Chapter 5
What was supposed to be a lovely day with her mother and sister ended with Valeska’s daughter spilling orange juice all over the Chantilly lace tablecloth.
“Daniela!” It didn’t matter how quickly Valeska sprang into action. Once the juice sank into the tablecloth, it was over. The Monegasque restaurant would soon bill the Dubois family for cleaning and repair costs. For Chantilly lace. “Mein Gott, why are you so clumsy like this?”
“She’s a baby.” Marlene took care of her granddaughter’s sticky hands while a waiter leaped forward with napkins and cleaning solution. Valeska apologized profusely with her highly accented French. “Babies are clumsy. You think you were twirling batons at her age?”
Valeska was almost in tears over a damned tablecloth. It’s not only the tablecloth, is it? She had been stressed for weeks. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Because the older Daniela grew, the more destruction she left in her wake. The girl was a little over three. How much worse would it get? Flashes of her teenaged years consumed Valeska.
She wished that was the only thing bothering her as of late.
“That’s why I left the kids with the nanny,” Hailey sighed from the other end of the table. “I learned with my first one like you are now, Valeska. You’ll see that these locales are no places for children. Especially babies!”
“She’s three,” Valeska mumbled. “Three is more than old enough to conduct herself.”
Both Marlene and Hailey snorted in disbelief. Fine. Mother of two and mother of three. Have at me. No matter what Valeska did, she was always the more inexperienced one. Hailey would lord everything she could over her big sister. That meant her practical mothering experience as well. Hailey was pregnant with a fourth kid for all Valeska knew.
As for her? Daniela had been enough of a handful since she was born. It was apparent from the moment she drew in her first breath, screaming in the echo chamber of a Parisian hospital, that she was Daddy’s little girl and therefore he was the only one she had to impress. André had been smitten with his daughter from her conception, let alone the day Valeska brought home the doctor’s test results. Naturally, Valeska was grateful that her husband loved their daughter so much. But since he still spent plenty of time away from home, he didn’t have to deal with the dirty aspects of childrearing. He had never changed a diaper or disciplined the growing girl. That fell upon Valeska’s shoulders. Or the nanny’s.
Was it too much to ask for some quality time with her family? Hailey rarely got to see her niece, and Marlene spent more time home in Austria those days. Only since the Dubois family moved to Monaco two years ago had she made a greater effort to visit her oldest daughter.
At least it got Valeska away from her mother-in-law. That woman started crowing for a grandson as soon as Daniela’s novelty had worn off. Didn’t matter that the little girl was the spitting image of every other Dubois woman, with her golden curls and big blue eyes. Or that she fluently spoke French first, and was commanding English second. Valeska couldn’t even have a fellow German-speaker in her daughter.
As apparent whenever Marlene tried to converse with her granddaughter in German. After the third attempt to ask her about her favorite TV show, Marlene turned to Valeska and said, “Why can’t she speak German? Are you not speaking it at home?”
“I speak it all the time around her. So does the nanny.” Lena had two jobs: speak German around Valeska, and speak German around Daniela. It actually infuriated Valeska that the only time she could get Daniela to count to ten in German was when she did it for Lena. Sometimes I think my daughter hates me. Valeska glanced at Daniela and couldn’t get a glance back.
“Enroll her in the international school and make her take German.” That was Marlene’s final piece of advice on the matter. “As long as she lives in Monaco or France, she will never forget French. She’ll have to learn English in school. So, make sure she learns German somewhere. Your children are destined to become trilingual.”
“Yeah, aren’t you so lucky?” Hailey laughed. When the waiter asked if any of the ladies would like an after-lunch cocktail, she was the only one who turned it down. You’re pregnant again, aren’t you? Hailey was the only one in three generations to marry another Catholic and live up to some of the oldest tenants. “My kids speak English and German.”
“What about Gaelic? None at all?”
“My husband may be Irish, but we don’t live in Ireland.” Like the Dubois family had uprooted from Paris and moved to Monaco, the Undercrofts now called London home so Hailey’s husband could make them even more money. “Why would my children know Gaelic? Not like it’s useful, either! French is much more practical. Consider yourself lucky, Valeska.”
Valeska did consider herself lucky. Just because her anxiety was always spiked and her insecurities manifested every time she went home…
No, no, she wasn’t going to think about that while enjoying a rare lunch with both her mother and sister. This was good for Daniela. Not only was she around her maternal family, but she surely must be picking up German listening to the three of them talk. Then again, she thought the same thing about the conversations she had with Lena.
“How are the French lessons?”
Valeska knew that tone in Hailey’s voice. Another thing to lord over her sister. “I still take them, of course. I understand most French TV now.”
“But you still can’t read your husband’s letters?”
I regret ever telling you about those. André rarely missed a letter when he was away from home. Sometimes he arrived home before the letters, and he pretended to know nothing about them. He’s a terrible actor in that regard. The few times he admitted to their existence, he told his wife she would simply have to study French harder so she could read them all one day. The last time he mentioned them was a year before. There had been a certain sadness to his voice, as if he were upset that Valeska’s French comprehension still wasn’t good enough to better understand his, “Hello, my wife! Today I went to a meeting in Taipei and I…” letters.
Not that Valeska didn’t try. If she had an evening to spare, she would sit down with her French dictionaries and treat the letters as special homework. That’s why her husband wrote them, right? His effort to help her understand his language. Says the man who barely knows any German.
“No, I can’t.” Valeska forced her daughter to sit up in her seat. It’s her naptime soon. Why did I think this was a good idea? “Romance languages are too tough for me. Especially French.”
“Imagine Portuguese.”
“I’d rather not.” Hailey waited to continue as Marlene got up and suggested taking Daniela with her to the restroom. As soon as both were gone, she said, “If you want my honest opinion, Valeska, he’s probably fooling around on you.”
Valeska bristled to be reminded of that reality. “I’d rather not discuss that.”
“My husband’s friend’s wife helped him do business in London a few months ago. She says he was very friendly with the British interpreter. Little more than Frenchmen should go, if you know what I mean.”
“Please don’t do this.” Valeska shook her head. “If it’s true, then it doesn’t matter. Our marriage isn’t going anywhere. Not with Daniela so young.” She didn’t bring up that she considered having another child to appease her husband’s family. I always wanted two children. Daniela is young enough to adjust to having a sudden sibling. Valeska was in her thirties now. It was time to seal how many children she planned to have.
“How does it not matter? If he’s sleeping around, then you should be able to as well!”
“That’s out of the question.” Truth was, Valeska didn’t want another man. That possibility sailed when they decided to have children. Not only did Valeska have to ensure that her children were André’s, but the bond they formed in both marriage and parenthood meant she couldn’t look at another man that way. I’m so sad and weak that all he has to do is look at me and I want to be with him. Valeska didn’t want proof that her husband sought other women outside of their marriage. It would break her heart, and she wasn’t sure she could do anything about it.
Not with Daniela so young. That’s what she told herself.
“Fine.” Hailey wiped her hands of her sister’s stubborn attitude. “It’s your face to save. He said that you guys could have an open marriage if that’s what you wanted, right?”
“That was what we discussed on our second anniversary. We decided to stay closed and have children.”
“Uh huh.” Hailey stole the cherry from her sister’s drink. “You’re a better woman that I am. If Dillon pulled that crap on me, I’d hang him by the testes. Then again, as you can tell from the amount of children we’ve had, I keep him preoccupied.”
“You’re not the only one satisfied in your marriage.”
“Hmph. That’s rich, since you said you didn’t even fuck him before your wedding.”
“Things changed quickly afterward.”
“I’m just saying. He’s away from home a lot. Men are idiots.”
“What good does it serve me to think about these things? Don’t you have something better to do than taunt me with half-truths?”
Marlene and Daniela returned from the restroom. Hailey shut up after that.
As much as Valeska hated to part from her family, she was needed at home, and Hailey was needed on an airplane back to London that evening. Marlene was staying with Valeska in the family flat near Monte Carlo. Daniela was attached to her mother’s lap, fast asleep the moment the car began to move.
“Welcome home,” Lena the nanny greeted them when they reached their two-level flat. Big enough for a married couple, their daughter, the nanny, the live-in maid, and a guest. Marlene, for now. “How was your lunch?”
“Fine.” Valeska didn’t bring up Daniela’s mishap. She was more inclined to pass her sleeping daughter off to Lena and bid her mother to go about her business. “Where is my husband?”
Lena patted Daniela’s golden curls and smoothed down her white dress. “Up in his office, meine Dame.”
The nanny wasn’t usually this polite. It must have been for Marlene’s benefit. “Danke. I will go see him about something private. Please take care of everything down here.”
Lena nodded, lips pursed. Keep them closed, you blabbermouth. Sometimes Valeska took Lena’s role as a German-speaking confidant too personally. Because she totally knew what “something private” meant. Get your mind out of the gutter. My daughter and my mother are both around.
Valeska kissed her daughter’s forehead before showing herself upstairs. André’s office was at the end of the hall, overlooking the Mediterranean, which was crystal blue and calm that sunny afternoon. No wonder André had claimed this room for his office. It was more soothing than his view of the Seine River back in Paris.
She lightly knocked before testing the door handle. The moment the door was ajar, she heard her husband speaking brusquely in French. His back was turned to his desk and the door. He always did prefer to stare at the ocean while taking business calls.
Valeska quietly closed the door behind her. The best way to get his attention was to stand off to the side and hope she didn’t startle him too much. When he was like this, it was easy for him to jump at her sudden presence, no matter how often she intruded.
“S’il vous plait, excusez-moi un instant.” He lowered his phone and gave her half-divided attention. “What is it?”
“Nothing important. I can wait.”
He briefly nodded before going back to his conversation. Valeska attempted to be patient, but her husband had decided to wear his work suit around the house. He must have had a phone conference or a meeting earlier that morning. Either way, Valeska was now taunted by this man in a tailored French suit that clung to every muscle and mussed hair that implied he had run his hand through it on more than one occasion.
Valeska locked the office door.
I hate that I can’t understand your conversation. André spoke much too quickly and casually for her to catch half the words uttered. I hate how often you’re away from home. His father had been lenient when Valeska was on maternity leave from most housework, but gradually, Monsieur Dubois upped his son’s traveling until he was gone more than ever before. Someone was being groomed to take over the company sooner rather than later. I hate the amount of women I see calling and texting you. André never hid it. Sometimes Valeska grabbed his buzzing phone off their bed and handed it to him in the shower. So many female names, like Collette, Roxanne, Tanya, Wilhelmina, and Yvette… Who were these women? Work colleagues? That’s what André told her when she politely inquired about an unknown name. She even met some of them. Pretty, young women who spoke a number of languages and laughed at André’s dumb jokes. The man was such an effortless charmer that he probably didn’t realize that those women knew he was flirting with them.
I hate how much I love you.
Valeska had been naïve to think she was prepared for this marriage. It was one thing to know her husband would probably sleep around, and it could be a point of discussion. Well, that point had come and gone. It was too late for her to open up dialogue about opening their marriage. She was a doormat now. She had to get whatever fun she could and pretend nothing else mattered.
She sat on the edge of his desk and waited to catch his attention again. When André finally hung up, he spun his chair around, finger playing with his top lip as his big eyes met Valeska’s. My daughter’s eyes. My daughter’s hair. How many other little girls out there look like her?
Valeska both wanted to kiss him and stab him in the thigh with his own pen. Well, she didn’t get anything from his death if she caused it, so kissing him it was.
“What is it, mon chou? Did you have a nice lunch with your sister and mother? You were doing that today, oui?”
“Ja.” She slid across his desk until their legs touched. André glanced between his wife and his lap. “Daniela is down for her nap. My mother and the nanny are downstairs.”
André continued to look at her expectantly. Waiting for me to tell him what the problem is. That’s all a wife is good for, right? Valeska hated to admit it, but more often than not that’s why she interrupted her husband in his office. She needed money to buy something for dinner. The driver was sick and couldn’t take him to his meeting. His mother was on her way for a surprise visit from Paris. Daniela was sick and needed to go to the doctor’s. Valeska was sick and needed a doctor. Surely, there were better reasons to interrupt him.
“And?”
Valeska braced her hand against the desk, pushing her chest toward her husband’s face. “And Ich liebe Dich.”
André smiled. He knew that much German. I taught him. Valeska could be a good tutor too. “J’taime, my beloved.”
“Do you?” Valeska may or may not have intentionally untied the front of her wrap dress. She was so insistent on wearing them even in fashionable Monaco, that some of the other wives at the charity society saw her as an inspiration and were convinced she had started the new trend. Again. One of Monaco’s most well-known tailors insisted on designing three dresses for her to wear around town. She had worn one that day. Cobalt blue with white flowers. A print that could only be found in certain parts of Italy. “Do you know that Du bist mein Leben?”
It took him a moment to realize what she said. “So you still can’t read my letters?”
That annoyed Valeska enough to send her down onto her knees and instigate the next phase of her haphazard plan.
“Ah. Maybe you can.”
Valeska grabbed his tie and caught his attention once more. “Do you really love me, André?”
He cocked his head as if he couldn’t make out what she really wanted. “Do you think I lie about something so serious? Of course I love you. You are my wife and the mother of my child. Why would I not love you?”
That wasn’t a real answer. Valeska almost didn’t care.
“You must know that I love that look on your face.” André expressed not a hint of surprise when his wife unzipped his trousers, determination taking over her countenance. “The same one you gave me on our wedding night.”
He was flaccid. As if that deterred Valeska after five years of marriage. “You like your women infuriated with your attitude?”
“What women? Just you.”
How dare he, honestly? As if Valeska didn’t know. As if she didn’t know the truth.
Frustration was often accompanied with other kinds of frustration. Valeska hated herself for getting aroused whenever heated with her husband in other ways. What started as oral sex filled with tentative teeth grazing his tender skin and sending a million warnings to his idiot brain soon turned into Valeska’s dire urge to pleasure her husband. Because she loved him. Because she wanted him to be happy. Because he made her happy, both in and out of the bedroom, as long as she stopped obsessing over things she could not control.
Look at me, André. She never once broke eye contact. He would see her own truth in the depths of her eyes. Her truth as his wife, as the woman he entrusted with his genetic legacy, and the woman he should never, ever dare to try.
Why did it turn her on so much?
Fuck me. I’m a weak loser. She almost told him that in her native tongue once he was hard enough to ride in his chair. Even so, Valeska still refused to break eye contact, even though her husband closed his eyes many times. Neither one of them closed the blinds on his office window. Who gave a fuck if someone on their fucking yacht or flying low in a helicopter saw a married couple getting it on in their own home? Not Valeska. She almost dared the world to pap her, even though Monaco was one of the safest countries in the world when it came to the paparazzi. I want these pictures plastered all over social media. Show those sluts who dare to fuck my husband that I will always be the best.
She hated how hard those thoughts made her come.