The Billionaire’s Desires Vol.12-13 (9 page)

I slip lazily out of bed and head to our bathroom. Soft, minimalist and modern. The Scandinavian-inspired light wood with a few touches of the color sorbet is what I picked out for our sanctuary on île de la Cité almost a year ago. I wanted to bring a little of each of us to the mansion. And by we, I meant Gabriel, Virgile and me.

I sink into the steaming bath and sigh, savoring the fragrant steam rising from the foamy water. When he knows I’m going to miss him, Gabriel always leaves a souvenir of himself for me. Like adding a few drops of his cologne in the liquid that is caressing my skin.

I rest my head against the back of the tub and close my eyes for a few long, heavenly minutes, then try to reconnect with reality by going over my plan for today in my mind. Virgile is spending the day with his uncle and won't be back until late this evening as Silas is taking him to a Cold Play concert. Tom and Jerry, our wedding planning team – two Americans in Paris – are coming to update me on the latest at eleven this morning. I must remember to give them my guest list. Come to think of it, where is it? Oh, the middle drawer of my dressing table! Marcus is supposed to be dropping by the Body Agency to take delivery of the exorbitantly priced furniture for his office – in his opinion, the only acceptable reason to go into the office on a Saturday. As for Marion (visiting from Normandy) and Camille (visiting from Australia), they have summoned me for “afternoon tea in the sun” later on.

In other words, for a thinly disguised bachelorette party!

That said, I have absolutely no idea what they have in store for me...

***

My prediction was correct! Suspiciously cheerful, my sister and my best friend hand me a scarf and order me to tie it over my eyes. I blindfold myself, blocking out the brilliant May sunshine, and descend into darkness.

"All good?" asks a third, slightly out-of-breath voice that has emerged from nowhere.

"Céleste?! What are you doing here?"

"I booked a round trip just for you, Baumann," she grumbles, pecking me on the cheek. "Manhattan should be able to live without me for a couple of days."

"Walk ahead, Amandine. Careful where you put your feet..." murmurs Camille, holding on to my arm to guide me.

I let myself be led to a stationary vehicle just a few steps away and clamber inside, though not without knocking my head, before dropping down onto the cool but comfy seat. Finally, a pair of hands unties my blindfold and my vision returns. Shrill screams suddenly fill the vehicle as I take in my surroundings: I'm in a sumptuous limo surrounded by a small crowd of familiar faces: Louise, a childhood friend; Émilie, my former coworker; Claire, Alexandra and Lise, my new colleagues; and more... The girls take turns in welcoming me with a hug and a kiss as the car gets on its way. I am clueless as to our destination but I willingly accept the flute of champagne handed to me. And thank the girls from the bottom of my heart for being here for me today.

"You'll see, it's a stroke of genius!" boasts Marion with a wink.

"Geniuses plural," corrects my sister, just to emphasize the point that she also had a hand in the behind-my-back scheming.

Despite the small rivalry between them, they've actually become great friends.

A tragedy can bring even the worst of enemies together...

The limo comes to a halt in front of an imposing, slightly dilapidated building at the farthest edge of the Bois de Boulogne. As I move towards the entrance, I spy a horde of terrifying gargoyles peering over the wrought-iron doors. I turn to look at Céleste walking alongside me. Her smirk doesn't reveal even the slightest hint of what awaits me.

"Are you taking me into a haunted house?" I laugh nervously. "It's a bachelorette party not a wake! You know I'm a scaredy-cat, right? Horror films leave me traumatized for months, you do remember that?"

"Knock three times and wait," order the two organizers, in fits of giggles. Traitors!

The door swings back before I can even take a step forward. A severe-looking woman in her forties wearing a strange outfit from another era is standing across the threshold. She beckons us to enter and introduces herself:

"Welcome to the Murder Party. I am Desdemona, the game master. Alastor, my associate, will bring you a beverage for refreshment you before you go and change."

Around me, my friends are bristling with impatience, so I down the champagne in one go to settle my nerves. A "Murder Party," what the hell is that? And there I was expecting all the traditional bachelorette activities: silly dares, even sillier costumes, and girls' night out. But no, nothing of the sort; my two witnesses have outdone themselves.

And killed someone in the process.

In a huge room furnished with a row of mirrors and dressing tables, we try on 1930s costumes provided for the occasion: glamorous gowns with fringed edges and sequins, fishnet stockings, feather headbands, pearl necklaces, and high-heeled pumps decorated with cute little bows, buttons or buckles.

"I told them everyone's exact sizes!" Camille congratulates herself as she eyes us up and down.

"We look so hot!" Marion raves in her bright-red gown. "Let's raise a glass to Amandine and Gabriel, and go and see the scene of the crime!"

Not too much blood, for Pete’s sake, I don't have the stomach for it...

Desdemona seems to appreciate the sight of us as she gives us the once-over – no doubt suddenly feeling less overdressed – before ushering us upstairs. I don't make a peep as we walk along the dark, gloomy corridor. But this time, I'm not the only one. Our overexcited group has dropped a decibel. Or ten.

And the scenario begins, along with the hunt to catch the killer. In the library, our hands fly to our mouths as we find a man lying dead still on the parquet floor in a pool of blood – or what looks like blood, at least. While Desdemona starts to recount the events that led to this moment, Alastor hands each of us a small card on which is printed out identity and our role in the story. I am Annie Reddington, the mistress of the house and lover of Donald MacLitter, aka Marion Aubrac. I am innocent.

For the next four hours, we visit each room in the house, collecting clues, evidence, drinking one glass of champagne after the other, and snacking on plates of sweet petit-fours. Our giggling resounds like ghoulish screams in this menacing building filled with strange vibes and vengeful spirits.

Actors are dotted around the house, hired to scare us. Every now and then a soundtrack is activated and we hear a suspicious noise, a sigh, or a bloodcurdling scream, which makes us jump out of our skin without fail. At around 10 PM, the investigation finally comes to an end as we gather around a sumptuous dinner served in the lavish décor of the main lounge. The theme has been respected down to the smallest detail. The hangings are period, the cutlery is white gold, the wine is vintage. Even before the guilty party is unmasked, I realize I've just experienced one of the most original and exciting bachelorette parties ever.

And I owe it all to those little madams over there, squabbling over a spoonful of caviar.

"Only Annie and Donald have successfully identified the guilty one among you!" announces Desdemona, raising her glass.

"What? There must be some kind of mistake, I was convinced I got it right..." hisses Céleste, folding her arms in a huff.

"You can stop with the act, Delaine!" says Marion. "We know it was you!"

"Delaine Pemberley, you are under arrest," announces one of the performers dressed as a cop, who emerges from behind the black curtain.

"Never! You'll never catch me!" she screams, roaring with laughter, as she jumps up from her chair and runs towards the exit to escape.

Let the chase begin!

Although this could all end in disaster given the sheer height of our heels and the gallons of alcohol in our bloodstream!

Vintage or not, the effect is the same...

Céleste is nowhere to be found, but our group of vigilantes in heels doesn’t let this deter us. Splitting up might be a more efficient way to conduct a search, but we decide to stay together... after all, wasn't that the whole point of the party? We arrive at the main entrance to the house where Lise checks behind the curtains, Émilie in the antique amphoras, and Marion inside the baroque chest. Nothing. We're about to head back when the hefty wrought-iron door swings on its hinges with an almighty creek and a band of masked men run towards us.

Now we're the hunted. Pursued by deafening yells, we race up the stairs two at a time to try and outrun our anonymous pursuers. It's useless: they're faster than us. Suddenly, two unbelievably strong arms slide around my waist and pull me back. I'm trembling like a leaf.

"Surprise!" Gabriel’s voice whispers into my ear.

Silas, Virgile, Simon, Marcus... they're all here!

I turn around, and once my shock has worn off I throw myself into his arms, calling him all the names under the sun.

"Now that you've celebrated your final day as a single woman, you're ready to marry me, Amandine Baumann..." continues my fiancé as he removes his mask to kiss me.

"Sir, I have no idea who you are, but you must have me mistaken for someone else!" I utter as I push him away. "My name is Annie Reddington and you have just forced your way into my home! Officer! Officer!"

Gabriel bursts out laughing and presses a palm over my mouth to shut me up. His powerful hands grab my hips and he pulls me against his body. I feel his scorching breath tickle my neck as my fiendish lover whispers:

"I love your dress, Miss Reddington, but I regret to inform you that I will be removing it in a few hours..."

I bet you won't be such a smart-ass when you see me in my wedding gown, Diamonds...

I pray to god the days fly by until then!

***

Amandine

Resplendent beneath the stars, Paris drifts past as the riverboat glides gently along the Seine. I hold my breath. My veil flutters in the light breeze that cools my face. It's surprisingly warm for May. My father is holding me firmly in his arms. He seems as anxious as I am and is constantly looking over to my mother for reassurance, but she's already in tears herself.

At the other end of the deck, beneath the silver arbor surrounded by brightly-glowing candles, Gabriel stands waiting. He's wearing a dark three-piece suit softened by a perfectly knotted baby-blue necktie. If I had to choose the happiest moment of my life, it would be right now.

The violins – until now playing a gentle melody – suddenly strike up Mendelssohn's wedding march, the notes soaring out over the city. My heart feels ready to explode. Holding onto my father, we slowly move past the rows of guests, my gaze never breaking away from the blue eyes that see right into my soul. My white gossamer gown sweeps down the aisle in concert with my movements, taking me closer with each step to the dream I never thought possible. To the man I love most in the world and who I almost thought I'd lost forever eighteen months ago.

I feel my father lift my veil and then tenderly stroke my cheek. He turns to take his seat, leaving me alone to face my future husband. Gabriel breaks into a heartfelt smile that tells me he loves me, while his eyes shine with the promise of eternity. This marriage is the most beautiful, the most undeniable proof of our mutual love.

Behind me, I can almost hear Camille's and Marion's hearts beating wildly. What I hear for certain is both of them sniffling into their tissues in unison. I'm not crazy then. What's about to happen really is a miracle. Gabriel and I, we have battled, withstood and fought unseen threats and even each other. And we have earned the right to declare our love in front of the most important people in our lives. To love each other freely. Forever.

"I hereby declare you husband and wife."

The words echo in my mind, and my legs almost give way under the weight of the emotion, but Mr. Diamonds doesn't let me fall. His arms close around my waist and his passionate lips become one with my own. The guests stand and erupt into cries of joy, but they only reach me in fragments. My soul is already elsewhere. It is with him. For the rest of our days.

***

Gabriel

She seems to me like the twilight. Everything is plunged into darkness except for Amandine, who is resplendent in her immaculate white gown. All eyes are on her, as well they should. It would be futile even to try and avert your gaze from her light, her beauty, her purity. Amandine Baumann is an angel. As for me, Gabriel Diamonds – I'm preparing to receive my ticket into Paradise. Because one thing is certain: wherever she goes, so will I, even if that means incurring the wrath of the gods. She is worth everything to me.

I knew from the moment I set eyes on her that she was different...

And I almost screwed it all up. More than once...

The riverboat is gently drifting toward Notre Dame, but I couldn't give a damn about the route we're taking. My Amandine and I will have our whole lives to take in our surroundings; what is taking place right here and now is all I care about.

I wish I could make every moment pass in slow motion.

My son is standing just behind me, with my brother. I wanted them to be my chief witnesses on this blessed day, to be with me as I embark on this new life. I love these guys to death, even if I don't tell them enough. Céleste is in the front row, tenderly holding my father's hand. I can tell they're going to give Niagara Falls a good run for its money. Prudence isn't here. I couldn't invite her after everything she did. The one person who is cruelly missing from the congregation is Tristan. He'd hate me for marrying the woman he loved, certainly – but at least he'd be alive.

Amandine and Pierre Baumann are walking down the aisle – well, my future wife actually seems to be floating. Her gown accentuates her slender waist, the amber tones of her skin, her luminous hair wrapped in a delicate chignon. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself letting my emotions get the better of me. Under different circumstances, I'd tell myself to man up, but here I have the best excuse in the world. How could I remain as hard as stone before such a beautiful apparition?