Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2)

by Ruff, K. S.

  * * * * * *

  I stayed in bed for two more days. I would have remained for a third, but Michael forced me to take a bath. I watched numbly as he ran the water, stripped us both down, and helped me into the tub. He cradled me against his chest as he slowly washed and rinsed my hair. He trailed a soapy sea sponge gently down my back, arms, chest, and legs. When he finished washing me, he handed me the sea sponge and smiled encouragingly.

  I stared at the sea sponge for the longest time. Then I began washing his body, just as he had mine. When I finished, I pulled his back against my chest so I could massage shampoo into his hair. I watched from the opposite side of the tub as he sank into the water to rinse the suds away. He sat back up, and my breath caught. The water glistened on his shoulders, chest, and face.

  Concern flitted across his face. “Mon coeur?”

  My eyes traveled his beautifully carved face, the shadowed jaw line, the curls in his hair, broad shoulders and chest as a desperate need unfurled somewhere deep inside my soul. I slowly eased onto my knees. My voice was barely a whisper by the time our eyes met. “I need you, Michael. I need you to make love to me.”

  A flicker of surprise, then relief washed over his handsome face. “Here?” he asked softly.

  I crawled toward him. “Yes. Here. Now, Michael. Please.”

  Michael’s eyes softened as he pulled me onto his lap. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me so tenderly, I wanted to weep.

  I closed my eyes and breathed him in. His tongue swept through my mouth. I grasped his hair and kissed him hungrily. He eased inside of me, burying himself as deep as my body would allow. My head fell back as he licked, kissed, and nipped all down my neck and breasts. He set a slow, methodical pace as his body rocked against mine.

  The water lapped teasingly between us. He continued ravishing me with his lips. A sweet tension built between us until we both hovered just on the edge of release. Michael kept me teetering on that bittersweet edge for an eternity before he lifted me from his hips and drove inside of me… once… twice… three times. We clung together as the room fell away. Then we both fell blissfully apart.

  We lie intertwined in the bathtub until the water turned cold. Michael lifted me from the tub, before stepping out and snatching a thick towel from a nearby towel warmer. He wrapped me in the warm towel before briefly drying himself. He tied his towel around his waist, grabbed a third towel, and steered me toward the bedroom.

  Michael sat me on the edge of the bed. He stood in front of me and towel dried my hair. When he was satisfied my hair was sufficiently dry, he threw the towel aside and braced his arms on either side of me. He nibbled at my bottom lip. Then his tongue teased mine in a slow, seductive kiss.

  I slipped the towel from around his waist, locked my arms around his back, and pulled him on top of me as I collapsed back onto the bed. I wiggled beneath him until his body was perfectly aligned with mine. “More,” I whispered hoarsely.

  A storm rolled over the house. Michael captured my lips and hands as he pushed inside of me. Thunder rolled off in the distance, rain pelted the windows, and lightening ripped through the darkened sky. That storm was nothing compared to the way he made me feel inside.

  Michael and I remained holed up in the bedroom for three days straight. We did nothing but eat, sleep, and make love. By the time we had our fill of one another, Michael had chased every last demon away. There were no more thoughts of Tom, Justin, terrorists, or even Rafael. The only thing I could think about was how Michael felt both in and outside of me.

  * * * * * *

  Michael eased me out of the bedroom and back into the world. He began with a tour of the house. This house was nothing like the one in Paris. It was lighter, brighter, and more airy. While the villa was every bit as elegant as the mansion, the elegance was less old world, more understated and casual. Aside from the kitchen, bathrooms, and servant quarters, which were tucked in the back, most rooms boasted a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean Sea. The house was clearly designed to entice people outside.

  In Paris, Michael preferred to eat in our room by the fire. Here, in Saint-Tropez, Michael preferred to eat outside by the pool. The pool and patio were lit at night, so we spent as much time there in the evenings as we did during the day. There were three sitting areas on the patio. One sitting area was located near a beautiful water fountain that ran into a basin on the side of the house. Because it was shaded during a good part of the day, this quickly became my favorite place to read. A central sitting area was arranged around a large rectangular fire pit. This was where we ate dinner most nights as we gazed out over the darkening sea.

  The third sitting area framed an outdoor kitchen and bar. Rafael and some of the other security staff often hung out in this area, listening to music and playing cards. I learned quickly that whenever Michael dismissed them, it was so he could ravish me in the pool. Michael would wait until I noticed him staring intently at me. He would pin me with his smoldering gaze while he clipped out, “Laissez-nous s'il vous plaît,” without once breaking eye contact with me. The security staff would exchange knowing smiles or wink at me before clearing out. Then Michael would slowly rise from his chair and stalk me like a panther in the night. I inevitably found myself screaming and running for the pool.

  Michael grew bored of the house by the end of the second week. He took me into Saint-Tropez, and we began spending our days wandering through small galleries and designer boutiques or eating and drinking coffee at trendy little cafés. On our third outing, Michael dragged me into a Louis Vuitton store and insisted on buying me a small black evening bag with a long gold chain for a shoulder strap. He also purchased a floral summer bag. Then he proceeded to drag me through a number of other shops so he could fill the floral bag with designer sunglasses, a wallet, a small jeweled mirror, a cell phone, and sunscreen. When we returned home that evening, Michael stuffed the wallet with money and programmed phone numbers and music into my phone. He explained that the phone would only work in Europe, and while he didn’t think I would need it, he wanted me to keep the phone and the money with me in case we were ever separated during one of our outings.

  The next morning, Michael indulged me in some time by the pool. My skin was already turning a nice honey color, despite Michael’s repeated attempts to slather me with SPF 50 sunscreen. We had only been sitting by the pool for an hour when Michael threw my sundress at me and hauled me back into town, claiming I needed to protect my face from the sun. He pulled me into a quaint little boutique where he insisted I model a number of sun hats. He purchased eight of them. He took me to lunch at an outdoor café. Then he decided he was bored of shopping.

  That was when Michael took me out on his sailboat. I boarded the boat fully expecting someone else to sail, while Michael and I sat back and enjoyed the view. Instead, I sat slack-jawed while Michael sailed the boat. I hadn’t a clue the man could sail.

  We spent a number of afternoons sailing the Mediterranean, always returning to the villa before nightfall. Late one afternoon, Michael lowered the sails so we could relax in a fairly private expanse of water. We had just finished eating the lunch the cook had sent with us, and I was curled between Michael’s legs with my head resting on his chest as he played with my hair. We lie there in silence enjoying the tranquility and the gentle rocking of the boat.

  Michael eventually broke the silence. “I’m glad we came here.”

  I smiled as I ran my hand through the hair on his chest. “Me too. It’s so peaceful.”

  Michael hummed his agreement. “Do you think you might be ready to return to Paris?”

  My hand stilled on Michael’s chest as I sorted through my feelings.

  Michael quickly continued. “I’ve upgraded the security system and increased our security staff. Rafael has been back twice over the past month to make sure everything is as it should be. I need to go back to tend to some business. If you prefer, you can stay here with Rafael and the staff, and I will return in three days. Otherwise,
we can fly back home together. We can return here, to the villa, anytime you like.”

  “Home,” I murmured thoughtfully. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew where home was for me. I sat up so I could look into Michael’s eyes. “I don’t want to be separated from you, mon chérie, not even for a day. If you’re going back, then I’m going with you.”

  Michael smiled, his relief evident. “And, because you are mon coeur, I do not wish to be parted from you, not even for a minute. We’ll return together.”

  With our decision made, I relaxed against his chest so we could savor our last remaining hours in the Mediterranean Sea.

  Chapter 18 – Different worlds

  Cenia, Kadyn, Mason, and Roger sat in the rental car and stared at the massive stone house. They exchanged glances with wide eyes.

  “She’s been holed up here?” Mason asked as his jaw fell slack.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Roger reminded him. “Let’s find a parking space and walk around. Cenia, you bring the camera. Maybe, if you snap off some pictures of the houses, you’ll pass as a tourist.”

  Cenia waved a hand over her bright floral dress. “I did not dress like this to play the tourist. Mason should be the tourist.”

  “I’m wearing a white dress shirt with khaki pants for crying out loud. What more do you want?” Mason huffed out a breath. “Fine. Give me the damn camera. I’ll be the tourist.”

  Kadyn rubbed his temples. “Would you two stop bickering? You’re making it difficult to think.” Kadyn pulled away from the curb and parked the car around the corner, one block over. They stood outside the car and debated their approach. “I think we should split up. Cenia and Roger, why don’t you two walk around the block from the back side, so you end up on the same side of the street as the house. Act like you like each other. You know, two people out for a romantic stroll.”

  “We do like each other,” Cenia objected, only half insulted.

  Roger laughed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close.

  Kadyn continued. “Mason and I will approach the house from this end, on the opposite side of the street. We’ll stop in the middle of the block and pretend to have a conversation so we can scope out the house.”

  Mason folded his arms across his chest. “Dude. I know how to have a conversation. I don’t have to pretend.”

  Kadyn wiped all expression from his face as he stared at Mason. “We’ll meet back here at the car.” His eyes slanted toward Cenia and Roger. “As you two walk around the back of the block, try to examine the back of the house. Is there a yard? Is it fenced? Is there a gate? Are there places to hide? You get the drift.”

  Cenia and Roger nodded.

  “If anyone gives you a hard time for wandering too close to the house, just mention that you heard the house was recently up for sale and ask if it has already been purchased. Did you memorize that line in French?” Kadyn asked.

  Cenia smiled. “Oui.”

  Kadyn shook his head. “Let’s go.” The friends parted ways as they followed their designated paths. They met back at the car forty minutes later.

  Kadyn jerked his head toward Roger. “Debrief.”

  Roger leaned against the side of the car. “There’s a rather large garden in the back of the property and another house. It looks like some sort of carriage home, possibly a guest house or servant quarters. There were a number of men in uniforms working on ground floor windows and the back doors. The ground floor windows run ceiling to floor. There are two sets of French doors that lead out to the garden. Given the security vans parked down the block, my guess is they’re working on the security system. Aside from the security workers, I didn’t see any residents or staff.”

  Cenia shook her head. “This place is massive. I’m not sure we would spot anyone unless they were standing at the windows or walking through the garden. The garden has a number of thick hedges that could provide some cover, and the house is distanced far enough from the others to where we might get away with conducting some surveillance. The trees won’t offer any cover. The trunks are quite small and the branches are sculpted.”

  “There is no way we can approach this house from the front, and given the neighborhood, I seriously doubt we can break into the house and get away with it. I snapped off some pictures of the front of the house so we can download them onto my laptop and examine the house further. I’ll go around back and snap off some more pictures when the security workers clear out,” Mason stated.

  Roger pushed off from the car. “I’m with Mason. I don’t think we should attempt to break in. What if Cenia and I go up and ring the doorbell to ask if the property is for sale? Do you think we’re dressed nice enough to pass as interested buyers?”

  Kadyn shook his head. “No. Not for this neighborhood. Besides, I seriously doubt Garcia or Kri will be answering the door… assuming they’re even here. We’ll just have to keep an eye on the place. We’re bound to see someone coming and going over the next few days.”

  “I have an idea.”

  All eyes turned to Cenia.

  “There are all kinds of shops and bakeries located a few blocks from here. We passed some on the Champs Elysees. Why don’t we visit some of the coffee shops? You know how addicted Kri is to coffee. Garcia has had her for close to three months now. Maybe… just maybe… he has taken her out for coffee. We can show her picture to some of the waiters and see if anyone recognizes her. It would help us confirm whether or not she’s here.”

  “You don’t seriously think the guy kidnapped her, and then took her out for coffee?” Mason asked incredulously.

  Cenia nodded as her eyes raked over the exclusive neighborhood. “Yes, I do.” She glanced at Kadyn. “I think the guy brought her here to seduce her. This guy is not stupid. He’s going to use all of the resources at his disposal to win her over. Why would he keep her locked inside the house when he has all of this to work with?” Cenia motioned in the direction of the Seine and the Eiffel Tower.

  Roger shrugged. “I think Cenia is right. Besides, I could use a bite to eat. Let’s leave the car and walk back that way. If I remember correctly, the Champs Elysees is only a couple of blocks away.”

  A few minutes later, the friends were seated at two small metal tables just outside a trendy coffee shop on the Champs Elysees. Long narrow boxes of flowers in pink, lavender, and white were scattered decoratively along the ornate metal fence that established the boundary for the outdoor seating area. The friends attempted to order their drinks and food in French. They breathed a sigh of relief when the waiter switched over to English.

  Cenia excused herself to use the ladies room when the waiter left with their order. Kadyn watched as she disappeared through the glass doors leading into the coffee shop. When she returned, she approached the waiter, who was pouring water at a small outdoor catering station.

  Roger gritted his teeth when Cenia laughed and touched the waiter’s arm.

  Mason nudged Roger’s shoulder. “You do realize what she’s doing, right?”

  Roger scowled. “Yes, but I don’t have to like it. What is it that women find so appealing about French men anyway?”

  Mason ran his hand over his buzz cut. “Who knows? They look like a bunch of sissies with their long hair. And, if our waiter is any indication, they bathe in their cologne. You might want to keep an eye on Cenia, in case she passes out from the fumes.”

  Kadyn was watching Cenia. She glanced admiringly at the waiter’s bicep before draping her hand over his shoulder. The guy inched toward her as she showed him a picture on her cell phone. Kadyn responded without looking at Roger. “Even the waiters dress nice. They know how to seduce women, and the accent appears to short circuit their brains.”

  Roger rose from his chair, just as the waiter leaned in to smell Cenia’s hair.

  Kadyn grabbed his shoulder and forced him back into the seat. “Just give her a minute.”

  The three men watched as the waiter whispered something in Cenia’s ear. Cenia smiled,
then kissed the guy on the cheek.

  Cenia eyed Roger warily as she returned to her seat. She quickly turned her attention to Kadyn. “My new friend, Amaury, remembers seeing Kri a few weeks ago. He said she looks different, though. She’s wearing more makeup, and she’s wearing her hair straight. I told him she’s a friend of ours from the states and that we’re trying to catch up with her while we’re in town. He seemed to buy it. I asked if she was with anyone, and the man actually had a name. He said the guy’s a regular around here. Apparently, one of the baristas has a huge crush on him, and she was pretty miffed when he waltzed in with Kri.”

  Kadyn, Roger, and Mason looked at her expectantly. No one said a word.

  Cenia’s eyebrows knit together. “He said she was with Rafael Garcia.”

  “Who the hell is Rafael?” Mason bellowed.

  Cenia hushed him. She looked at Kadyn. “Do you think Michael could be going by another name?”

  Kadyn shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll ask Phil to look into it.”

  The waiter returned to the table with their coffee and pastries. A low growl emanated from Roger when the man winked at Cenia.

  “Merci,” Cenia responded with a flirtatious smile. Her smile widened as she watched the waiter walk away. “I think I may have a date tonight.”

  All three men groaned.

  Roger ripped into a croissant. He scowled at Cenia. “What is it with French men?”

  Cenia laughed. “You got me, but you all might want to start taking notes.”

  * * * * * *

  The four friends continued to watch the house over the next few days. Aside from the gardener and a gray haired woman with a young girl, they didn’t see anyone coming or going from the house.

  They eventually split up so they could expand their search to include additional coffee shops and some of the more popular tourist sites. They were unable to find anyone, besides the waiter and the barista, who recognized Kri. The barista offered no insight as to who Rafael Garcia might be, although she could easily recite what he typically ordered. She was still miffed about Kri.