“Uh, Darcy?” His deep blue eyes flew back to mine. They were almost completely black by now. “Do you mind closing your eyes?” Seriously, I didn’t know if I’d laugh or jump on him, so I decided to do neither.
“Of course. I beg your forgiveness”, his voice was seriously hoarse and sexy.
“And don’t you take a peek!”, I warned him, unable to take the laugh from my voice.
“I shall do my best, Madam”, he replied, before his good manners could prevent him.
Welcome to the twenty-first century, Mr. Darcy.
♥
SEVEN DAYS IN PARIS
Nat
We were still maintaining our status quo as friends. Without benefits.
Why? I couldn’t recall.
How? I had absolutely no idea.
We were also still busy touring around Paris, and there were so many places I wished to visit, but I began to wonder how much longer we’d have to “hide” in one of the most elegant, most sought-after places in the world.
There was also the huge elephant in the room (besides the sexual tension, of course): would Travis be able to make the time travel machine work again? I didn’t know which would be more painful; the possibility of never seeing my brother again or having to say goodbye to Darcy. Actually, I knew: family was family. Of course it would be far worse to lose Ethan. On the other hand, Darcy was quite a part of the family now, in a weird, almost-psychotic way.
I could go around and around in this looping all day long, and that was exactly why Darcy and I never discussed this subject.
Maybe that was also why we hadn’t taken the next step in our relationship. Like, the real reason. I kept telling myself I couldn’t be involved with someone I didn’t trust, but the frightening truth was that I’d already forgiven Darcy and I was already involved with him up to my head, at least emotionally. And I wasn’t buying his attitude either, like he wasn’t getting too close because he was such a gentleman and he wanted to give me my space.
Yeah, right. The guy who held me naked and couldn’t stop staring at my lady parts as if he’d just found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow was anything but a gentleman.
Truth be told, neither of us had the emotional intelligence to be romantically involved with the knowledge we might have to be separated forever any day now. It was the prospect of falling in love and breaking our hearts that kept us apart at night. It was obvious, however, that we were already there. In love.
I know, you guys are probably thinking, “Oh, and you just figured this one out? We’ve known it for about fifty pages…” Well, I guess this was one of those realities of life nobody wanted to see. We were already in the middle, but too stupid and arrogant to admit it had even begun.
After spending an interesting morning visiting the Louvre (the Egyptian, Roman and Greek Antiques, more specifically, for we’d already visited other parts of the museum right in the beginning of our journey), Darcy suggested we promenaded (his word, not mine) in the Luxembourg Garden. The lovely and colorful space had become one of my favorite places in the city right from the first days, only losing to Champ des Mars, with its magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower.
For those who had never had the pleasure of visiting Paris, allow me to make you even more jealous than you already are. Luxembourg Garden was the biggest park in Paris, where everything was magical: from the flowerbeds to the fountains, from the statues to the monuments, from the smells to the views, everything in it pulsing with a magnetism that made its visitor feel like they’d just walked into fairy land.
Nevertheless, it was not just a gorgeous, romantic, public park. For, attached to the gardens (or would it be otherwise?), there was this beautiful, almost Cinderella-like, seventeenth century palace. And I was visiting it with a very handsome aristocrat from the nineteenth century who knew all about it. I know, you guys hate me a lot.
“Wanna read something?”, I asked him, right after we found a comfortable spot under a tree probably older than Darcy himself. It had this marking on it, where an E and a G were drawn inside a heart. Those markings always made me think if the lovers ended up together, that one particularly moving me for some obscure reason.
“As long as the book’s title does not begin with fifty and ends with Grey, I find it a splendid idea”, he replied with humor in his tone.
“Look who’s being a funny guy! And that book isn’t that terrible.” Oh, did I love to annoy him.
“Not that terrible? Do I need to remind you how traumatic it was? I beg you not to spoil such a lovely morning with that topic. It still frightens me how such vulgarity is called Literature nowadays.” He looked flushed already, just to remember about the Red Room of Pain.
“Okay, okay, no need to offend the lady’s book”, I told him, grinning. “You’re a Drama King, you know that?”
“I am quite certain you are mocking me and my monarchs”, he tried to look offended, but one of the corners of his lips betrayed him by turning up involuntarily, “You Americans claim not to believe in monarchies, yet, you always have”, he finished.
“Of course we don’t. Having a true democracy’s one of our country’s most important values”, I answered firmly, even though his remark had sounded like a booty trap.
“Based on what I have observed in your country, and in the many plays I have watched most carefully in your television device, I came to the conclusion there is a lot of inconsistences in your democracy”, he finished proudly.
Humph. One had to respect him for that one. I was aware how our democracy was flawed, but I was kind of impressed how fast he’d noticed, when most people spent their lives ignorant of that fact. Perhaps he’d watched House of Cards. If that were the case, I’d already lost the argument…
“Well, perhaps there’s reason in your words,” I knew he tasted victory. Not yet, Mr. Darcy. I was far from over. “Still, being able to choose one’s leader by majority is much better than having a leader chosen for the population by birth, regardless of their leadership competences. Or lack of.” That was how I rested my case brilliantly.
“So”, Damn! Did he ever give up? Oh, he was too much like me in some things. A wicked smirk appeared on his arrogant face. “Are you affirming, then, that the orange man that represents you is a better leader than my current queen?”
Holy sheet. He was far smarter than I had anticipated. I came up with the only excuse I could, refusing to lose, “Judging someone just because he’s orange could be considered racism nowadays.”
And that was that. Or not. “Oh, really?” One of his thick brows shot up, but the grin never left his perfect lips. Oh, did I want to bite them!
“Yes. Really”, I said through gritted teeth.
“What is his race supposed to be, then?”
What?! “What?!”
Darcy cleared his throat. Arrogantly. Aristocratically. Handsomely. Then he began, very slowly, as if he were speaking to a five-year-old. “I believe to be racist a race needs to be involved. Back in my present time, there was not an orange race. Forgive me for the ignorance, but what is your President’s race?” His blue eyes were bright with excitement, and he’d managed to move closer.
Our thighs were now touching, and so were our arms. I couldn’t see our hands, since they were behind our bodies, supporting our weight. Yet, I could most certainly feel his hand’s heat. My mind went blank with his proximity, but I forced myself to come up with a plausible answer. “Well, a lot of evolution happened since your time. His race is new, as you might have guessed. We call it the Simpsons.”
He seemed to consider my bullsheet for a few moments, then continued, “Right. In any case, do you consider a Presidential system better than a Monarchy, no matter what the circumstance?”
“Sure, me and all Americans.”
Gingerly, he brushed a few strands of my hair behind my ear, and whispered, his warm breath again
st the side of my neck. “Do you always believe that, Nat? Would you not wish to be a queen, if you could?” Oh, God. He called me Nat. Panties-dropping alert! Calling me by my nickname made my insides turn to butter. Yet, I somehow managed to shake my head. “Do you know what I believe in? I believe all men want to have millions loyal to them, and all women want to be adored, spoiled and loved above all others.”
“Don’t be sexist! And I’m not like that!” I wasn’t even sure what he’d just stated, but I considered it safer to just contradict him.
“Are you certain?” His lips were now touching my ear lobes, and his hands had moved to my hair, brushing them with his long fingers.
Holy. Flocking. Sheet. Mr. Darcy was becoming pretty good at this twenty-first century thing.
♥
Nat
No need to tell things were sparking between Darcy and me that evening. To make matters even hotter (was it possible? Yes, it was), we decided to have a romantic dinner in our Parisian apartment.
Well, the romantic part was not explicit, but it was definitely in the air. From the candles on the wrought-iron table and spread over the balconies, to the delicious French wine we’d carefully selected in a lovely shop near Luxembourg Garden, everything screamed “Get under the sheets, you two!”
The food itself was romantic. It took Darcy almost three hours to get the tomato sauce right, like my dad had taught him. By the time he was satisfied with the result, he was covered in it. What was I thinking about in that moment? How great that sauce would taste if I licked it off his skin. Don’t you dare judge me! Trust me, you’d want the same thing if you were in my shoes.
I set the table while Darcy chose some music for us. I couldn’t wait to find out what he’d select. There was a radio station playing Édith Piaf. He heard her for a couple of minutes and changed. I loved her, but it took a special mood to hear Piaf. Still, I was curious to learn Darcy’s impressions.
“Didn’t you enjoy the music that was playing?”
Our eyes met, his smile a reflection of mine. “Quite the opposite, Miss Nathalie. It is beautiful. The lady sings with her heart. However, she made me sad, somehow.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I finished setting the wine glasses, and he finally chose a radio station that was playing some Jazz. Perfect. And perfectly romantic.
So, there we were, having great food, a delicious wine, with an outstanding view, lovely music and lively conversation. Two cats established themselves in the next door’s balcony to people-watch, one of them circling the other non-stop. We considered them cute, until they started meowing. Pretty loud.
Then, one of the cats, the caramel one, grabbed the black one by the neck. The cat being bitten began making terrible noises. Finally, the caramel furred monster mounted the fragile black kitten.
“We need to help”, I was kind of pissed at Darcy’s negligence. “This beast’s hurting the kitty!” With that, Darcy actually laughed! What a cruel thing to do! How could he laugh while the kitten was meowing her lungs out, the poor creature! “Won’t you do anything, Darcy?”
“What should I do exactly, Miss Nathalie?” He had to speak very loud to be heard with all the clamor going on.
“I don’t know!” He gave me an amusing glance, which infuriated me. “Do something gentlemanlike! Just pretend this kitten is a damsel in distress!”
“Well, were she a damsel, I would leave the balcony in order to give them some privacy”, he replied politely, his I-know-all smile playing on his lips.
“What the flock are you talking about?” I was furious, until I recognized some of the movements the cats were making. Oh, right. Now I got it. They were… mating. I blushed deeply with the realization of my stupidity. Besides, I kind of felt jealous of the kitty.
How pathetic my life was, I considered, while Darcy kept laughing.
♥
THAT SAME MOMENT
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
“She’s been questioned by the Feds, as her brother told you. But, ever since, I haven’t found any indication Nat’s been taken by the Bureau or the CIA or any agencies. At least, it wasn’t official. So, if she was taken by the Government, it was off the books.”
Fanny took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. She had been taught to do that when she was on the verge of losing her patience. She did the procedure another three times. It didn’t work. She was still enraged.
“And that’s all you’ve got for me?”, she accused Terry, “After a week? All you’ve got is nothing! I mean, you don’t even know if she’s with the Feds or the CIA!”
They were in his and Doug’s cramped office, and could hear phones ringing, people yelling desperately and cops shouting orders outside. Terry, who had been sitting in his chair behind one of the desks, stood up, took a few steps until he reached the door, which had been ajar, and closed it. Then, he returned to his desk, but this time he sat on the edge of his desk, facing her.
Fanny looked, as usual, irresistible. She was wearing a revealing dark green backless dress, which contrasted beautifully with her alabaster skin and her red hair. Sitting down as she was, with her legs crossed, the silky fabric ended many inches over her knees, too many inches for his soberness.
She’d been talking on her cell when she walked into his office, making many heads turn her way as she paraded like a top model, and he’d overheard her telling whoever she was talking to she’d get to the pub in half an hour. Terry couldn’t help feeling jealous. He really hoped it hadn’t been a man on the other side of the line.
“Fanny, I’m doing you a favor. Remember?” She rolled her eyes at him, which made him want her even more. He had to be tough, though. He couldn’t keep cutting her slacks. “This is not an official investigation. It’s a personal investigation, as a matter of fact. You’ve even made some very indecent promises to repay this specific favor.”
“Hey, don’t you dare accuse me of not keeping my part of the bargain!” Terry loved it when she was all worked up, blushing with anger, pouting like an eight-year-old. “You’re the one who didn’t accept my terms, because you’re a fuc–”
He pulled her up and encaged her with his legs on each side of her hips in less than a second. Even though he was sitting on the desk, he was still a few inches taller than she was. One of his hands was possessively on the small of her back, his fingers strong and warm against her dress; the other was under her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes.
“The day I take you to my bed, it won’t be because of a fucking promise you want to keep. I want you. A lot. I think about you all the time. But the only way we’re making love is if you’re willing. Like, truly willing.”
She was quiet for a long moment, just staring into his eyes. Then, the sexiest grin Terry had ever seen appeared on her lips. He waited anxiously for her answer, yet she did something that didn’t require words instead. Her hand closed over the nape of his neck and she pulled his lips to her. Fanny didn’t wait for him to use his tongue first. Of course not. She had to take all initiatives, Terry knew.
If she wanted to be the Alfa dog in their relationship, then she’d just be it. He didn’t care, as long as there was a relationship between them, not only make out sessions and some hot nights under the sheets.
Fanny tasted of mint and… Fanny. Terry couldn’t explain it; she tasted spicy and bittersweet, absolutely delicious. She deepened the kiss and pressed her soft body against his hard one, making him groan loudly. Her tongue moved deep and surely, and all that was left for him to do was to enjoy the sharp pleasure he was feeling.
“Uh, Terry?” A jerk who was about to get shot interrupted them.
“What?!” He practically yelled at the masculine voice that had ended one of the most arousing kisses of his life when he recognized Officer House. Shit, he was at the precinct, making out with a woman who had no reason to be there.
“Sorry, Terry, but the captain
wants to see you in his office…” Then after a second pause, House explained, “He says it’s pretty urgent.”
“Okay”, he told the cop. He then turned to Fanny, whose lips were swollen from the kiss. “You stay right here, is that clear?”
“Pfff…” She answered sarcastically, already moving away from him. “I have places to be, darling”, she informed with an arrogant tone. She moved to the door, but the young officer was still blocking it. He looked at her and back at the detective.
“Should I book her, sir?”, he asked Terry, his mistake crystal clear. He thought Fanny was a hooker, which gave Terry a second motive to shoot the man.
“No! What’s wrong with you, man? She’s not a prosti–” He was interrupted by Fanny’s contagious laugh.
“Are you gonna handcuff me, officer? Because I’d love some handcuffing.” She took a few steps closer to officer House, who was now pale, looking like he was about to pass out. “No? Oh, that’s all right, honey. You couldn’t afford me, anyway.”
With that, she walked out of the office, leaving behind two open-mouthed men.
“Who’s that?”, the officer asked Terry, already looking smitten.
“My future wife”, the detective replied with a broad smile on his face.
♥
Chapter 22
13 DAYS IN PARIS
Nat
“I can bear it no longer.”
Darcy didn’t knock. He didn’t have to. We both knew neither of us was asleep. It had been yet another amazing day. Ethan had granted us a private tour in a storage facility owned by no other than the Louvre. Since I’d read somewhere only about ten percent of the museum’s permanent collection was actually displayed within its walls, I always wanted to see whatever they were not showing.
One might think Ethan was the most attentive brother in History, planning all those things from over two hundred years in the past. I knew better, though; he was probably bored to death in the eighteen hundreds.
From Pemberley to Manhattan Page 17