“I won’t. She told me about Marianne or…” He faltered. “Rachel or whatever her name is. I’m sorry. The reason why I wanted to see you is that your interview has intrigued a lot of US media. I know you’re not interested in those, but there’s something else you might find appealing. Peter Perkins, an art gallery owner in Manhattan would like to host your paintings,”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Dominic grumbled, looking out the window of his friend’s office. “My paintings are not for sale, anyway.”
“Dominic, please let me finish,” The pleading tone in Jean’s voice frustrated him even further. “His proposal goes beyond that. He wants you to review the work of a few upcoming painters. You know, separate the chaff from the wheat. There are hundreds of artists in New York. This procedure could take months. It would be a good chance for you to be with her again. What do you think?”
“The art part sounds promising,” Dominic admitted. “Who knows? Maybe I can spot someone really talented. The answer is still ‘no’ about the gallery. Being with her?” He sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not just up to me. You know that.”
“So, you’re in?” Jean asked, rising from his seat.
“Yeah,” Dominic said with a nod. “As long as he doesn’t insist on that art gallery thing.”
“That’s wonderful!” Jean cheered, patting him on the back, as a huge smile lit up his face. “I hear New York is beautiful in spring.”
“It’s really great,” Dominic agreed. “It’s still noisy as hell, but at least it’s a lot prettier. More colorful.”
“Dominic, please do you a favor and go find her, as soon as we get there,” Jean suggested. “I hate to see you like this.”
“Like what?” Dominic turned to him.
“Grumpy, ready to snap,” Jean explained, attempting a more serious tone. “I couldn’t recognize you earlier. Honestly, you scared me.”
“There’s nothing I want more than to be with her again,” Dominic confessed, intensifying his stare.
“Then do it,” Jean urged. “Melanie is a handful. Sometimes, she acts a little childish, she’s loud, a bit too touchy, but I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Now, I’m asking you –as a friend— please, go claim her.”
“Are you two in on this together?” Dominic inquired with a touch of annoyance in his voice.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s exactly what she said to me,” he responded, raising his tone. “I’m not stupid, Jean. I’m just lost. Anyway, call my pilots. Tell them we’re leaving tonight. I’ll see you at the airport.”
27
As soon as he arrived at “Charles De Gaulle” airport, Dominic was in for a rather unpleasant surprise. Jean was there and he was not alone. Melanie was with him. Apparently, she had not been able to find a ticket for the next available flight. More than that, she appeared to be in a very festive mood, claiming that she would at last visit New York City and also, meet Marianne.
Eight-hour trip to New York. That’s a lot of Melanie. I got news for you, darling. Marianne’s in a coma. Oh well… You can always hope, I guess.
Sadly for Dominic, the trip went precisely as he predicted. Melanie was ecstatic. She would not stop talking about “true love”, dropping innuendos all the time, whereas Jean preferred to keep his mouth shut and pretend to listen to her. At first, Dominic considered confronting her. In his mind, she was being unrealistic. Still, too emotionally drained by the events of the past few days and unwilling to snap yet again, he chose to ignore her and browse the internet on his laptop.
Upon landing, despite the jet lag and the fact that it was already 10pm, Melanie announced to them that she was going to New York Metropolitan Hospital. Jean tried to change her mind; yet, she remained adamant. A crazy thought ran through Dominic’s mind, and that was to follow her. However, it wasn’t long before he rejected that notion. He would not risk running into Rachel, let alone in such a public place. Therefore, he selected to go to their hotel in Manhattan and get some much needed rest.
The next morning, the two friends had an appointment with Peter Perkins in his art gallery. For the first time since his breakup with Rachel, Dominic was feeling better. The idea of reviewing other artists’ work excited him. Jean was all smiles, but for different reasons. He couldn’t take his eyes off the massive, steel towers. The bustle of Manhattan appealed to him. He didn’t seem to mind the heavy traffic or the honking, as they made their way to the gallery on that sunny, early-April day.
Its wide glass façade was lined with oil paintings, as a young, female employee welcomed them. The interior was no different. As they headed towards Perkins’s office, Dominic was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the paintings all around them. Regardless of their content, they were well-crafted, with fine lines and deep, rich colors. The female clerk left them outside her boss’s office and excused herself. Perkins himself was a tall, balding man in his early 60’s. His face creased into a polite smile, as their eyes met.
“Come in! Come in!” He said in a hoarse voice, jumping from his executive chair. “A royal in my gallery. Boy, what a pleasure.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dominic offered his hand for a handshake. Perkins took it into his hands and shook firmly.
“Bonjour, monsieur,” Jean grinned. “My name is Jean Abidal. I’m the king’s lawyer.”
“Cute accent,” Perkins remarked, shaking his hand as well. “Please, be seated.”
Dominic cast a few, intent glances at the walls, as they obliged. The paintings in Perkins’s office were just as good as the ones outside, but there was one, major difference: They were all female portraits.
“My wife is French,” Perkins continued, resuming his seat. “I can’t get used to that accent,”
“French?” Jean’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Where is she from, exactly?”
“She told me once, but I can’t remember. French city names sound funny,” Perkins replied, a touch of irony in his voice. “Anyway, let’s get down to business. You should know that she’s the one who chose you, your majesty. Colette has a thing for portraits. When she saw yours online, she went ‘Aaaah’.”
“Is that why you have portraits in here?” Dominic asked.
“That’s right,” Perkins gave a quick nod. “She picked them. Now, your lawyer said you didn’t like the idea of exhibiting your work. Why’s that?”
“I paint for my own pleasure,” Dominic declared. “I don’t do it for the money.”
“Well, too bad,” Perkins’s smile disappeared. “You’re an excellent painter. I know people who’d pay a lot of money to buy one of your paintings. Especially, my wife.”
“Thank you, but I’m confused,” Dominic confessed, his voice dropping an octave. “There are hundreds of art critics in New York. Why me?”
“Art critics are not actual painters,” Perkins attempted a businesslike tone. “Some of them are good, but most of them are just too snobby. You can show them a hundred, great paintings and I doubt they’ll like any of them. Plus, Colette would like to discuss your conclusions in her native tongue.”
“Where is she?” Jean interjected.
“My best guess is she’s shopping,” Perkins smirked. “When can you start?”
“Tomorrow,” Dominic’s answer was quick. “I still need to recover from all the jet lag.”
“I know the feeling,” Perkins nodded. “What about your fee?”
“Excuse us for a second. Hey, Jean, can I talk to you?” He continued to stand, rising to his impressive, 6’3” stature. Taking his friend aside, he leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear:
“What should I say?”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to do this ‘pro bono’,” Jean whispered.
“Actually, I have a better idea. Phone home. Tell them to ship over twenty one of my paintings, including Rachel’s, ASAP. It’s the one against the right wall in my attic,” Dominic requested.
“Twenty one?” Jean squinted at him. Ignoring hi
m, Dominic turned his attention back to Perkins.
“I changed my mind about my paintings,” He spoke in a businesslike tone. “I’ll put up twenty of them for sale, on one condition,”
“That’s great news!” Perkins cheered, as his smile returned. “What’s your condition?”
“How much do you think my paintings are worth, Mr. Perkins?” Dominic answered his question with a question.
“That’s hard to tell,” Perkins shrugged. “A friend of mine said he would pay fifty grand for one of them,”
“My condition is that you cut your commission down to 50%. That’s what most art galleries make.” Dominic leaned over the desk, his hands planted firmly on the edges. “I do the other job for free. My money goes to local orphanages. Mr. Abidal will oversee the procedure. Do we have a deal?”
“Hell, yeah!” Perkins literally jumped from his seat, offering his hand.
“Good,” Dominic gave an appraising nod, as they shook hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Thanks a lot,” Perkins could not stop smiling. Dominic and Jean turned around and left his office. The Frenchman was in awe, as they walked alongside each other.
“That was superb!” He cheered. “How did you know about their commission?”
“I did some research on the flight over,” Dominic winked at him. “I couldn’t stand Melanie’s rant.”
“What are you planning to do with Rachel’s portrait?” Jean asked.
“I thought you were smart,” Dominic used a chiding tone. “Find me her address.”
28
Dominic had to wait until the next morning to pick up his paintings. He had them delivered to Perkins’s art gallery and took Rachel’s portrait to his hotel room, eagerly anticipating the moment they would see each other again.
I don’t know what the future has in store for us, little bird. I’m still torn, but I want you to have this. I owed you a portrait, anyway. I can’t be around it anymore, not without you in my life. It’s only going to remind me of all that pain in your eyes.
Dominic went over to the art gallery and preoccupied himself with explaining to Perkins his technique. Happily for him, time flew by, as he and the aging gallery owner discussed the details of their partnership. Before leaving, he received a text message from Jean with Rachel’s address.
The night had fallen, when he got out of the limo, with the painting firmly in his grasp. Standing outside Rachel’s old apartment building, Dominic felt his heart pounding in his chest.
I’m at a loss here. There are so many things I want to say to you that I don’t know where to start. ‘I love you’? ‘I’ve missed you’? Stop thinking about it, Dominic. When the time comes, just let your heart speak and say all that needs to be said.
A middle-aged man was coming down the stairs. Dominic saw an opportunity and did not let it go to waste. He jumped up the small staircase and eased the painting down, as the man pulled the entry door open. Then, he picked it up once more and walked into the building. He could feel the tension running through his veins, as the elevator stopped at the second floor.
“This is it,” Dominic said to himself, lightly knocking on Rachel’s front door. The sight that greeted him made his lips curl into a bitter smile. She was fast asleep on the couch across from the door, covered with a red blanket. Strands of her blonde hair were all over her face. A blue stroller was next to the armrest. A few beams of moonlight were coming through the window over it. Too distracted, Dominic failed to notice the tall brunette in front of him.
“Jesus Christ!” Kate exclaimed with her eyes open wide, as she raised her hand to her chest. “Oh, God, oh, God…”
“Um, hi,” He croaked. “I’m…”
“I know who you are,” She interrupted, speaking too fast. “I’m Kate. I’m Rachel’s friend. Come on in.”
“I can come some other time,” Dominic said in a soft whisper.
“No, no… Come in,” Kate urged. “Talk to her. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” he sighed, stepping into the living room. Kate gently closed the door and left them alone. Dominic sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, staring down at Rachel. With a heavy heart, he started towards her. He eased the painting against the wall to the left and then knelt down in front of the couch. Reaching forward, he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Dominic cupped her cheek, watching as Rachel’s eyes flickered. Running his fingers along her jawline, he leaned over her. He closed his eyes, as he laid a tender kiss on her forehead.
“Who are you dreaming of, little bird?” He whispered, his hot breath on her skin, as he ran his thumb across her cheekbone. Her eyelids twitched, as his hand slipped up and into her hair. Dominic’s hand shook, his fingers getting tangled, as Rachel slowly opened her blurry eyes to slits. Shock tightened her face. Speechless, she gazed into his eyes, as a hesitant smile formed on his lips. Swiping the blanket away, she wrapped her left arm around his neck and pulled him close, as his other arm went around her back. But still, Rachel would not speak. Resting her head on his shoulder, she stroked the back of his neck, as the edge of his beard brushed against her skin. Two tears streamed down her face, as she entwined her other arm around his back. Dominic felt her body trembling in his arms. He bit his lower lip, as she held him tighter by the second. The sound of her muffled sniffles filled his ears, as her hot tears soaked his skin.
“I knew it…” she said, her voice broken, as she squeezed him in her embrace. “I knew I’d see you again.”
“I missed you…” He whispered, threading his fingers in her hair, as he dragged his hand up her back.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Rachel sniffled, leaning back. “I lied to you.”
“Don’t be,” Dominic breathed, lightly shaking his head sideways. “You were right; you had no choice.”
“You’re not mad at me?” She wondered, her sweet voice going up an octave.
“No,” He let out a deep, heavy sigh. “Why would I be?”
“My sweet king…” Rachel’s love filled whisper made his body tingle. Angling her lips, she closed her eyes. His heart fluttered, as he felt her salty mouth on his. He removed his hand from her back and brought it to her face, as they got lost in a long, tender kiss. Cupping her cheeks, he felt her hot breath and her tears on his skin, as her fingers crept around his neck. Rachel tightened her grip around him, as Dominic massaged her temples with his fingertips. By now, his heart was thumping in his chest, his lips quivering as she caressed the side of his neck. He laid one last kiss on her lips and opened his watery eyes, pressing his forehead against hers.
“I’ve brought you your portrait,” Dominic whispered, his voice shaky as he looked deep into her eyes. “I want you to have it.”
“My portrait?” Rachel asked with a hint of surprise in her voice.
“Yeah,” he uttered and gave a sad nod. “I owed it to you and me just…” He faltered. “I just can’t be around it anymore. It hurts too much, you know?”
“I see,” she sighed. “When did you get here?”
“Last night. I’m staying in New York for a while,” A sparkling hope lit up her look, as a small smile spread across her face.
“How long?” Rachel whispered.
“Does it matter?” Dominic answered her question with a question. “We can’t, Marianne.” Upon finishing his sentence, he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw. “Sorry. I meant ‘Rachel’.”
“It’s ok,” She assured. “Why?”
“There’s going to be three of us in this relationship, baby,” He said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m not sure I can handle that. Can you?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel shrugged. “Little Dominic is a noisy little fellow. He takes up most of my time.”
“Dominic?” He stared at her slack jawed in utter disbelief. “You named him after me?”
“Yeah,” She breathed, nodding at the same time. “Would you like to hold him?”
“I can’t believe you did that…” Dominic whi
spered, running his gaze down her face. “He’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake him up.”
“You won’t,” Rachel reassured. “He’s a heavy sleeper.”
“Alright,” He smiled, removing his hands from her. Dominic rose from the floor, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that the infant would bear his name. Rachel got up and moved around him, as he turned to face them. She stood in front of the stroller, staring down at the baby, as Dominic noticed a red, laser dot on her left shoulder. Slivers of fear sliced through him, as it slowly went to the left. Finally, the dot stopped at her heart.
“Get down!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, reaching forward as he lunged at her. In an instant, a bullet shattered the window, sending hundreds of tiny shards of glass into the living room and onto the stroller cover. Dominic’s right hand landed on Rachel’s right shoulder. He pushed her to the left at the last second, throwing her against the wall. The bullet entered his left chest, just below the collarbone. It knocked him backward, sending his body plummeting to the floor. Dominic landed flat and hard on his back and screamed in agonizing pain, as he banged his head against the floor.
“Noooooooo!” Rachel screamed, dropping to her knees beside him, as baby Dominic’s cry ripped through the living room.
“Rach!” Kate yelled, sprinting towards them, as a pool of blood spread across Dominic’s chest. “Rach, what happened?”
“Call 911!” Rachel shouted, settling her gaze on his face, as she took his hand into her hands. “Baby, stay with me, stay with me…” she said, her voice overflowing with tension and fear.”
“I already am…” He spoke in a faint voice, as a tear toppled over the edge of his eye.
“Don’t speak. Please, don’t speak,” Rachel begged, leaning over him. “Don’t go.”
“I never will,” Dominic whispered, as a rough cough rose from his chest. “Remember me, little bird. Remember us.”
“Stay awake!” She cried, as two, thick tears spilled from her eyes. “Stay awake, you hear me?!”
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 202