Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2)

by Ruff, K. S.

  Phil called to confirm that the mansion was the only property registered to Michael Garcia in Paris. He couldn’t find a single thing on Rafael Garcia. After ten days, the four friends were forced to return home, discouraged and empty handed.

  Chapter 19 – Let love in

  Rafael and Jean accompanied Michael and me on the flight back to Paris. Jean disappeared the moment we entered the house. Michael, Rafael, and I lingered in the foyer.

  Michael gave me a hug. “I have some things I need to tend to, so Rafael is going to review the new security measures with you. I’ll join you for lunch in a couple of hours.” He kissed me on the cheek before heading toward his office, which was located just off the foyer.

  Michael disappeared into the office. I glanced nervously at Rafael. We still hadn’t talked about what happened in the safe room, and I was really embarrassed about how I had reacted.

  Rafael’s eyes softened as they met mine. “Madame Stone, before we review the new security system, I want to apologize for what happened last month. I’m very sorry I scared you. I was so anxious to get you into that safe room without being heard, that I didn’t stop to think about how that might affect you, especially given your past. I should have approached the situation differently.”

  I smiled reassuringly. “Please, Rafael, you don’t need to apologize. You had the best of intentions. You were just trying to keep me safe. I wish… Sometimes, I wish my past didn’t own me the way that it does. When those memories hit, I can’t hardly see the person standing in front of me. All I see is the past.”

  Rafael nodded. “Still, I would prefer not to cause you anymore pain.”

  I hugged him, much to his surprise. He patted me awkwardly on the back before relaxing and returning the hug.

  Michael cleared his throat.

  I spun around so quickly, Rafael had to steady me. Michael was standing in the doorway to his office trying not to smile at us.

  His eyes locked on Rafael’s. “You know how I feel about other people touching her. Maybe there should be a little less touching and a bit more security briefing between the two of you?”

  Rafael released his hands from my arms. He didn’t look the least bit offended by Michael’s comment. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oui, bien sûr, Monsieur,” he responded in a slightly mocking tone. He reached for my hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm as he led me toward the back of the house.

  Michael growled from the doorway.

  I burst out laughing. Then I ran back and jumped in Michael’s arms. “Oh, stop it, you big bully. You know I love you!” I kissed him fully on the mouth.

  Michael’s smile fell away as he backed away from the kiss. “You love me…” he repeated, as if he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard me correctly. His eyes searched mine. “You… love me?” he asked again. Confusion and doubt flitted across his face.

  I was still locked in his arms. My toes hung suspended above the ground. I bit my lip. I knew I was dangling over the edge of something really big... something I hadn’t really thought through.

  Michael took a step back inside his office and kicked the door closed. He hitched my legs around his waist and pressed my back against the door. “Please answer me, Kristine. Do you… love me?”

  My heart beat frantically as I sifted through my feelings and my unplanned confession. That’s when I knew how it felt to be Michael… to let go and love with reckless abandon. It was fierce and raw and messy and painful, but it was also very real. My heart pounded. My pulse quickened, and my breath got tangled in the response. “Yes, Michael. I’m deeply in love with you.”

  His mouth came crashing down on mine as he sought to confirm my response. “Je t'aime, Kristine, tu es mon cœur,” he rasped as he wrenched open the door. He strode out of the office, still kissing and carrying me in his arms. He walked past Rafael, who stared wide eyed from the piano bench.

  Michael broke the kiss long enough to issue a new command. “I’ll be handling her security briefing myself.” I giggled and waved goodbye to Rafael, who now stood gaping at the two of us. Michael carried me all the way up the stairs to our bed, where he took me ten ways to heaven before commencing our security tour.

  * * * * * *

  Michael spent a couple of hours showing me how to access each and every safe room in the house. He had buttons built into every room that he said would trigger the silent alarms, which not only sounded at the main security office but also caused all of the cell phones for the security staff, the household staff, and Michael to pulse.

  Michael turned my phone over to Rafael so he could link it to the system and set it up to pulse with the same warning. He introduced me to our new security staff before we went our separate ways. I retrieved my Kindle from the bedroom and walked down to the library when Michael settled in to work.

  We met back in the bedroom for dinner at seven-thirty. I poured our water and wine while Michael pulled our plates from under the covered tray. I examined the food curiously. The meal was beautifully presented, but the smell was nauseating. I wondered if all the time on the sailboat and the plane trip had wreaked havoc on my stomach. Michael’s cooks in Paris and Saint-Tropez were exceptional, and I had yet to eat a bad meal in France. I took a sip of wine, and my stomach roiled. I set the wine down and tried picking at the food.

  Michael’s fork paused mid-air. “Mon coeur, you don’t like the food?”

  I abandoned the food and reached for a glass of sparkling water. “I’m sure the food is fine. My stomach is just feeling a bit off.”

  “But you hardly ate anything today,” he objected as he set his fork down.

  His concern over such a small matter made me smile. “Michael, it’s nothing. I’m sure I’ll be eating everything in sight tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied as he studied me over the top of his wine.

  I curled my feet under me and sipped on water while Michael finished his meal. When he finally set his plate aside, he reached over and started weaving a lock of my hair around his finger. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

  I planted a soft kiss on his forehead, trying to erase the worry lines that now carved his handsome face. “Yes. I promise you, I will be fine.”

  I washed up and crawled into bed. Michael had wandered out of the bedroom while I was still in the bathroom. I was half asleep by the time he joined me in bed. I burrowed into his warm chest and whispered, “Je t'aime, Michael.”

  “Bonne nuit, ma chérie. Je t'aime,” he replied just as I drifted off to sleep.

  * * * * * *

  I thought I had made a full recovery when I woke the next morning, but the moment I sat up, my stomach turned. I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Michael found me two hours later, lying on the bathroom floor.

  Michael’s eyes widened with panic. “Mon coeur! What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted as I pushed up from the cool tile. I suddenly realized how ridiculous that sounded. “I think I have the flu,” I confessed miserably.

  Michael gathered me into his lap as he kneeled on the floor. “Can I carry you to the bed? I’ll bring the trash bin in case you are sick.”

  “Yes,” I sighed gratefully. “I’d like to go to bed.”

  Michael scooped up the trash can, gently carried me to the bed, then sweetly tucked me in. “Can I get you something, ma chérie?”

  I squeezed his hand. “Water and some medicine to help with the nausea, if you have it.”

  The faintest smile tugged at his lips before he kissed my hand. “Mon amour, I do not think medicine is such a good idea. Why don’t we try water and some table crackers?”

  I shrugged. “Okay. It’s worth a shot.”

  Michael sent a quick text on his phone. “The cook will bring it up for you. Why don’t you stay in bed, read your Kindle, and relax for a little bit. I’ll catch up on work while you rest.” Michael paused, then continued hesitantly. “I was planning to take you to the ballet at the Palais Garni
er tonight, but we don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it.”

  “The Palais Garnier?” I asked curiously. I didn’t recognize the name from any of our previous outings.

  Michael laughed. “I would think you of all people would know the Palais Garnier, mon coeur. It is the opera house from the Phantom of the Opera.”

  I gasped as I sat up in bed. “Oh, Michael. Can we please go? I promise, I’ll feel better!”

  Michael kissed the top of my head. “Of course, ma chérie, tout ce que ton coeur désire… anything your heart desires.”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” I grabbed teasingly for Michael, but he quickly darted out of reach.

  He laughed. “Rest, so we can play later.”

  I sank back against the pillows. Michael stopped to talk to Rafael just outside the door. He winked at me as he gently pulled the door closed. I tried to read my Kindle while I nibbled on the crackers the cook’s granddaughter brought up. I washed them down with a small amount of water before snuggling into the thick feather comforter for a short nap. I quickly drifted off to sleep.

  My stomach felt a lot better when I woke up, so I ate a few more crackers and resumed reading my Kindle… that is until Rafael delivered two presents from Michael. I felt like a kid at Christmas when he placed the beautifully wrapped gifts next to me on the bed.

  The presents were wrapped in a heavy cream paper and tied with gold fabric ribbon. I couldn’t hold back my excitement when I unwrapped the large flat box and discovered an iridescent gold tea length halter dress, with layers of sheer pleats. A wide black satin belt accentuated the waist. Tucked inside the box was a large barrette, which held two black satin roses. The second box held delicate gold heels. I nearly leapt from the bed.

  I fell in love with the dress the second I put it on. I twirled in front of the mirrors in the bathroom while I waited for the tub to fill. I shed the dress just long enough to bathe and apply makeup. I pulled my hair back and wound it into a French roll. I tucked the black roses alongside the twist of hair. After I finished pulling myself together, I stood and gaped at my reflection in the mirror. How could that be me?

  I was sitting by the windows overlooking the gardens when Michael returned to our room. He stopped dead in his tracks. “Tu es tellement belle,” he whispered. His eyes raked over my face, the dress, my legs, and shoes before he made a small circle in the air with his finger.

  I smiled and turned for him. He frowned as he closed the distance between us. “I’m not sure I can take you out like this, mon coeur.”

  My face knit with confusion. “Why?”

  “Because you will be the ruin of entirely too many marriages if I take you out in public like this. Also, I won’t be able to resist doing this.” Michael held my arms as he lined my bare shoulders and my neck with soft kisses. “And, this…” he motioned toward the hair twisted at the back of my head, “…makes me want to loosen your hair and haul you back to bed.” As if mesmerized, he reached for the barrette.

  “Don’t you dare!” I warned in a low tone. “I want you to take me to the ballet, and I am not redoing my hair!”

  Michael laughed as he grabbed my hips and pulled them against his.

  My eyes widened when I discovered just how aroused he had become.

  His face grew serious again. “You are sure you’re feeling okay, ma chérie?”

  I wrapped my arms around Michael’s shoulders so I could tangle my fingers in his hair. “Yes, Michael. My stomach feels fine. I’m even a little bit hungry.”

  “Très bien,” Michael murmured. He nibbled my ear as he muttered all the things he planned to do to me in French.

  I gasped at the few words I understood.

  Michael eventually tore his hands from me so he could get ready for our date. He paired one of his black suits with gold cufflinks and a gold and black paisley tie.

  I was the one swooning by the time he applied his signature citrus and clove scented cologne. I ran my fingers along the thin layer of stubble that darkened his jaw line and considered taking him up on his offer to haul me back to bed.

  Michael chuckled at the look on my face. He draped a black pashmina over my shoulders. “If it becomes too unbearable, mon coeur, we could always lock ourselves in one of the bathrooms at the opera house. They are very well appointed.”

  I rolled my eye and shook my head, although the idea sent a delicious shiver down my spine. I linked my arm in his as we made our way out to the car.

  I was trying not to think about those bathrooms fifteen minutes later when we were seated at the L’Opera Restaurant. My stomach felt perfectly fine, but I decided to skip the wine just to be on the safe side. Michael sipped on a glass of Beaujolais while he perused the menu. I encouraged him to order for me, then sat back and marveled at the restaurant’s bright red and white décor, which had a shockingly retro-modern feel in stark contrast to the 1800’s architecture of the opera house the restaurant was housed in.

  Michael ordered our food. Then he sat back and watched me study the room. “So, what do you think?”

  I reached for a glass of sparkling water before meeting his gaze. “It’s very unexpected. The décor is a bit contemporary for my blood.”

  Michael nodded as he surveyed the room. “Mine too.”

  “I don’t think I thanked you for the dress, Michael. It’s beautiful. Thank you… for this evening and for the dress.”

  Michael shrugged. “You deserve to have beautiful things, mon amour.”

  The waiter returned to our table with two strawberry and spinach salads and a wire basket filled with warm baguette bread. “Bon appétit.”

  Michael and I exchanged smiles as we both responded, “Merci.”

  Michael dug into the salad.

  I reached for a piece of bread. “You know, Michael. You are constantly showering me with gifts. I don’t have access to my bank account anymore, so I can’t buy you anything, although I would very much like to. It feels a little awkward, accepting your gifts when I can’t return the favor.”

  Michael’s mouth fell open. “You want to buy me a gift? Why?”

  I shot him an irritated look as I took a bite of salad. “Why do you buy me gifts?”

  Michael looked confused and a tad bit insulted. “I buy you gifts because I want you to know I am thinking of you… because I want you to know you are loved… and because I can.”

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms, raising both eyebrows for effect.

  A smile spread slowly across Michael’s face. “Point made.”

  The waiter arrived with the main course. I smiled at Michael when I saw what he had ordered. “You chose well, mon chérie. This smells amazing.”

  Michael nodded at the waiter, who then shaved parmesan cheese over the top of our plates. “I thought a chicken entrée would be easier on your stomach.”

  The chicken breast was served alongside a crayfish risotto. Both were drizzled with a light citrus sauce. I took a small bite of the risotto and hummed my appreciation. I inhaled two more bites, suddenly famished.

  Michael resumed our conversation when the waiter left. “Aside from the wine you purchased for me on our second date, I can’t say that I have ever had a woman purchase me a gift.”

  I nearly choked on the risotto. “Michael, you can’t be serious?”

  He looked thoughtful, then slowly shook his head. “Not since I was a child.”

  I eyed Michael with considerable sadness. “So you purchase the women you date gifts, but they don’t give you gifts in exchange, not even on your birthday?”

  Michael shrugged. “I hadn’t really given it much thought. Perhaps they thought it was pointless given my finances.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Your finances are irrelevant. I’m sure you would enjoy the sentiment regardless. The fact remains that I would like to purchase you a gift, but I can’t.”

  Michael took another bite of chicken. “Do you still have the money I gave you in Saint- Tropez?”

 
I looked at him in surprise. “Yes, of course. I thought that was for emergencies… in case we were separated.”

  Michael laughed. “I’ll open you your own account then.”

  “With what money?” I asked stubbornly.

  Michael looked thoroughly entertained as he reached for his wine. “Mine, of course.”

  I sighed. “Buying you a gift with your own money sort of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”

  “No. Not really. Not if it’s the thought that counts.”

  The waiter stopped back by to see if we wanted coffee and dessert. I glanced at Michael, then shook my head. “I better not.”

  Michael handed the waiter his credit card. He watched the waiter walk away, then reached for my hand. “Mon coeur, each day with you is a gift. You don’t need to buy me anything, although I am certain I would enjoy anything you picked out for me. I do think you raise a good point, and I would like to open an account for you, so you can go shopping and purchase what you’d like.”

  I opened my mouth to object. When Michael gave me a disapproving look, I quickly slammed it shut.

  He kissed my hand. “Please, mon amour. I don’t want you to think of it as my money. I am happy to share it with you, and it is the least I can do since I have robbed you of your own career.”

  Michael pulled me to my feet. He kissed me on the forehead as he wrapped the pashmina around my shoulders. “Come. I want to show you the main opera house before the ballet begins.”

  As Michael steered me out of the restaurant, my mind gnawed on the fact that I no longer had a career. I knew I wouldn’t be happy without one, not for very long anyway. I wondered what kind of career, if any, I could pursue in Paris. I stopped dead in my tracks. Why would I pursue a career in Paris? Had I decided to stay?

  Michael stood in front of me with a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong?”