by Ju Ephraime
“What’s going on with you, Franchesca? Are you deliberately trying to destroy me?”
“How can I destroy you, Damon? I don’t have that kind of power over you.”
She heard him murmur something that sounded like, “You’ve no idea.” But she couldn’t be sure because he walked away from the bed to stand in front of the window. He ran his hands through his hair until it was standing straight up like a rooster’s comb.
Mad as she was with him, Franchesca was not prepared for the desolated feeling he created in her. The heat from his hands had felt as if it were scalding her. Her blood seemed to, all of a sudden, be running through her veins like liquid fire. Every nerve in her body was on edge. Her breasts tingled, and her nipples peaked painfully. Her belly went taut with longing, and she could feel the pulse between her thighs thrumming in anticipation. This man controlled her body and her heart; he had power to destroy her.
Closing her eyes to block him out, she took a deep breath. She seemed to be doing this a lot since she’d met Damon. She had to leave his home, the sooner, the better. She hoped it would be sooner for her sanity. Watching him standing there, all she wanted to do was go to him and hold him. She was so mad at herself for her obvious weakness when it came to him that she sounded gruff when she asked him to leave her room.
“I need to be alone now, Damon. Will you please leave?”
“We need to talk, Franchesca, and I won’t leave until you agree to talk with me. I’m not good at this sort of thing. If this is a game for you? It’s not for me.”
“A game? You think this is a game, you arrogant bastard?”
“Let’s not resort to name calling. I just want an explanation of what’s going on with you. You’ll be going home tomorrow, and I can’t leave things this way between us.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Damon, and if there’s going to be any talking and explaining, it should be you doing it.”
“It should be me doing it? You have me confused. What do I have to explain?”
The lying bastard. If he was going to stand there lying to her face, he could go to hell. “If you don’t believe you have anything to explain to me, then get out. Get out now.”
Giving her one last searching look with those burning eyes, he turned and quietly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
*****
Damon walked out of that room feeling as if he was losing his mind. What was it that Franchesca felt he needed to discuss with her? And just like that, a light bulb went on in his head. She’d seen the letter from Izzabella. Why the hell hadn’t he gotten rid of the letter when he’d received it?
He’d never even read the thing in its entirety. Now he had to deal with Thorpe before he dealt with that letter. Both Thorpe and Izzabella were thorns in his side, Thorpe because he evidently was interested in a relationship with Franchesca, and he would do this over Damon’s dead body.
He prowled his office waiting for Thorpe to come to him. He was aware he was in a dangerous mood, but he had decided that, come hell or high water, he would make Izzabella sign those divorce papers, but first he had to warn Thorpe off.
He ceased his prowling as Thorpe knocked on his door and walked in. He didn’t expect an argument, so he started by asking him what he thought he was doing taking Franchesca out of his home without his permission.
“Without your permission?” Thorpe rejoined. “You should hear yourself, Damon. Franchesca is not a child, nor is she your property. The last time I checked she’s a fully grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. What she needs is protection from you.”
“Protection from me?” Damon demanded. “Franchesca is my guest; she does not need protecting from me, least of all by you.”
“She needs to be protected from your lust! Not only do you carry on like a rampant stallion around her, you are a married man. How do you think she’ll feel when she finds out?”
“I take it you intend to tell her.”
“Only if I have to. I happen to like her.”
“You happen to like her, my arse! You’re lusting after her yourself. Admit it.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’m only going to tell you once. Stay off my turf. Franchesca belongs to me, and I’ll mow you down if you get in my way.”
“Are you hearing yourself, Damon? You are behaving like a man obsessed.”
“Well, hear this, Thorpe. Whether or not I’m obsessed with Franchesca isn’t any of your business. That’s all for now. Please leave!”
“I don’t believe you’re going to allow a strange woman to come between us, Damon.”
“If Franchesca comes between us, Thorpe, will be your call. I need to be alone now. Just take heed of what I said.”
Pushing the lock home, he sat down and retrieved the letter. It began as if they were still in a relationship and just had a lovers’ spat.
My darling husband, I’ve waited these two years for you to come to your senses and for us to discuss the matter of my aborting the pregnancy like adults. I know I hurt you. It was never my intent, and I’m sorry. I still love and miss you every day and look forward to the day when we can resume our relationship as husband and wife. Everything I do, I do with you in mind. I see your face in every crowd, and I’m always running to you, only to be disappointed when it turns out to be a stranger.
Please say you’ve forgiven me, my darling, ma chérie, mon mari mon amour. I wait to hear from you. If you can stand in front of me and deny our love, I’ll seriously consider giving you what you have been asking for, your freedom.
With all my love, avec tout mon amour
Yours, Bella,
As he read the letter, he became more and more upset. How dare she? He got on the phone and called his attorney. The secretary told him Mr. Solomon was in court, so he left a message for him to return the call and serve the divorce papers on Izzabella.
She would sign those papers if it was the last thing he did. The next phone call he made was to Izzabella. She didn’t answer the phone, but he left a message on her voice mail seeking a meeting with her immediately or the next morning at the latest.
He then went back to Franchesca’s room. Once again, the door was locked against him, but this time, he was not leaving without talking with her. He prowled the hall for ten to fifteen minutes, and just as he was about leave, the door opened. She tried to close it against him, but he beat her to it and, upon entering, slammed it and leaned his back against it. “We have to talk, Franchesca.”
“Really?” She arched one of her dark brows as she turned her back on him.
He searched his mind, wondering where to begin. His marriage was the sticking point between them, so he knew he must begin there. “Franchesca, I swear to you that, although I’m still married to Izzabella, it’s not a reflection of lack of effort on my part to get her to sign the divorce papers.”
“Is that the best you can come up with?” Franchesca continued to stand looking out the window, her back to him. He was getting more and more frustrated talking to her back.
Damon clenched his fist and prayed for patience. “I tried, and I’ve been trying for the two years I’ve been separated from Izzabella. I married Izzabella straight out of college. We were both too young to be married, and it could have been lust more than love that influenced us. None of our parents was in favor of the union, so they did nothing to help us along. On the contrary, Izzabella’s parents contributed to the breakup of our marriage.”
“Really? So now it’s her parents’ fault? How are they responsible for your life? You are a grown man.”
“They convinced Izzabella to move to Paris to work in one of their establishments. She left me in Cornwall while she lived and worked in Paris. Pretty soon, the marriage began to suffer. The long-distant relationship was not working for us, and no amount of threats on my part could get Izzabella to move back to Cornwall.”
“Why didn’t you move to Paris? You men are always the victim, always th
e one in the wrong. Well, try another tack. I’m not buying into it. And if you are quite finished, I’d like to go down to dinner.”
“I tried. It was during one of my many trips to Paris to see how we could work on getting things on a better track that I arrived to find her in a clinic recovering from an abortion. She had aborted our baby.”
Just reliving the hell he’d gone through when he found his wife in a clinic, after having aborted his child almost had him undone. He didn’t even know she’d been pregnant. The betrayal was so devastating for him that he’d not spoken with her since. Everything had been handled by his attorney, but she had flat-out refused to sign the divorce papers.
He was so deep in thought he was not aware she had moved until he felt her pummeling him with her fist.
“Stop this, Franchesca, talk to me. Let’s talk about whatever is bothering you like adults.”
“I don’t want to talk. It’s too late now.”
“It’s never too late to talk.” Out of desperation, and to find something to distract her, he told her, “Let me call down to the kitchen and have a tray brought up. We can have dinner here and talk over dinner in a civilized manner.”
“No, I’m going down to dinner. I don’t want to remain in here another minute. You sicken me.”
“Come, darling, you know that’s not the truth.”
“Yes, it is, and I’m not your darling.” Tears filled her eyes, and her voice began to quiver. “Damn you, Damon, damn you to hell. You made me do the one thing I vowed I would not do—have a relationship with a married man.”
Unable to see her so unhappy, he reached for her and brought his mouth down on hers, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, pouring his heart into it, hoping she’d know how he felt.
She was having none of it and fought him, refusing to kiss him back. But he kept at it until he felt her beginning to relax. Just as he thought he’d made some headway, she opened her mouth and sank her teeth into his tongue. The pain was excruciating, but the funny thing was, it worked on him in the most unexpected way. His dick hardened painfully. He jammed his erection against her, making her feel his heat.
Franchesca pounded her fists against his chest and began sobbing hysterically. Damon lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
“Franchesca, listen to me. I want to tell you about Izzabella, but if you are not willing to give me a chance to explain, I’ll take you with me when I go to see her later or tomorrow. We could fly; it takes an hour and a half by air. That way, we can get this settled once and for all.”
“Why should I go with you to your wife? Thanks, but no thanks. You don’t need me there. Furthermore, I’m going back to my flat tomorrow and back to work the following day. My days of living dangerously are over.”
“I’d really like you to come with me, Franchesca.”
“Why? I don’t know your wife. I don’t even know you.”
“I want to marry you once I get my divorce from Izzabella.”
“Don’t you think you should ask me first? I may not want to marry you.”
“Have no fear, you will. I wanted you for my wife from the moment I first laid eyes on you, and now that I’ve had you, you are in my blood. Nothing, and no one, will keep me from having you and making you my wife.”
*****
Franchesca went very still, her head at war with her heart. She knew she had fallen hopelessly in love with Damon Dumont. The sight of him made her forget her very name, his voice made her quiver, and his touch made her burn.
He was so perfect, in every sense of the word. They made wonderful music together, but she wasn’t going to sleep with him again, not until he was divorced and free from his Izzabella. She was not going to play at being his mistress. He said he wanted to marry her. Let him prove it. Let him show her the divorce decree.
Until then, she wanted to maintain a safe distance from him. She had to fight herself as well as him. The attraction between them was too powerful, too strong for them to be within touching distance of each other. God forgive her, she wanted him. Her body was thrumming.
“I need to be alone now to think on all you have told me, Damon. I’ll see you tomorrow. Now I’m going to call Ange to bring me some dinner, but I’ll not be having it with you. Or better yet, can you ask her for me when you go in to dinner? I’d appreciate it very much.”
“If that’s what you want, Franchesca.”
“Yes, that’s what I want. I’m emotionally drained. Good night, Damon.”
“Good night, Franchesca. Don’t stay up too late. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
He reached over and gave her a soft kiss on the mouth, and he was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning, Franchesca was up with the dawn, anxious to find out if she was going to be able to have the cast off. She wanted her life back to normal as normal as it could be after her sojourn at Tranquility. She knew that as much as she tried to hate Damon she couldn’t.
He had her heart, and there was no denying that. She was so disturbed by the story he’d told her about his wife that she did not sleep a wink. She kept trying to imagine a woman heartless enough to destroy her unborn baby, almost destroying her husband in the process. She must have hated Damon to do this to him, and then Franchesca would ask herself, if Izzabella hated Damon so much, and if what he said was true, why had she not divorced him? What was keeping her tied to him? Was it his money? Damon was a wealthy man, but from what he said, Izzabella’s parents had their own money, and Izzabella, being an only child, would come into that money when her parents died.
Franchesca knew there was something there, but she didn’t want to get too deeply embroiled in the situation with Damon and his wife. She was still hurt that, after all he professed to want her, he’d not once admitted to being in love with her.
In lust, yes, but love? That word had never crossed his lips. He said he wanted to marry her. She didn’t know what to think and was glad to be finally going home to her familiar surroundings.
She didn’t need Ange’s help to freshen up. She was able to hop in and out of the tub now that she was no longer in pain. She really didn’t have anything to pack. The clothes she had been wearing belonged to Damon; she was not taking any of it with her.
She knew she would have a difficult enough time getting back into the swing of things. She did not want to make it any more difficult by hankering after what might have been. No, she intended to move on with her life. She knew it would be difficult, and expected that, but she wasn’t going to dwell on the past. Look what it had done to her last night; she had no sleep. She couldn’t afford this. She needed her beauty sleep.
Her appointment at the hospital was for 8:00 A.M. She was ready at 6:00 A.M. She tried to read a book to while away the time, but she could not concentrate. She had read the same page over and over without being able to recall what she’d just read.
She thought she would have been happy to be going back to her flat, but she was as miserable as ever. She had a pain in the vicinity of her heart that wouldn’t let up, no matter how many deep breaths she took. She had not been able to eat anything. It was as if she had a blockage in her throat. She had no idea being in love could be so painful. But if she was being honest, she wouldn’t trade the time she’d spent with Damon for all the tea in China. Especially after the things he’d told her about his wife. She hated herself for being so gullible, but she believed he’d had a raw deal in the situation with his wife.
She found herself dozing off fitfully.
She must have fallen into a deep sleep because she found herself dreaming of Damon. He was sitting in her room, watching her with a very sad look on his face. She’d reached up to touch his face when she blinked and stirred, filled with the dreamlike awareness that someone was in the room with her.
Opening her eyes, she saw Damon staring down at her with almost the same look he had in her dream.
“Why are you asleep in the chair? It’s time for us to leave. Are you unw
ell?”
“No. I’m fine. I was up early, so it’s catching up with me.”
“Why were you up early? We have plenty of time to get to the hospital. Did you have a night like the one I had?”
“I don’t what kind of night you had. I know I was anxious about getting the cast off and getting back into my old routine. What about you?”
“I was dreading not being able to see you again. Not walking up to this room and seeing you. I can’t believe you’ve been here less than a week.”
“I can’t believe it myself, but you know the saying, ‘all good things must come to an end’.”
“Was it a good thing for you, Franchesca?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Really?” he asked again with a bit of skepticism.
“Yes, it has been a good time for me,” she replied again. “Are we ready to leave?”
“Yes, but you didn’t take any of the things I bought you.”
“I’m going home; I don’t need any of it.” She hoped he didn’t know she’d taken the panties he’d removed from her body when he made love to her on his desk in his office. That would be her secret.
“I’m ready.”
With one last look around the room, they walked out the door and out of the house. She took a moment to say goodbye to the house. “Goodbye, Tranquility.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“No one. I was just saying goodbye.”
“Goodbye, not, vous voir bientôt. I’ll work on making it so.”
*****
They made good time to the hospital. The doctor was happy with the way her foot had healed and removed the cast, telling her she should be as right as rain in a couple of weeks. Since she had kept off her ankle, only a slight tenderness remained. She was not able to resume running for a couple weeks, but she was released to walk without a crutch.
Damon took her back to her flat, his heart heavy. He didn’t know how he would get through the three days she’d requested while she got back into the swing of things, whatever that meant.