Hooked Up: Book 2 (11 page)

“Why does she hate me? What have I ever done to her?”

“She’s just jealous, that’s all. She feels you’re distracting me from my work.”

“But you’re still working your ass off, despite seeing me!”

“I know, but lately, she’s right, my heart and soul are not in it. Since I met you I’ve been reminded that there is more to life than HookedUp. Besides, my work there is done. All the creative bit has finished, it’s only about deals now and making more money. That’s not what I’m about. Yeah, the money’s great. I mean, look at this car, my properties and stuff, but . . . ” he trailed off, deep in thought, as if an idea had just struck him.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“I’m taking
us
to Cap d’Antibes. I thought you should see a little of the French Riviera, the Côte d’Azur. I’ll get our passports and anything important biked over to us tomorrow and then we’ll fly to Paris from Nice the following day.” He put my seat back so I was reclining, the seat almost making a bed. “Let’s just forget this episode, shall we? I’ll sort things out with Sophie next week. I won’t have her ruining things between you and me.”

I took a deep breath and was placated, at least for the moment. No more tears.

He ran his eyes along my body and said, “You look amazing in that little red dress. Did you see how you were like a magnet? Everyone was looking at you. The best looking men in the room couldn’t keep their eyes off you.” His hand moved its way between my legs and he pushed them apart gently. “And you know what turns me on? They want you. But you’re mine. All mine.” The next thing I knew, he brought out the feather from his pocket. “It’s had a bit of wear and tear,” he said, “but it might make you feel more relaxed. Close your eyes, chérie. Think of lavender and rolling waves and just relax.”

I lay back and he began to trace the feather around my ankles and along my calves, and he tweaked my nipples with his fingers, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. I could feel the pulse between my legs and I splayed them open. He leaned over and kissed me, flicking his tongue on mine and then kissing me hard on the mouth. I moaned and started jiggling about in my seat. He traced his finger down my navel, around my bellybutton, and down to my panties. He pressed the palm of his whole hand over my core, holding it there, still. I could almost hear the throb of it like a heartbeat.

“Are you feeling better now,” he asked. “More relaxed?”

“Yes.”

He pressed my clit ever so lightly through my panties, and held it down for a second. I started pushing up against on his firm hand. But then he took it away and started the engine.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, longing for him to take me right here in the car.

“I’m hungry. It’s a good hour away yet, and I want to get us there in time for dinner.”

“So French,” I moaned. “Your belly comes before anything else, even sex.”

He laughed. “I know how to handle you, Pearl Robinson. I may be greedy for food but you’re greedy in other ways. I’m just whetting your appetite—just making sure my chick is still clucking.”

I’m clucking alright
. “You bastard,” I exclaimed, pounding his thigh with my fist. “You can’t leave me here like this, worked up between the legs, tingling all over.” I saw the huge bulge in his jeans and it made me catch my breath.
Why does he insist on this torture?

He had a knowing smirk on his face as he drove off, the car noisy like a racing car. “You just sleep now, baby, we’ll be there soon. Dream of me, and remember—be prepared, because I’m going to get you to get on top of me later. See how hard I am? That’s all for you.”

T
HAT NIGHT one of my fears materialized. We went to a party nearby, given by my friend Ridley. Sophie appeared like a bat out of hell, wearing a black slinky dress, her hair loose and sleek. I had an ominous feeling she might show up.

Everybody’s eyes were on Pearl in her sexy red dress. I mean,
everybody,
including my sister. As we walked in they were playing
Can’t Take My Eyes off of You
—the perfect song for Pearl. Charlize Theron was there, and people were getting them confused—that’s how good Pearl looked. Some movie star was chatting her up, without any qualms at all—some blond guy, Ryan, who had been in a romantic, Kleenex type of tear-jerker movie—female film goers wailing with emotion at every scene. I knew this because of Elodie; she’d taken me to see it. That was before Elodie had become an Angry Young Woman. Now, it seemed, she eschewed the male sex in general, so I doubt even this Ryan character would have done it for her. And there he was now, brazenly hitting on
my
Pearl.

It was obvious to me that Pearl could get any man she chose. She didn’t look a day over thirty. When I say thirty, I mean a beautiful, hot, sexy thirty. She looked amazing: tall and slim, but with killer curves in all the right places, especially her ass. Her skin and body glowed with health and fuckability. I know “fuckability” isn’t even a word, but it should have been coined just for Pearl because she oozed it from every pore. She was confident, self-assured, elegant. Despite her hot little dress.

Then
Wonderful Tonight
was playing and it couldn’t have been a better song to describe how I felt about her.

But I knew I had to get her out of that party ASAP. Away from Ryan the megastar and away from Sophie and her sharpened claws.

While Pearl was being flirted with, I located my sister, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her into the kitchen, where I hoped we could be masked by a little privacy.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Sophie?” I demanded, with a smile on my face.
The HookedUp CEOs. My what a lovely sibling team they are! They get on so well.

“Ridley invited me,” she said in a singsong voice.

“Where are you staying?”

“At your place, of course.”

“You can’t just turn up to my house whenever you feel like it! Especially when I’m there with company.”

“Company? I can’t believe you’re still fucking that cougar! In her slutty red dress, drawing so much attention. You
have
seen her, haven’t you, Alexandre, doing the rounds, ‘networking’ as the Americans like to call it.” She added in a whisper: “Four-tee. A cougar if ever there was one—I wonder what poor creature she’ll hunt down tonight.”

“Sophie, let me tell you something,” I enunciated, pinning her against the fridge. “40 is just a number, forty is just a word. In five year’s time
you
will be forty. In several year’s time, every single young woman
out
there will be forty—that is, if she’s lucky enough and doesn’t get run over by a bus first. And most of these women, I guarantee you, will not look as hot as Pearl
ever
during their whole lifetime, let alone when they’re forty. Stop pigeonholing people, especially Pearl. She’s my girlfriend and that’s final. Do. You. Understand?” I glared at her, my eyes burning through her and the smirk on her face. I had never felt this protective about a girlfriend before. Ever.

“Ooh, the Toy Boy’s getting touchy! Have I hit a nerve?” She threw her head back and cackled.

No, but Pearl has. Pearl has hit a nerve. Every single nerve in my body.

I answered, “Sophie, I haven’t felt this wide awake for years.” It was true; every emotion of mine had been stirred. Anger, jealousy, fury, passion, desire, sympathy, compassion . . . Pearl had done that to me. Pearl had woken me right up.

“It’s just a faze, Alexandre; you’re just in lust with her, that’s all. Mark my words . . . oh look, there’s Ridley; I must go say hello. Please, dear brother, could you kindly unleash my wrist?”

“With pleasure,” I said. And I got the hell out of her way.

I exited the kitchen and went on the prowl for Pearl. The party was in full gear. Glamorous people glittered everywhere. Champagne flowing. A wild boar was being roasted on a spit in the garden; the aroma wafting through the open doors. Everybody seemed delighted, chatting in French or English, even Frenglish, clinking glasses and blowing air kisses. Everyone, except me, that was.

I located Pearl through a sea of floating gowns and penguin suits, marched over to her and pulled her away from the blue-eyed movie star. I nodded at him in a gallant,
This is my woman, move aside,
type of way.

I took her gently by her hand. “Pearl, we have to leave.”

She shrugged her smooth, golden shoulder. My eyes scanned down to her peachy ass, accentuated by her red silk dress. I’d have that ass later.

Meanwhile, I was hatching a plan in my head. We couldn’t go home because of Sophie. We’d drive to a hotel. In fact, I’d take her somewhere really special—the French Riviera, the Côte d’Azur. To a stunning place on the southern tip of the Cap d’Antibes: the Hotel du Cap-Eden-Roc.

And I’d fuck her senseless in that little red dress.

M
Y PLAN TO FUCK Pearl out of her mind backfired. By mistake, I got her drunk. We had enjoyed too many vintage wines with dinner, and by the time we were finished, I had to carry her to bed. The wine, I think, was Pearl’s way of blotting out the unpleasantness earlier that evening. As we were leaving Ridley’s party, Sophie appeared at the doorway, vampire fangs out. Pearl hadn’t even recognized her but knew something was up when my sister practically spat at her: “Cougar!”

I felt so ashamed. Embarrassed. I suppose I hadn’t understood the extent of Sophie’s possessiveness toward me. She had attacked Laura in the same way, but when Laura and I split up, Sophie suddenly decided the sun shone out of Laura’s ass. Very convenient. But I hadn’t felt the same sense of fury with Sophie concerning Laura that I was now feeling with Pearl. Pearl was bringing out my protective side.

I needed to deal with my sister, fast. Before she really fucked up my love life for good.

The wine, plus the long drive, made Pearl woozy. The hotel prepared us a candlelit dinner under the stars. Crickets were singing, and the Mediterranean waves lapped soporifically, inducing an intoxicating scent of sea and fresh air that had Pearl in a trance. She leaned back in her chair, sipping her Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

“Am I in Heaven?” she asked drowsily.

“I’m afraid so,” I said with a guilty smile. “I’ve got you a bit tipsy.”

“I’m tipsy on the aroma of wild thyme and lavender, and France, not to mention this wine which is out of this world.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it. A good Châteauneuf-du-Pape is like a beautiful work of art that takes you by surprise. It’s not for everybody. It’s earthy and sometimes fierce, the proverbial ‘brooding’ wine.”

“Like you, you’re a brooder,” she said, pointing her finger at me, almost toppling over in her chair.

She has my number.
“Why do you think I’m broody, Ms. Robinson?”

“Oh, Mr. Broody, Mr. Moody . . . you think I haven’t worked you out? There’s more to you, Monsieur Chevalier, than meets the eye.”

“Honestly Pearl, I’m very basic. Boringly so.” I tipped her a wry smile.

“Yeah, right, Michael Corleone with your illegal empire.” She closed her eyes and inhaled the saline breeze as if it were her last breath.
My illegal empire? Did she know about the gems? And what lengths I would go to, to protect my loved ones?
Michael Corleone, huh? I always did respect that man.

When Pearl opened her eyes again—her pupils dark like pools of fathomless ultramarine—she gazed at me questioningly, and asked, “Why, Alexandre, don’t you just throw in the towel with HookedUp? You have more money than you need for several lifetimes. You said you wanted to get back to being creative, not just making deals.”

My throat felt suddenly dry. Perhaps if Pearl hadn’t been so tipsy, I wouldn’t have admitted my failings so readily. “The problem, Pearl, is that making money has become addictive—the more I make, the more I feel I need. Power does corrupt, no doubt. I’ve created a kingdom, and like any king . . . ” I trailed off. Pearl was rocking in her chair, about to pass out. I took her hands to steady her and thought about what I’d just said. I, like Pearl now, could topple. I was afraid to lose my crown. Sophie was part of my kingdom. We were equal partners in HookedUp, so it would have been tricky to extricate myself. Her obsession with making money, and more money, and more, had rubbed off on me. But our relationship wasn’t healthy—we were too entwined with each other mentally, as well as being business associates. A ‘marriage’ made in hell.

I was beginning to want out completely.

I got up from my chair and walked over to my beautiful Pearl. Her red dress reflected against the glass of deep wine, like blood, glinting under the moonlight. I took the glass from her hand and set it on the table—she’d had enough to drink for one night. “And you, Pearl? Do you care about money?” I asked, scooping her up in my arms and turning in the direction of our suite.

Her head flopped back and she grinned. “If I did, I’d be doing a different job, don’t you think? Being a producer of controversial documentaries isn’t going to bring me millionzz,” she slurred. “I love what I do. I’ve had a lot of headhunters knock at my door offering me almost double but, you know, I’m not motivated by money.” She nuzzled her head into my neck and kissed me there. I took in the sweet smell of her hair, of her sun-kissed skin, and carried her, like a baby, to bed.

It was true what Pearl said. I could tell that she really didn’t give a toss that I was so wealthy. So if she didn’t care, why did
I?
I
could
wind down HookedUp. Sell my share to Sophie—go back to being more creative. Sophie was meddling with my life, and without realizing it, destroying my happiness. I’d lay my cards on the table, I decided. Tomorrow.

I
DID IT AGAIN. Wasted a night sleeping! Last night, after a mouth-watering dinner that was accompanied by both vintage red and white wines (so delicious, I drained every glass), I conked out on the sofa, in our suite. Alexandre carried me, woozily drunk as I was, to bed, and I discovered myself, the following morning, in the most beautiful place in the world, with the most beautiful man in the world, nursing a hangover. What a fool! Except, right now, I appeared to be alone in our sumptuous suite, decorated as it was with pristine, antique furniture.