Diva

by Carrie Duffy

  ‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked easily.

  ‘Sure.’

  They set off walking, Alyson falling into step beside him as they turned off the Boulevard de Clichy and into a maze of narrow streets, all heading sharply uphill. Alyson was thankful she’d turned down the heels.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve never been up here before,’ Aidan said incredulously.

  ‘I haven’t had time,’ Alyson admitted, adding slyly, ‘My slave-driver boss never lets me have a day off.’

  ‘He sounds terrible,’ Aidan teased.

  ‘He’s not so bad once you get to know him.’

  They grinned at each other, and Alyson felt herself begin to relax. Dionne’s suggestion that it was a date, along with the unfamiliar clothes she was wearing, had put her on edge. But Aidan was as friendly and laid-back as ever.

  They chatted easily as he led them effortlessly through the rabbit warren of streets until Alyson was completely disoriented.

  ‘How do you know where you’re going?’ she marvelled.

  ‘I’ll let you into a secret – I don’t. But I have pretty good instincts, and if I’m right it should be somewhere around …’

  They turned a corner and right in front of them stood the magnificent white-stone basilica of Sacré Cœur, dominating the skyline above them. Leading up the steep slope towards it was a crisscross of stone steps, winding through the flower-filled gardens on the hillside. There were people everywhere, chatting in every conceivable language, relaxing on the grass or seated on benches. Children ran around, shrieking excitedly, and at the bottom of the steps was an old-fashioned, brightly painted carousel.

  ‘Pretty spectacular, isn’t it?’ Aidan asked, watching the delight on Alyson’s face.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed, shading her eyes as she stared up at the dramatic white dome. She’d seen the church from a distance, naturally – it stood at the top of the Montmartre hill, the highest point in the city – but hadn’t realized until she was up close quite how magnificent it was.

  They rode the funicular to the top of the slope and made their way to the Place du Tertre, the famous square crammed with dozens of street artists. Alyson watched intently as they sketched portraits of the never-ending supply of tourists, charcoal dancing over the paper to provide a speedy souvenir.

  ‘Have your picture drawn,’ Aidan suggested, as the artists called out to them, trying to entice Alyson to sit and pose. But she shrank back, appalled at the idea.

  ‘No, I’m too shy.’ She shook her head bashfully as Aidan laughed.

  ‘Should we find somewhere to eat?’ he asked. The cobbled square was surrounded by restaurants, each with a waiter outside, who called to passers-by in a multitude of languages, trying to lure them inside with the promise of good food and good times.

  ‘Yeah, that sounds great. Where do you recommend?’

  Aidan shrugged. ‘Take your pick. I think they’re all pretty similar – it’s more about the atmosphere than the incredible cooking. Do you want to sit outside?’

  The evening was still balmy, exceptionally warm for early summer. ‘That’d be lovely.’ Alyson chose a place with red canopies and a traditional menu, where a pretty young waitress seated them.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Aidan asked.

  ‘Just water, thanks.’

  Aidan ordered red wine for himself, speaking briefly to the waitress before she giggled, then bustled away. ‘Your French is really good,’ Alyson told him, genuinely impressed. ‘How long have you been over here?’

  ‘Three years. I finished university in Dublin and didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do, so I came to stay with a friend who was studying out here and never left. I got the job in Chez Paddy – just behind the bar at first – and now I’m managing the place.’

  ‘And is that what … I mean, do you plan to …’ Alyson trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question.

  ‘Do I want to be a barman all my life?’ Aidan looked amused as he finished the sentence for her. ‘No, not for ever. But I figure I’m good at doing this. I’d like to open my own place eventually. Well, more than one would be great – a whole empire of bars and restaurants,’ he smiled wistfully. ‘But it’s a question of finding a backer, raising the finance. I’ve got a business plan, y’know, but I can’t afford to do it on my own … Anyway, enough about me.’ Aidan reached for a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth. ‘What about you? Are you planning to stay in Paris?’

  ‘I’m not sure …’ Alyson began uncertainly. ‘It depends. I mean, I’m happy at the moment. My original plan was to get a job with a big company – somewhere like BNP Paribas or Masson International would have been perfect. Not that I don’t enjoy Chez Paddy,’ she added quickly.

  ‘Hey, it’s hardly a career,’ Aidan said with feeling. ‘So what’s your real passion?’

  ‘I’m interested in business,’ Alyson confessed. ‘If I could get an entry-level job with a large firm, learn the ropes, see how everything works and make my way up – that would be perfect. I tried when I first got here, but didn’t get anything. I mean, I’m not a French native, I didn’t go to university … Believe me, I’ve heard every rejection line there is.’

  ‘Don’t give up,’ Aidan urged her. ‘You’re eighteen, right?’ he said with a pang, realizing how young that sounded. ‘You’ve got so much time. Maybe you should go back and study, if that’s what the problem is?’

  ‘No,’ Alyson shook her head. ‘I don’t want to do that. It would feel like a step back. And besides—’

  She was about to say something else, but then the waitress arrived with their starters. Aidan was annoyed at the interruption but tried not to show it. Alyson had told him more about herself tonight than she ever had at Chez Paddy, and it felt as if she was about to really open up.

  Silently, Aidan took a bite of toasted bread smothered with pâté. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. ‘It’s good,’ he told Alyson. ‘Do you want to try some?’

  ‘Okay,’ she agreed, as Aidan held out the bread across the table and Alyson bit into it, brushing her mouth with her fingertips as it flaked on her lips. ‘It’s delicious,’ she confirmed.

  Aidan watched her as he swirled his wine in its glass. ‘Do you ever drink?’

  Alyson shook her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  She stopped eating for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. ‘I guess … I don’t like the thought of being out of control in that way,’ she said eventually, thinking of her mother, of the empty vodka bottles and the horrific mood swings that would inevitably follow.

  Aidan nodded, considering her reply. ‘That’s a very British way of thinking. You don’t have to drink to get drunk, y’know. In France, they really appreciate the alcohol – you drink it with a meal to enhance the food.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound a very Irish way of thinking either,’ Alyson teased.

  Aidan smiled. ‘Here, try a sip,’ he offered, the rich burgundy catching the light as he held it out.

  Alyson hesitated for a moment then reached for the glass. ‘It’s strong!’ she exclaimed, as the flavours suffused her mouth. ‘It tastes peppery almost … but fruity at the same time.’

  ‘Very good,’ Aidan grinned. ‘I’ll make a sommelier of you yet. Now, take another bite of the pâté … and a sip of wine … You see how the tastes complement each other?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Alyson nodded, breaking into a smile. ‘You’re a good teacher.’

  She sat back in her chair, the warmth of the alcohol lingering in her mouth. Around them, the bustle of people continued, an incessant hum of background noise. The waitress brought over their main course, smiling and flirting with Aidan once again. He was a good-looking guy, Alyson realized, watching the pair with interest. She felt something stir within her, a proprietorial, jealous sensation.

  ‘So why Paris?’ Aidan asked as the waitress left. ‘Why not London, or New York even?’

  ‘Paris just seemed a good first
step,’ she said simply. ‘Abroad, not too far.’ But far enough, she thought to herself. ‘I remember when I was younger, there was a school trip to Paris but we … we didn’t have a lot of money,’ she explained awkwardly. ‘I couldn’t afford to go, and then the other kids came back with their little replica Eiffel Towers, and all the girls had bought berets … I suppose it held a fascination for me after that. I studied French in school and loved it, so Paris just seemed the natural choice. Like you said, I’m still young. I can travel in a few years if the opportunities come my way.’

  ‘I bet your parents miss you,’ Aidan commented casually.

  Alyson didn’t look at him, dropping her gaze and keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the plate in front of her. ‘They’re … not together any more. My father left when I was nine. I came home from school one day and … he’d gone. He took my little brother with him.’

  Aidan exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Have you seen him since?’ he asked gently.

  ‘No,’ Alyson replied coldly. ‘Well, once actually. Right before I left …’

  Alyson paused. She’d never told anyone all this before, but now she’d started she couldn’t stop. It felt good to get it off her chest, as though coming clean would herald a new beginning for her. And there was something trustworthy about Aidan. She felt she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge her on it.

  ‘My mother had … issues,’ Alyson continued, as Aidan sat quietly. ‘Her behaviour was pretty erratic, right from when I was a kid. I guess one day my dad just couldn’t deal with it any more. I was basically the adult after that. Mum had … she’d been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but she was pretty lax on taking her medication. I was terrified they were going to take me away …’

  Alyson trailed off, fighting to regain her composure. Aidan looked at her encouragingly, willing her to continue.

  ‘It must have been hard,’ he said lightly.

  ‘It was,’ she agreed. ‘I was working as soon as I was old enough, trying to keep everything together. I got a job waitressing, in a restaurant. It was decent money. Then one night I came home and Mum …’ Alyson’s voice cracked, and she struggled to carry on. ‘Mum was passed out on the floor. She’d taken an overdose. My dad turned up at the hospital – I hadn’t seen him in years. He and the doctor decided … they said that it would be better if Mum went into a home, then she could get the proper care she needed. Dad suggested I get away, that I leave Manchester and do something for me, go where I wanted to go. But, Aidan, I – I feel so guilty …’ Alyson’s eyes began to fill with tears.

  ‘Don’t,’ Aidan insisted. ‘Don’t feel guilty. You did as much as you could – more than that. Your dad was right. You have to start living your life.’

  ‘I found out that she’d seen him,’ Alyson continued. ‘Dad had been round to visit Mum a few times, while I was at school, but she never told me. And he never asked to see me. I didn’t find out until Mum was in hospital and … I don’t know. I guess I was angry. I left because I was mad at her. And I left because I wanted – needed – to get out. I thought it was best for both of us – that me leaving might give her the kick she needed to start taking care of herself. But maybe I should never have gone …’

  Alyson broke off, biting her lip to try and stop the tears that threatened to fall.

  ‘Shall I get the bill?’ Aidan asked gently. Alyson nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She reached for her purse but Aidan shook his head. ‘I’ll get this.’

  He left fifty euros on the table and they stood up, making their way out of the restaurant. Aidan reached out to take her hand, and Alyson didn’t object. It didn’t feel forced or unnatural – it just felt right. They walked in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they headed back towards Sacré Cœur, its smooth stone walls lit by white spotlights.

  As they followed the flow of people round to the front of the building, Alyson gasped. The whole of Paris was spread out before her, dazzlingly illuminated against the blackness of the night. She walked up to the guardrail, her eyes sweeping over the view as she gradually began to pick out the famous landmarks. A line of lights directly ahead marked the Louvre museum; to the left, the distinctive twin towers of Notre Dame thrusting into the dark sky.

  Alyson didn’t think she’d ever seen anything quite so beautiful. She sank down onto the stone steps, feeling as though she never wanted to leave. Around her the crowds moved slowly, the low hum of conversation carrying on the night air. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly; somewhere nearby a young guy was playing a guitar and singing softly.

  Aidan sat down beside her, and she suddenly felt embarrassed about her earlier outburst. What on earth had made her share such personal information with a guy she’d known for only a few weeks? Now he would think she was some crazy woman, on the verge of falling apart at any moment.

  ‘I’m sorry about tonight,’ she began. ‘I haven’t … I’ve never told anyone all that before. I’m not sure why I dumped it all on you …’

  ‘Hey, it’s fine,’ Aidan assured her. ‘If ever you need to talk, I’m here. And I bet your mum’s really proud of you. You did the right thing coming here.’

  Cautiously, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. To anyone watching they would have looked like just another pair of young lovers, one of the many dotted around the steps of Sacré Cœur, enjoying the romance of the setting.

  Alyson let her head rest on his shoulder, trying to force herself to relax, but the situation felt so alien. She’d never been this close to a man before, and every sensation seemed to be magnified – the masculine smell of soap and musky aftershave, the warmth of his body, the gentle press of his muscles against her.

  Her heart was beating fast, her stomach churning with excitement as a delicious tingling spread through her whole body. But rather than enjoying the feeling, it left her confused, unnerved. Overwhelmed by a sudden sense of panic, she pulled away from Aidan and scrambled to her feet.

  ‘What time is it?’ she demanded, her cheeks blazing red. ‘I think I have to go. I don’t want to miss the last métro.’ The words came out in a rush.

  Aidan got slowly to his feet, disappointment rushing through him. ‘I’ll walk you back. We’ll go to Abbesses – it’s closer.’

  Alyson set off quickly, Aidan quickening his step to catch up. This time there was no hand-holding, and they walked in awkward silence. The easy intimacy that had existed between them was well and truly shattered.

  Aidan could have kicked himself. He’d promised himself he’d go slowly with Alyson. She was so vulnerable, she felt like glass in his hands. He’d finally broken through the walls she surrounded herself with, but now the boundaries were back up and higher than ever.

  Well, from now on their relationship would be on her terms, Aidan told himself. Alyson saw him as nothing more than a friend and that was just fine – he would do his damnedest to protect her and not lose that friendship. He would do whatever it took to keep her in his life.

  12

  Philippe stared out at the Las Vegas Strip, the dazzling neon stretching as far as the eye could see before receding into silent, black desert. It was late at night and he was in a sumptuous suite at Azur, one of the new hotels in the CityCenter complex. In the morning he would sign a contract with Joel Steinberg, manager of Azur, to open a nightclub in the hotel. It would be Rochefort Enterprises’ second site in the States; three days ago he’d inked a deal on a place in Manhattan, cementing his international expansion. When Philippe saw something he wanted, he moved fast.

  Yeah, his US takeover was just beginning and life was good, Philippe reflected, as he glanced down at the woman kneeling on the floor in front of him, expertly sucking his cock. Her head was bent forward, her bleached blonde hair falling into her face as she bobbed back and forth, little choking noises escaping from her mouth as she took him deeper.

  She’d been sent up by the manager of the hotel, a little sweetener for the deal. Steinberg
was eager for Philippe to sign – that’s why he’d installed him in the 2,000 square foot Presidential Suite with its own private butler, given him twenty-four-hour access to a limo and half a million dollars’ worth of gambling credit to keep him entertained during his short stay.

  Philippe was impressed with what he saw. By the time the girl turned up at his door, he’d already made up his mind to sign. But he didn’t turn her away. Refusing a gift was simply bad manners.

  He reached out and gripped the window ledge, feeling the pressure of his orgasm start to build. The girl flicked her tongue teasingly around the tip of his penis, her hands working his balls and shaft. Was there such a thing as being too good at giving head? Philippe wondered idly. This woman was too practised, too professional, he noted, wondering how many others she’d sucked off before him. It was a depressing thought.

  Unwillingly, his thoughts came back to Alyson, as they had done the whole way through his trip. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d met some amazing women this past week – a particular highlight being the prim-looking Park Avenue princess whose immaculately presented exterior belied some filthy predilections between the sheets. But it was still Alyson he wanted.

  He wondered what it would be like if it was her kneeling between his legs right now, untouched and virginal. She would be hesitant, uncertain, but he could teach her everything. Philippe shivered, feeling a frisson of excitement at the thought of being the first. The view of Vegas began to blur and Philippe closed his eyes, imagining that slim, beautiful body naked in front of him, her innocent expression gazing up at him as she took him in her mouth and sucked softly, tentatively, the pressure steadily increasing, his cock growing harder, thrusting faster, more urgently, until he couldn’t hold back any longer and …

  Philippe came powerfully, letting out a cry. He groped for the girl’s head, holding her tightly between his hands so that she couldn’t move. She tilted her mouth slightly to accommodate the full length of him and he felt his cock hit the back of her throat, pulsing in the final throes.