Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2) (23 page)

Michael
turned my phone over to Rafael so he could link it to the system and set it up
to pulse with the same warning. He introduced me to our new security staff
before we went our separate ways. I retrieved my Kindle from the bedroom and
walked down to the library when Michael settled in to work.  

We
met back in the bedroom for dinner at seven-thirty. I poured our water and wine
while Michael pulled our plates from under the covered tray. I examined the
food curiously. The meal was beautifully presented, but the smell was
nauseating. I wondered if all the time on the sailboat and the plane trip had
wreaked havoc on my stomach. Michael’s cooks in Paris and Saint-Tropez were
exceptional, and I had yet to eat a bad meal in France. I took a sip of wine,
and my stomach roiled. I set the wine down and tried picking at the food.

Michael’s
fork paused mid-air. “
Mon coeur
, you don’t like the food?”

I
abandoned the food and reached for a glass of sparkling water. “I’m sure the
food is fine. My stomach is just feeling a bit off.”

“But
you hardly ate anything today,” he objected as he set his fork down.

His
concern over such a small matter made me smile. “Michael, it’s nothing. I’m
sure I’ll be eating everything in sight tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,”
he replied as he studied me over the top of his wine.

I
curled my feet under me and sipped on water while Michael finished his meal. When
he finally set his plate aside, he reached over and started weaving a lock of
my hair around his finger. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

I
planted a soft kiss on his forehead, trying to erase the worry lines that now
carved his handsome face. “Yes. I promise you, I will be fine.”

I
washed up and crawled into bed. Michael had wandered out of the bedroom while I
was still in the bathroom. I was half asleep by the time he joined me in bed. I
burrowed into his warm chest and whispered, “
Je
t'aime, Michael
.”

“
Bonne
nuit, ma chérie.
Je
t'aime,
”
he replied just
as I drifted off to sleep.

*
* * * * *

I
thought I had made a full recovery when I woke the next morning, but the moment
I sat up, my stomach turned. I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Michael
found me two hours later, lying on the bathroom floor.

Michael’s
eyes widened with panic. “
Mon coeur!
What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m
fine,” I insisted as I pushed up from the cool tile. I suddenly realized how
ridiculous that sounded. “I think I have the flu,” I confessed miserably.

Michael
gathered me into his lap as he kneeled on the floor. “Can I carry you to the
bed? I’ll bring the trash bin in case you are sick.”

“Yes,”
I sighed gratefully. “I’d like to go to bed.”

Michael
scooped up the trash can, gently carried me to the bed, then sweetly tucked me
in. “Can I get you something,
ma chérie?
”

I
squeezed his hand. “Water and some medicine to help with the nausea, if you
have it.”

The
faintest smile tugged at his lips before he kissed my hand. “
Mon amour
,
I do not think medicine is such a good idea. Why don’t we try water and some
table crackers?”

I
shrugged. “Okay. It’s worth a shot.”

Michael
sent a quick text on his phone. “The cook will bring it up for you. Why don’t
you stay in bed, read your Kindle, and relax for a little bit. I’ll catch up on
work while you rest.” Michael paused, then continued hesitantly. “I was
planning to take you to the ballet at the Palais
Garnier tonight, but we
don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“The
Palais Garnier?” I asked curiously. I didn’t recognize the name from any of our
previous outings.

Michael
laughed. “I would think you of all people would know the Palais Garnier,
mon
coeur
. It is the opera house from the Phantom of the Opera.”

I
gasped as I sat up in bed. “Oh, Michael. Can we please go? I promise, I’ll feel
better!”

Michael
kissed the top of my head. “Of course,
ma chérie
,
tout ce que ton
coeur
désire
… anything
your heart desires.”

“Well,
when you put it that way…” I grabbed teasingly for Michael, but he quickly
darted out of reach.

He
laughed. “Rest, so we can play later.”

I
sank back against the pillows. Michael stopped to talk to Rafael just outside
the door. He winked at me as he gently pulled the door closed. I tried to read
my Kindle while I nibbled on the crackers the cook’s granddaughter brought up.
I washed them down with a small amount of water before snuggling into the thick
feather comforter for a short nap. I quickly drifted off to sleep.

My
stomach felt a lot better when I woke up, so I ate a few more crackers and
resumed reading my Kindle… that is until Rafael delivered two presents from
Michael. I felt like a kid at Christmas when he placed the beautifully wrapped gifts
next to me on the bed.

The
presents were wrapped in a heavy cream paper and tied with gold fabric ribbon.
I couldn’t hold back my excitement when I unwrapped the large flat box and
discovered an iridescent gold tea length halter dress, with layers of sheer pleats.
A wide black satin belt accentuated the waist. Tucked inside the box was a
large barrette, which held two black satin roses. The second box held delicate gold
heels. I nearly leapt from the bed.

I
fell in love with the dress the second I put it on. I twirled in front of the
mirrors in the bathroom while I waited for the tub to fill. I shed the dress
just long enough to bathe and apply makeup. I pulled my hair back and wound it into
a French roll. I tucked the black roses alongside the twist of hair. After I
finished pulling myself together, I stood and gaped at my reflection in the
mirror.
How could that be me?

I
was sitting by the windows overlooking the gardens when Michael returned to our
room. He stopped dead in his tracks. “
T
u
es tellement belle,
” he whispered. His eyes raked over
my face, the dress, my legs, and shoes before he made a small circle in the air
with his finger.

I
smiled and turned for him. He frowned as he closed the distance between us.
“I’m not sure I can take you out like this,
mon coeur
.”

My
face knit with confusion. “Why?”

“Because
you will be the ruin of entirely too many marriages if I take you out in public
like this. Also, I won’t be able to resist doing this.” Michael held my arms as
he lined my bare shoulders and my neck with soft kisses. “And, this…” he motioned
toward the hair twisted at the back of my head, “…makes me want to loosen your
hair and haul you back to bed.” As if mesmerized, he reached for the barrette.

“Don’t
you dare!” I warned in a low tone. “I want you to take me to the ballet, and I
am
not
redoing my hair!”

Michael
laughed as he grabbed my hips and pulled them against his.

My
eyes widened when I discovered just how aroused he had become.

His
face grew serious again. “You are sure you’re feeling okay,
ma chérie
?”

I
wrapped my arms around Michael’s shoulders so I could tangle my fingers in his
hair. “Yes, Michael. My stomach feels fine. I’m even a little bit hungry.”

“
Très bien
,” Michael
murmured. He nibbled my ear as he muttered all the things he planned to do to
me in French.

I
gasped at the few words I understood.

Michael
eventually tore his hands from me so he could get ready for our date. He paired
one of his black suits with gold cufflinks and a gold and black paisley tie.

I
was the one swooning by the time he applied his signature citrus and clove
scented cologne. I ran my fingers along the thin layer of stubble that darkened
his jaw line and considered taking him up on his offer to haul me back to bed.

Michael
chuckled at the look on my face. He draped a black pashmina over my shoulders.
“If it becomes too unbearable,
mon coeur
, we could always lock ourselves
in one of the bathrooms at the opera house. They are very well appointed.”

I
rolled my eye and shook my head, although the idea sent a delicious shiver down
my spine. I linked my arm in his as we made our way out to the car.

I
was trying not to think about those bathrooms fifteen minutes later when we
were seated at the L’Opera Restaurant. My stomach felt perfectly fine, but I decided
to skip the wine just to be on the safe side. Michael sipped on a glass of
Beaujolais while he perused the menu. I encouraged him to order for me, then sat
back and marveled at the restaurant’s bright red and white décor, which had a
shockingly retro-modern feel in stark contrast to the 1800’s architecture of
the opera house the restaurant was housed in.

Michael
ordered our food. Then he sat back and watched me study the room. “So, what do
you think?”

I
reached for a glass of sparkling water before meeting his gaze. “It’s very
unexpected. The décor is a bit contemporary for my blood.”

Michael
nodded as he surveyed the room. “Mine too.”

“I
don’t think I thanked you for the dress, Michael. It’s beautiful. Thank you… for
this evening and for the dress.”

Michael
shrugged. “You deserve to have beautiful things,
mon amour
.”

The
waiter returned to our table with two strawberry and spinach salads and a wire
basket filled with warm baguette bread. “
Bon
appétit.
”

Michael
and I exchanged smiles as we both responded, “
Merci.”

Michael
dug into the salad.

I
reached for a piece of bread. “You know, Michael. You are constantly showering
me with gifts. I don’t have access to my bank account anymore, so I can’t buy
you anything, although I would very much like to. It feels a little awkward,
accepting your gifts when I can’t return the favor.”

Michael’s
mouth fell open. “You want to buy
me
a gift? Why?”

I
shot him an irritated look as I took a bite of salad. “Why do you buy me gifts?”

Michael
looked confused and a tad bit insulted. “I buy you gifts because I want you to
know I am thinking of you… because I want you to know you are loved… and
because I can.”

I
sat back in my chair and crossed my arms, raising both eyebrows for effect.

A
smile spread slowly across Michael’s face. “Point made.”

The
waiter arrived with the main course. I smiled at Michael when I saw what he had
ordered. “You chose well,
mon
chérie
. This smells amazing.”

Michael
nodded at the waiter, who then shaved parmesan cheese over the top of our
plates. “I thought a chicken entrée would be easier on your stomach.”

The
chicken breast was served alongside a crayfish risotto. Both were drizzled with
a light citrus sauce. I took a small bite of the risotto and hummed my
appreciation. I inhaled two more bites, suddenly famished.

Michael
resumed our conversation when the waiter left. “Aside from the wine you
purchased for me on our second date, I can’t say that I have ever had a woman
purchase me a gift.”

I
nearly choked on the risotto. “Michael, you can’t be serious?”

He
looked thoughtful, then slowly shook his head. “Not since I was a child.”

I
eyed Michael with considerable sadness. “So you purchase the women you date
gifts, but they don’t give you gifts in exchange, not even on your birthday?”

Michael
shrugged. “I hadn’t really given it much thought. Perhaps they thought it was
pointless given my finances.”

I
narrowed my eyes. “Your finances are irrelevant. I’m sure you would enjoy the
sentiment regardless. The fact remains that I would like to purchase you a
gift, but I can’t.”

Michael
took another bite of chicken. “Do you still have the money I gave you in Saint-
Tropez?”

I
looked at him in surprise. “Yes, of course. I thought that was for emergencies…
in case we were separated.”

Michael
laughed. “I’ll open you your own account then.”

“With
what money?” I asked stubbornly.

Michael
looked thoroughly entertained as he reached for his wine. “Mine, of course.”

I
sighed. “Buying you a gift with your own money sort of defeats the purpose,
don’t you think?”

“No.
Not really. Not if it’s the thought that counts.”

The
waiter stopped back by to see if we wanted coffee and dessert. I glanced at
Michael, then shook my head. “I better not.”