Paris Pleasure: Paris Trilogy: Part One

by Lila Dubois

  Solomon took the dress and flipped it around, draping it over her back like a robe.

  “I…I should…” Vivienne shook her head, as if trying to focus.

  “Hold on, baby. I need to take the clamps off.”

  She winced, then nodded. Her fingertips pressed hard into her thighs as he unscrewed the clamps. A pained noise escaped her when he gently released her nipples from their bondage.

  When he placed his palms over her nipples, gently massaging them, she winced again, and he saw her embarrassed flush deepen. He wanted to throw something.

  His submissive, his Vivienne, was embarrassed by him touching her. That should never happen. He tamped down the rage. She needed him right now. She’d been abruptly yanked out of her subspace, and was about to go hear some bad news, something to do with her family.

  There were plenty of members of her family, on both the Deschamps and Beauvalot side, who were asshole enough that maybe someone snapped and murdered one of the fuckers. Solomon was self-aware enough to realize that was a horrible thing to think, but he’d never claimed to be a good person, and he had a whole trunk full of baggage when it came to Vivienne’s family.

  He shoved all that down, and focused on her.

  “Come here, baby.” He opened his arms and she leaned into his chest. She was stiff. Solomon rubbed her back, kissed her head, but she remained rigid.

  He would have kept her there, offering this truncated form of transition, but Vivienne cleared her throat after less than a minute. “I’m ready to get up. I’ll come back after…or I can probably get myself out of this.”

  This being the harness and anal hook. Damn it, she was still in bondage, she shouldn’t be dealing with anyone outside the lifestyle, anyone besides him, until she’d come down from subspace and been properly cared for in some proper aftercare.

  “I’m coming with you. Who is Aldric? The name is familiar”

  “Aldric is my assistant. He helped me get out of the Ritz that first morning.” She planted her hands on his chest and leaned back, eyeing him. “You’ll come with me?” Her tone made it plain she didn’t believe him, but he thought he detected a faint note of relief.

  “To talk to your assistant,” he clarified. “Once you know what the emergency is, we’ll…I’ll…” Solomon didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He wasn’t going to get involved with her outside of BDSM, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to have anything to do with her family.

  But right now she was still partially his sub, and he needed to take care of her.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he finished lamely.

  Vivienne blinked up at him, as if she didn’t quite understand. He lifted her off the table, setting her on her feet, and then helped her into her dress. Her fingers were trembling as she wound the tie around her waist and knotted it. The collar and center vertical strap of the harness were visible, but she was covered. Vivienne crossed her arms over her chest, took a step, and then stopped, gasping. The anal hook was probably making itself known.

  He watched her throat work. Was she fighting tears? Solomon’s heart lurched.

  “Fuck this,” he snarled.

  She looked over, her expression so vulnerable and unsure that in that moment he would have confronted anyone, anything—even their past—to wipe that look off her face.

  Solomon scooped her into his arms and strode across the ballroom with her. Vivienne rested her forehead against his neck and ear, and he felt her sigh.

  Lillian was waiting just outside, and motioned him to follow. He assumed they’d go to the first floor, but instead she headed down the elegant staircase to the fourth floor, and then down the hall. They passed the closed doors for various small title companies and investment firms, until they came to an unmarked door. Lillian opened it, gesturing them in.

  Much like the locker rooms, this had once been a small office suite, but it hadn’t been redecorated for the event. There were large plastic tubs, a rack of gowns and a second of tuxedos, scattered among the abandoned desks.

  A slender young man with a stylish haircut was sitting on a broken desk chair near the door. An attendant stood guard behind him. Solomon saw him through the doorway before the man, who had to be Aldric, saw him and Vivienne. Solomon stepped to the side and gently lowered her to her feet.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You okay on your own?”

  Vivienne smiled, not a real, amused smile, but a sort of haughty expression. It was the smile she’d given him when they first saw each other across the ballroom. She was trying to pull herself together to talk to someone who wasn’t in the lifestyle “I am.”

  Solomon stepped out of her way, bowing slightly. His Dom instincts were screaming at him that Vivienne shouldn’t be talking to anyone but him. Not just because she was his, but because she’d been ripped out of subspace and wasn’t fully functioning in either of the two worlds.

  Solomon waited for her to enter, then followed her into the room.

  He was bare-chested, had a semi, and was worried about Vivienne’s head space, as well as pissed on both their behalves that they’d been right when they were finally getting to the good stuff.

  He hid the worry and let all the pissed-offness show, crossing his arms, and staring hard at the young man.

  Aldric looked first at Vivienne, his eyes widening slightly. Solomon looked and her and cursed. Her hair was tousled, the neckline of the dress had slipped a bit, showing off even more of the harness, and she was barefoot. She looked nothing like the composed CEO of CRD Beauvalot whom he’d seen on those occasions when he’d gotten drunk enough to Google her.

  “Aldric, what happened?” she asked in French.

  She might not look like the one of the only women on France’s 100 Richest People list, but she sounded like it. Her voice cracked with authority.

  “I…uh…” The young man looked around the room, then swallowed.

  “Who’s hurt?” Vivienne asked.

  “Hurt?” Aldric paled. “No one.”

  “You told Lillian this was an emergency.”

  “It is, but it’s not…that kind of emergency.”

  “Spit it out, dumb fuck,” Solomon snarled in English. They’d been speaking French, but he did his best cursing in English.

  Aldric focused on him. “You’re….you’re Solomon Carter. He was right.”

  Solomon’s blood ran cold. Why did this little shit know his name?

  Beside him, Vivienne inhaled sharply through her nose. There was a moment of silence, then she spoke with a softness that was so dangerous even Solomon looked askance at Vivienne, and Aldric looked like he would wet himself.

  “How do you know who he is?” She motioned to Solomon. “And what do you mean ‘he was right’?”

  Aldric licked his lips. “Mr. Normandy.”

  Shit.

  “Which Mr. Normandy?” Vivienne asked. “And Aldric, how did you know where I was?”

  “I…I have an app that tracks your phone,” he admitted in a rush. “It’s just so I know when you’re getting close to the office! Everyone kept asking me and your driver said—”

  Vivienne slashed her hand through the air. “We will come back to that. Which Mr. Normandy?”

  “Actually, both. Gerard, but then Victor.” Aldric’s eyes slid to Solomon. “Mr. Normandy—Gerard, I mean—called and asked if you had meetings scheduled with him.” He pointed at Solomon.

  Vivienne shook her head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense, because—”

  “Someone saw you two together. He wanted to know if it was business or…pleasure.”

  Solomon’s whole body had gone cold, the kind of icy cold that made it hard to think, to breathe.

  He’d come to Paris against his better judgment. Running into Vivienne had been a worst-case scenario. Second runner up was running into Gerard Normandy, Vivienne’s uncle on the Beauvalot side of the family, and a backstabbing, money-grubbing asshole of the first order.

&nb
sp; “A few minutes later Victor called, asked if you were meeting with him about the tech distribution line project. He said that the tech firms you were supposed to meet with this week had heard about your meeting with Carter and were worried.”

  Solomon had no idea what tech distribution project the man was talking about, but the color had drained out of Vivienne’s face.

  “And I told them they had to talk to you directly, but you weren’t picking up. I said I didn’t know where you were.”

  “But you did know,” Solomon growled.

  “I wasn’t going to… I really did try.” He made a pained noise. “But then I saw…I saw this.” He fumbled with his phone for a moment and held it up, screen facing out.

  They all leaned in to see. It was a French gossip blog, the website all bright pinks and yellows.

  Right in the center was a picture of himself and Vivienne walking into her apartment building yesterday morning. They were in profile—whoever had taken the picture must have been on the sidewalk, a bit of a ways down the street.

  The headline read Corporate Takeover or Lovers Reunited?

  “Fuck,” Solomon breathed.

  Vivienne walked to a chair and sat down. The moment her ass touched the seat, her eyes went wide, her gaze shooting to him. The woman looking at him wasn’t one of the most powerful businesswoman in France, a force to be reckoned with.

  It was his submissive, looking to him for help and protection.

  He rounded on Aldric. “This is the emergency? A picture on a gossip website?”

  “But the meetings with the—”

  “Get. Out,” Solomon snarled.

  The young man stood. “Mademoiselle Deschamps, I’m so sorry I—”

  “Go.”

  He went.

  Solomon crossed to a stiffly seated Vivienne, ignoring the attendant who’d remained in the office with them. Dimly, he heard Lillian, who must have stayed in the hall, escorting Aldric out.

  “Baby, look at me.” He cupped the back of her neck, rubbing the skin under her ear with his thumb.

  She slumped forward, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. “Oh God, what a mess.”

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Victor and I were meeting with some tech firms this week. If they think I’m meeting with you to discuss the same thing…”

  “I’ll have RedBall issue a press release.” It wasn’t Solomon, but his mother, who had founded RedBall Tech. She’d been at the forefront of the Silicon Valley wave. Solomon had known more about cutting edge computer technology than some of his professors in college. As heir apparent, his job had been to learn about business, and about the world. He’d had grand plans to change the world by ripping apart the way things were done, leveling the playing field.

  He still had those dreams, but he was no longer actively pursing them. His mother was still president and CEO. Solomon was RedBall’s chief business development officer, a job that suited him well since it involved research—which could be done from his private island—and travel.

  “And what will they say we were doing together?” she asked softly.

  “Two old friends meet in Paris. It happens.”

  She slid off the chair and into his arms, until they were both kneeling, her head on his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Have I mentioned I hate Paris?”

  She snorted in amusement. “You don’t hate—”

  The door slammed open. Solomon twisted to see what fresh hell was barging in. He got one good look at an enraged dark-haired man coming at him full force.

  Solomon twisted, curling his body protectively around Vivienne. The punch that had been aimed at his jaw cracked against the back of his head.

  His assailant cursed. “Get away from my cousin, you fucking animal.”

  Then a bad situation got worse, when a second voice said, “Vivienne, I expected better from you.”

  Her family was here.

  THIS WAS A NIGHTMARE. In all her grimmest daydreams, Vivienne had never imagined a worse situation than this one.

  It was so bad that she was frozen, like a deer on train tracks, blinded and shocked to stillness by the headlamp. But she wasn’t a deer, and she knew that what was barreling towards her would kill her if she didn’t get out of the way.

  Or stop the train.

  That thought galvanized her to action. She grabbed Solomon’s shoulders and leapt to her feet.

  Victor was standing to the side shaking out his fist. Victor wasn’t her favorite cousin—they weren’t close the way she and his brother Edmund were—but she and Victor worked together, and they respected each other. One of the ways they’d managed that was by never talking about their personal lives, in particular her relationship with Solomon.

  After all, the world believed Victor was responsible for Solomon’s scar.

  Vivienne squared her shoulders and stepped between them. Her cousin’s gaze dropped to her neck, his face blanched and then he looked away.

  Vivienne’s stomach went tight with embarrassment and worse, shame. She reached out and grabbed a white dress shirt off one of the nearby racks and pulled it on, holding it closed at the throat to hide the harness. That did nothing to lessen the feel of the anal hook still penetrating her, or the way the straps of the harness hugged her torso and thighs, an ever-present reminder of his domination.

  She couldn’t think about that right now. She had to deal with this intrusion.

  Taking a moment, she assessed the situation, struggling to think through the feelings that were clawing at her. The attendant who’d been in the room was gone.

  Vivienne turned to the second man to enter and speak. Her uncle. Whom she hated. “Uncle Gerard, this is highly inappropriate. This is my private life. If you need to talk to me, I will be happy to do so, but not here.”

  “Your private life?” Gerard’s bushy brows beetled in an expression he probably thought looked disapproving, but he was perilously close to smiling. “You are once again in a relationship with this man? Or are you just letting him hit you?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Solomon snarled from behind her.

  Vivienne swallowed hard. She was so angry and embarrassed she was close to tears. Behind her relatives, the door to the room stood open. Lillian, an attendant, and Aldric all appeared in the door.

  “Sirs,” Lillian said, “this is a private event.”

  “Vivienne, I know you’re not stupid enough to be sleeping with him again.” Victor ignored Lillian’s admonishment, looking at Vivienne now that she was covered up. “What are you really doing? Going behind my back? My phone has been ringing nonstop. Everyone thinks you’re going to make a deal with RedBall. What am I supposed to tell them?”

  “I’m not making a deal. What I’m doing here has nothing to do with CRD Beauvalot.”

  “You expect us to believe that?” Gerard scoffed.

  “I don’t care what you believe, Uncle. Mr. Carter and I were made aware of the situation just a few moments ago, but it is already being handled.” She hoped the words sounded cool and calm. Worthy of a CEO. Right now she couldn’t even channel Celeste.

  “Vivienne…we might lose everything we’ve been working on,” Victor said grimly.

  She needed to decide what to do. She needed to decide how to handle this. Wait, no, Solomon had made some of the decision for her.

  She was stuck in a horrible in-between place, half of her in sub mode, wanting to back down from the challenge, to fall back against Solomon and let him take control, as was his right and duty as her Dom. The other half of her was in CEO crisis mode—it was her normal operating state whenever her uncle was around. She focused on that feeling, doing her best to pretend that she wasn’t wearing a harness and anal plug under her dress, that her pussy wasn’t still wet.

  “RedBall is going to put out a statement that we are not entering into any business arrangements with them.”

  Victor’s attention switched to Solomon, his gaze hardening. “Is this true?
”

  “It is,” Solomon confirmed. “And by the way, it’s just great to see you again, Victor, you fucking dick.”

  Victor made a rude gesture.

  “Now that this is settled, how about you two go away?” Solomon stepped up beside her. She was grateful he’d stayed back until now, allowing her to deal with her relatives. It showed more political and emotional savvy than she remembered him having. “Wait, him too.” Solomon pointed at Aldric. “Lillian, you need help getting them out?”

  “I am so sorry. There were threats made and I didn’t want the authorities called, and…” Lillian clenched her hands together, fingers trembling. “No, Mr. Carter. We will take care of it.”

  “You think this is settled?” Gerard asked.

  Vivienne had a sinking feeling her uncle wasn’t going to let this go.

  “You were seen with him. There will be talk. The kind of talk that makes people reluctant to do business with us.”

  “RedBall will issue a press release first thing in the morning. There’s nothing to talk about. The matter is settled,” Solomon stated.

  “You are an imbecile,” Gerard declared. “The matter is not settled. The damage has been done, and a statement from your family’s little company won’t be enough.” He looked at her. “We need to meet, to discuss what is best for the family.”

  “Father, it can wait until morning,” Victor said. “Until we get the first press release drafted.”

  “Sirs, you must leave immediately, or I will call the police myself,” Lillian insisted.

  Gerard scoffed. “And have all your perversities exposed? I think not.”

  “Escort them out,” Solomon said. “Or I will.”

  “Don’t touch me or my father,” Victor snarled.

  “How about you shut the fuck up?”

  This whole thing was devolving into chaos.

  “What do you want, Uncle?” The words felt heavy as she said them.

  Gerard smiled. “Only what’s best for the company. To be sure we present the right image.”