Boxed Set: At the Billionaire’s Command – Vol. 1-3

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Boxed Set: At the Billionaire’s Command – Vol. 1-3 Page 13

by Lucy Jones


  "Works for me."

  Daniel signals to Ray to bring the car forward and watches me go.

  "Right, here we are, Miss. Mr Wietermann's rooms take up the entire top floor of the building. Come this way, I'll show you to the bedroom."

  A pair of sliding doors opens onto a plain, naked expanse: the 'bedroom'. One of the walls is covered with mirrors from top to bottom, like in a dance studio. Enthroned in a corner, a standing bathtub lies in full view. Night has fallen, the blinds are down and a few lamps cast soft shadows around the room.

  I walk up to the bathtub, light up the big round candles laid out on a tray on the floor, sit on the edge and turn on the taps.

  [Sunday 29 July 11:02 pm

  I'm here.]

  [Are you in the bedroom?]

  [Yes.]

  [What are you doing?]

  [I'm running myself a bath.]

  [I want you to slowly dip your body into the water, to let the heat penetrate you little by little, to feel the foam murmur over your skin. Bathed in hot, liquid velvet, your body unwinds and begins to yield, ready to take me in.]

  This strange bedroom, the night, the candles, the steam from the bath, Daniel's message all plunge me into a state of sweet languor. Simply to undress, to feel the fabric glide off my skin, sends a light shiver running through me. I do as Daniel tells me: I gradually immerse myself, sliding beneath the sea of bubbles, relaxing, letting the warm water sweep me away.

  I lay my head on the edge of the bathtub and close my eyes. My hands, guided as much by the memory as the anticipation of Daniel's touch, run all over my body: down my neck, my throat, the swelling of my breasts, my navel... up my ankles, the back of my knees, my thighs... over my sex, the outer folds of my lips swollen by the heat of the water and the fire kindling within me, along the smooth inner folds... into my vagina, which closes over my finger as it slides in....

  I slip my finger out and stop touching myself in order to preserve this extraordinary sweetness, a taste of further delights to come. I get out of the bath and put on a towel, but I don't dry myself off completely, leaving my skin to sparkle and shimmer as I go to lie down on the bed.

  [Sunday 29 July 11:32 pm

  That bath was divine...]

  [I could only think of you getting ready for me. Where are you now?]

  [Naked, on your bed.]

  [It's desperately exciting to know you're so near, so ready. I can't wait any longer.]

  [I'm stretched out, lying face down with a towel draped across my lower back. My mound is rubbing against the sheets. What am I to do? Go to sleep? Impossible. Wait for you like a good girl? My body won't last much longer....]

  [I'm coming.]

  Less than fifteen minutes after our SMS interchange, Daniel comes in through the sliding doors. His excitement is palpable.

  He takes off his clothes without taking his eyes off me.

  "Don't move...."

  I'm still stretched out on my front, back arched, feet crossed in the air, resting on my elbows with my breasts dangling over the sheets. Daniel advances towards me, naked and erect, his chest thrust forward. His every move exudes raw power. I lie motionless, transfixed by his devastating beauty. He sits down next to me and runs his hand gently along the small of my back. Now Daniel is straddling me, kneeling over my thighs. I can't see him any more, but I feel his hands grab hold of my cheeks, massaging and squeezing them, then I feel moist lips claiming the two orbs offered up to his eyes, his hands, his mouth.

  His tongue darts in between my cheeks and pokes at my cleft, teasing its way down until it reaches my sex. His face is completely buried in me. The force of his tongue propels me forward, causing my mound to rub against the sheets and setting me on fire. All of a sudden, Daniel flips me over, spreads my thighs and plunges into the moisture of my sex. He laps, tickles and nibbles and my entire body explodes: my clitoris swells up, my breasts harden, my breathing gives in to moans.

  In one single, sensual motion, Daniel slithers all the way up my body, his soft skin covering me. His face is a heartbeat away. I can feel his breath on my neck, the heat of his kiss searing my lips. His mouth tastes of me. The sensation is both strange and exciting.

  You're taking me, I'm giving myself to you and by giving myself to you, I'm discovering myself, I'm becoming through you, I'm partaking of my own essence. Come, come that I may truly know myself.

  Inflamed by his kiss, I wrap my legs around him and press him closer against me, against my burning depths. Our bodies lie entwined for a moment, while our mouths devour each other and our hands caress, clasp, clutch and claw.

  Suddenly, Daniel rises and puts on a condom. I wait for him to enter me, but he hoists me off the bed as if I weighed no more than a feather and carries me to the mirrored wall.

  Driven wild by his strength and his fire, delirious with desire, I turn to face the mirror and place my hands on the cold surface in which our naked silhouettes are reflected. Daniel presses up against me. We stay still for a moment, gazing at each other in the mirror, soaking up our hunger, until Daniel, still looking straight at me, whispers in my ear, "You are beautiful, Julia, so beautiful."

  He steps in between my legs to spread them and thrusts his pulsating member deep inside me. The rhythm with which he is forging our bodies is exquisitely slow. I arch my back further to let him in deeper. I shift my position, my hips moving convulsively. Daniel clings on to me tightly. Our breaths comes in long, drawn-out gasps. I love the way we permeate each other, how we mutually drive each other to the edge of ecstasy.

  Daniel begins to build up momentum. He takes hold of my breasts. My mouth, only centimetres away from the mirror, parts open. My breath comes in short gasps. The steam traces a halo on the mirror. Daniel thrusts faster. I cry out, my hips writhing with pleasure. I'm out of control, utterly lost in the frenzy with which Daniel is ravishing me. I try to hold out a little longer, I want the fire consuming my body to burn on, burn on... In the mirror, I see that Daniel is also about to come. Our gazes lock, and without taking our eyes off each other, we erupt together as a seismic orgasm crashes over our bodies. I stay propped up against the wall for a few seconds with Daniel arched over me, breathless. Then, Daniel takes me by the shoulders, turns me around and holds me tightly in his arms, tighter than he's ever done before.

  15. The woman in the silver frame

  My funny Valentine / Sweet comic Valentine / You make me smile with my heart / Your looks are laughable, / Unphotographable / Yet you’re my favorite work of art…

  ...

  The delicate, fragile, evanescent voice of Chet Baker... An apt, brooding romanticism... which suits Daniel so well....

  Don’t change a hair for me / Not if you care for me / Stay little Valentine stay / Each day is Valentine’s Day...

  ...

  I couldn't have dreamt a sweeter awakening.... The music is coming from another room; I'm in the bedroom, alone in the middle of the gigantic bed.

  Did Daniel spend the night with me?

  One thing is for sure, last night, he kept his promise....

  I get up, shower and slip on a short skirt and a t-shirt. Daniel and I converged so deeply last night, that this morning I feel fresh as the dew, serene and ready to talk to him about his father. I slip through the small gap left by the sliding doors and let myself be guided by the music. I go through a study-library, a small lounge and another, larger living room.

  Daniel is inside, sitting in an armchair and reading a newspaper. He hasn't heard me coming.

  "Good morning."

  Daniel looks up and gives me a big smile.

  And what a smile! I would kill for that smile, for the way in which it brings out his dimples and lights up his green eyes.

  He puts down his newspaper, gets up, walks towards me, kisses me on the forehead and says in a smooth voice:

  "Good morning, Julia. Tea? Coffee?"

  "I'd like some tea, please."

  "Some croissants?"

  "I'd love some."
r />   "Sit down. I'll go ask Martha to bring everything to you."

  Daniel comes back into the living room, followed a few minutes later by Martha bringing my breakfast.

  "What an appetite!"

  Daniel catches me in the act of gluttony. In the blink of an eye, I've gobbled up one croissant and am biting into another.

  "Didn't you notice?" I reply, with a mischievous look.

  Daniel chuckles merrily, a complicit smile creasing the back of his eyes.

  Right, time to broach the subject, the sooner I pass on Camille Wietermann's message, the better.

  I take a deep breath, my eyes fixed on the teacup held between my hands, and open my mouth as if to speak. But Daniel pulls the rug from under my feet and beats me to it.

  "Julia?"

  My head snaps up and I look up at him blankly, his voice breaking my train of thought. Daniel's expression is serious. Warm, but serious.

  If he wants to talk, that's fine by me! I'll just lay my cards out later.

  "Julia, please accept my apologies for what happened at Sterenn Park. I don't know how my mother knew I was there, or how she found out about you. It doesn't matter. She acted in an appalling manner towards you, and I understand that you were hurt by her attitude and what she said. I lost my composure and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

  Hold on just a minute, not so fast! I'm glad you see things my way, but I want to know why. Why your mother lost her temper like that. Why you didn't react.

  Daniel waits for me to answer.

  "I didn't understand... I didn't understand why you didn't stand up for me. And why you let me go."

  "I told you, I was caught off-guard and I didn't know what to do on the spur of the moment."

  "Yes, but that's not like you."

  "Well, now you know that everyone answers to someone, even me. My relations with my mother are complicated and conflictual, all the more so because they are based on deep affection. For me to confront her at that moment would have been devastating, the situation would only have gotten worse and she might have gone for your jugular. I wanted to spare you, to give you the chance to run away, for you not to get caught in the middle of our row."

  That's just what Sarah supposed....

  "But I would much rather have defended you in the face of all opposition, Julia. I hate having had to choose the lesser of two evils, I'm not proud of it. I'm asking you to please try and understand where I'm coming from."

  "And what about your mother? Why does she hate me so much?"

  "My mother has nothing against you personally, Julia. She's always been overprotective over my sister and me, ever since we were children. She certainly had her reasons back then... The problem is that she still wants to play that role today. She can't stand the thought of someone getting involved with either of us on anything other than professional grounds. She's afraid we'll be hurt, that people will harm us both physically and emotionally. She's created a bubble around the three of us, which she thinks is invulnerable, or so she wants to believe... She can't accept that I can be by her and my sister's side and with a woman at the same time, or even with friends. I thus take care not to introduce anyone to her, especially not without warning. In any case, she didn't single you out on purpose, please don't take it personally. That's what I wanted you to understand."

  "I think I understand. And I accept your apology."

  "I'm so glad, Julia, really I am," Daniel smiles, his face relaxing once more.

  "Shall we forget this incident, then?" he resumes. "I hope you will agree to return to Sterenn Park."

  "I'd like that very much."

  My reply seems to relieve him, even to fill him with enthusiasm.

  "What did you think of the estate? Did you like it?"

  Daniel looks at me inquiringly. He isn't just trying to make small talk: my opinion really seems to matter to him. I tell myself that I wasn't wrong, that the house means a great deal to him and that it mirrors him.

  "I thought it was... in the likeness of its owner. I loved it."

  Daniel lowers his eyes. Surprised, no doubt, perhaps moved by the veil I've just lifted.

  I have to make the most of this shared moment to take the leap.

  "Daniel? There's something I need to speak with you about. You see, it's a bit awkward because I'm only acting as a go-between, as a messenger, in fact. And I don't want to be a bird of ill-omen...."

  "What's this about?" he frowns.

  "Well... First, promise me you won't interrupt."

  "You're being all mysterious. Don't beat around the bush. Spit it out!"

  Seeing that his tone puts me off and adds to my apprehension, he calms down:

  "Promise. You can say what you need to say and I won't interrupt."

  "The day I left New York, Camille Wietermann, your father, came to the hotel and spoke with my friend Tom...."

  At once, Daniel's face stiffens and his eyes harden. I notice he's clenching his teeth and biting his lips, probably to keep himself from getting a word in. He promised, and he's a man of his word. I swallow and continue calmly.

  "You father asked after you. Remembering your instructions, Tom at first said that he didn't know any Daniel Wietermann. Your father then changed tack. He told Tom that he knew you weren't at the hotel any more because he had been watching you from a distance. He had wanted to approach you, but couldn't bring himself to do so and regretted it. That's why he came to ask for Tom's help. He had noticed that Tom and I were friends and that I had often gone out in your company. So he told himself that, perhaps if I was willing to pass on his wish to speak with you, you would agree to get back in touch with him."

  Phew! There, it's out now....

  "Have you finished?"

  "Yes."

  Daniel is furious. He gets up abruptly and begins pacing the room.

  "Not only does he dare to spy on me, but on top of it he uses you to get to me. He has no hesitation in using you. That man has always been a coward, a good-for-nothing!"

  Daniel doesn't stop pounding back and forth and motioning savagely. His voice is trembling with hatred, with rage and contempt.

  "And your friend fell for it! What on earth made him listen to that monster! Even though I forbade it! He should bloody well have been thrown out!"

  I stay seated without making a move, without saying a word. Just one peep, and it could all come crashing down on me. I'll have to ride out the storm.

  "And you, what are you playing at? You know I don't want to hear so much as the name of that bastard, don't you?! Couldn't you have kept it to yourself? Were you trying to make me mad? What, then? I apologise profusely to you, and the only thing you can think of is to ruin my life with my father's whining?"

  I stay calm. I can see that he's too beside himself to think about what he's saying.

  "Have you nothing left to say?"

  Very calmly, in a clear but measured tone, I say:

  "You're very upset, it's your right and you most probably have every reason to be. Who are you angry with? Your father? Yourself? Don't make me responsible or take your anger out on me. Make sure you don't accuse the wrong people. And besides, you're making my head spin, stalking around like that."

  My composure seems to take him by surprise, I can sense he's thrown a bit off balance by my calm in the face of his fury. He must be realising that he went too far, that he overreacted, that he may have sounded a bit ridiculous. He sits down again.

  "Did he say anything else to your friend?"

  I hesitate to tell him the truth. To the extent that I can't be sure of the accuracy of Camille's story, and in view of the fact that it's not up to me anyway to reconcile father and son, I can only tell him, in order not to lie to him, that Camille confided in Tom.

  "He had to make an effort to convince Tom to help him. He told him certain things about his life."

  "What things?"

  "I don't know, exactly. Only your father could tell you. You should give him a chance...."

&
nbsp; "You don't know what you're talking about, Julia."

  "Probably not. But after what happened at Sterenn Park, I was really mad at you and felt terribly let down. And yet, I agreed to listen to you and your explanation showed me that I didn't have all the facts at hand to judge the situation. Why couldn't you do the same with your father? At least listen to him. You can judge afterwards."

  Daniel's voice is no longer raised, his eyes are no longer threatening but staring slightly into space. His anger has given way to thoughtfulness.

  "You're right."

  It takes a long silence to clear the air of all its heaviness.

  "I'm not angry, Julia," Daniel finally says, before giving me a kiss. "Are you busy today?"

  "I need to hunt around for a flat. Sarah and I have to move in by the beginning of October."

  "In that case, I'll ask Ray to stay with you. In which district are you looking?"

  "I don't really know, I was actually thinking of doing some research today."

  'Well, Ray is here if you need to go somewhere. Otherwise, there's a computer in the study that you can use for your research. But don't worry about your flat. Enjoy the nice weather on the terrace. Relax. I have to take care of some business. I'll be back around 6:30 pm."

  "All right."

  Alone at Daniel's place, I realise that I don't even know what it looks like. The night was dark when I came here yesterday and Ray showed me straight to the bedroom. I decide to look around. The living room I'm currently in sits at the centre of a long series of linked rooms, visible by the edges of the walls jutting out. None of them are closed, save for the bedroom. Each room is painted white from floor to ceiling. Even most of the furniture and the material is spotlessly white. Nothing like Sterenn Park. Here, the lines are strict, the objects functional, with designer furniture and an almost clinical feel to it.

  Right, then: behind me, a study and a small lounge. In front, a dining room and a large open-plan kitchen right at the end. In the main living room, a massive sectional sofa and four armchairs surround a glass coffee table. Some wall decorations, a few lamps. Over here a silver-plated vase, over there a sideboard with a gloss finish. And then, in pride of place, a grand piano. Something is resting on it, I go to take a closer look. A silver frame, with a woman's picture in it. I grab it and peer at her. Dark-haired, flawless, magnificent. As if by instinct, I turn over the frame. At the back of the board, some words and a name are inscribed in elegant handwriting:

 

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