The Reconstruction of Cyprian

 

A Billionaire Bad Boy Holiday Romance Series

 

 

By Michelle Love

 

 

Cyprian Girard is a 35-year-old billionaire investor who works like hell all week, making himself (and others) tons of money. On the weekends, he parties like there’s no tomorrow. Being a confirmed bachelor, who’s looking to score all the tail he can possibly get, has him making his move on a certain convenient store cashier, who ignites something in him as she’s not about to give into his charming ways.

Camilla Petit is a 25-year-old Science Major at Clemson University in Clemson, South Carolina. She’s working as a cashier at a convenience store to help her makes ends meet while she goes to college. She works the night shift and every weekend, she sees the driver of the ultra-rich Cyprian come in and purchase condoms along with other things. One fateful night, Cyprian himself gets out of the car to make his own purchases and sets his sights on her.

Camilla is nobody’s fool. She’s on the verge of starting her career as a lab technician and womanizing men have no place in her life. But Cyprian is no ordinary man. He’s been constructed, nearly from birth, to charm women into his bed and then leave them wanting more.

With a lifetime of kudos from his father on his romantic endeavors, can Camilla, who he affectionately calls Cami, reconstruct him to fit into her world? Or will it be the other way around? Will Cyprian mold her to his specifications, making her just another notch on his bed post? Can Christmas give them both a miracle?

Part One The Flirt

 

Chapter 1

CYPRIAN

 

A golden hue falls over the crowd of people who dance under the disco ball as yellow lights shoot up at it and bounce off the millions of mirrors used to create the magical ball. Loud music vibrates my body as I sit, unseen, at the top of the spiral staircase which leads down to the ballroom of my father’s mansion.

He’s having another party, the way he does each and every Friday and Saturday night. Sunday is reserved for other social functions. On Sundays, we go to watch horses run around a track while my father trades money with the people around him. On occasion, we get onto the jet and go to other places where my father bets with other people about various things.

Once we watched dogs run around a track and that was cool, because he took me to look at them before they raced and I was allowed to pet a couple of them. The horses are always too high-spirited. I’m never allowed to touch them.

I am, what my parents call, a happy mishap. My mother left me with my father when I started kindergarten a year ago. Up until then, she and I lived in Los Angeles. We lived in a small home and she stayed with me.

She decided, since I was going to start school, she could go back to her job. So, I came to live with my father in Clemson, South Carolina. I am what they call a child prodigy.

I was reading and writing at 3-years-old. I was drawing pictures which won awards at 5-years-old. Now, at 6-years-old, I’ve skipped a couple of grades. I’m in third grade now and my teachers believe I will continue to skip grades.

My father owns a company that makes investments for people. He’s already tutoring me on what types of things make good investments. He tells me often we are a family who works hard and plays harder.

Looking down at the men and women who are dancing, hugging, kissing, and drinking things that make them stagger at times and slur their words, I find my father out of the crowd and see him with a woman on each arm.

He must sense me looking at him, as his dark eyes scan the staircase until they meet mine. He smiles and tips his tall hat at me. The women wave at me and blow me kisses.

I blow them back and they act as if they catch them and hold their hands to their hearts. With a sigh, I get up and make my way to my bedroom to study some more before I go to bed.

My life is full, not the way most children’s are. In other ways. I spend the school days having breakfast with my father, then his driver takes me to school. I stay there for a long time and then the driver brings me home. My nanny makes sure I eat dinner and bathe then I get into bed and go to sleep.

Only in the mornings, do I see my father. We go over the newspaper to see what the stock market is doing. Then we head off to do work, as he calls it.

 

On the weekends, I do not see him at breakfast. My nanny makes sure I have my breakfast and maybe at lunch, my father will come out of his bedroom. He always has different women with him when he does. Sometimes there are two or even three women who come out of it with him.

I don’t know what they do when he has his sleepovers. I just know I’m not invited to join them. And I’m not to get to know the women. I am to exchange polite hello’s and goodbye’s but that’s all.

My father makes it crystal clear, none of the women have a place in our little family. He and I are a family and my mother and I are a separate family.

I asked my father one time about love. A friend from school told me his mother and father are in love and they are married and live together. He told me he has brothers and sisters and a real family. Not like mine.

When I asked my father about that, he said some like to live life that way, but he doesn’t. He has little time for relationships. His time is better spent on making him and other people money. And when he’s not doing that, he wants no fussing and fighting. He says those things come along with love and marriage.

 

I suppose he’s right. I saw one of my teachers arguing with a man in the hallway once. When I asked her if she was okay because she was crying, she told me the man I saw her with was her husband and they’d had a disagreement.

If a mere disagreement can make a person, who is in love, cry then I too want no part of that either. Just like my mother and father. I’ve never seen either of them cry and I also have never cried unless I was in physical pain.

I did cry a little when my mother left me here with my father and a nanny. But she told me that I’d be fine and she’d see me when she could. I see her once a month. She comes to my father’s parties for the weekend at the end of every month and I see her some while she’s here. She was right, I was fine, eventually.

I saw her dance one time at one of the first parties she came to. That’s when I found out what the job was she wanted to get back to. She is, what my father calls, an exotic dancer.

At one of my father’s parties, I sat on the stairs, watching my mother dance and toss away her clothes, my nanny found me and scooped me up and took me back to my bedroom where she sat outside my door in a chair to make sure I stayed in my room. She told me I shouldn’t see my mother doing that.

 

I asked her if what my mother was doing was considered wrong. She told me there is no wrong or right. But some things should go unseen by one’s children.

With no wrong or right in this world, I suppose it is my destiny to follow in my parents’ footsteps. Love may be what some people fall into. I am not like those people. I am like the one’s I came from.

My father told me I was not planned. He wasn’t sorry that I came along but he wasn’t happy with something called the condom that gave me to him and my mother.

Apparently, this thing called a condom has the power to stop an egg from becoming a baby. The one he said he was using must have had a hole in it. He told me never to skimp on condoms and always make sure I had plenty of them when my time comes.

I don’t know when or why my time will come to use condoms but I will remember my father’s advice on them. He must know what he’s talking about since he’s never had any other happy mishaps. My mother hasn’t either.

Laughter fills the hallway outside my bedroom and I get off my bed and sneak to the door, pulling it open only a tiny crack to see who’s coming upstairs.

My father has the same two women under each arm as he did when I saw him downstairs. They’re taking turns kissing his cheeks and he looks very happy and relaxed. Not the way he looked when he got home from work, earlier this evening.

 

“Goodnight, Papa,” I call out as I open the door a bit more.

All three of their heads turn my way. “Hey, cutie,” the woman with red hair says to me. “Aren’t those pajamas the cat’s meow?”

My father jostles her a bit to get her to look at him. “No talking to the kid, Bonnie.” He looks at me and gives me a grin. “Goodnight, son. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. You get some rest now.”

“You too, Papa,” I say and close my door.

Going back to my bed, I have to admit my father looks way happier than my married teacher ever does. His way has to be the best way. He and my mother are happy people. I want to be happy too.

My friend from school will most likely follow how his parents live and I find myself feeling sorry for him and how his life will certainly turn out.

Poor kid…

Chapter 2

CYPRIAN

The disco ball is reflecting purples and pinks as I walk down the spiral staircase to go to my graduation party. I’ve finally earned my Bachelor’s Degree in Investment. I still have to get my Master’s in Finance, I’m not quite ready to become the CEO of Papa’s company just yet. But I am working at Libertine Investments as an assistant to the CLO, Stan Franco. He oversees all the legal affairs of the company.

At 16-years-old, I am the youngest person who works at my father’s company. No one treats me like a kid, though. Not when I can handle myself like an adult. And being the boss’ son doesn’t hurt either.

As I hit the last step, I am met by a couple of beauties. “I’m Roxanna,” the brunette tells me. Her arm moves around my waist as she leans in and kisses my cheek, purposely rubbing her breast against my arm.

 

“Hello, Roxanna,” I say and turn my head to catch her lips with mine. She tastes like rum and coke as our tongues move around together.

A touch on my ass has me pulling away and looking at the skinny blonde who’s also waiting for my attention. “I’m Bambi. I work at your mother’s club in L.A.” Her breasts are nearly popping out of the tight dress she has on. The silver beads on it catch the strobe lights, just like the disco ball does, making her light up.

“Nice to meet you, Bambi,” I say and take her waiting red lips and kiss her too.

She’s a smoother kisser than the other woman. But the other woman has the curves I like.

I guess I’ll have to keep them both for the night!

The music goes down and I hear a clanking sound. Both women wrap themselves around me and I wrap my arms around them as my father calls everyone’s attention to him as he walks up on the stage.

His temples are going gray in his otherwise dark hair, he’s growing older, a thing he reminds me of often as he seems to be hurrying me along to take over his position as CEO of Libertine Investments. He looks out at the crowd of people who’ve come to my party.

None of my schoolmates were invited. I never made any friends while in college. I wasn’t there to make friendships, my father told me. School was work and not a place to fraternize.

He took care of filling his parties with people. I found out almost every woman who comes to them are escorts, provided by several adult clubs around the nation. And at times, they come from around the world.

My father calls himself a connoisseur of fine women. He likes to taste them all. And escorts are liberal with their bodies. The men who fill his parties are business associates. Some of whom I know are married men but they come to enjoy the buffet of beauties who don’t mind at all showing a man a good time.

I find my father holding up my degree and a smile fills his face.

“Tonight we’re here to celebrate my son, Cyprian Girard’s, achievement. He’s earned his Bachelor’s Degree in Investment. He has a Master’s Degree to get before he can take over my role at Libertine Investments but I have no doubt he’ll make quick work of that. The way he’s done with everything else, academically speaking. And sexually speaking as well! Am I right, ladies?”

Cheers go up as women hoot and holler. I smile and wave then give them a bow. I am my father’s son, after all. I have learned from the most sexually advanced women on the planet, thanks to my father’s generosity when it comes to bringing in women for his parties.

The two, who have claimed me for the night, hold tight to their prize and I have to smile as I find other women looking at me with lusty gazes and some flat-out show me parts of themselves to entice me.

 

I found out, when I first started my sexual endeavors, when I was thirteen, not to go overboard with too many women at one time. My father caught up with me after an all-nighter with seven women. He told me, just like candy, whiskey, or food, you have to allow yourself to have only what you can handle. Moderation is what he taught me, in all things.

So, now I limit my women to three, tops. I find a feisty woman, with pink hair, looking at me with a raw hunger I think this current threesome could use.

My father goes on as I wiggle my finger at the vixen who is salivating over me. She comes to me as my father continues his speech. “Cyprian is the only fruit to have fallen from these loins.” He gyrates his pelvis, making the women scream. “My happy mishap has made me very proud of him on this day, and all days, for that matter. So, please join me in letting him know he’s appreciated by us all.” More cheers ring out by all the attendees as the pink-haired girl drops to her knees in front of me.

I look back and forth at the women on each side of me.

“I’ll let you two decide. Can Pinky, here, join us this evening for some fun?”

Roxanna asks the new woman, “Do you mind kissing another woman?”

“Excellent question, Roxanna,” I say and give her cheek a quick peck.

Pinky, as I’ve dubbed her, shakes her head. I look at Bambi. “Do you have any questions for her?”

She looks Pinky over then asks, “Do you have any piercings that might add to the night’s activities?”

 

Her mouth opens and I find a silver stud on the tip of her tongue. Bambi and Roxanna both gasp then Roxanna says, “We’d love to add her to tonight’s activities, Cyprian. Please add her in for our complete enjoyment.”

“Seems, you’re in, Pinky,” I say as she gets up and runs her hands over my chest.

“My name is Paula but Pinky will do,” she says then kisses me, using that little bead on her tongue to run over the roof of my mouth.

I’m happy with the addition to the pack and find myself ready to dance a bit, drink a little, and then fornicate like animals for the rest of the night.

Life is good…

Chapter 3

CYPRIAN

It’s Friday and my nerves are frazzled as the board meeting has gone on longer than expected. “Iran is a no go,” I say as I slam my fist on top of the huge, dark oak table. “I will never budge on that! I am not my father. I will do no business with countries who are terroristic.”

“But their money is as good as anyone’s, Cyprian,” the CFO, Bob Steward, argues.

“Not to me, it’s not. Can we end this now?” I ask as I look wearily at the board. “I will not cave to you people. I am the CEO now. My father, Corbin Gerard, has entrusted this company to me and I have gone to school for a long time to get to where I am. I’ve studied the outcomes of such investments. Something like that, in a time of war, could end any political plans anyone of you may have.”

“How are you so sure?” Claudette, an elderly board member, who’s been here forever and three days, asks as she looks at me as if I’m a stupid child.

 

I turned twenty-six last week. I am far from a stupid child and have more education than any of these people have. I earned my Master a few years ago and am finally through with school and ready to move on to running the company my father started and has entrusted to me. But this, old as hell, board fights me on every last thing I want to change.

Standing up and picking up my briefcase, I answer her, “Claudette, you may not have aspirations for political greatness but some in this room do. While I don’t care for politics, per say, I am a true American who has tremendous respect for those who have fought a war that’s gone on far too long. I will not make money for or take money from any enemy of the United States. That said, I will be ending this week’s meeting as it’s eight in the evening and my father is hosting a lovely party you are all invited to.”

Claudette looks at me as I walk out of the board room. Her frown is evidence she’s unhappy with me cutting the meeting short, in her opinion. But I am the CEO and I can do such a thing.

My body is weary from the many struggles I’ve gone through this week. It’s been past eleven each night before I’ve seen the comfort of my bed. I have worked so hard and the knowledge pretty girls are waiting in the ballroom at the mansion is just too enticing for me to stay and argue with the old battle-axe any longer.

A chill runs through me as I hear the click of her one-inch heels as she comes up behind me.

 

“Cyprian, this is not over.”

“Oh, but it is, Claudette. How I wish you could join us over here in the real world. You are from an ancient way of thinking. One that’s dangerous now,” I let her know. “In this time of such upheaval, we need to form a solid stand to make sure we remain the country we’ve always been. Helping that Iranian company make more money is a crime, in my opinion. Let it go. Next week, I’ve got a fantastic company in Hawaii to look at. And we’ll all get to go to the resort owned by the huge company. It’ll be fun, relaxing, all expenses paid, you’ll love it. You should bring that granddaughter of yours along. What is her name again?”

Suddenly, her icy demeanor changes. “Margie is a wonderful young woman. She’s your age and such a prize. The right kind of women to marry such an eligible bachelor as yourself. She’s well-educated and helps out at all of the church functions. She’s a great young woman!”

I’m afraid she lost me at the word, marry.

“Send her to the party tonight.”

“Heaven’s no!” she says as she shakes her head. “Cyprian, she’s a nice young woman. But I could give you her phone number and you could take her on a nice date. A fancy restaurant, some wine, and good conversation. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

 

It sounds like pure hell. “Maybe another time. I’m really wrung out from work this week. I need to relax and I’d make awful company for such a nice young woman. Another time perhaps.” I hurry to get on the elevator and find Claudette right at my side.

She’s rubbing her palms together, quite obviously trying her best to come up with another wonderful date idea. “Our church is having a social after the morning services. You two could meet there. It would be fun. You’re such a patriot, aren’t you a God-fearing man as well?”

“Church? I’ve never gone. We go to the track on Sundays. You know that,” I say and find myself relieved when the elevator doors open and I can finally get rid of the old woman.

It’s my fault and I know it, that she’s hooked onto me, as I’ve made the mistake of asking about the woman I’ve seen in pictures around her home when I’ve been there on other occasions.

 

“Which one will you be at this Sunday?” she asks and I see it all there in her beady little eyes. She’ll bring the good woman there and expect me to court her.

“You know what,” I say as I act as if I just recalled something. “We aren’t going to the track at all. I’m going to my mother’s club in L.A. for a visit. I completely forgot. Some other time, Claudette.”

My driver pulls the car to the curb and hops out to open the back door for me. My long black limousine is spacious, with a full bar, and lots of seating. Tons of room to have fun while getting to another place to have more fun.

I find a flashy platinum blonde with her long legs stretched out, waiting inside of it for me. Claudette does too. “Who is this?” she asks.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I ask, “What’s your name?”

“Lola,” she answers. “Your father sent me to accompany you home after a hard week of work, Cyprian.”

“How, lovely,” I say as I slip into the black-cherry leather seat. “See you next Friday, Claudette.” My driver closes the door as Lola finds a sweet spot on my neck to nibble as she rubs me in all the right places.

I love my life…

Chapter 4

CYPRIAN

“The walls in here are a decadent shade of yellow,” the real estate agent tells me as I follow her through the home on the estate I’m looking to buy.

“I’ve never heard yellow called decadent before,” I say as I look at the walls I would describe as canary yellow. “Good try, though. I do like the ten bedrooms and the theater room that’s in the basement. I bet the sound would be amazing down there.”

“I’m sure it is. Would you care for a demonstration, Mr. Girard?” she asks as she seems about to bend over backward to make this sale to me.

Her commission will probably be more than most people make in a year. Time to haggle a bit, I think. “My father said I needed to get myself a home. It’s a good investment. I’m looking for a place that needs some help getting back up and going. I can use the repairs and reconstructions as write-offs. But I’ll pay no more than what I believe this place is worth right now.”

“Understood. This is an excellent property for you, Mr. Girard,” the woman says as she points out how out of date the crown molding is. “All of this should be replaced.”

 

As I look around at the massive home that sits on one hundred acres, I contemplate all the people I’d need to hire and the money I’d have to pay them to take care of the place. I’d also have to hire contractors to make the renovations. With the work it needs and the write-offs I can take, it seems like the perfect home for me.

It sits just outside of Clemons, South Carolina. The office is only thirty minutes away on the other side of town. The drive out each night might be relaxing.

I open the door off the kitchen and listen to the crickets chirp in the cool evening air. “Nice, peaceful, relaxing. This will be perfect for me.”

“And all this room is great for a man who’s thinking about marriage and family soon,” she says as she looks past me, at the vast backyard.

I laugh at her idea. “I’m not about to get married. Ever.”

“I’m sorry,” she says as she looks down at the clipboard in her hand. “Your birthday shows me you’re 35. Surely, you want to settle down pretty soon. I mean, you can’t wait forever.”

“I can and I will. I’m not the marrying type. I work hard. I have no time for the bickering that goes along with having a wife and kids. No, thank you!” I step outside and smell the fresh air and look up at the sky where stars are already beginning to show with no city lights around to hide them. “This is great. I’ll take it.”

Her words of marriage and kids are put behind her as she sees dollar signs and hops up and down with excitement. “Fantastic!”

I am about to become a homeowner. A thing I’ve never been. I will be the lord of this castle. Ruler of the many it will take to keep this place running like a well-oiled machine.

 

Turning around to go back inside, I find myself laughing. “I’ve never overseen servants and groundskeepers and people like that. I hope I’m good at it.”

“I’m sure you will be, Mr. Girard. Now, when would you like to meet to sign the papers and set up financing?” she asks as we walk toward the front door.

“I’ll be paying in cash. If the seller accepts my offer.” I take her clipboard and write in the amount I’m willing to pay for the place. “I’ve managed to squirrel away a few dollars.”

The fact is, with no bills, and making the money I make as CEO now, I’m a multi-billionaire. There never was any doubt I’d meet my goal to become one. I set that goal when I was a child and it took a little over twenty-five years for that to come to fruition but I made it happen.

The other goal I have is to make sure my life stays happy and carefree. Well, carefree as far as women go. Women and children have limited roles in my life.

Do I like kids?

Sure, but on a limited basis.

Do I like women?

Again, sure, but on a limited basis.

I don’t consider myself a user of women. I do consider myself a man who knows himself and knows what he wants. Am I capable of having a real relationship?

Of course, I am.

Do I want one?

Of course, I don’t!

Women are beautiful creatures. Their bodies come in all shapes and sizes and that’s wonderful to me. Why settle on one when you can have so many?

 

My father is still reaping the benefits of bachelorhood. My mother is a very happy single woman. I think I’ll be fine as a single man who has fantastic weekends with women who expect nothing from me, other than amazing sex.

I can deliver that two nights a week. Work has me exhausted the other five, anyway. I never realized how hard my father actually worked until I took over his role in the company. It’s a huge job. It takes forever. And so many people depend on me now.

With all that responsibility, why on Earth would I add in a wife and kids?

Why would anyone?

 

It makes no sense to me. I have tons of beautiful women at my fingertips two nights a week and all day on Sunday. Who could ask for more?

I’m not greedy. I’ve seen men who are married and have families and still dabble with the women at my father’s parties. They’re walking a tightrope. If they ever got caught, they’d lose half of everything they’ve managed to gain.

I, on the other hand, have nothing to fear. I’ve watched men run and hide when their wives have shown up, unexpectedly. I’ve helped many to dash out secret doors and get to cars their wives knew nothing about while making sure those women were treated well while they looked for their errant husbands.

I don’t want that. I don’t want to look over my shoulder for the one woman who wants to hold me down. I don’t want to change into a man who is a hypocrite. Telling the woman, he’s made a life with, to be faithful, while he whores around.

That’s just mean. Why do that to another person? Why hurt people like that?

You don’t have to if you keep it all real. Don’t make false promises, like I love you and I will always love only you.

If it’s not even possible!

 

I see no reason to lie to a woman. I see no reason to lie to myself. I like women. I always will. But I will never see fit to cage myself or any woman into a life of dread, deceit, and anarchy.

Yes, some call it love. Is it really something so easily captured with one word, though? Is it really so easily done?

‘I do’ can turn into, ‘I can’t’ in the blink of an eye. Why put myself or some poor woman through that torture?

Not a thing I’d like to do. Not a thing I have a goal to do.

Not a thing I want!

 

“I know the owners will go for this amount. So, how about tomorrow then?” the real estate lady asks me. “I can have you and this house together before you know it. I just know you’ll treat her well, Mr. Girard. Give her that tender loving care, she’s been needing. You’ll have this estate blossoming in no time. I can’t wait to see her with your hand on her.”

Staring at the woman, blankly, I shudder as she sounds as if she’s talking about a woman. Suddenly, owning a house sounds like a huge commitment.

“I’m going to think on it,” I say as I walk out the front door.

“I thought we had a deal,” she calls out to me, waving her hand, frantically.

Ducking into the back of my car, I slam the door. “Drive away, Beau. That woman is trying to tie me down!”

As he speeds away, I turn back and see her slumping as she walks to her car. I may have just cost her some of her time but she was about to trap my ass with that house.

And I cannot have that…

Chapter 5

CYPRIAN

“What do you mean, you don’t want to be tied down to a house, Cyprian?” my father asks me as he looks at me over his morning cup of coffee.

“It sounds awful,” I say as I look over the stock report in the New York Times. “Have you seen the price of pork bellies, it’s atrocious?”

“I have,” he says as he pushes the paper, gently down and looks over it at me. “You should stay away from them. About the house. You need one, Cyprian. Every man needs a castle to call their own.”

“This place is great. Why move away?” I ask as I fold the paper and put it aside.

“It’s not that I want you to move away,” he says as he taps the cherry wood table we eat breakfast at on the weekdays in the small breakfast nook just off the main kitchen. “It’s just that you seem a bit stifled. You haven’t made much progress in the last, say ten years. You took over my position and that’s where you’ve stopped. I love to watch you progress. You’re so good at it.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve made Libertine Investments billions in that amount of time. What’s not progressive about that?” I ask as I watch his eyebrows dance as he thinks about what I’ve said.

“I mean you, personally, son,” he says then places his hand on top of mine as he looks into my eyes. “You have been a person who has moved rapidly through life. You make goals and meet them and then you make new ones. You haven’t made a new goal since taking the CEO position at the company. That’s what I mean by progressing. I think a home of your own and building it up to be what you want it to be should be your next goal. You’re so much happier when you have a goal to work on.”

 

Looking away from him, out the window that looks over the large swimming pool in the back of the mansion, I think about what he’s said. “Papa, I have only had one final goal this whole time. It was to take over your position, so you could take an early retirement. And I’ve met that goal. I’ve seen that you have more money than you could spend in a lifetime and watch you enjoy your free time. And that’s my prize at the end of all of my hard work.”

“Cyprian, while that is very noble of you, it’s not a goal for you, son. That was a goal for me. Now, it’s time to make one for yourself. A home will fill your mind with new ideas. It’s a great experience. When I think about the day I bought this place, it always brings a smile to my face. It was the biggest purchase I’d ever made and it was the one thing which was entirely mine.”

My eyes fall to the table and I look at my clean plate that had been filed with strawberry crepes. “Then I was thrust upon you, taking some of your home away. And what you really want is your home back and me to find my own. I understand now. I’ll call the real estate lady and tell her the deal is still on. I didn’t think about you wanting your old life back, the one you had before I came along.”

 

The weight of his hand on my shoulder has me looking at him. “Son, that’s not it at all. I know your mother and I call you our happy mishap but you were a true gift from above for me. I assume to your mother as well. I don’t know as we hardly converse at all. She and I never were conversationalists.”

“So, that’s not it? Then why do you want me out so badly?” I ask as I don’t understand and I usually understand almost everything.

“You need to make your own life. I’ve watched you following me and my life patterns and that’s not fair to you. You’re deeper than I ever was. Or your mother, for that matter. I feel as if you think there’s only one way to live life but there are many ways to live it,” he says, making me wonder if he’s on to something.

“I think I do want to live the way you and Mother do, Papa. I see your faces are always happy. I want to be like you two. I want to live the life you two have,” I say and watch a frown cover my father’s face.

His hair has gone completely gray. But he’s still what people call a handsome man.

He stills gets all the ladies he cares for!

 

“Son, I am getting older with each passing minute. And it’s beginning to settle in with my retirement, that I have set myself up to live alone forever.” He looks around at the empty room around us. “The servants move about like ghosts to make sure I’m never bothered, the way I used to ask them to do. But that was back when I was a busy man with the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

“Are you saying, you’re unhappy now, Papa?” I ask as he hasn’t seemed unhappy to me in the least.

He nods. “I don’t know how to talk to women. I flirt with women I know I can or talk business with women who are in my business world. But I have no idea how to talk to one like she’s my friend. I don’t want that for you. I want more for you.”

“You’ve told me, on many occasions, when you have a relationship, it means arguments, unhappiness at times, and putting people before yourself and what you want. Are you changing your mind, now?”

“Not for me, no. I’m old and set in my ways. I couldn’t put up with that now if I wanted to attempt to. But you’ve led a life that’s been led by me and I think it’s time for you to follow your own heart for a while. See what you really want in your life. That’s why a home of your very own is the best place to start,” he says then looks out the window to watch a sparrow fly past it to a nest in the tree next to it.

“And if I decide to make my own party room and live life the way I’ve come to know it, will you be disappointed in me?” I ask as I’ve never seen my father like this before.

With a shake of his head, he says, “I will never be disappointed in you. Not ever. Live however you want to. But do it because you want to. Not because you think anything is expected of you.”

My mind is a mess. “You seemed proud of my male prowess.”

“I am proud of you no matter what, Cyprian. I always have and always will be.” He gets up and pats me on the back. “I’m going to take a nap. Do whatever it is you want to, son. Stay here, buy the house and move, whatever it is you want. I will always be proud of you.”

 

Watching my father leave the room, I get up to head to the office. I’ve always done what I thought was expected of me. I never once realized that nothing was expected of me.

Making my way to the waiting Mercedes my father’s driver is driving me to work in today, a dreaded Monday, I let the driver open the door for me and watch as he closes it, without a word said between us.

It’s odd, how lost I suddenly feel. It’s as if the rug has been pulled out from underneath my feet that I had been steadily treading upon for decades.

I can do whatever I want to?

 

I should feel great. Nothing is expected of me and anything I want to do, I can. Papa will still be proud of me and so will Mother. So, why do I feel so alone?

The car pulls out of the large horseshoe drive and onto the road. I find myself pulling out my cell phone and tapping a message to the real estate lady. I’m going to take the estate. I’m going to live alone out there and see what it is I want to do with my personal life.

Businesswise, that’s settled. I am to remain the CEO of Libertine Investments until I find another to groom to take over my place. Not a child of mine, obviously. Children are still off the table for me. I’d have no idea how to appropriately raise one of them.

With my own home, I could decide to keep women there overnight and into the next day, week, month, or year if I wanted to. And all this time, I thought my father would lose respect for me if I ever tried to keep a woman or women for more than one night.

I suppose I’m too literal of a person to understand everything. The little nuances that some people get, I just don’t. Maybe with this advanced thought process, I was born with, I lost the ability to read between the lines. Or even realize I didn’t have to follow my parents’ exact footsteps.

I feel free but completely petrified for some reason. My first step at finding out who I really am and what I really want is upon me. I’m about to buy my own place to live and see how I want to live.

Who really knows what will happen to me…

Chapter 6

CYPRIAN

Six months into living in my own place and I’ve yet to find the ‘me’ that I want to be. I love the ‘me’ I have been and think that’s the real me.

It’s Friday night and I have a young woman named, Cookie, sitting in my lap as my driver takes us back to my estate. I haven’t made a party room at my place yet as Papa’s is still fantastic so why give that one any competition?

Pulling up to the last convenience store at the edge of town before we leave it to go out into the country where I live, my driver goes inside to pick up the essentials I’ll need for the night’s activities.

 

“Oh, is he getting us some things for tonight?” she asks me as she plays with my hair.

“Yep. You got anything you’d like?” I ask her as I push back her brown hair.

“Whipped cream,” she says then runs her hand over the swell in the front of my pants. “I feel like a banana split if you get my drift.”

“I do and I’ll make sure you get some of that. I think some cherries would go well with that too,” I say as I pick her up and take her off my lap. Rolling down the window, I lean out. “Ashton, can you add whipped cream and try to find some cherries too. And I want the ribbed condoms this time.”

He nods and Cookie giggles as she climbs back onto my lap and plants a kiss on my lips. “Ribbed for her pleasure,” she says when she pulls her lips off mine and erupts into giggles again.

I laugh and pull her face back to mine to enjoy a bit more of her twisting tongue. A knock on the window has us pulling our mouths away from each other and we look to find Ashton waiting at the window. I roll it back down. “Yes, Ashton?”

“They’re out of ribbed. The cashier says there are none in the back and she said this Friday night you should try something new, like keeping it in your trousers, sir.” He chuckles. “She’s a spitfire, that girl. Anyway, do you have any other preferences or should I get what’s on the shelf?”

 

I find myself a bit pissed. “Who is this girl, cashier, who thinks she knows me?”

“Oh, just the same young lady who waits on me every Friday and Saturday night when I pick up your supplies. She’s a hoot. I always leave with a laugh and a smile when she waits on me. She means nothing by it. She’s a comical person. So, I’ll just pick up another kind. I’ll ask her if any of the ribbed will be in tomorrow,” he says then turns to walk back inside.

“Oh, Ashton,” Cookie calls out. “I’d love a fountain drink. Surprise me, will you?”

He nods and throws up a peace sign as he walks back through the glass doors. I find myself craning my neck to see if I can see this spitfire cashier he’s talking about. The glass along the side of the store where the checkout counter is located is too dark to see through.

 

“Cyprian, I really need to use the ladies room. How far is it to your place?” Cookie asks me as I’m still trying to catch a glimpse of the girl Ashton is talking to then he breaks into laughter.

I have every reason to believe it’s at my expense and a heat fills me. I move Cookie off my lap. “Go inside and use the ladies room in there. I need to go now too.”

As we get out of the car, I see Ashton cut his eyes at me and his smile vanishes. The man is around 50-years-old. When he calls someone young, it can mean they’re a couple of years younger than he is. But I am dying to know who this woman is.

She’s making fun of me, that’s for certain!

 

Ashton pushes the door open. “I’m done. She managed to find a package of ribbed in a return bin behind the counter. Come on, now.”

He seems nervous as hell for some reason. “She has to pee,” I tell him as we keep going toward the doors.

“Home is but a few minutes away. I wouldn’t recommend using these facilities, sir,” he says then he holds up the large fountain drink. “Look, miss, I have your drink here. It’s a Mr. Pibb.”

“Oh, yes! I love that,” Cookie gushes and turns back to accept the drink from him. “I can wait until we get to your place, Cyprian.”

“Great, get back in the car. I’ll only be a minute. I really have to go. I can’t wait,” I say then push the glass door open.

A little chirping bell rings, announcing my arrival. “Hello, welcome to Ty’s Quick Stop,” I hear a woman say but see no one.

“Hello,” I say and make my way to the back of the store to where I see the bathroom sign. Only, I’m looking down each aisle to see if I can get a look at the cashier Ashton was talking about.

I find a short woman, putting bags of candy on the shelf. She has on a green smock and looks at me with a toothy grin. “Hi there. Can I help you find something?”

I raise my eyebrows at her and chuckle. “No, I think I’m good.”

Making my way to the men’s room, I find myself chuckling as I go. I don’t know what got into me. I was so mad a moment ago about what the woman said but now that I see it’s just a little, older woman, with most likely no real life outside of this little store, I’m anything but mad.

Going into the bathroom, I find it smells clean and almost sparkles. The door across the little hallway squeals open and I hear a soft voice say, “Women are filthier than men, Gina. Did you know that?”

The woman’s voice is on the deeper side of the female octave. It’s smooth and has the slightest French accent to it. It’s not like anything I’ve ever heard before.

 

“Camilla, I know you’ve only been a cashier for six months but I’ve been one for fifteen years. Of course, I know women are nastier than men when it comes to public restrooms. The things I’ve seen and smelled,” the women I recognize as the short older woman says.

The other one cuts her off as she says, “No, don’t tell me. My stomach is still lurching a bit with what I just had to clean up.” I hear her walk past my door and her footsteps keep going. “I wonder why moneybag’s car is still parked outside. I found the pervert the kind of rubbers he wanted.”

Pervert!

 

“I don’t know,” the other lady says as she has no idea it’s me, the moneybags pervert, in here.

“That man is a mess, I bet. Obviously, he’s wealthier than any human needs to be and the way he buys condoms is a crime. Who actually screws that much each night but only on Friday and Saturday nights? It’s ridiculous to need a new pack for each night. I bet he’s old and bald and has to pay for his women. That’s the only thing that makes any sense to me.”

“Most likely,” the other lady says. “He only started coming here just about the same time you started. His driver says he moved into an estate just outside of this side of town. I haven’t seen him at the grocery stores or anything. I’m sure he has servants to do that kind of thing.”

“An estate just outside of town. I bet he bought the old Franklin estate. I live right down the road from him then. In a little duplex, I rent, out that way. I might have to take a jog up the street one day and see if I can spot the fat bastard,” the one I now know is called Camilla says.

I think I’ve heard enough. Pushing open the men’s room door, I make my way to the soda machine. “Are your fountain drinks good?” I ask, without looking at either of the women.

 

“Our coffee is better. But I’d recommend a bottled water over either of those things,” I hear that smooth voice say.

I listen as her footsteps move behind the counter and I walk over to the cooler to take a bottle of water the little shit has told me about. “Thank you. You’re right, water is much better for the body. You a doctor or something?” I ask with a chuckle because no doctor would be working a crap job like this.

“A scientist, actually. I won’t get my doctorate for another two years but I will be one then,” she says.

I stop chuckling and open the door to the cooler and take a bottle of water and turn around slowly.

A scientist!

 

I can’t wait to lay my eyes on the woman who will be the first person I have ever called out on talking shit about me.

As I turn around, I see no one behind the counter. Then the little woman pops up in front of me. “Will that be all, Sir? Are you ready to check out?”

I look around her to find the other woman. “Not yet. I’m a little hungry but there’s nothing healthy jumping out at me. Perhaps the scientist has some suggestions for me.”

“Nuts are on aisle three at the front of it. There’s a package with a mixture of them that are about the healthiest thing you can get here,” I hear her but don’t see her.

So, I move on to aisle three and find the packages of nuts. There are six varieties. “Which ones do you recommend, doc?”

“The package on the row closest to the front. They have almonds and those are great for men. Women too, but especially for men,” I hear her say but still don’t see her.

“Are you going to school here?” I ask as I try to follow her voice.

“Clemson U, yes. I’m working here to make ends meet. And you, sir?” she asks.

 

I find her voice coming from the area of the counter and make my way to it. But when I get there, I still don’t see her. “I dabble in this and that. Where are you?”

A head with a tight black bun, with curls that have escaped, comes out from under the counter. “Under here. I had to add money to the vault and you have to climb under this thing to do it. It’s a real pain in the butt.”

Watching her climb out from under the counter and smooth her green smock that fits her curvy body extremely well, I see her eyes when she lifts her head up. Gorgeous, blue eyes, framed by lush dark lashes, find mine. Her rosy red lips curve into a smile, showing brilliant white teeth that look amazing in contrast to her creamy caramel skin. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Huh?” I ask as her beauty has rendered me speechless.

She looks at the water and package of nuts in my hands. “I can ring those up for you if you’re done shopping, sir.”

I place the things on the counter top and stammer, “Sure, uh, yeah, that’s going to do it.”

Two little beeps have my purchases done and she looks at me with that pretty smile again. “Three fifteen, sir.”

Handing her my credit card, I see her smile vanish. “Oh, sorry, sir.” She points at a small sign on the counter that says they don’t accept credit card payments for less than five dollars.

“Damn,” I say. “I never carry cash. I’ll put them back.”

 

Before I can turn away, her hand on my arm stops me. “I got this. You have a nice evening, sir. Drink all that water and eat all those nuts, and have a healthy evening, it’s on me.”

I look at her name tag and smile. “Thanks, Cami. I’ll repay the favor.”

“No need,” she says as she looks at her name tag. “Did you call me, Cami?”

“I did,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m afraid I have a habit of making up women’s names on my own. Sorry. That’s rude of me.”

“Think nothing of it. I think that’s kind of sweet. See you around then, sir. You come back and see us.” She turns to walk away to get back underneath the counter.

“Cyprian, not Sir,” I say then lean on the counter top. “You can call me, Cyprian.”

She stops her retreat and smiles at me again. “Cyprian? What a beautiful name.”

“Thanks,” I say and open the bottle of water. “What’re you doing when you get off work tonight, Cami?”

“Going home to study,” she says and looks a little nervous, suddenly. She fidgets a bit and I find that cute.

 

“Do you have to? I mean, I’d like to get to know you a little bit,” I say. The sound of the door opening and someone coming in, I barely notice as I look at her and can’t seem to take my eyes off her. “I bet your hair looks amazing when you let it out of that bun.”

A pink blush covers her cheeks then I hear a man’s voice coming from behind me. “Mr. Girard, I just realized you were making purchases. I forgot to tell you about their payment policy here,” my driver says and I watch Cami’s face go from pink to red.

“You’re him?” she asks as she steps back three full steps, as if I have leprosy or something terrible she might catch.

“Who?” I ask. I know damn well, who but I have to ask.

“The condom man?” she asks.

Now it’s me who’s blushing. My driver slaps a five-dollar bill on the counter. “There you, go, miss. We’ll be going now.”

 

The sound of someone coming in fills my ears and when I hear Cookie’s voice, I cringe, “Cyprian, are we going to get to your place and get the night going or what?”

Cookie is about as bimbo looking as they come. Nearly white hair with blue tips, she’s skinny and pale. Not a beauty in the light but she looks good in the dark, where I picked her up at my father’s party a little earlier.

Cami ducks her head and grins. Her amusement at my choice for the evening sends prickles through my skin. I take my water and nuts and leave the store in shame. “Come on, Cookie.”

A short burst of laughter I hear come from Cami, I am positive, as she hears the woman’s name.

I’m shaking with anger mixed with embarrassment, the addition of humiliation makes the emotional cocktail complete as I slam into the backseat of my car.

“That was brutal,” I mumble as Cookie tries to climb back onto my lap.

“What was?” she asks then slurps her drink.

“Nothing, never mind,” I say and close my eyes as I lay my head back on the seat.

What she must think of me…

Chapter 7

CAMILLA

With a name and face to put to the perverted moneybags, as I had dubbed the man with what must be a nearly insatiable sex drive, I find I’ve thought all wrong about him.

“He wasn’t fat and bald at all, was he?” I ask Gina as I help her clean the shelves where the can goods go.

“No, he was not,” she agrees as she nods.

“He was actually very nice looking,” I add as I wipe the top of a can of green beans.

“Yes, he was,” she agrees again.

“Did you see how tall he was when he walked out the door? The tape on the door frame read six feet and three inches,” I say as I think about how he filled that door frame nearly completely. “He was all muscles too.”

“He had nice light brown hair, dark brown eyes too,” Gina adds as she hands me a clean rag. “Use this one, honey. That one’s merely pushing the dirt around.”

What about those high cheekbones?” I ask. “And that Roman nose? It was the most perfect nose I recall ever seeing in my life. And his lips. Man, were they something. The top lip was a bit fuller than the lower one was.”

“I suppose that’s why he needs those condoms every weekend,” Gina says, taking me out of the trance I was putting myself in as I thought about the man.

“Yeah, he’s a male-whore. I know, I know,” I say as I shake my head to clear it.

“He was flirting with you, Camilla. Do you suppose he was about to invite you to join him and that other woman?” she asks me with a grin. “And if he had?”

“Of course, not!” I shout and walk away as heat has suddenly invaded me. “You know I’m not that kind of woman. I know it’s rare at my age of twenty-five to have only been with three men but I have to have feelings for any man I have intimate relations with. My parents and grandparents would kick my butt if I did it any other way.”

“What about what you would do if you didn’t have them to tell you what to do, Camilla?” she asks me, making me think about it.

“I’m a product of my raising. That belief runs through me, hardcore. I won’t be a notch on any man’s bedpost. No matter how gorgeous, sexy, and viral he is,” I say as I make my way back to the counter.

“Are you describing moneybags, pervert, there, Camilla?” she asks with a laugh.

“He has a name now Gina. Cyprian Gerard. That last name is French,” I say as I look out the window into the empty parking lot. It’d be nice to see that long black car pull back up into it and get to see that man one more time before I go to sleep.

 

“Like yours, Camilla Petit. But you still have a bit of an accent and he doesn’t have one at all,” she says as she joins me behind the counter.

“My father came here when he was a boy and my grandparents still speak it frequently. I wonder how my family would feel about him,” I mumble to myself.

“Camilla, he’s a rogue, a Romeo, a Lothario. You’ll have to watch yourself so as not to let him charm you. He’s much too handsome and I’m sure when he turns on the charm, he’s almost irresistible,” she says, reminding me he has to be kept at arms-length at all times.

“Do you suppose he’ll keep coming in here, merely to hit on me?” I turn the outside lights off, so we can close the store.

“Most likely. He was looking at you with fire in his eyes. To tell you the truth, if I was a younger woman, I’d do it. He’s rich, built like a one-ton tank, and the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’d give him a roll in the proverbial hay. But I was a bit of a whore myself, back in the day.”

I have to laugh at the short, fifty-something woman. “Gina, you’re a trip. Let’s go home. Tomorrow night we’ll see what happens. I doubt he had a second thought about me. I mean, why would he? And even if he did, it doesn’t matter. I’m not a bimbo and he’s obviously into them. If you took a good look at Cookie, you’d know that.” We break into laughter as we lock up the store and walk to our cars.

“See you tomorrow night, Camilla. You have a nice night.”

Getting into my little ’67 mustang, I make my way down the road and notice the lights on at the old Franklin estate. It sits back off the road. A long driveway leads up to it and it’s gated.

My mind wanders off to what the hot man is doing right now and then I find an animal crossing the road and have the jerk the wheel to miss hitting it.

“Shit!”

I have to get that man off my mind. He’s definitely nothing but trouble!

To be continued…

Part Two: The Wolf

Chapter 1

CYPRIAN

The light show my father has had put on for tonight’s party, has mock fireworks, sparkling over our heads in his ballroom. Two women have me in their clutches. For the first time ever, I’m trying to figure out how I can ditch them before I go home.

Someone has filled my mind all day and even into the night. The young woman from the convenience store has my thoughts muddled. I had a bouquet of red roses delivered to the store for her today. Ashton told me she works every weekend, so I’m pretty positive she got them when she got to work and I hope they brought a smile to her face.

I didn’t put a thing on the card except, ‘To Cami, From Moneybags-Pervert.’ I hope it made her laugh.

 

My sights are set on her for tonight. I could use the sound of her slight French accent, cooing in my ear as we play around in my large bed a little later on tonight.

Ashton told me the store closes at two tonight and I plan on being her last customer. I’ve made a plan that’s foolproof, as she will have to give me a ride home as I’m going to have Ashton drop me off there.

She seems the type of person who wouldn’t leave another one of her fellow human beings in a bind. When I get her to my place, I’ll offer her a drink. A little nightcap, I’ll call it.

She’ll accept, so as not to be rude. And after our little drink and some well-placed kisses from me, she’ll come, willingly to my bed. It’s all set out and I see no reason why it wouldn’t work.

But I have to get rid of the women, who have their claws dug into me, holding me tightly, so as not to lose me to someone else for the night. I keep forgetting their names, and that’s not like me.

“I need to check the time,” I tell the one on my left. My watch is on that wrist.

“Why, are you ready to go?” she asks. “Because that’s cool with me. We can leave now.”

Wiggling my arm away from her, I check my watch to find it’s almost one-thirty. “Not yet,” I say. “I need to make a visit to the facilities. I’ll be right back.”

The women exchange worried looks, then the one on the right says, “We’ll go with you. We can help you in your bathroom endeavors.”

A sense of fear runs through me that I won’t be able to ditch them and I blurt out, “I have to take a crap!”

 

Both of their expressions show me, my words were inappropriate. “Oh!” the one on the left says. “You go take care of that then. We’ll wait for you right here.”

I’m let go by both, with my bathroom talk and finally, set free. Off I go with a wave, neither aware I will not be returning to them. Not on this night, anyway.

Slinking out through a side door that’s hidden behind the stage, I find Ashton waiting for me as I had directed him to. “Are you sure about this, Sir? She’s not really your type.” He opens the back door of the BMW that he brought me in tonight.

“I am sure and every woman is my type. What are you talking about?” I ask as I slide into the car’s backseat.

“But you’ll have to work for this one. You’ve never had to work for a woman in your entire life,” he says as he shakes his head. “Best to stick with what you know.”

“You are irritating me, Ashton. Just take me to the damn store, okay?” I pull the door closed as he seems intent on stalling me.

If I miss her because of him, he’s going to hate the outcome!

 

As he gets into the driver’s seat, he looks back at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Drive, damn it!” He has me nearly shaking with worry that we’ll miss her. “You seem a bit protective over this woman. What’s the deal, Ashton? Do you want her for yourself? Perhaps she’ll give you a little taste, I don’t care. After I’ve had mine, though.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. She’s not the kind of woman you’re used to. And the answer is, no, I am not interested in her in a romantic way. She’s a good kid. I think you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. That’s all,” he says as he finally starts driving.

“Do you think I’m incapable of wooing her? I assure you, I do have the skills required to reel in a woman who is unsure she wants to give herself to me. It hasn’t happened often, this is true. But a few have wavered at my bedside and I had to entice them into it. I can handle a bit of work when it comes to getting what I want.” I lean back and look at the stars overhead, through the moonroof.

“I think she’s a bit too spirited for you. And I doubt she’ll fall into your bed easily. If you are depending on her to quench your sexual thirst tonight, I fear you will go to bed thirsty, Cyprian,” he says as he looks at me through the rearview mirror.

“Do you really think so?” I ask as I turn my head to watch the city lights begin to dissipate as we near the edge of town. My heart starts to flutter with excitement as I know we’re getting closer to her.

“I do, sir,” he says and I find myself a bit worried that might happen as well.

“Perhaps it will take some time to get her where I want her. I only want her once. That’s all I’ve ever done with any woman, one time and one time only. That way no one gets attached.”

 

“I don’t think she’s that kind of person, sir. But you seem set on trying. This may be a goal you cannot reach,” he says as he pulls into the parking lot of the store she works at. Parking at the side, instead of the front, like he usually does, he stops and turns to look at me. “Are you sure? You’ve never been turned down before. I don’t know how you’ll handle rejection.”

His negative vibe is rubbing off on me as my insides go gooey. I have to get away from him. “I’ll call you if she won’t give me a ride.”

He nods as I get out of the car on my own and wave at him to drive away. Checking my watch, I see that it’s three minutes until they close and go around the side of the building to get to the entrance.

Just as I put my hand on the door, the outside lights go off. I push the door open, anyway and see her and the same woman she was working with last night, standing behind the counter. Cami is quick to say, “We’re closed. Oh, it’s you.”

 

“Hello to you too,” I say, feeling more than a bit put off.

“I’ve already shut down the registers. Looks like you’re a minute too late to buy your Saturday night condom fix, sorry,” she says as she reaches for something from under the counter.

“I have some leftover from yesterday, so we’re all good. I have ten of them, to be exact. Do you think that’ll be enough for tonight?” I ask as I lean on the counter.

She looks at me as if I’m daft, as she says, “How the hell should I know? How many tramps do you have in the car tonight?”

“None. And I have to ask you for a huge favor, Cami. My driver, Ashton’s, wife became ill, suddenly. He had to drop me off here, so he could go get her and possibly take her to the hospital. I told him to do it. Time was of the essence for his poor wife, after all. I assured him, you would take me home. That is what neighbors do for one another, isn’t it?” I have my fingers crossed behind my back, a thing I’ve never had to do before.

“Ugh,” she groans and I find myself completely surprised. “I was going to go home and have some wine and watch some crappy television. I’m off tomorrow from school and work. It was going to be a chill night. But I suppose I can take an extra five or ten minutes to drop you off. It is on my home, anyway.” She comes around the counter, unzipping her green smock and taking it off, tossing it on top of the counter and revealing a very nice set of tits.

Her tight white T-shirt is showing off a lacy blue bra and now that I can really see her ass in her tight black jeans, it’s perfectly round and absolutely edible.

“You may not know this but I happen to have a whole cellar of fine wines from all over the world. I also have this dope home theater, I’ve yet to use. Want to come over for a while?” I ask her as she takes a set of keys out of her pocket.

“No thanks,” she says like what I’ve just offered isn’t cool at all.

Then I notice the flowers on the shelf behind the counter. “Aren’t you going to take those with you?” I ask as I point to the large and expensive crystal vase full of red roses.

“Why would I take the manager’s flowers?” she asks as she looks at me with a blank expression.

 

“Those are yours,” I say as I make my way behind the counter to get them.

“And how do you know that?” she asks me as she crosses her arms in front of her.

I pull them down and take the card I wrote on at the florist’s shop and hand it to her. “Because I sent them to you. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Obviously not,” she says as she rolls her eyes and takes the little card I’m holding out for her. Then she smiles and laughs and it makes it all worthwhile. “You’re funny.”

Step one, complete…

Chapter 2

CAMILLA

Gina is giving me a thumb’s up as Cyprian gets into the passenger seat of my car. I give her a thumb’s down, making her shake her head. Then I get into the driver’s seat and look at the hot man in my car.

He’s wearing a tuxedo and looks too good to be true. “What kind of grand ball did you attend tonight?”

Running his hands over the lapels of the expensive garment, he smiles at me, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. His lips are caramel colored with a hint of pink. They look delicious. “My father puts on formal parties on Saturday nights. All men are required to wear tux’s.”

“Fancy,” I say and back out of the parking space. I put the car into first gear and see him looking at how close my hand is to his leg as I move the gear shift.

“You know, I’ve never driven a stick,” he says. “Maybe you would be kind enough to teach me.” He looks into my eyes and I have to avert them, quickly, as my stomach just went very tight with just that look.

“Maybe,” I say. “So, tell me how you managed to escape the party with no woman, Cyprian.”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. I had to make a daring escape to get away alone tonight,” he says, making me wonder why he’d even want that.

“In all of my six months of working here, there hasn’t been a single Friday or Saturday night that you haven’t had your driver come in and buy condoms for you. What gives?” I ask as I pull out onto the main road out of town.

 

His hand touches mine as it rests on the gear shift. “Can I move my hand with yours as you shift the gears, Cami?”

Heat is coursing through me and I have to shake my head to clear it. He frowns as I make the motion, not meant to answer his question. “Yeah, you can. That way you can get an idea of where the gears are.”

His frown moves easily into a smile and his hand rests on top of mine. “Good. I’d really like to know how to drive a stick. This is a cool classic car. Most don’t drive something like this around. Was it a gift or did you buy this, yourself?”

“Papa gave it to me when I graduated from high school, seven years ago,” I tell him and try hard to ignore the pulsing that’s going on in my nether regions.

 

If I’m getting this horny over his hand merely touching mine, not even holding it, I have a serious problem!

“Papa, is that what you call your father?” he asks as he smiles like crazy for some reason.

“Yes, that’s what I call him. My mother is called Mama. Papa is originally from France. His parents moved to New Orleans when he was seven-years-old. My grand-mere and grand-pere still live there, only a few houses down from where my parents live.” I stop talking as I feel as if I’m rambling on, nervously.

“I call my father, papa too. My mother, I call, mother. She and I are not very close. She lives in Los Angeles. She sent me here to live with my father when I was five.”

“Wow,” I say, without thinking. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Sorry? Why?” he asks, looking confused.

Even confusion on his face doesn’t make him any less attractive at all!

 

“I was being judgmental about your mother. Sorry,” I say as I see the huge black, wrought iron gated entry nearing. “This is it, right?”

“It is,” he says. “And now you will know the code to the gate.” A smile moves over his entire face and I see a little spark of evil in it.

“You can get out and push in the code. I don’t need to know that,” I tell him as I pull to a stop just far enough away from the control panel to allow him to get to it.

“Pull up, Cami. I’m not afraid for you to know the code to my gate,” he says with a laugh.

With a shrug, I pull up and roll my window down. “Okay then.” I position my finger over the keyboard, waiting for him to tell me the numbers.

“696969,” he says as I look back at him, catching him smiling.

“Seriously? Damn!” I punch it in and the gates open. “I was right. I called it right from the get-go.”

“About?” he asks as his hand moves back over mine to help me shift gears.

“About you being a pervert,” I say with a laugh.

“I’m not happy with you thinking that way about me,” he says and taps the top of my hand. “I’m not perverted. I am a sexual creature who enjoys having sex with many different women. But I am not perverted.”

“Okay, think that if you want to,” I say as I make my way up the long drive to his monster-sized home. “This place is huge.”

 

The entire front of the house is lit up. The landscaping is magnificent. You can’t see it from the road. “You like?” he asks as I pull to a stop in front of the front door.

“It’s gorgeous. You’ve had a lot of work done on it. It looks great. Well, see you around, Cyprian,” I say as he opens his door.

He stops and looks back at me. “Come inside. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“I really should get home,” I say, as I don’t trust myself to be alone with the man. Especially in his home!

 

“Who do you have waiting for you, Cami?” he asks as he looks at me with no emotion on his handsome face.

“No one,” I say as I look into his dark brown eyes.

“Then come inside. I’ll pour you some wine. Take you on a tour of this gorgeous home and maybe then you will decide to watch a movie with me in the theater. Please,” he ends his request.

“K,” comes out of my mouth without me knowing it would.

What have I done…?

Chapter 3

CYPRIAN

With a couple of glasses of red wine poured, I take them over to where Cami is standing, looking at one of my paintings that’s hanging on the wall of the bar room. Her eyes are moving over every last inch of the painting I made of a stallion, prancing around in front of a stable of mares.

Placing her glass on the bar next to her, I lean over her shoulder a bit. “Do you like it?”

“I do, it’s so lifelike.” Her finger moves just over the canvas where I signed my name. “I can’t read the writing. Who is the artist?”

“I am,” I say then take a sip of the wine.

“No way!” She turns to look at me and takes a step back. “For real?”

“For real,” I tell her then pick her glass up and hold it out for her, she takes it then I extend my arm for her to take. “Come with me and I’ll show you the house.”

 

She places her hand in the crook of my arm and I lead her to the next room. “This is what I call my study.”

“Strategically placed right next to the bar,” she says with a smile. “Smart man.”

“That I am. I was a child prodigy. Did you know that?” I ask her.

“Cyprian, I am not in the world of the wealthy. I don’t know a single thing about you. Except you make large purchases of condoms on Friday and Saturday nights.” She sips her wine as she looks around the room full of floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with all types of books.

“I made my way through school very quickly. I was CEO of Libertine Investments at the age of twenty-five.”

“Impressive,” she says. “So, what other secret talents do you have, Cyprian?”

 

With a growl, I lean in close and whisper, “If you’ll come to my bedroom, I can show you some more of my talents.”

Her laughter peels through the air. “You are funny!”

I’m thrown off be her and straighten up, moving on to the next room. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. But on we go.” Pulling the door open, I take her into my meeting room. “I’ve yet to have a meeting in this room but if I ever need to have one at home, this is where it will take place.”

“Like a board room, huh?” she asks as we walk through the large room with redwood siding covering the walls.

“Just like a board room, yes.” I push the next door open and we’re in the small kitchen. “If I ever do have a meeting, this is where my staff will make the food to serve at it.”

“This kitchen is three times as big as the one in my duplex apartment. Pretty cool, I must say. State of the art appliances and everything.” She stops and looks at the granite countertops. “You’ve spared no expense, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” I say. “You see, everything I did to upgrade and renovate this place is a tax write-off. Why spare expenses when it helps to offset the taxes I have to pay each year?”

“Pretty clever, Cyprian. Your mind works like a machine,” she says, giving me another opportunity to throw in a sexy remark.

 

Leaning in close, I whisper, “That’s not the only thing that works like a machine, Cami.”

Laughter again sends me into a state of confusion. “Oh, Cyprian! You are a card!”

A card?

 

A door leads off this small kitchen to an outside patio and I decide to take her out there for a while. Maybe the cool night breeze and the sounds of the night will have her going to another place in her mind. A sexual place. Because she’s sure not in one right now!

“Perhaps a brief pause on our tour to take in some of the night air,” I say as I take her to the door and open it. I leave the light off on purpose, so she can mellow a bit with only the stars and moon to light the night.

“This is beautiful. Even in the dark,” she says as I help her to sit on one of the small sofas on the deck.

 

I take the seat next to her. The sofa is so small our legs touch and I rest my hand on her thigh. “It’s peaceful out here. I spend at least fifteen minutes each night when I come home, outside on one patio or another. This place has six patios, three decks, this being one of them and five balconies. The master suite has a massive one. You’ll love that one. I have a bed out there, covered with mosquito netting.”

I can feel her pulse race and she turns her head to look at me. “Cyprian, can I ask you hold old you are?”

“Thirty-five. And you are?”

“Twenty-five. I’m ten years younger than you and I’m having a hard time figuring you out. Most men your age are married. They have families already and everything. Why don’t you?” she asks me the way an innocent child would.

I run my fingers along her jawline as I answer her, “Camilla, I am not a man who wants those things. My life is full enough as it is.”

“Do you think you will always be this strong and viral, Cyprian?” she asks me as her eyes search mine.

“Why do you ask that?” I trace her lips one time then rest my hand on her collar bone, stroking it with my thumb.

“I ask that because one day when you’re old, you will want to have someone around. My parents and grandparents have been married for years and years. They tell me all the time how life wouldn’t be worth living without the other. I know it’s important to make a life with someone. Only one person, who you can grow old with.”

“I don’t think that way,” I say as I move my hand to run over her shoulder.

“Perhaps you should think about the way you’ve been leading your life and how it will affect the end of it. Can you imagine, lying alone in your bed, unable to get up from the aches and pains that come along with old age. And have no one to help you up or go get something for you. That sounds terrible to me,” she says.

“To be honest, I don’t think about the future in that way. I think about business in the future but not me in the future. I suppose things will work out for me as they have for my parents. They’re both still single and living their lives the same way they were when they were young.”

“How boring,” she says then takes a sip of her wine. “How very boring to do the same things over and over again. No growth. The same people at the same parties every weekend. The same thing, week in and week out.”

 

“Fuck! You make it sound bad,” I say without laughing.

“Isn’t it?” she asks as she looks at me again.

“And what is it that you do, Camilla? What is so fascinating about your life? Please, educate me,” I ask her as I sit back, taking my hands off her.

“Well, I am a scientist which might not sound exciting but it really is. I put things together to create new things. I pull things apart to see how they work and then put them back together again. My job is vast. I never do the same exact thing twice. The only boring part of my life is working at that store.” She finishes the glass of wine and places the empty glass on the table. “Now you tell me about what it is you do.”

“I read the New York Times every weekday morning as I eat my breakfast,” I tell her.

“Is it always the same thing?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“No, well, yes and no,” I say. “Mondays are pancakes, Tuesdays are scrambled eggs. But not the same thing every day.”

“Hmm.” She taps her finger to her chin. “Now I think I see why the never-ending, turn-style of women. You do the same thing, day in and day out, the only variable is them. I bet you’ve slept with only a handful of them more than once.”

“Wrong!” I tell her and get up, holding my hand out for her. I’ve never slept with any of them for more than the one night. But I’m not about to tell her that.

“Is my visit over?” she asks as she takes my hand.

“No,” I say then drain my glass of wine too. “Your drink is finished and we’re in need of refills. The kitchen we just left has more wine in it. Come on. There’s more house to see and I think you’ll love the theater room.”

I pull her along with me and kind of hate how she has the gears moving in my head. I’ve never thought of my life as boring. Nor that of my parents either. Who does she think she is?

 

“Cyprian, what are your plans for tomorrow?” she asks as we walk inside.

“We go to the horse races on Sundays,” I tell her, making her laugh.

“So, Friday and Saturday are party nights. I never see you on the weeknights. You must work you ass off and get home late on those nights. And Sundays are spent at the track. Would you like to change it up some tomorrow?”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask her as I pour us more wine.

“How about you and I spend the day together, watching movies while we bar-b-que and just hang out. I saw a swimming pool. We could chill out together. A nice, peaceful day. What do you say?”

Looking at her and wondering what the fuck she’s doing, my mouth opens on its own, “Yes. I say, yes to that.”

Whoa! What just happened…?

Chapter 4

CAMILLA

After an hour of touring his home, I wave goodbye to Cyprian, who’s standing in the driveway as he walked me out to the car. He tried to give me a kiss but I turned my head and he only caught my cheek. It made me giggle and him smile.

“See you at noon, Cami,” he calls out as I pull away.

“I’ll be here,” I call out to him.

“Bring your bikini,” he shouts as I drive off.

I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with the man. I can’t believe I made a date with him. And I can’t believe he accepted it!

 

Never, have I wondered what the rich do. But finding out how he has lived all these years, doing the same thing day in and day out, is mind numbing to me. I went to the same club three weekends in a row, once when I was younger. That third night was so dull to me. The same faces, the same music, the same atmosphere. It was terrible!

I don’t see how he’s done the same things for so long. He told me how he’d watch his father’s parties when he was a little kid. When he was only fifteen, his father asked him to join the parties. He was swept into that life so early.

It’s sad, really. But he doesn’t see it that way at all. I feel sorry for him. And I think he’s in need for someone to shake his little world up. I’m not sure I should be the one to do that but the want to do it is coursing through my veins.

The man needs some substance in his life. Work, parties, and gambling on horse races are all fine and dandy unless that’s all you do.

He does have his painting. He is a true artist. Perhaps that’s what I see inside of him. He has depth. More so than I believe he’s aware of. To help him find some of that, is a thing I feel I could do.

 

Pulling into my half of the driveway between the two apartments that make up the duplex, I turn the car off and get out. Getting my phone out of my pocket to use the light so I can unlock the door to my house, I see it’s nearly four in the morning.

I spent more than an hour with the man I had no plans of spending any time with. Just as I push the door open, I remember the flowers he gave me in the back floorboard and turn back to go get them.

With the vase of flowers in hand, I go back to the front porch and find a little skunk standing on the step, looking at me. Terror flows through me as it lifts its tail, spraying the inside of my house before it runs off.

“No,” I whine as I hold my breath and walk inside. “Ugh!”

Straight back to my bedroom, I go as the smell has already taken over the front of the house. I hope I don’t smell like the damn stink the small rodent has plagued me with.

What will Cyprian think if I smell like a skunk tomorrow? Crap. I’m going to have to cancel.

But I don’t have his number. Crap!

CYPRIAN

Making my way to my bedroom, I find myself not sleepy in the least. I don’t know what it is about that woman but there’s something different about her.

I also can’t believe I accepted a date, of sorts, with her. I’ve never had any one-on-one time with a woman at my home. Other than the usual thing. But afterward, they are taken home by my driver and I am left to sleep.

I’ll be spending the entire day with Cami. The whole day. What the hell will we do?

 

She didn’t ever seem to get my, not so subtle, hints about what I want to do with her. Either that or she was just ignoring my advances on purpose. But how could she, is she made of stone?

Maybe Ashton was right. Maybe she’s not the kind of woman to do anything with a man without some type of a commitment. Which I will never give her.

So, I may spend the whole day with her and still see no benefit from it. What will I do then? Make another date?

Surely, not!

 

No, I’ll move on, letting Camilla Petit stay in the past as a woman who simply lost out. She’s the one who’d be losing out, after all. Not me.

I can have pretty much any woman I want. She’s the one who’ll miss out on the experience I can give her. It’s her who will be unhappy about missing out on having amazing sex with me. Not the other way around.

Climbing into my bed, I pull the blanket up to cover my naked body. I was an early fifteen the last Saturday night I went to bed without having tons of sex. It feels odd.

I’m kind of wound up but I don’t exactly feel bad about it. Spending time with Cami, tonight was interesting. Not exactly fun but it was enjoyable, even though we really didn’t do anything but walk around my house and talk.

Odd, but a good odd. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. She and I will be next to naked as we swim. That’s when I’ll be able to get to her. And if she’ll allow it to happen once then I can see it lasting all day long. Then I can move on.

I should let the staff have the day off. She’ll probably be much more susceptible to my charms if no one is around at all. I’ll have to turn up the charm on her. That’s for sure.

But why am I bothering at all with the woman when I can go to the track tomorrow with my father and some of the women from this weekend’s party and get some action there?

Why, indeed…

Chapter 5

CAMILLA

A dog’s barking wakes me up from a deep sleep. I was dreaming about Cyprian and I, in his gorgeous home. I was helping him host a small get-together with some people he wanted to impress.

It was all so weird. And now that I’m awake, I can smell the damn skunk stench and I know I have to smell like that too. To the kitchen I go, climbing out of bed and holding my nose as the stench is much worse in the front part of the house where the little stinker let loose his horrible musk.

It’s hard to believe that same musk oil is used in some perfumes. But it is and perhaps I can formulate something that will work with the odor rather than overpower it.

Some vanilla, cinnamon, brown sugar which I’ll need to burn first. A few drops of lemon oil should help. I find a couple of cans of tomato sauce. Opening them, I take them to the bathroom with me and slather the stuff all over my body and saturate my hair with it as well.

 

Catching a glimpse of what I look like in the mirror has me laughing as I look like something out of a horror film. “Nice,” I compliment myself.

After an hour of sitting with that stuff on me, I shower it off and go to make my concoction that I’ll put into a spray bottle and douse myself with. Then I’ll go see if Cyprian is even home. There’s always the chance he’s decided not to spend the day with me and go on about his typical Sunday routine of gambling, women, and sex.

Once I’m dressed in blue jean shorts, and a tank top that covers my black bikini, I head out to the car and take my aviator sunglasses from the visor and put them on.

Flip flops and clutches don’t work well, so I slip mine off and drive barefooted up the road to the estate I left so late last night. I wonder if the light of day will have Cyprian thinking differently about hanging out with me.

Pulling up to his gate, I press the naughty numbers into the panel and the gate opens for me. I drive up and park in front of the house and am shocked to see him waiting for me at the front door.

 

“Hey, you,” he says as he lets out a long whistle.

I slip my shoes back on and get out of the car as he comes to open my door. “Hi,” I say, a little shyly.

“Look at that hair! I knew it’d look gorgeous when you let it down.” To my horror, he takes a chunk of it and takes a big whiff of it. I prepare myself for humiliation as I squeeze my eyes shut. A thing he can’t see as my glasses hide it. “Wow, your hair smells amazing. Like nothing I’ve ever smelled before. You have to tell me what shampoo you use. It’s off the charts.”

 

How do I explain this?

I laugh as he takes my hand and pulls me along with him. “I made it myself,” I manage to come up with.”

“You’re kidding me,” he says as he stops and sniffs my neck. “Your whole body must smell like that. And you made this yourself?”

With a nod, I say, “I did.”

“You really are smart, aren’t you?” he asks as he tugs me along.

“That’s what they tell me,” I say as I pull my shades off as we walk inside. I lay them on a table near the door, so I don’t forget them when I leave.

“You should patent that and sell the formula or something. It’s that good.” He stops and closes the door then stays in front of me as I’ve become trapped between him and the door. “Did you miss me after you left me last night?”

Laying my palms against his chest, I smile at him. “Does that mean you missed me, Cyprian?”

“What if I told you I did?” he asks and runs his nose along my neck, taking in another whiff of me.

“I’d say that doesn’t sound like a man who says the things you say. So, what are we doing first? I’m starving and making something on the pit was my idea of what to do first.”

 

He presses his body against mine, pinning me to the wall as he looks down at me. “I kind of thought we’d get this sexual tension out of the way first.”

“Think again,” I say then slip down and get away from him. “Is your staff around? I’d love to talk to your cook.”

“I gave them the day off,” he says as he catches my hand and pulls me back to him. “We’re all alone.” He wraps me up in his strong arms and I laugh.

 

“I’m not here for your sexual enjoyment. So, let’s get to the main kitchen and see what we have to cook. I’m dying for some jalapeno wraps. I hope you have some and some cream cheese. I’m sure you have bacon. Who doesn’t have bacon, right?”