Authors: Kitty French
"Do I have time to unpack before our first meeting?" Sophie carefully unrolled her precious dress from its packing tissue and located a heavy wooden hanger behind the vast wall of mirrored wardrobes. She certainly wanted to take this one garment out of the crushing confines of her case, even if there was no time for anything else.
"Actually, I won't need you this morning," Lucien said. "The meeting will be conducted entirely in French, and from the way you blushed when you thanked the driver earlier, I'm guessing that French doesn't feature on your resume."
Sophie bristled unnecessarily, because he was quite right. "I can get by," she muttered.
"You can?"
"Oui. Bonjour, Lucien."
Had she really just said that?
She ignored his snort.
"Bonjour, Ms. Black." He inclined his head. "What?" He threw his hands out to the sides at her maddened glance. "It's appropriately polite."
"Ça va?" Sophie asked, hoping she'd dredged the right words from her dim and distant memory of French classes as a bored fourteen year-old.
Lucien all but laughed, and replied in equally basic French for her benefit. "Ça va bien, merci."
"Bon." She jutted her chin, glad to have navigated her way through the simple conversation.
"Let's see, Sophie..." Lucien ran his tongue over his top lip, and the seductive drop of his voice warned her of danger up ahead. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"
Thanks to Lady Marmalade, Sophie understood Lucien perfectly clearly.
"What's the French for 'stop flirting'?" she asked drily.
"No clue. I've never needed it."
She was quite sure he hadn't. No doubt women came as easily to him as everything else in his life.
"Take the morning off. Swim in that bath. See some of Paris. Can you order lunch for around two, and then we'll head over to the site to see how things are progressing."
Sophie nodded bravely. She could do those things. Organise lunch. See Paris. Visit Lucien's newest sex club.
All in a normal day’s work.
Alone in the penthouse, Sophie drifted from room to room, absorbing the beauty of her surroundings. Contrary to Lucien's suggestion, she settled for a shower under the monsoon jet in the huge cubicle that stood in another corner of her bathroom. Tempting as the bath was, she didn't feel that she could afford to relax too much. Bundled up in the thickest white bathrobe in the world, she set about deciding how to spend her morning in Paris.
First things first. Organise lunch.
But how did you organise lunch in your own private Parisian dining room?
The apartment was bereft of a kitchen, so cooking was not an option. The people who lived here obviously didn't do such mundane tasks as operating a cooker.
Happily, however, they did leave at their guests’ disposal beautiful leather-bound manuals in English, listing restaurants that would cater directly to the apartment, and Lucien had left his charge card beside them. Lavish dishes, many of which she didn't understand and couldn't pronounce. She flicked through the heavy menus with rising panic, and then her lips curved into a smile. Bingo. This she could do.
Lunch successfully organised, Sophie dressed carefully. She wanted to blend in, to look as if she belonged here in the chic French capital. Her flimsy black polka dot blouse layered over silk underwear fitted the bill perfectly, demure yet sophisticated when teamed with her new black pencil skirt. She added her cherry red woolen coat as protection against the cool autumn weather when she stepped out of the secret courtyard a little while later and breathed in deeply.
Being away from home and all of its associated complications was a breath of fresh, rejuvenating air that she hadn't even realised she so desperately needed.
Distance from Dan helped put things into a less distorted perspective. At home she was surrounded by the accouterments of their shared life, and she could see now that they only served to make it harder to envisage her life without him in it.
Something in her heart felt different. Lighter maybe, without the heavy weight of carrying someone else's heart too.
She glanced up and down the regal, tree-lined avenue. Leaves drifted from the tall chestnuts’ branches, the change of season a fitting reflection of Sophie's state of mind.
But for now, Paris was her oyster, and she intended to feast on it.
Chapter Ten
"Pizza?
You have the finest cuisine in the world at your fingertips, and you order pizza?"
Lucien's gaze swept over the dining table, now laden with elegant white and gold scrolled crockery, gleaming cutlery, glittering crystal, and pizza.
"It's posh pizza," Sophie countered. "It didn't arrive in cardboard boxes, for a start."
Lucien shook his jacket off as he stepped down into the dining room. Sophie could have flexed his credit card on a designer meal, yet she'd chosen instead a safe option. He'd hoped he'd cured her of that habit. Still, he was hungry, and the pizza smelled delicious.
It wasn't just the food that smelled good, though. Sophie moved in close when he held out her chair, and he caught the scent of an exotic perfume that wasn't her usual variety.
He didn't comment on it though, as she'd no doubt accuse him of flirting again.
"How was your morning?" she asked, adding salad to her plate.
He shrugged. "Good." He closed his eyes for a second. He didn't really get to eat pizza very often, and novelty turned into pleasant surprise as the fresh flavours hit his palate.
He opened his eyes again and found Sophie watching him, an amused glint in her eyes. Paris seemed to agree with her. Pink roses coloured her cheeks, and those dark smudges around her eyes seemed less pronounced.
"What did you do this morning?" he asked, suddenly keen to know what had helped lift her mood.
A smile lit her face, and the dining room seemed instantly brighter.
"I walked." She practically swooned. "God, Paris is amazing! I've touched the Eiffel tower, and I've taken one of those bateau buses along the Seine, and I ate croissants in the Tuileries gardens." It was the most animated he'd seen her since her return to his life. "And the metro! I caught the metro, and managed to find my way back here." She sighed happily, and her eyes swam with excitement. "It's official. I love Paris."
Lucien nodded. He shared similar sentiments for the city, although he’d never have expressed them with such elation.
"Did you shop?" He guessed this must be safe territory.
"Just window shopping. I tested the most amazing chocolate though, and I’ve been spritzed with perfume that probably costs more than my salary!"
"It smells good on you."
The words came out without pre-meditation, and Lucien braced himself, ready for her to clam up and shoot him down with the 'no flirting' line again. But she didn't. He saw appreciation of his compliment flare in her eyes first, followed by uncertainty that had her dropping her gaze to her dinner plate.
He sensed a change in her attitude, and wondered how far to push it.
A little, to gauge her reaction?
Or all the way?
Her smile was an aphrodisiac, all the more because he had seen so little of it lately.
He pushed his chair back and reached into a sideboard behind him, turning back with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew in hand.
"Don't we need to get back to work soon?"
He picked up the note of anxiety behind her words. "We're okay for time. Besides, it's practically the law in Paris to have wine with food, Sophie."
He poured claret into her glass, pleased when she didn't try to stop him. Her fingers brushed his as he raised his glass to hers.
"To Paris. And to getting my PA back." He paused, watching her eyes. "I missed your coffee."
She laughed lightly and her fingers played with the stem of her glass.
"It's good to be back," she murmured softly.
"Is it? I got the impression that it was your last resort."
She looked up at last, the laughter gone from her eyes. "It was. It is. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it." She swallowed a little wine and looked around the lush dining room. "Not many jobs offer perks like this." She paused, and he didn't interrupt as he sensed there was more to come. "Or bosses like you."
Interesting.
"I think you just broke your own no flirting rule."
She shrugged, and he topped up her glass.
"Am I too English for my own good, Lucien? Too repressed, too frightened to live a big life?"
He swallowed wine, giving himself time to choose his words carefully. Keeping his tone neutral, he said, "We're not in England now. You can be anything you want to be."
He knew he'd crossed a line, but she beckoned him on.
"Anything? Then I'll be a singer in a smoky Parisian bar, or a can-can girl at the Moulin Rouge."
Lucien couldn't help it. His eyes dropped to Sophie's breasts, and his cock stirred in response. She had the curves to dance at the Moulin, and the idea of her bare breasts on display made his mouth water.
He lifted his gaze to hers, and found her eyebrows arched.
"I guess I asked for that," she said, and she didn't move her hand away when Lucien placed his close to it on the table and stroked her fingertips idly.
"Paris brings out the best in you."
The tiniest of laughs escaped Sophie's throat. "What happens in Paris, stays in Paris. So Kara said, anyway."
Lucien liked the sound of that very much. "Kara's just become my second favourite lady. You should listen to her."
"I do."
She flipped her hand palm up on the table, and Lucien traced his index finger along the lifeline cut that across her palm.
"I think your rules need amending." He drew slow circles on the fleshy mound beneath her thumb. "In fact, as your boss, I think I should be the one who makes the rules around here."
"What's wrong with my rules?"
Lucien laughed softly. "They restrict me. They stop me from telling you how your curves make me hard. They stop me from kissing your neck when you sweep your hair to one side."
He had the benefit of her full, slightly breathless attention.
"But they don't stop me
thinking
those things, Sophie. Every time you bend over the desk, I think how much I'd like to push your skirt up around your waist. I wonder what colour knickers you're wearing, and I imagine taking them off you."
Her fingers curved around his as he stroked his thumb over the tender pulse point inside her wrist. The beat definitely kicked up several notches as she digested his words. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and held it there, as if to stop the words she wanted to say from escaping. Was she holding in her agreement, or her rejection?
Her eyes told him what her mouth wouldn't.
She wanted this every bit as much as he did
. He locked his eyes onto hers. There was no turning back.
"I imagine running my hands over the tops of your stockings, then between your bare thighs, and you open them a little to invite me in. God, you're wet, Sophie. You're hot, and you're drenched, and I reach for my belt so I can..."
Lucien's phone beeped loudly on the table next to him, and Sophie jolted and snatched her hand away from his.
"Fuck." He shoved his own hand through his hair and stared at the offending screen, then at her shell-shocked expression. "The car's here."
His cock was still rock hard.
"This conversation isn't over, Sophie."
Chapter Eleven
Sophie stepped out of the limousine a little while later, glad to be out of the confined back seat. Lucien hadn't said or done anything unprofessional in the car, yet she'd never been so close to anyone who radiated such clear sexual intent. He'd spoken of the site renovations they were going to view, and handed her checklists to complete on the tour, almost as if the conversation over lunch hadn't happened.
Had she imagined it? She'd drunk a little wine, maybe she'd misheard him.
However innocent and work-focused Lucien’s words were, there was no denying the lightning bolt of awareness when her fingers brushed his on the paperwork, or the casual burn of his knee where it touched hers.
The cool afternoon air helped lessen the heat that suffused her cheeks, but it could do little to calm the fire raging in her belly. He'd lit it. Or had she? Paris had clearly had a profound effect on her state of mind. Had she given him different signals? Or was he similarly affected by the city of love? The dynamic between them had morphed dangerously into something sexual, something her rules were too flimsy to hold steady against.
What would Lucien's rules involve?
The blush returned to Sophie's cheeks at the thought, and she pushed it hurriedly aside as he joined her on the pavement.
"So. This is it. First impressions?"
Sophie tipped her head back to survey the tall, regal terraced building.
"First impression... um, understated?"
Lucien nodded. "Absolutely. This is a good address. My aim is to be thoroughly in keeping. Gateway Paris will be discreet, elegant and very, very grown up."
He placed a hand on the small of her back, and she felt the imprint of it might scorch her.
"Shall we?"
Sophie didn't trust herself to answer, so she just inclined her head and stepped inside the doorway.
The last time she'd visited an adult club with Lucien it had been open for business and throbbing with paying customers. This was quite different, an almost completed renovation project with wires still trailing, stepladders leaning against walls, and workmen in overalls buzzing around.
Someone called out, and a second or so later a short, older man bustled over to them with a wide smile on his weathered face. Lucien greeted him warmly in French, and then introduced Sophie.
"Sophie, this is Jean, my site manager. Jean, Sophie, my assistant."
Jean smiled in greeting and handed them each a hard hat.