standing in front of me now was relaxed, caring, and kind. This made him even more difficult to resist, but Michael wasn’t the only one I was finding difficult to resist. The city of Paris had completely seduced me too.
One day it was the Musée Rodin, where Michael took me to see August Rodin’s famous sculpture, the Thinker. Although I enjoyed seeing this famous work of art, it paled in comparison to a marble sculpture of Christ and the Magdalene. One of my favorite pieces was a bronze sculpture entitled Eternal Springtime, which featured a man and woman in a sensual pose. The woman kneeled at the man’s feet. Her back arched deeply over his arm just as he was leaning in for a passionate kiss. But it was the sculpture entitled I am Beautiful that captivated me most. As with most of Rodin’s sculptures, the lovers depicted in this one were entirely nude. Rodin had captured a man holding a woman over his chest. The woman was nestled into a small ball as her knees rested on the man’s chest. The man’s broad back arched beautifully under the strain of lifting the woman. For reasons I could not identify, the sculpture seemed to capture my relationship with Michael. It wasn’t until we left that I learned that the sculpture was also referred to as The Abduction.
Michael and I explored the Musée d'Orsay during another outing, and I found I enjoyed this museum far more than the Louvre. The ceiling of the Musée d'Orsay was constructed almost entirely of glass. A massive gold clock hung on an arched glass wall at the end of the lobby. While the Louvre had seemed a bit stuffy, this museum felt airy and light. The artwork was comparable, so I suspected it was the architecture of the building that made me prefer the Musée d'Orsay.
Michael eventually steered me away from the museums, so he could take me to explore the catacombs and underground tunnels of Paris. He thought I might enjoy them because they were the very same tunnels that had inspired Phantom of the Opera, which had long been my favorite musical.
Lexie had first taken me to see Phantom of the Opera in Seattle. I was instantly spellbound by the haunting music, and my heart ached for the main character, Christine Daaé, who was faced with the impossible decision of choosing between the love of two men… one who was dark and irrevocably broken, the other who epitomized all things good. In the end, the phantom forced Christine to choose him by threatening the other man’s life. That’s when he discovered he loved her enough to let her go. I was so enthralled by the haunting love story that I insisted on seeing the musical two more times.
Michael was forced to indulg
e me in a pair of pants and some boots, so we could explore the underground tunnels. The tour of the tunnels was not at all what I expected. I was shocked and more than a little disturbed to find collections of skulls interspersed among some equally creepy murals. While certainly unique, the tunnels were dark and unsettling. I vowed I would never return.
We resumed our exploration of museums over the next few weeks. Then Michael surprised me with a day trip to the Palace of Versailles. I enjoyed seeing the Hall of Mirrors and the grand apartments, but it was the palace grounds that caught and held my interest. The sprawling garden with its flowers and tall hedges was beautiful in its own right, but the fountains and the sculptures scattered throughout the grounds made everything inside the palace walls pale in comparison. Near the end of the day the fountains lit up, and the water moved in a stunning display that was synchronized to classical music. It was truly breathtaking.
I was exhausted by the time we arrived back in Paris, but Michael insisted we had one more stop. I remained in the car while Michael ran into a book store nestled among the expensive shops on the Champs-Élysées. I was a bit surprised to see Michael doing his own shopping. I had assumed he had other people shop for him, given his archaic view on servants. Michael quickly returned to the car with his shopping bag. He didn’t say a word about what he had purchased. He just linked his fingers with mine as we drove the few remaining blocks home.
When we reached the foyer, Michael pulled a wrapped package from the shopping bag and handed it to me.
I looked up in surprise. “Pour moi?”
Michael groaned. I had been teasing him by speaking in French throughout most of the day. I knew it turned him on, but I couldn’t seem to resist torturing him. “Who else would I be shopping for? Open it,” he encouraged excitedly.
I sat down on the piano bench and opened the package. “A Kindle?” I asked incredulously.
“Oui. I have so few interesting books written in English in my library. We can purchase any books you might like to add to the collection, but I thought you might like to download some books. Maybe this will help you pass the time while I work.” Michael shifted uncomfortably as he waited for my reaction.
My eyes softened when I noticed how nervous he was about the gift. “Michael, this is wonderful. I love it.” I sat the box on the piano bench and stood. I rolled up to my tiptoes and kissed him softly on each cheek. “Merci, mon chérie.”
Michael groaned again. “Mon Dieu. You have no idea what it does to me when you speak French. Keep it up, Kristine, and I will take you right here on this piano.”
I raised one eyebrow, doubtful that he would carry out such a threat when any one of his staff could inadvertently walk by.
Before I could blink, Michael picked me up, kicked the bench aside, and sat me on top of the elegant piano.
I was mortified I might scratch the piano with my heels so I promptly kicked my shoes off.
Michael watched them fall. Then he lunged for me.
As he tugged me toward him, I slid down the piano, landing on the keys. Michael’s lips crashed against mine in a kiss that was brutal and raw. The sporadic sounds the piano keys made as Michael hiked my legs up and pressed into me were the most erotic thing I’d ever heard.
My body literally crawled with need. I tightened my legs around Michael’s waist and tangled my hands in his hair as I locked my arms around his neck. I returned his kiss with reckless abandon. Michael growled somewhere deep inside his chest. The sound vibrated against my breasts, further stoking my desire.
Michael abruptly ended the kiss. He loosened his hold, allowing my body to slide down his until my feet finally touched the floor. “Viens,” he insisted, as he pulled me to the stairs that led to the basement.
I looked back in shock at the Kindle and the piano bench that was turned over on the floor. My heart beat anxiously as I questioned where Michael might be taking me. A seductive energy had been sparking between us for weeks now. I had dodged his efforts to have sex, but I was holding onto my self-control by a thread. What I really needed to do was cool off.
Michael dragged me to the pool. The room was dark, illuminated only by the twinkling LED lights embedded in the ceiling. “Get undressed,” he demanded gruffly as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
“But, I don’t have a swimsuit,” I objected. Being naked seemed like a really, really bad idea.
Michael immediately stopped messing with his shirt. He walked toward me, turned me around, and quickly unzipped my dress. He slid the sleeves over my shoulders, and the dress fell to the floor.
I turned around and stared at him in shock.
Michael scooped me up and threw me into the pool. Then he stripped down and dove in. He wasted no time pinning me against the side of the pool. I stood stock still. The guy was entirely nude; and his caramel colored skin, well-defined muscles, five o’clock shadow, and the dark curls dripping against his handsome face were turning me on in the worst possible way.
Michael cupped my face with both of his hands as he branded me with another scorching kiss. The water licked at us while Michael lowered his mouth to my neck. I bit my lip to prevent myself from moaning, but a desperate keening sound escaped from somewhere deep inside my chest.
Michael kept me pinned to the side of the pool as he lowered my bra strap. He began circling my hardened nipples with his tongue. My breath caught as he latched onto my breast. He slipped his hand inside my panties, then groaned when he discovered my body was already slick with need. His fingers slowly stroked between the soft folds as his mouth moved to my other breast and sucked in long greedy pulls. My eyes flew open as his fingers dipped inside of me. My entire body clenched, then trembled with need. I pushed Michael away, suddenly alarmed by how far we’d gone.
Michael loosened his hold on me. He peered down at me with eyes as black as night. “I want to make love to you. I can feel how much you want this too. Please, Kristine, tell me you are ready to give yourself to me.”
I bit my lip as my brain warred against the white hot desire still pulsing within me. I wanted desperately to feel him inside of me but not without birth control. There was too much risk involved.
Michael groaned at my look of indecision. “Mon amour, you have put this off for two months now. I am done waiting. When I return from my business trip, we will consummate this relationship.”
My lust filled brain focused on the wrong threat. “You’re leaving?”
Michael caressed my cheek, then kissed me softly on the lips. “Yes, ma chérie. I am afraid it’s unavoidable. Rafael will look after you while I am gone. I scheduled some time at the spa for you tomorrow. You won’t even miss me.”
I was suddenly terrified at the thought of Michael leaving. “How will I sleep? What if someone breaks into the house and hurts me?”
“Rafael will stand guard at the bedroom door.”
“All night?” I asked incredulously.
Michael nodded. “All night. You will be safe. I promise.”
My eyes pooled with tears. “Please don’t leave me.”
Michael lifted me out of the water and sat me on the edge of the pool. “Please, Kristine, don’t be scared. It’s only for two days. Surely, you can bear to be without me for two days…” he responded teasingly.
My eyebrows knit in confusion. “It’s not that. It’s just…”
Michael squeezed my thighs and arched a single eyebrow, daring me to deny I’d miss him.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. I might miss you a little bit.”
Michael chuckled as he climbed out of the pool. “I might miss you a little bit too.” He reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. He pulled two thick white towels from a cabinet near the pool. He tied one around his waist before wrapping me in the other towel. “Come, let’s get ready for dinner.”
I turned to retrieve my dress.
Michael quickly caught my arm. “Non. The maid will take care of our clothes.”
I scowled at him. “You know, Michael… wh
ere I come from, everyone over the age of three is responsible for picking up his own clothes.”
He laughed as he tugged me into the hall.
Two hours later, Michael and I were seated on the patio of a small Italian restaurant in the Latin Quarter. We were both enjoying a fresh crabmeat and lobster lasagna. The seafood pasta was one of the most decadent things I’d ever eaten. Mozzarella and parmesan cheese blanketed sheets of pasta, fresh spinach, sweet crab meat, and even sweeter lobster. Each layer was laced with butter, cream, garlic, and nutmeg. I savored every bite, analyzing the ingredients so I might someday recreate the recipe.
We whispered intimately over coffee, long after the meal had ended. Our table offered a perfect view of Notre Dame, which was glowing majestically against the night sky. As the sky grew darker, hundreds of people on roller blades skated by. I gasped in delight as their wheels drenched us in colored lights. The unexpected spectacle was magical, the perfect ending to a beautiful day. But, by the time our evening drew to a close, it was sadness that washed over me. I didn’t want Michael to leave.
Chapter 14 – Firework
Kadyn was surprised to find a missed call from a Montana number on his cell phone when he stepped outside the Pentagon. He was heading home from work. He leaned against the side of his Acura TL and listened to the message.
“Call me as soon as you get this message. If you don’t call me back within twenty-four hours, then I’m getting on a plane to Virginia so I can kick your ass.” She hadn’t bothered to leave her name or number, but Kadyn knew there was only one woman in Montana who knew him well enough to issue that threat and make good on it. He quickly reviewed his list of missed calls and tapped on the Montana number sitting near the top of the list.
Lexie answered on the first ring. “It’s about time, Kadyn. Do you know how pissed I am?”
Kadyn raked his hand over his head as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. There’s no way Lexie knew what was going on with Kri. He had kept it out of the news, and he knew Cenia, Mason, and Phil wouldn’t have breathed a word about the abduction. Dan was the only person he’d told in Montana, and he knew Dan wouldn’t tell anyone. So why was Lexie pissed? He knew he was about to find out, but he still thought it wise to avoid the baited question. “Hi, Lexie. How did you get my number?”