Perfect, smiling lips shone at him. Her eyes were stunning. She certainly drew the attention of everyone around her, which made him wonder why someone like Bridget would choose to be friends with Cheyenne. Or was that the other way around?
Cheyenne was the girlfriend Alexi Sumneroff had gotten rid of. Dominic didn’t know the background; he wasn’t interested in the gossip, but he suspected Cheyenne was particularly with her boyfriends. A few of his acquaintances had noticed when Cheyenne turned up in Marbella, newly separated if the gossips could be believed.
For a moment, he had to wonder if he was being set up. He wouldn’t put it past Bridget, but would Bridget set him up with someone like Cheyenne?
“This is a beautiful aircraft,” Cheyenne said. Her eyes were shining and she smiled as she looked around. “Stunning.”
“Thank you,” Dominic said.
“I’m so excited about spending a few days in Paris. Sometimes you just have to get away for a bit, don’t you?”
Dominic didn’t respond. He would probably be more excited about staying home, seeing enough hotel rooms in foreign cities as it was. This trip to Paris was all about business, and any boardroom was as good as the next.
Bridget was holding John’s hand and Dominic had to wonder if she was cautious, having someone like Cheyenne there, but then Cheyenne hadn’t paid any attention to John.
“How is the building of your new headquarters going?”
An image of Cheryl popped into his mind. Whenever he thought of the build, she seemed to. “Good.”
“Now long will it take?”
“They say four to five months.”
“God, it took us eighteen months to build our house,” Bridget added.
“I’m sure Dominic knows how to get people motivated,” Cheyenne said, amusement shining in her eyes.
“Commercial contractors tend to work on different timelines,” he said.
“Bridget, darling, why don’t you and Cheyenne go settle into the front seats, so we can talk shop for a bit.”
“Of course,” Bridget said, rising. Cheyenne followed, throwing a flirty look back as she did.
“I hope you don’t mind them coming,” John said. “I hope Fennie told you so this wasn’t a surprise.”
“She did mention something.”
“They won’t be any bother.”
Dominic smiled, having the feeling that Cheyenne intended to be a distraction.
Dominic had called Fennie to make a reservation at Plaza Athénée. Bridget had been very excited about eating somewhere ‘scrumptious’ that night, and Dominic had felt that he needed to indulge her. Perhaps it would be nice to have dinner companions, instead of an extended business meeting.
It did mean that they could not invite out the supply partners that evening, but they would understand once John mentioned his wife joining them. It was the unspoken language of the businessmen: the wife joining you was an enforced work-life balance most of them sometimes had to tolerate.
Dominic and John had arrived a little early to sit and have a drink before the women arrived. Fennie had made the reservations, including rooms at George V. He’d ended up including Cheyenne in that party, even though the company had no benefit from her presence. It had seemed rude to exclude her, so she had a room as well.
“There you are,” Bridget said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder. Cheyenne followed, now wearing a dove-grey silk dress with ruffles at the neck. He wondered if that had been a purchase from the day. It was an exquisite dress; it floated around her form. Unfortunately, Bridget looked drab in comparison, and Dominic felt slightly sorry for her as, every now and then, her eyes travelled over her friend’s attire.
“How was your day?” Cheyenne asked, sliding into the chair next to him, her chin resting on her hand. It was such a familiar statement, it almost jarred a little.
“Good,” he said. “How was yours?”
“Excellent. The shopping in Paris is still beyond compare.”
“That is a stunning dress.”
“Do you like it?”
“How could I not?”
“Dior. They did my wedding dress. Right dress, wrong man,” she smiled.
“That does happen.”
“Unfortunately. But let’s not talk about the past. So tiresome. I am much more interested in the future.”
Chapter 51
Alistair sat down on one of the sofas within the cabana they had hired. He wasn’t sure why they had ended up here—perhaps the bar service. The girls showed off their latest bikinis, intermittently taking a dip in the pool.
Did he want to be here? He wasn’t sure. Nothing else was grabbing him. A few of the guys were golfing in the morning and would turn up after. He hadn’t been in the mood to stand around in the hot sun. So instead, he sat around in the shade where white flowing material surrounding the little enclosure that was theirs for the afternoon.
“Alistair,” Aggie said, sitting down next to him. “Heard from your brother?”
“He emailed something this morning, waffling on about flood defence. Sounded endlessly exciting.”
Aggie grimaced. “God knows what he’s doing out there. Perhaps we have lost him forever. Gone bush.”
Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Quentin going bush. Quentin had always been into clothes, lunches and parties. But his brother was more or less unrecognisable. Was it this girl that had brought this change in him, or was the girl a response to the change? Alistair didn’t know.
Sighing again, he watched people languishing around the pool. “I’m bored out of my brains,” he admitted.
“What shall we do to remedy that? Want to go somewhere?”
“I fucked that girl.” There was a part of him that just gloated in the fact. It felt like unbridled victory. All her objections had fallen to the wayside, with nothing more than a whisper. She’d been weak and had let him do whatever he wanted with her. A dark satisfaction lay in there.
“Okay,” Aggie said with the abrupt change in conversation. “Do you require congratulations?”
Stroking his fingers along his eyebrows, he pushed them together. Did he need congratulations? Yes, damn it. He’d been victorious. He’d conquered, and nothing, including her, had stood in his way. On the surface, he still felt that way, exactly like he had when he’d been sixteen, but the foundations felt as if they were missing. Something was missing, even in this full-on gloating. “I can’t stop thinking about her. And it’s not like I’m into her. I hate her, would probably be more accurate. Maybe that’s a bit strong. I just want to reach in there and mess it all up.”
“So you decided to have sex with her?” Aggie said with obvious confusion.
“Yes.”
“Obviously, on some guy level, that makes sense.”
With sinking shoulders, he sighed again. Because as much as he would like the victorious argument to stack up, it just didn’t. There was something more there, something unpleasant. “Her pissing me off is the only thing that gets to me at the moment.”
“I don’t understand this malaise you guys get. Your brother had it, too. You get to this point and then you’re all lost.”
He wished he could argue with her, but he couldn’t. Malaise might not be the best way to describe it, but it was certainly something.
“This girl, if she bothers you so much, must have some meaning. Are you jealous of her?”
“Of course not. She’s a girl. No offence. There’s nothing remarkable about her. She’s not that pretty. She thinks she’s better than anyone else.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know what it is that’s bothering me, but I’m developing quite an obsession about it. I’m not like creeping by her house, but I’ve thought about it.”
The really cool thing about Aggie was that she was bomb proof. She wasn’t put off by admitting things guys usually kept to themselves, like the fact that he was practically hate stalking a girl. He didn’t normally hate anyone. Dismissa
l was usually as far as it went.
“You know, it’s probably nothing to do with her. She represents something and it’s something that really bothers you.’’
“No, it’s her. I seriously want to wrap my hands around her neck and strangle her.”
“Yet, when you had the chance, you ended up fucking her.”
That was utterly beside the point, he thought. Anger was rising up again. General anger, not necessarily directed at anyone. Well, maybe her—Terese Wentford; she was like a sink for his anger.
“Look,” Aggie continued. “This has nothing to do with her. It’s all about you.”
“No, she’s fucking annoying.”
“Why?”
“Because she looks down on everyone.”
“So?”
“So, who’s she to look down on anyone? She’s the little pussy who ran away.”
“Again, so?”
“Pussies don’t have the right to look down on anyone.”
“Is that guy code?”
“Hell, yes.”
“And now it’s your job to see her right? And you did that by sleeping with her? Have you ever considered getting professional help?”
“Very funny.”
“Not sure I’m all that jokey about it. Or maybe you’re clinging onto this girl because she distracts you from the thing you really don’t want to face.”
“Like what?”
“Like how utterly unhappy you are?”
“I’m not unhappy. What have I got to be unhappy about?”
“You just quit your job, dumped your girlfriend and moved countries for no discernible reason. That’s a ‘not an ecstatically happy with my life’ move.”
“I was just getting tired of London.”
“Sure, it was the scenery that made you do it. If you’re not going to be honest with yourself, you’re never going to figure out why this girl gets to you so much.” Aggie rose and looked down at him. “Besides, Terese Wentford is here on holiday. A couple of weeks and she’s probably gone for another decade.” Aggie walked away, apparently having had enough of the conversation. Maybe he was being boring.
The idea of Terese skipping town was pure agitation. Yes, in a sense, he’d been angling to make her run away, but the idea of her actually doing so left a huge gap in front of him. As his sink for anger and frustration, he needed her here. Or was he better off with her gone?
Terese didn’t represent anything to him. What could she possibly represent? Who moved to Berlin and set up their life? That was something you did when you wanted to hide away from everyone you knew. There was nothing honourable about that.
Oh, he just wanted to wrap his fingers around her and strangle her. But instead, he’d fucked her and it had been raw and unheeded, pure instinct. He still got hard thinking about it. It wasn’t something he had strictly intended to happen; it just had. The problem was, that he wasn’t entirely sure what it had meant to her. Had she done it because she hated him? Did she still want it because she’d been denied? He wished he could climb into her brain and examine the evidence, because there was apparently an answer he sought. The question still eluded him, though.
Chapter 52
“So we finally get to have that drink we’ve always talked about,” Cheyenne said, smiling and languidly tucking her hair behind her ear. Bridget and her hubby had finally cleared off. “I do so love being tipsy in Paris. There is nothing else quite like it, is there?” Slowly, she crossed her legs, and action she knew drew attention. They sat in deep chairs in the hotel bar. Bridget and John’s drinks still sat empty on the other side of the small table.
“I suppose not,” Dominic said. He sat coolly and relaxed in his chair. It was hard to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes. There wasn’t the frenetic swallowing of someone who couldn’t believe his luck, but then this wasn’t luck for Dominic Dunbury. This was a proposition, a merger of empires, if you will. Empires of different kinds; she simply being a force in her own right. He must know what he should be with someone like her.
“It is the city for exploring the senses. This cognac is absolutely exquisite.”
“It is one of the better ones,” he said. But he was playing it cool and that only excited her more. There was a certain sort of eroticism with a powerful man. There was no denying it.
“So what do you like to do to unwind? A man in your position must have ways of doing so. You’d go mad otherwise.”
“I win. I tend to find that relaxing.”
She smiled. Oh, that was just so hot, she couldn’t help biting her lip. “Obviously, it must have its rewards.”
“It always does.”
“Was today’s meeting reward-worthy?” she asked meaningfully. It was too blatant a question that he wouldn’t understand her meaning. Running her fingers lightly up his arm as it lay on the chair’s armrest, she looked him straight in the eyes. The proposition couldn’t be more blatant, but still she couldn’t read what was in his eyes. They had that cool regard, not showing anything of what he was thinking.
The lighting in the bar made him look even more masculine. His jaw looked more square, his lips more luscious. He really was an attractive man. Oh, how she wished they weren’t in public.
Drawing breath, she lightened the atmosphere. “Would you like another drink? The night is still young.”
As if they sensed such changes, one of the pretty, young girls appeared to take an order. The meaningless little girl annoyed Cheyenne in her attentiveness. She didn’t have a body worth a damn and was probably jealous of all the women who came in here. Just another random citizen, shacked up with her equally non-descript boyfriend.
“No, I’m sorry,” Dominic said. “I think I might retire.”
Excitement soared in her. “Excellent idea.” Grabbing her clutch, she rose, the dress caressing around her thighs as she walked, placing her hand in the crook of his arm. The lobby was beautifully lit and every space seemed to have marble, mirrors, or flowers. It was early enough to still be busy, but enough to feel you were alone in the space. Other people seemed remote and far away.
The lifts were also darkly lit and she stood close enough to feel the hard length of his body along hers. They looked good together, she could see in the mirrors. The perfect couple—the power couple. Not a word was said during the entire ride and she thought that was sexy.
As he hadn’t, she had pressed the button for her floor and eagerly watched as the floor counter slowly flicked higher, ending with a sedate ding before the doors parted.
Letting go of his arm, she walked ahead at a really slow pace. She wanted him to see her, to salivate about what he was about to unwrap. Anticipation was overlooked by people. It was powerful and it cemented desire more than having. She might tease him for a while, toy with him until he was bursting to be touched.
Finally, they reached her door and excitement built inside her. She almost felt like prancing like a racehorse, pumped with adrenaline. Rushing forward, she kissed him, unable to hold back. It was time for something tactile.
After a brief kiss, he pulled away. “I’m afraid it is going to be an onerous day for me tomorrow,” he said, stroking down her arm. “So as flattered as I am, I must leave what you offer here.”
Cheyenne froze. What? What was going on? “Tomorrow night, then.”
He smiled tightly and met her eyes. “You are so very beautiful, Cheyenne. But too much trouble for me.”
“I am the right kind of trouble,” she said, managing something between disbelieving and seductive. He was turning her down. Who was he to turn her down? He was lucky she was even interested in him. Trouble? She wasn’t trouble. “You can’t believe in gossip.”
“I trust my own instincts.”
Instincts that said no to sex? What kind of instincts were those? “I wasn’t suggesting anything more than a night of mutual exploration, just a light ‘getting to know you better’.”
“I think we both know that’s not what you have in mind,” he said, takin
g a step away from her. This couldn’t be happening. He seriously was turning her down. For a moment, she’d thought he was playing hard to get, but he was going to walk away. What kind of guy walks away from Cheyenne Terpa? “Good night, Cheyenne,” he said and kept walking down the corridor.
Staring after him, she couldn’t believe this had happened. Everything had gone perfectly. Trouble? Who had been blabbing their big mouth and spewed lies about her? Was it Bridget? In that case, that bitch had some payback coming her way.
Shaking with anger, she unlocked her door and stepped inside. The sedate luxury of the room seemed to mock her. They were supposed to be in here, wrestling limbs and striving lips, but instead, he left her at the door. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn’t he know how lucky he was to have a chance with her?
Chapter 53
“Oh my God, it’s so hot,” Dean complained as they walked through the market in old Marbella, waving air into his face with a pamphlet. “Give me air-conditioning any time.”
“Ever consider Marbella might not be for you?”
Dean pouted as he gave her a chiding look, then was distracted. “I love those Moroccan lanterns. They’re just divine.”
“They are beautiful,” Cheryl agreed. “Oh, I love that,” she said, walking towards a second-hand painting, yellow with age.
“I take it you’re talking about the frame.”
“Yes, the frame. I could paint that white.”
“Might be something your gremlins won’t destroy.” Dean always called her boys gremlins, and she should probably be annoyed by it, but they did destroy everything. “Industrial strength glue to the wall and it might have a chance.”
“I wonder how much it is?”
“Cuánto esta?”
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