European Secrets (Paris - Vol. Two) (2 page)

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” She stared at her feet and the flowering planters cluttering the porch steps.

“Sure.” He seemed less self-conscious than she did, and she wondered why, when she’d instigated the game in the first place.

The villa welcomed them with a cool blast of air from the ceiling fan. “Do you want coffee?” she called over her shoulder, throwing her purse on the sofa.

“Yes, thank you.” He gazed around the living room, assessing the space she’d half-settled into.

“Have a seat. I’ll just be a second.” She poured ground coffee into the base of a cafetiere and set the teakettle on the stove, smirking to herself with her back to him at the instant domesticity of the situation. He waited on the sofa, and she sensed his eyes on her as she poured his coffee.

She served him the coffee and took her glass to the other side of the room. She sat opposite him and flexed her toes at the silence. The coffee was too hot to drink, and she had no arsenal of questions. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to begin in such a situation, or what the right thing to say would be.

He broke the lull by pulling a pack of cards from his pocket and leaving them on the table. “I’m going to take you to a party tonight. Each card will lead to a different experience at the end of the night. You need to choose.”

Annie stared at him, wide-eyed. “And which card leads to which...
experience
?”

“If you choose the ace of spades, someone will be waiting for you in a bedroom upstairs. He works in finance. If you choose the king, you’ll need to go make your way to a yacht harboured in the river, a short distance from the house. An architect will be waiting for you. If you choose the queen, someone will meet you outside the house at the end of the night and drive you somewhere. He’s a lawyer.” He pushed all three cards toward her and smiled.

Annie’s head spun from trying to understand the new complexities of the game. She hadn’t given thought to the idea that other men would be involved, or that Adrien would
facilitate
. “And how do I know who’s who?”

“There will be around seventy-five guests attending tonight. You have until midnight to see if you can identify the men and make your decision. When you’ve made up your mind, you need to leave the corresponding card on a small table by the front door, and make your way to the location you choose. If you don’t leave a card, you’ll have no other encounter in Paris.” He smiled wryly, shaking his head for emphasis.

She bit her lip at the thought of how the night might unfold. “And how do you fit into all of this, Adrien?”

He sat with his coffee cup in both hands, perched on the edge of the sofa. “I’ll make an appearance. This isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”

She squirmed in her seat and felt her cheeks flush. She’d never imagined it would become so complicated. She didn’t know whether to thank Kate or kill her. She would need to be a social butterfly and try to uncover the three men quickly. Mingling had never been her strong point, but tonight she’d have to make an exception to her usual routine of hiding in a corner. She wanted to ask him why he had agreed to be part of the game, and what its appeal was for him.

Instead, she stood up and returned to the kitchen. “Do you want another drink? Maybe something a little stronger?” She pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and uncorked it.

She jumped as she felt Adrien’s hands land on her from behind, then rest on her shoulders.

“Yes, please Annie,” he whispered in her ear. His tone had dropped, and his words were smooth as his breath landed on her neck. She froze, then relaxed as she felt his lips on her skin.

“Why did you agree to this, Adrien?” she whispered back, ignoring the voice inside that told her she shouldn’t ask.

“I saw your photo. Who wouldn’t?” He ran his hand over her hip, tracing how it curved from her waist.

She felt her body respond, and placed her hand over his as his fingers pressed into the fabric of her dress. “It’s not strange for you?”

He laughed. “No. It’s not.” He spun her round, so she stood facing him with the wine bottle in her hand. “We have two hours before we need to leave. Are you going to be busy until then?”

“Not for a while,” she replied, staring at his lips.

“Good.” He kissed her, taking the bottle from her hand and setting it on the counter. He unzipped the back of her dress, and she gasped in surprise. He stared at her. “Is there a problem, Annie?”

She shook her head, and he pulled the straps from her shoulders. His eyes seemed greener, deeper close up, and they focused on her under thick lashes. She loosened the first few buttons of his shirt as he tugged her dress to the floor. He took a step back to take her in, and she reddened from his stare. He smiled and stepped forward again, kissing her lips and neck.

He intertwined his fingers with hers and pushed her against the kitchen counter. As he pressed against her, she felt him hard against her pelvis. His hands slipped from her fingers to her back, and she felt her bra fall from her shoulders to the floor. His hands were warm on her breasts, kneading them as he kissed her and opened her lips with his tongue. He held her by her ass and pushed her upward, easing her onto the kitchen counter. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him close, and finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Annie?”

She hesitated at how direct he’d been, then felt herself wet between her legs. Her body already wanted him. “Yes.”

His lack of ceremony and his haste to take what he wanted spurred her to push against him and enjoy his arousal. She freed his cock from his pants, liking how quickly he’d become hard. He slid his hand up her thigh and peeled her underwear from her hips. She was slippery under his fingers. After touching her for a moment, he took himself in his hand and widened the spread of her legs.

She stared down at his hardness between her legs, anticipating how he’d feel inside her. He held her thigh open with one hand and gripped her waist with the other. She enveloped him with her legs, clamping onto the counter with her hand to keep her balance. She sighed at a blend of relief and surprise as he entered her and pushed all the way inside her, holding her close to the edge of the counter. His movement was rapid then slow, teasing and then increasing speed. He kneaded her breast, then sucked her nipple as he pushed farther inside her. She clinged to him, knitting her brow at her need for more from him. He rubbed where she pulsed, exposed to him above his shaft, staring down at how he filled her.

The lack of intellectual intimacy made it easier for her to focus on nothing but his movement, she realized, tensing as his fingers rotated over her. It sent hot and cold shivers of pleasure through her, and she forgot everything but the attention he gave to building her climax. It swarmed and swelled as he circled her, and she succumbed to a tunnel of focus. He worked her rhythmically, quickly recognizing her response and adapting. She came with a cry as his thumb rubbed and flicked her above his hard cock that pushed into her relentlessly. He followed, with eyes shut tight as he released.

She leaned into his chest as she caught her breath and felt her heart rate settle. The wine still sat on the counter next to her. He stood up straight and ruffled his tousled hair, then pulled his pants over his legs but left them unzipped.

She looked at him and laughed, then slid off the counter. “You weren’t planning to just drive me home, were you?”

“No.” He laughed with her, slipping on his shirt and leaving it open.

“Drink?”

“Yes please.”

She threw on a long shirt from the bedroom and joined him where he’d settled into the sofa cushions. “So this is really happening tonight?” She stared at him with a blend of flirtatiousness and disbelief, unsure if she had fully absorbed the plan.

“I’m just a chess piece in the game, Annie. And so are you, it seems, by your own design.” His smile was suggestive but sincere.

“How do you know Kate?” Guilt smacked her like the back of a hand for breaking her own rules; for caving in to seeking the immediate gratification of discovering something about him.

“Aren’t we supposed to stay strangers?” He looked at her cautiously. “Don’t break the rules and spoil your own game.”

She focused on the skin of his chest peeking from his open shirt, and his hands around his wine glass. On his bare feet with toes slightly curved, flattening the fluff of the carpet. “You’re right, I guess. But for some reason, I feel like breaking my own rules.”

He leaned toward her and lowered his voice, as if another person were present and could hear them. “If you break the rules, you break the game. And then the fun stops, and it becomes enmeshed in reality. I don’t want complications. I want to have sex with you, and help you stick to your goals.” He stood up and buttoned his shirt.

She nodded and sighed, and stood up with him. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the party. Remember the cards.” He pulled on his shoes and kissed her on both cheeks. “See you soon.”

Annie couldn’t decide to feel happy or irritated as she watched him leave. The rules seemed to have become more difficult to follow, and she couldn’t understand why. She still had two more cities to visit, and two more encounters. She reminded herself to stick to the plan, and finished her wine.

She was tempted sit back down and send a message to Kate asking what on earth she’d arranged, but thought better of it. Instead, she showered and changed into a strapless cream dress. She curled her hair with tongs, trying to understand the rapid-fire of French from the talk show on the radio. Frowning, she realized the evening would be excruciating if no one spoke English. She wondered if the other men would understand her, and how much English they spoke.

“Perhaps that’ll be a clue,” she muttered to herself with a comb between her teeth. Pedro and Adrien were both near fluent English speakers. She felt a mix of nerves, excitement and dread at the evening ahead and poured herself a drink from the liquor cabinet in the dining room. The ice cubes dropped and clunked into cognac, and she knocked it back faster than she’d planned. Adrien would arrive in ten minutes. She stared at the cards, reminding herself which card was associated with which man.

She jumped at the sound of the doorbell and grabbed her purse. Adrien was dressed immaculately again, this time in a lilac shirt and dark grey suit. He led her to his car, and she climbed into the passenger seat tingling with anticipation and anxiety.

“So where exactly is the house?” she asked, a little coy.

“It’s an apartment near the Bastille...close to le Port de Plaisance,” he explained, shifting gears and subtly eyeing the cleavage exposed from her dress. He drove through narrow streets and wide boulevards, all lined with trees and small crowds of people. As they neared the port, she saw boat masts and the flicker of sunset dance over dark water. Adrien parallel parked with more expertise than she would ever master, she guessed, and then he turned to face her.

“Are you ready?” he probed, staring at her in the dim light of dusk.

“Yes.” She opened the car door and stepped out, wobbling a little in her heels.

The apartment sat at the top floor of a large, angular and modern apartment block, overlooking a row of yachts anchored to posts along the river. As they exited the elevator and knocked on the door, she heard the laughter and loud chatter of guests inside: a combination of French and English. She exhaled in relief. A man in his forties opened the door, peering at them behind small tortoise shell glasses and then smiling broadly.

“Adrien...and...Annie, correct?” he asked in a thick accent, leading them into the hallway. Annie nodded and smiled as he kissed her on both cheeks.

She held her breath at the opulence of the apartment. Thick, pale Persian carpets covered the wood floors, and gilded edging shone from cream sofas and armchairs. A heavy chandelier hung over a high ceiling supported by columns. Annie stepped into a large reception room, filled with a sampling of well-dressed and affluent Parisians. She thanked herself for choosing her most expensive heels, and felt only slightly under-dressed.  A table sat in the hallway near the door. She remembered the cards in her purse and looked around, wondering where to start.