Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty)

by Lakes, Krista

  “Most of the best impressionist works in Paris are at the Musée d’Orsay, not here, but the best Classical works of this country are in these rooms” Philippe told me.

  When we arrived at the painting by Jean Louis David, The Consecration of Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Josephine, I was amazed. The name of the painting was a mouthful, but it was nothing compared to the actual artwork. I had seen the painting before, of course, printed in some of the books I’d read about Art History, but that was nothing compared to seeing it in real life.

  I had expected the painting to be maybe two feet high by three feet wide. Instead, the painting absolutely filled the room. It was at least twenty feet high, and thirty feet wide. The painting was basically life size, with Napoleon in the center standing around six feet tall as he held high the crown he was about to place on the head of his wife, Josephine.

  “That’s incredible,” I whispered to Philippe as we gazed at the painting.

  “It is. The coronation took place in Notre Dame, so if you have been inside of the Cathedral, you have seen the spot where this very moment took place.”

  “It’s funny to think that such an incredible event, such a monumentally important part of history happened in a building through which it is easy to walk through, and that we can see where Napoleon stood as he crowned his queen.”

  “Yes, precisely. Napoleon in fact crowned himself as well, although the Pope was in attendance to make him emperor. I love this painting, when it was finished Napoleon exclaimed that one walks into the picture, that it is not a painting, and I agree with that sentiment completely. It is so realistic, it is one of my favourite examples of Classical French painting.”

  We stayed for a while, absorbing the enormous impact of the painting together while sitting on one of the soft black benches offered throughout the Louvre. I rested my head on Philippe’s shoulder, and it felt right. It felt perfect, like I belonged here with him. I was so comfortable with Philippe, so happy, I had never felt like this about another man before, ever.

  Eventually we got up and continued making our way through the museum. We saw amazing paintings such as Liberty Leading the People, one of the iconic photos of France, The Raft of the Medusa, The Rape of the Sabine Women, and other paintings that I had quite honestly thought I would go my entire life without seeing in person.

  “Shall we go find somewhere to have a late lunch?” Philippe asked eventually, when we had exhausted our eyes and our brains looking at all the photos.

  “I’d like that, Philippe,” I told him, gazing into those deep brown eyes that just made me want to melt.

  “Perfect, I know a great little cafe near here, run by a friend of our family.”

  “That sounds excellent.”

  Ten minutes later we were seated inside the coziest little cafe, so typically French in style, looking over the menu. My French was good enough now that I didn’t have to ask for Philippe’s help with the menu, and I happily ordered a braised chicken and leek dish that, when it arrived, tasted like heaven.

  Over the meal Philippe and I discussed our shared love of art, commenting on the scenes which we had seen together that morning.

  “It’s incredible, the skill that goes into the paintings from eras past. I must say, I’m not really into the modern style of art.”

  “I agree with you. Modern art seems way too focused on sending a message without the underlying skill being represented. The old works are way better.”

  “How did you get into art, anyway?” I asked when our meal was finished and we went back into the street. “Was it really just going to museums with your family as a kid? Or was there more to it than that?”

  “Well, that was part of it of course. In fact, that was a major part. But also, it was in part thanks to my sister, Stephanie. She had always been the artistic one in the family, and it was because of her that I discovered the beauty of art. I had like the antiquities in the museum, but she showed me that paintings could be just as interesting. As I told you, my favorite pieces are the historical ones, more so than the paintings, but I appreciate all art.”

  “But your sister did not become an artist?” I wasn’t quite sure, but I almost saw that fleeting shadow cross over Philippe’s eyes again.

  “No. She decided to go into business. She could have become a photographer, but in the end things did not work out.”

  I don’t know why did it. Maybe it was because I was so proud of the photos, but when Philippe mentioned photography, I couldn’t help but show him some of the photos that Jacques had taken of me.

  “Here, look at these. I think they’re absolutely incredible.”

  “Where did you get these?” Philippe asked, as he thumbed through the photos. The look on his face was dark, not at all what I had expected.

  “Um, Jacques took them for me,” I replied, suddenly deciding this might not have been the best idea. I knew I was right almost instantly, as Philippe face darkened and with a single quick motion he grabbed the photos and ripped them into pieces, throwing them to the ground.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shrieked, outraged at the fact that Philippe could do that to those photos that I was so incredibly proud of, that I thought made me look so good.

  “How could you? Why the hell would you do that? Why would you let him take photos of you? Shit, don’t you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  “What are you, fucking jealous?” I was angry now, we had been having such a nice time, until Philippe ruined it. “You know, you always tell me to stay away from him, but you never tell me why. Maybe you’re just fucking jealous, and that’s just to fucking bed. I don’t belong to you, you can tell me what to do.”

  With that, I stormed off, my blood boiling and not in a way that Philippe usually made me do so.

  “Sophie, wait!” Philippe exclaimed, but I didn’t turn back. “You have to listen to me!” he begged, but still I kept going. I didn’t have to do anything he wanted me to. Those photos were incredible, and the fact that Philippe was only jealous of them made me so angry. What right did he have to dictate who I could and could not see? Hell, we’d only gone on two dates. He was ridiculously handsome, he made me react the way no man ever did, but holy hell did I hate the fact that he seemed to hate Jacques without even knowing him.

  I immediately went back home, my outrage boiling over as I seethed in anger at Philippe’s reaction. It wasn’t fair, it absolutely wasn’t fair.

  My phone rang, and I checked and saw it was Philippe. I pressed the ignore button, the rage building up to me once more just seeing his number pop up on the screen. Angry, with no idea as to what I was going to do, I went to my computer. I sat down and put my phone next me as I browsed the Internet, trying to calm down. It worked pretty well, until about 10 minutes after the first call, Philippe called me again. Once again, I pressed the ignore button and went back to what I was doing.

  I browsed some news, checked my social networking sites to see if there is any news from home, and I was about to start playing one of my favorite games on my phone buzzed again. This time I was about to throw it against the wall, when I saw that it was actually Jacques, not Philippe calling.

  “Hello?” I answered, hoping my voice sounded normal and not nearly as angry as it sounded.

  “Allo, Sophie? It is Jacques here, with some good news. You know how we were going to schedule a second shoot, and take some more photos of you? Would you still be up for that?”

  “I would like to do that sometime, yes.”

  “Well, I was wondering if you are available tonight. I had an agency who had to reschedule their models, but everything else has been organized. There is clothes, a makeup artist and I have my cameras, if you wanted to come.”

  I thought about it for a second. A part of me didn’t want to do it tonight, after all I kind of figured that if I felt angry the photos of make me look angry. Then again, the last time I had gone Jaques had made such incredible art that a part of me couldn’t r
esist.

  “I would love to, when do you need me to be there?”

  “Well, I have the stylist here until dix-huit heures, so six o’clock the way you Americans say it. If you arrive around, say, just after five, there should be plenty of time to do your hair and makeup before she needs to leave.”

  I looked at the clock. It was just after four, if I wanted to do this I was going to have to get ready pretty quickly.

  “That sounds good, I can be there after five.”

  “Excellent, Sophie. I am glad, I will see you soon.”

  As I hung up the phone I thought about just how dependable and Jacques was. He was obviously the way better man out of him and Philippe, always being there for me, always offering to do things for me without getting irrationally angry about other men.

  I immediately tried to force Philippe out of my head. I couldn’t wait for this photo shoot, the last one had gone so well, and this one even involved having a professional stylist there to do my hair and makeup. I couldn’t wait to see what these photos are going to look like, I was ridiculously excited. I felt like a kid at Christmas, like a little girl being treated like a Princess. That’s really how Jaques treated me, like a Princess. I set about getting ready, since I had to be at his place in a little less than an hour. This was going to be exciting!

  Chapter Thirteen

  I arrived in front of Jacques’ studio right on time. Philippe had called once more, and texted me while I was on my way, telling me that he was going to come to my apartment to see me, that he had something important to tell me. I didn’t bother texting him back that I was gone, that I wouldn’t be there to see him. He could find out for himself.

  Regardless, I was focused on these photos that Jacques was going to take of me. I walked into the studio, which looked almost the same as it did the last time, except for a different backdrop against the main part of the room.

  “Ah, Sophie, you are here, parfait. You’re right on time, come and meet Marie, she will be doing your hair and makeup.”

  Jacques led me to one of the corner tables with a mirror set up where a woman with short, black hair and more piercings than I believed was possible to have on a human body smiled at me.

  “Bonjour, Sophie. It is nice to meet you,” she said in an extremely strong French accent, motioning for me to sit down on the chair.

  “I was thinking with someone with your hair, I would like to give it that look, how do you say, whispey, like you have been in the wind but not for too long.”

  I thought I knew exactly what she meant, and I nodded enthusiastically.

  “I would like that,” I replied, thinking it would look good with my hair. She grabbed a straightening iron to get started and I sat in the chair like an obedient child at the hairdressers.

  “I will be over there, please Marie, tell me when you are finished with her so we can begin the shoot. It should not take you too long, Sophie is so beautiful I could take her right off the street and make her a star,” Jacques told us before leaving, and I blushed at his compliment.

  Marie did her work quickly, and she was very, very good at it. She gave my hair that perfect just gotten out of bed look, then worked on my makeup.

  “Jacques would like you to have ruby red lips, we will be going with something dark and dramatic for today’s shoot.”

  “Excellent!” I replied, thrilled to be doing something like this. The last shoot I had only worn whatever makeup I put on myself, this time it seemed as though I was going to get something a lot more dramatic. I trusted Marie, and rightfully so. She gave me dark, smoky eyes and lips that looks like they came right out of the 40s or 50s. When she was finished, I was thrilled.

  “Thank you Marie, this looks absolutely amazing!”

  “You are welcome, it was my pleasure. Now, I must pack up or I will be late for my evening appointment.”

  As Marie left I made my way towards the rack of clothes that were hanging, all of them expensive brand names that must have been for that night’s shoot.

  “These are incredible,” I murmured to myself as I thumbed through the designs, trying to decide which one to wear first. “Do you have any idea what I should try on first?” I yelled across the room to Jacques, who suggested a mid thigh length skirt with a white blouse. I coupled them with a pair of really high stilettos and a purse that I thought made me look like the sexiest professional woman on the planet. I heard my phone buzz again from my purse on the table where Marie had done my makeup, but I ignored it. As far as I was concerned, Philippe didn’t matter right now.

  “I think those would be good to start with,” he said, and when I saw them on me, I agreed. The clothes looked absolutely incredible, and I was so excited to get started as Marie left, saying goodbye to Jacques on her way out with her bag of makeup and hair stuff.

  When I was dressed, I went over towards where Jacques had the backdrop set up. He had the camera in place as well, and he urged me to go stand in the middle of the backdrop, explaining to me some tricks of the trade as to how to make the photos look as good as possible.

  Jaques immediately started clicking away, occasionally looking back through the photos he had already taken to make sure they were coming out fine.

  “How do they look?” I asked, eager to see the final results in a few days.

  “Excellent, they are a great start. You’re a natural in front of the camera, Sophie.”

  As the shoot continued, I felt more and more like a princess. We moved away from the backdrop and back towards the stairs, where we had taken so many other incredible photos the other day.

  “Good, Sophie. Now, before we get started over here, I would like you to take off the blouse.”

  “What?” I asked, not sure that I had heard correctly.

  “I want you to take off the blouse, and also your bra, so that you are topless for this set of photos.”

  This was absolutely not what I had expected. I wasn’t comfortable with this, and I think Jacques could tell.

  “But what is the matter Sophie? This is normal in photography, it is normal to take photos of a woman topless.”

  “I’ve never done this before. I don’t think am very comfortable with it,” I replied, suddenly apprehensive about having done this shoot.

  “Why not? All of the filles, the young women, it is what they are doing these days.”

  “I haven’t done that though. I don’t really think I want to do this. Is there any other way, anything else we can do?”

  All of a sudden, the kindly, older Jacques, the man who had rescued me in front of Notre Dame, shown me Paris like a true local, always treated me like a gentleman and who I thought was the perfect man, changed in front of my eyes. His smile disappeared and his eyes went dark.

  “Sophie, I thought you were a woman, not a child. I had planned on doing this shoot, and I will do this shoot. Now, take off your shirt and bra.”

  I had to fight to stop tears from forming in my eyes. Who was this man in front of me? I didn’t want to do this, I absolutely didn’t want to.

  “Sophie, think of all of the money that I’ve spent on you. Think of all of the time that I’ve spent with you. Do you all think that was for nothing? Do you think that I’m a monster? I have always taken care of you, and you owe me. Now take off your blouse.”

  I was scared, but I didn’t know how to say no. I wanted to more than anything, and again I could feel the tears coming, but I forced them back. Slowly, I reached up to the hem and undid the buttons of the blouse one by one. I could feel Jacques’ eyes on me as I undid them, slowly revealing the fabric of my bra, until finally I had no choice but to slip the shirt off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I looked at the ground, I didn’t dare look at Jacques at all. I was so ashamed of what I was doing, and yet I was still doing it. I didn’t know what else to do.

  After all, was he right? He had spent tons of money on me, always taking me out. Was this something that I should have expected? Had I been leading him on? Was this some sort
of cultural thing I didn’t understand? I just didn’t know. What I knew was that I felt like I wanted to crawl into a little ball, curl up on the floor and die.

  “Now your bra, Sophie, please,” Jacques ordered, and like I was in a trance, I moved my hands up behind my back and unclipped my bra. I closed my eyes as I let it fall to the floor. I knew my breasts were exposed now, I knew Jacques was staring right at them. The cool air of the room hardened my nipples, and, completely humiliated, I stood motionless where I was until Jacques finally spoke.

  “Good. Now go climb the stairs and pose for me.”

  I did as he asked, my brain completely foggy. It was like I was trying to completely forget that I was here, that I was doing this. I just wanted this to end. I did what Jacques asked, as if on autopilot, as he continued to take photos of me.

  This was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to me. I couldn’t believe it was happening. How did I get here? How did I get to the point where I was modelling topless for this man?

  Oh God, I should have listened to Philippe. I should have listened when he told me to stay away from Jacques. He had been completely right, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it at all.

  “Good girl, very good. You’re so sexy” Jacques murmured to me as he snapped away. I felt like throwing up every time he spoke to me.

  I stayed silent, trying to do the absolute bare minimum to make this end as soon as possible.

  “I want to go home,” I finally complained, after we’d been shooting for a while.

  “Not yet, Sophie. We have not yet finished with the shoot.”

  Tears began to sting my eyes.

  “Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup. Besides, what is the problem? Have I not always been a gentleman? This is what models do, it is completely normal. This is my reward for taking you out so much, I get to have these beautiful photos of you.”

  A lump built in my throat as I forced the tears back. Again, I went back into my trance. I wanted it to end. I didn’t even think about what Jacques was going to do with the photos. I think I knew that if I thought about it too much I was going to break down and cry right here. I wasn’t going to be able to do this anymore. I didn’t know how I was managing to get through this, but I was scared to leave.