The Billionaire’s Desires Vol. 1 (5 page)

By the way, did she answer my email?

With a touch of my thumb, I check my inbox on the touchscreen. Bingo: message received!

Shit, I better get to work!

I start wondering if I'm ever going to get this bloody interview. In two days, I've spent more than three hours alone with Gabriel Diamonds, and we've only talked about oenology once. Not the best in terms of professionalism. I guess I do have a valid excuse though: this man has spent all his time toying with me and plucking at my rattled nerves. Oddly enough, I don't think my boss would like that explanation very much.

Okay Amandine, this time for real!

My mission: don't pay attention to him. Just conduct a quick and efficient interview to make Eric proud. I have an appointment with the billionaire at 4 o'clock, I need to get ready. Back standing over my suitcase, I start to waver on my choice of outfit. I really don't want to seem too enticing, so I choose another simple, but well-cut pair of jeans, a white linen t-shirt and a little grey cardigan. I carefully brush my hair but leave it down. I reapply a little mascara, not too much, and resist the temptation to put on lipstick. I skip the perfume and the jewellery. A quick glance in the mirror: I'm Amandine, doing a report, an ordinary young girl lightyears away from yesterday evening's glamour. I close my door and head towards the vineyard, where I'm sure to find some new surprises.

“Hello again, miss.”

Excellent, he's setting the tone: this will be strictly professional.

“Hello Mr. Diamonds.”

His blue eyes penetrate mine, but his gaze is distant. It seems as if his mind is elsewhere. When he moves towards me and holds out his hand, my heart skips a beat. Barely two hours ago I was half naked in his flat, where he covered my body with intimate caresses. Where did our ambiguous complicity, our sexual tension go? When he touches me, an electric shock shoots through my entire body, but he stays stone cold. I notice he has a little bit of dirt underneath his nails and, instead of disgusting me, the dirt makes him even more manly in my eyes. Of course, he quickly shoots down any charm with a nasty remark. He throws a scornful glance at my notebook.

“You really need your high school notebook?”

“With or without the notebook, I really hope to get some answers from you this time!”

“Oh right, the famous interview.”

Is he mocking me?

He starts walking without waiting for me and I have to trot behind him. It's ridiculous. In front of the vines, he stops and starts to tell me the history of the estate. I try to concentrate on his eyes but my gaze imperceptibly shifts towards his lips, which are fleshy, full, warm.

As he bends down to show me a vine stock, our hands touch and I feel a gentle warmth glow down in my loins. I try not to react, but a slightly amused light instantly appears in Diamonds' eyes. He suggests we go on to the tasting room, explaining that the weather's about to turn. We walk into a large cellar with a vaulted ceiling, I'm very impressed. Hundreds of bottles are lined up along the stone walls. There is a space set up for tastings at the far end, with a few high tables, leather stools and a bar. There is a basket of fruit and two wine glasses on one table. Did Diamonds set this all up for me? Or is this just what awaits every journalist who comes to interview him? I lift myself up onto a stool as he chooses a bottle. I naively ask him what kind of wine it is.

“Wine? No, I'm in more of a cognac mood! And this is thirty years old.”

He pours me a generous glass, sits down on the stool facing me and picks up a bunch of grapes, detaching each fruit with his lips while looking me in the eyes. I feel myself wobble, but I resist.

Try as you like, Gabriel, but you can't get me.

“Alright, now for my questions - ”

Once again, he doesn't let me finish my sentence

“You drink, don't you?”

Mister control freak is back.

I bring the glass to my lips and pouring it into my mouth, take a large gulp of the amber liquid.

“Easy there, it's important to savour the finer things in life.”

The taste of the cognac surprises me, but right after I swallow, I feel the need and the desire to drink again. It's as if I can't stop myself, as if the addiction is too strong. Whether or not I like it, it's a little like what I feel for Diamonds. I simply can't stop looking at him, thinking about what happened between us in his office. The images come back to me and I feel my entire face blush. In a desperate attempt to hide my excitement, I bend over my notebook and start to read my first question in a faltering voice.

“Chopard already asked me that question ten times.”

His response feels like a slap across the face. His tone is dry, cold, he seems aggravated. I'm dying to give throw back a clever retort, but I try to remain professional.

“Very well, we'll go on to the next one.”

“You journalists don't do much to stay fresh do you? You all suffer from an atrocious lack of creativity. I expected better from you, put some effort into it, Amandine!”

He didn't call me Amande. Yikes.

I take another sip of cognac to try to regain my composure, but the tears prickle in my eyes despite myself. I curse myself for being so emotional, but I feel wounded, humiliated. I lift my lashes just in time to see the face of Gabriel Diamonds flow towards me. I feel his tongue lick the corner of my mouth, where a drop of the precious liquid amber has trickled.

“You're so tempting when you're all hot and bothered,” his husky voice murmurs in my ear. He abruptly lifts his arm and knocks the table over. The bottle of cognac explodes on the ground with a tinkling noise.
Enraptured, I watch the liquid spread, licking the feet of my stool, which I stay perched upon. All of a sudden the billionaire's powerful and muscular body is against mine.

“Where were we?” he asks, as he bluntly bites into my neck, imprisoned between his two hands. With an agile movement of his pelvis, he positions himself in such a way that I open my thighs. I'm glad I didn't decide to wear a skirt today. He glues his pelvis against mine and our bodies fit together perfectly. He places his palms on the arched wall behind me. I'm defenceless, completely at the mercy of the handsome billionaire and a familiar twinge of pleasure again spreads through my loins. As his warm lips travel along my neck, from my shoulder up to the base of my hairline, I feel his erection against my crotch. I start to moan under the spell of his kisses and, without making a conscious choice to do so, my hands lift Diamonds' black t-shirt to caress the muscles of his torso, which are soon tensing underneath my fingertips. His agile fingers unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs and then, gripping my butt, he lifts me with disconcerting ease, skirting round the stool and pressing me against the wall.

The vapours of the spilled cognac go to my head and in a trance I seek out Diamond's mouth. Our lips finally find one another and we share a long, passionate kiss. As if it were the last.

I'm nothing more than a flame of desire, my abdomen full of fire, my sex dripping wet, and my hands clinging onto Diamonds' hair. He exhales, murmuring: “I want all of you,” and, unable to hold back any longer, throws his jacket to the ground and stretches out on top of me. His body controls my own and when he takes out his erect sex to put on a condom, I can't hold back a cry of surprise: he's gigantic! Then he stretches out on top of me and penetrates me, so slowly it's exquisite. Panting, I moan and the rhythm accelerates. My body is delighted to welcome Diamonds' manliness. His long thrusts drive me crazy and I moan almost non-stop. Supporting himself on one hand, his other hand plays with my clitoris and as he gently twists it, his sex plunges deeper into me. I feel an orgasm wash over me and I bite his shoulder to restrain myself from screaming with pleasure. He also comes, deep inside of me and this intense implosion shakes through his entire body. Finally he collapses on top of me and the scent of his hair, mixed with the smell of sweat and cognac, completely envelops me.

It's...so...good.

Even my inner voice is out of breath. I'm not here, I don't see anything around me, my jumbled mind is spaced out above my satiated body. He just took me on the ground and the spontaneity of it has set me on fire. I didn't think I was capable of losing control like that, of letting myself go in such an extreme way! As I rise, I try to say something witty, to make this intimate encounter a little less embarrassing.

“I owe you a bottle of cognac.”

“You can pay me back later. In kind.”

He gives me a naughty wink, then shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and turns away, indifferent and inaccessible once again.

I have to forget.

The chateau seems so far away, even though I often go back there in my wildest and hottest dreams. But I soon fall back into my Parisian routine and the handsome face of Gabriel Diamonds gradually fades in my memory. After the divinely memorable sexual encounter in the cellar with the vaulted ceilings, I took a train back to Paris without seeing my handsome and mysterious lover again. I invented fake answers for my interview and normal life resumed its course, between parties with friends and work with Eric and Emilie. One thing did change, though: I have a lot more self-confidence than before. After this kind of experience with such a handsome man, I feel prettier, more desirable, less transparent! That incredible weekend awakened the woman sleeping inside of me. And although my adventure with Gabriel is now in the past, I can't stop from thinking about him night and day. More than a simple physical attraction, there was something undeniable between us. An intense, irrepressible alchemy that I couldn't fight. You don't come out of that type of encounter unchanged. Here's the proof: whenever I pass by some random man with a silhouette or scent similar to Gabriel's, I can't repress my disappointment when I realize it's not him.

I should probably think about going to see a shrink.

My Bruno Mars ring tone goes off as I exit the metro station. Marion's picture appears, I answer, mentally preparing myself for her next lecture. My best friend thinks that I'm “too good” to be obsessed with a billionaire with top model looks. It's been a while since I stopped talking to her about Gabriel, but she has the annoying tendency of always bringing the subject up.

“Amandine, want to do something on Friday?”

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Shopping at Bercy 2, lunch at Bercy Village, and a exhibit at the European House of Photography.”

Actually I'd rather spend a lazy day at Daumesnil Lake or in the Boulogne Forest, preferably in the middle of December. This is going to be a hard choice...

“OK, I'm game!”

The House of Photography is one of my favourite places to go and get a little inspiration. I love the building located right in the middle of the Marais neighbourhood. The cobblestone courtyard, the old mansion full of huge breezy halls, the cafe in the cellar with the vaulted ceilings...I like walking through the enchanting building as much as the exhibits on display in there. I feel calm there, soothed. There's almost nobody there on Friday, and it feels like we have the museum to ourselves, which is rare in Paris! After a light lunch (a vegetarian salad and a detox tea, Marion's new craze), we go down to the Saint-Paul subway station to get to the exhibit. The one last month literally blew me away. Susan Paulsen's series of small colour photographs was marvellous, her everyday portraits both poetic and touching. Specialists consider her work to have the luminous beauty of Vermeer's canvasses, but I was simply enraptured by the charm of her perspectives – the expressive smiles and artistic blurs which travelled through the glossy paper, reaching out to touch me. I don't know what we're going to see today, Marion loves to surprise me. I hope for some more of those simple and authentic emotions, to get my mind off of everything, from reality, from the pangs of longing I feel for him.

Marion walks into the museum first, and when we check our coats, she goes into raptures again over my dress, which I had just bought that morning. Black, with a close fit that moulds around my body. The long-sleeve top is cut from satin with little white polka-dots that capture the light and compliment my complexion. Then the dress flares right at my hips. The thick, luxurious cotton skirt stops right above my knees. I wear it with silky stockings that have a black line tracing the curves of my calves and my little black leather ballerina slippers. A bit different from my normal wardrobe, this outfit makes me feel beautiful and confident; for once I know how to make myself look good. Marion's compliments go to my head and I pirouette around, letting her admire me from all angles.

“I've rarely seen you dress so sexy, Amandine! Is your billionaire hanging around here?”

Here we go again...

“No, Ms. Detective, I just wanted to make myself feel good. And I'd really like it if you'd stop bringing him up every three minutes.”

She moves away, grumbling, but I catch up with her and playfully jump on her, letting out a little yelp. I'm in a good mood, it's no time to get into an argument! And in response to my attempts to keep things light, she asks me if someone drugged my tea and we both start cackling like a pair of hyenas.

Little Miss Lunatic has an urgent need to visit the washroom. I take advantage of the time to put my hair up in a quick chignon and redo some of my makeup. Then, arm in arm, we head towards the first room of the temporary exhibit. I discover the work of an Italian photographer, Mimmo Jodice, who focuses on the city. The first selection of black and white photographs leave me speechless. They show sides of Paris that I've never seen, and make me realise I'm way too comfortable in my subway-work-subway routine. A photo of Angoulême attracts my attention: I recognise the area around the train station of the little city that I've only visited once. Angoulême...the name sounds like a sweet melody to my ears. Dreamy, I don't notice the little gestures Marion is making next to me. She eventually jabs me with her elbow, startling me.