Club Prive Complete Series Box Set: Alpha Billionaire Romance by Parker, M. S. (7)

French Connection Vol. 2

By M.S. Parker

 

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 Belmonte Publishing LLC

Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.

 

 

Chapter 1

Gavin

Carrie was going to be pissed. She’d texted to say she was heading to the hotel and my damn phone died before I could text her back. I knew she'd been annoyed at the party, watching Felice drag me around, but it wasn’t like I had much choice in the matter. I couldn't afford to piss off someone who so obviously had the ear of my potential partner. And then I'd needed to leave so I could get to Monique in time. I’m sure that hadn't gone over very well either, and only Kelsey Larson's presence had stopped Carrie from saying anything right then.

My hand tightened around the package, hoping the ends would justify the means and Carrie would be so overjoyed with her present, the rest of the night would be forgotten. I hadn't realized at the time that my subterfuge would backfire in my face. What I’d meant to be a build up to the romantic surprise would, in fact, probably just make her mad.

I could only hope she'd had a good enough conversation with Kelsey to be only mildly annoyed at my behavior. Once I explained and gave her the custom-made necklace I'd commissioned, I knew she'd understand. I hated knowing I'd upset her, though, even if it was only for a bit and for a good reason.

Based on when I'd gotten her text and how long it would take for her to get from the party back to the hotel, I knew I was probably only a few minutes behind her, and that was good. The less time she had to stew in our hotel room, the better. I was also really hoping she hadn't changed out of that magnificent dress yet. I'd been looking forward to peeling it off of her from the moment she'd tried it on in the store.

Just the thought of her in that dress sent blood rushing south and I could feel my cock twitch in my pants. I tapped my foot impatiently as the elevator seemed to crawl along. I crossed the distance to the room in record time, my key card already in hand when I got there. The light flashed green and I stepped inside, fully expecting Carrie to be waiting for me, wanting an explanation.

Instead, the main area was empty and I frowned. Had she gotten into the shower already? I hadn't thought I was that far behind her. I was a bit disappointed that I wouldn't get to see her in that dress again, but considering how well the shower before the party had gone, I wasn't exactly going to say no to another wet encounter.

I slipped the package into my pocket and headed for the bedroom. I was partway there when I heard Carrie's voice screaming, “Get the hell out of my room!”

All my plans were forgotten as adrenaline lit a fire under my feet. I burst into the room, then skidded to a stop. My brain processed things in snapshots. Carrie standing at the foot of the bed, an expression of horrified anger on her face. In the bed were two women—naked, limbs entwined. Fuck. Felice and Marguerite.

Shit.

I looked down at Carrie and her eyes were flashing. “Babe,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “if you wanted to spice up our sex life, all you had to do was ask.”

As soon as the half-ass attempt of a joke left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. By a lot.

“Fuck off!” She snapped at me, her face a mask of pure rage.

I heard Felice giggle as Carrie stormed out of the room, but I didn't even bother to look down at either woman. I followed Carrie, calling out her name. She was already at the elevator when I reached the hallway.

“Carrie, wait! It was a joke! A stupid joke!”

The door opened and she stepped inside. I didn't even need to see her face to know my shitty joke had landed wrong. Everything about her said she was furious. I didn't blame her. If the situation had been reversed I’d been pissed as hell to find two naked men in my bed. Pissed didn’t cover it; someone would have gotten hurt.

I managed to squeeze inside just as the doors began to close, but before I could say anything, Carrie grabbed the front of my shirt and shoved me against the wall. I was so startled, I couldn’t believe she was able to move me without any resistance. It went a long way in proving just how angry she was.

“You bring me to fucking France, leave me alone at a party for the whole night while you go off dancing with that... that slut!” She jabbed a finger back toward the room. “Then, when she finally leaves, you take off, saying you have to 'do something.’ Like being with me for more than twenty minutes is so awful.”

My jaw dropped. I could hardly believe this was Carrie. I'd seen her angry before, but I never imagined I'd see that fury directed at me… not like this.

“When I finally leave, I text you, hoping like some insecure little schoolgirl that you'll say you're on your way, but I get shit.” She let go of my shirt, but didn't step away. “Then, I get to the room and find two naked whores fucking in our bed.” She took a deep breath, and let it out with a growl. “You still think this is about some fucking lame joke you made?!”

Pieces were starting to fall into place, though I still had no idea why the women were in our room or how they'd gotten there. “Carrie, I-”

“And don't say you're sorry!” She cut me off. “I don't care if you're fucking sorry! How dare you leave me alone all night. You dragged me here so I could support you and the business we're supposed to be partners in, and then blow me off like I'm excess baggage–”

“Whoa, whoa.” I finally found my voice. “Let me explain.”

“You think you can explain away all of this?” She took a step back and crossed her arms in what I'd come to recognize as her 'not taking any shit' stance. “Try me. Give it your best bullshit.”

Fuck. I took a minute to figure out the best place to start. An apology was probably a good idea and I had a shitload to apologize for.

“Babe.”

Her eyes narrowed at the endearment.

“I'm so sorry for how all this has played out. It's not what I wanted.” I smoothed down the front of my shirt. Seeing Carrie so riled up had thrown me. “And that.” I gestured toward a general space outside. “I don’t know what the hell that was. I had no idea either of those women would do something like that.”

“Felice said you invited her.”

Shit. Now I got it.

“I sure the hell did not. Neither of those woman had an invitation from me,” I said firmly. I locked eyes with her. I didn't want there to be any doubt about this. “I did not state or imply that I was interested in any kind of sexual relationship with either of those women.” I sighed. I had to be completely honest with her. She deserved that. “But part of this is my fault.”

Carrie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. I reached out and hit the stop on the elevator. I wasn't going to fuck this up by trying to rush it.

“I should've made it crystal clear that I wasn't interested the first time she indicated she was,” I confessed. “I never encouraged her, but I let it go. I did it because I didn't want to risk her ruining my deal with Vincent. And I need this deal.”

I could see her face morph into disgust, but I continued anyway. She deserved to know the whole truth. “I haven't been entirely forthcoming about how things were going back home. With all the renovations and changing the club from what it was...” I ran my hand through my hair. “It' cost a lot more than I'd planned, and with that and... other expenses...”

“My business,” Carrie said, spitting out the words.

I nodded. “I love what you do,” I assured her quickly. “And I love that I can help you do it, but it does cost money. Money that I've had no problem spending, but with the club not being open, and not taking in as much when it is, it's not being replaced as fast as it's going out. And we're not even a quarter of the way done with the changes yet.”

A concerned expression overtook the anger on her face. However she thought this conversation was going to go, this wasn't it.

“A club here is what I need to get things going again. I didn't want to risk the deal, but I never imagined anything like this would happen either.”

“Stop right there,” Carrie said. “I just need to know one thing right now. The rest of it can wait. There are two naked women in our bed right now. Did you invite them there and then backpedal because I didn't like your little surprise?”

“Carrie,” I said the only thing I knew she wouldn't question. “I swear on my daughter's life that I didn't ask either one of those women to come here.”

A look of relief washed over her, but her eyes still looked troubled. “Why were you so distant all night? Taking calls? Acting secretive? Why did you have to leave me alone so much?”

I smiled. This one I could answer and provide proof that she'd like. “I was trying to surprise you with this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the package. I held it out to her.

Her entire body stilled for a moment and then she took it, glancing at my face and then down to the rectangular box in her hands. I kept my eyes on her face while she opened it. I'd been waiting all day to see her expression and I'd be damned if I'd let some stupid misunderstanding ruin this moment.

She lifted the lid and her eyes widened. Her face softened and a soft exhale came from between her lips. “Gavin, it's beautiful.”

I smiled, relieved. I'd gotten the idea when we'd passed by a shop and Carrie had expressed a liking for the intricate workings of a gold and ruby necklace. The delicate gold filigree had been shaped like a rose. The one I'd commissioned was a heart, and not just some simple heart with gold and jewels. It was two entwined hearts and I knew she understood what I was trying to say. Our hearts were just as linked as those two pieces of metal.

“I had to get it from the jeweler before she took off for some sort of convention thing in Munich,” I explained.

“I love it,” she said, her voice barely over a whisper. She closed the box and took a step toward me. She raised herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against mine. “Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and she leaned her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry tonight ended like this. It's not what I had in mind.”

She sighed. “Me either.”

“Think we can salvage it?” I asked, trying not to sound as doubtful as I felt.

“I'm just tired, Gavin,” she said. “I want to go bed.” Then she groaned and banged her head against his chest. “Except our bed is occupied. And I’ll be damned if I’d sleep in it now anyway.”

I chucked, in complete agreement. “Tell you what,” I said. “I'll go in and check. If the women are still there, we'll get another room. If they're gone, I'll get housekeeping to come up and change the linens.”

She nodded and when we reached our floor, I took her hand. I'd fucked up at the party, choosing to hang with Felice instead of the woman I love. It wasn't even close to making up for it by taking her hand in an empty hallway, but I wanted her to know I felt it.

I paused at the door and looked down at her.

“I'd rather not go back in there,” she said and leaned against the wall. “I already saw more than I wanted to.”

I gave her a quick kiss and then headed inside. I walked straight to the bedroom, fully prepared to give Felice and Marguerite a piece of my mind. But, as I looked into the bedroom, I found the women still in bed and asleep, arms around each other. It'd take more energy to rouse them, get them dressed and out than it would just to go downstairs and tell the front desk we needed another room. Money would be a problem soon if things didn't pick up, but it wasn't now and I believed the cost was worth the reward of getting my ass out of here. It’d be worth every penny, if just for the peace of mind that came with knowing those two women wouldn't know where we were.

I grabbed a few of our things and walked back into the hallway where Carrie was waiting. I grinned at her. “Guess we need another room.”

 

Chapter 2

Gavin

I was still trying to figure out how to tactfully tell Vincent what had happened when I walked into the café for our breakfast meeting. Carrie and I had gone to our original room first thing this morning and the women were gone, so we'd gotten our things and moved them to our new room. I hadn't even asked Carrie if she wanted to stay in the first one. I knew I didn't. Our new room had just as nice a view and no images of naked people that weren't us.

Vincent grinned at me as I walked toward him. “Good morning, Gavin. And how are you this fine day?”

Someone'd had a good night. At least a better one than I'd had. The only thing that had made it salvageable had been seeing how much Carrie loved that necklace.

“I'm not doing too badly,” I said as I slid into the seat across from him. “But I have to admit, I didn't sleep very well last night.”

Vincent's smile widened. “Really?”

“I had a couple of visitors last night,” I said. “Quite the surprise.”

He waggled his eyebrows, the gesture somehow looking appropriate with his eighties attire. “Did you enjoy that? It was Felice's idea, but I didn't discourage it.”

My smile was tight. “Let's just say my girlfriend didn't appreciate finding two naked women in our bed.”

Vincent sighed and leaned back. “Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Let me know if you want a private repeat performance. Felice would be game any time and Marguerite's up for anything that gets her in bed with Felice.”

“No, that won't be necessary.” I shook my head. I paused as I ordered scrambled eggs and coffee. Once the waiter left, I told Vincent what he needed to know. “Here's the thing. I'm not sure exactly what you think Carrie and I have together, but it's not...”

“It's not what?” He sounded mildly amused.

“It's not an open relationship,” I said. I figured that was the most tactful way I could say it. “It's only for us. Carrie and me. No one else.”

Vincent threw up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “I see. I'm sorry. It's my fault. I should've been at the party and felt you out about what Felice wanted to do. I got caught up at a business dinner I couldn't get out of. I assumed, because of the kind of club you ran, that your tastes were a bit less... conventional.”

While I'd always hated that assumption, I understood it. And it at least explained why Vincent thought what he did. It made me feel better that I wasn't giving out that kind of vibe, the kind that said I wanted to be with anyone but Carrie.

Vincent continued, “Anyway, my friend. I promise you won't see Felice again, at least not until she performs at the club. I can't say she won't try to hit on you. She likes you.” He waved a hand. “Then again, this is France, and in France, men like us, we have a new girlfriend every week... or every hour.” He winked at me.

I smiled because it was what Vincent expected, but I was glad when the waiter brought our food. I could keep busy eating and not have to fake enjoying some parts of the conversation. I still appreciated his business sense and he wasn't actually a bad guy. A couple years ago, I might've even taken him up on his offer. Now, I was more about the business than the schmoozing.

“But enough talk about women,” Vincent said. “Do you want in this deal or not, because if you don't, I'll have to find a new partner ASAP. I want this club to open sooner rather than later.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m in.” I held out my hand.

Vincent took my hand and we shook on it. The tension I'd been feeling about the deal eased some.

“Where do I sign?” I asked.

“You just did.” Vincent leaned back in his seat. “Between us, a handshake is golden. We'll let the lawyers handle the paperwork tomorrow.”

I knew I wouldn't completely relax until I had physical signatures, but I felt better that Vincent was on board.

“But before that. Allow me to make up for the disaster of last night. I'm meeting with a couple of old friends tonight. You come along and let me meet your beautiful girlfriend. I've heard so much about her, I feel like I already know her. I would enjoy meeting her.”

That didn't sound too bad, and I could use the chance to make up for what had happened with Felice. “That sounds great. Thank you. We'll be there.”

 

Chapter 3

Carrie

Before Gavin had left for his meeting with Vincent, he'd spoken with the front desk and filed a formal complaint regarding our two unexpected visitors. But based on the look I'd seen on the desk clerk's face, it was obvious he didn't believe what had happened had been a mistake. He clearly thought Gavin had just gotten caught fooling around and was trying to make things look better for himself. Everyone else could think that all they wanted, but I knew the truth. Gavin had sworn on his daughter's life. He'd never do that lightly. Skylar was the most important person in his life and being number two to her made me love him even more.

The fact that I knew he wasn't lying didn't make me any less annoyed at his recent behavior. The necklace was a start, but I fully intended to get everything I could out of him, and I wasn't thinking money.

While Gavin was at his meeting, I enjoyed our new room, including the tub where I soaked in lilac-scented bubbles for almost an hour. I didn't bother dressing when I got out, sticking with the complementary hotel robe. I sighed as I wrapped myself up in it. A year hadn't been long enough for me to get used to these kinds of luxuries.

I frowned as I thought it. Why hadn't Gavin told me about the financial situation? I loved that he wanted to support the work I did, but most people who ran pro bono businesses like mine spent time getting donors. Having to do that instead of relying entirely on him wouldn't be a hardship. It's what I would've done if he hadn't offered to pay for everything.

And then there was the whole thing about how the club wasn't making as much as it used to. I hadn't been there since we'd changed it into a regular club, so I hadn't known that attendance was down. I'd assumed that just taking the sex element out wouldn't be detrimental. There were plenty of regular clubs in New York that did just fine. But, I was forced to admit, there were more than a few that declared bankruptcy and closed after only a few months.

When we got home, Gavin and I were going to sit down with the books and I was going to have him show me everything. I needed to know how badly this was hurting us. If he wanted me to think of the money as ours and we were supposed to be partners in the business, he couldn't keep me in the dark anymore. Not that I'd been particularly curious, I acknowledged. All that was going to change, I promised myself. I was going to be more involved and we'd find a way to get things back to the way they had been, even if it meant I had to consider the possibility of bringing sex back into the club. There'd be a lot of negotiation on how that would work, but it was something I knew might need to be discussed.

I heard the door open and pushed aside all thoughts of money and business. This was all personal. I walked into the main area.

“I talked to Vincent and fixed it. He's going to make sure nothing like that happens again.” Gavin took a step toward me.

“Great,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so glad Vincent is going to make sure it doesn't happen again.” I crossed my arms. I knew Gavin trusted the man, but I didn't. “And what about you? What are you going to do?” My voice was flat. “Can you fix what I saw? How am I supposed to get that image out of my head?”

He looked wounded. “Carrie, I-I don't know what...” He held out his hands.

“I want you to fix it,” I said. I reached for the belt of my robe and waited until I was sure he was watching before I untied it. “I want you to fix me.”

The expression on his face tightened as I slipped the robe off my shoulders. All I wore was the necklace he'd given me last night.

“Right now, I need you to make me forget everything I saw. I want you to inject me with your mind altering drug… over and over.”

He took two long strides and was right there in front of me. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. It started off slow, his lips moving gently, parting mine. Then, as one hand slid to the back of my head, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid into my mouth, thoroughly exploring as if for the first time. Searching and seeking what I was willing to give.

I'd expected something harsh and needy that would get me wet and aroused, ready for sex, but this... this made my knees weak. I remembered our first kiss, how it had made my head spin and my heart beat faster. I'd wanted him then and I wanted him now. Maybe even more.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me, carrying me to the love-seat. He put me down on the seat and then knelt in front of me. He rested his hands on my knees for a moment and then pushed them apart. His palms slid up my thighs until he was able to curl his hands around my hips. He pulled me toward him, until he was able to lean forward and press his lips just below my belly button.

I shivered in anticipation but didn't rush him. He placed feather-light kisses across my abdomen, then down my hipbones before stopping just above my pussy. His eyes flicked up to me and my stomach tightened at the heat I saw there. Then he lowered his head and licked one long, broad stripe across the sensitive flesh. I moaned as his tongue slipped between my folds and teased at my entrance.

“Fuck,” I breathed as his mouth did all the wonderful things I was familiar with. He knew exactly how to alternate attention between my pussy and my clit, never paying too much attention to either one as he worked me toward climax. His tongue and lips applied just the right amount of pressure to my clit to send ripples of pleasure through me.

When he slid a finger inside, I pushed my hips toward him, wanting more. A second finger joined the first, giving me deep, even strokes as his mouth moved and circled my clit. I cried out when he began to suck on the little bundle of nerves, alternating suction with his thrusting fingers. Then he curled his fingers and made a 'come here' gesture that rocked my world. It was appropriate… it was going to make me come right here.

“Yes!” I practically screamed the word as he repeated the movement, over and over until I came. My muscles tightened, trapping his fingers inside me as an orgasm rushed over me. And still, his tongue kept working over my clit until I was pushing at his head, needing relief from the overstimulation.

He raised his head, but didn't remove his hand from between my legs. He leaned higher and wrapped his lips around one of my nipples. I moaned at the sensation and then gasped as he pushed a third finger inside me. He twisted his fingers, stretching me as his teeth scraped over my breast. I put my hand on his head, running my fingers through his soft hair. His thumb brushed against my clit and my fingers fisted in the silky strands. He groaned against my breast. My free hand rolled my other nipple, trying to match the pull of his mouth, the dual sensations mingling with the pleasure his hand was giving me until I was coming again.

This time, Gavin kept his fingers working until I was begging him to stop. It was too much. I let out a half-sob of relief when his hand withdrew. My pussy and clit throbbed, each pulse sending another wave of pleasure through me. I'd closed my eyes when the climax had started and now, as it began to fade, I opened them again. Gavin had undressed, but was back to kneeling between my legs. His cock was hard, curving up toward his flat, sculpted abs, and at the sight of it, the ache between my legs returned, as if no number of orgasms could satisfy without having him inside me.

He pulled me off the couch and turned me around so I was kneeling, my arms resting where I'd just been sitting. He gripped my hip with one hand and I could feel the other between us, positioning him.

“You want to forget?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “I want to forget everything that isn't us, right here and now.”

Gavin's hips snapped forward and I wailed. Even as stretched as I was, the sudden penetration sent a shockwave through me. He was so long and wide that he reached every inch of me, stretching me, filling me, until there was no room for anything else. And he didn't stop or wait for me to adjust. His second thrust was as hard as his first and I cried out.

“Yes!”

This was it, this was what I wanted. When he was pounding into me, reaching those places only he could reach, there was nothing else in my mind. Only the way our bodies moved together, how perfectly we fit together. His pace rode that line between pain and pleasure, keeping my brain from having the capability of focusing on anything else.

My nipples rubbed against the fabric of the couch until they almost hurt, but I couldn't hold myself up against the force of Gavin's thrusts. When his hand slid around my stomach, so the tip of his finger could tease my clit, I swore. My head fell forward. I shook as I came again, but it didn't fade away. As Gavin continued to rub my clit, his rhythm increased. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me until I could barely breathe. Every muscle in my body was quivering and I could feel my brain struggling to process everything.

With a drawn-out groan, Gavin buried himself deep inside me and came, his arms wrapping around my waist. He slumped over me and pressed his lips against my shoulder blade.

“Did it work?” he asked, his breath harsh against my back.

I frowned, my overwhelmed brain trying to make sense of the words.

“Did I make you forget?”

I chuckled and he hissed as the laughter made all of my muscles contract, including those in my pussy. He was soft inside me, overly sensitive. “Yes, Gavin. It worked.”

“Good.” He straightened and pulled out, hissing as his withdrew. As he helped me to my feet, he lightly touched the necklace I was wearing. “What do you say we put that back in the box and take a nice, long bath while I tell you about the party we're invited to tonight and how I want to show you off.”

I smiled as he slid his arm around my waist and we walked to the bedroom. I never liked fighting, but make-up sex almost made it worth it. Almost.

 

Chapter 4

Gavin

I watched Carrie as she teased her golden curls into submission, frowning at her reflection. It was her serious face, not her upset one, and it made me smile. I stepped behind her and slid my arms around her waist.

“You're gorgeous,” I said and kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her conditioner and that extra that was just her. My cock gave an interested twitch despite the amazing sex just a few hours ago. I knew we needed to go to this party, but all I really wanted to do was bend her over the dresser and take her again.

“You're not so bad yourself.” She smiled at me in the mirror. “Help me put on the necklace?”

I took a step back so she could pull her hair up. I reached around her and picked up the necklace. As I fastened it around her neck, I let my fingers brush across the base of her neck. She shivered, and when I leaned down to kiss the place where her shoulder and neck met, a moan escaped.

“Keep that up and we'll never make it to the party.” She turned to face me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.” I pulled her close so she could feel how much I liked that idea.

She raised to her toes and softly kissed my mouth. “Tempting as that is, you know we have to go. As you said earlier, we need this.” She took a step back, then reached down between us and cupped my now very-interested cock. “Save this for after.”

I let out a breath and ran a hand through my hair as she moved away to find a pair of shoes. I wondered how long we'd have to stay before we could make our excuses and leave without insulting anyone. Then again, I thought with a touch of humor, Vincent might be understanding if I told him I wanted to leave so I could fuck my girlfriend into next week.

“So, where's this party?” Carrie asked as she straightened.

“The Hotel Majestic Barriére,” I said. “And have I mentioned how amazing you look in that dress?”

“Once or twice,” she said with a smile. “Though it never hurts to hear it again.”

“Well, you do,” I said. The women at the boutique where we'd gotten the dress Carrie had worn last night had been thrilled when I'd called and asked them to send over their second choice. It was just as perfect as the other one and matched her necklace as if they'd been made together.

“Let's go,” she said. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave and you can get me out of this amazing dress.”

I smiled, knowing we were thinking along the same lines meant more to me than the promise of sex. Carrie and I had seemed so out of sync recently, it was a relief to know we still had it.

The Hotel Majestic Barriére was impressive, but I could only think about how much I wanted to be back in the room with Carrie. As we entered the event room, however, I forced myself to focus. Vincent had said the deal was set, but I still wanted to make a positive impression on the people here. I knew that in any business, no matter how iron-clad the contract, the right word from the wrong person could end it all.

“Gavin!” Vincent came toward me with a huge smile on his face.

Neither Felice nor Marguerite were with him so I breathed a sigh of relief. “Vincent.” I smiled and held out my hand. He shook it heartily and then turned to Carrie. “This is Carrie Summers, my girlfriend and partner at Club Privé.”

“It's a pleasure to finally have a face to go with the name.” Vincent took Carrie's hand and gave a little bow before kissing it. “And what a lovely face it is.”

“Thank you.” Carrie sounded a bit stiff, but I doubted anyone other than me would notice. “It's nice to finally meet you as well.”

“I'd like you both to meet a friend of mine.” Vincent straightened and extended his hand behind him.

The woman who stepped forward wasn't what I expected at all. I'd assumed most of the women who spent time with Vincent were like Felice and Marguerite. Early twenties and looking like some sort of college sorority girl. This woman, however, wasn't like that at all. Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous, the kind of woman who would've looked at home on a runway, but that was the only similarity. The woman currently giving me and Carrie an appraising look was in her thirties, maybe a bit older if she was one of those perpetually youthful kinds of people. She was dressed in a long, elegant gown that flattered her slender figure and managed to be tastefully simple while still being apparently expensive. She had sleek, dark hair pulled back from her face and eyes a shade of brown so dark that they almost looked black.

“Alizee Padovani,” she said in heavily accented English. She shook my hand with a firm handshake many women in business tend to get after a while. No matter how much progress was made, business was still a predominantly male-dominated field. Unfortunately, women had to often work harder to prove themselves. A firm handshake went a long way in not appearing weak.

“Gavin Manning and Carrie Summers.” I put my arm around Carrie's waist to make our relationship clear.

“Pleased to meet you,” Alizee said.

She turned to Vincent and rattled something off in what sounded almost Italian. It wasn't strange for Europeans to be multi-lingual, but I wasn't quite sure what language she was speaking. Vincent replied in the same language and then chuckled. It was odd, I thought, how respectful Vincent was being with Alizee. She seemed exactly like the kind of woman he normally enjoyed ogling.

“So sorry,” Alizee apologized as she looked at me, a quick glance toward Carrie included her as well. “That was rude of me. I was simply telling Vincent that I must be going.” She gave both Carrie and me a nod. “I’m sure I will be seeing you over the course of the next few days. Good night.”

Vincent waited until Alizee was out of earshot before speaking again. “Alizee is a very wealthy business woman from Corsica.”

That explained the language thing. While the official language was French, there was a Corsican language and if she was mingling with some of the old money families on the island, being able to speak it would definitely be a plus. I hadn't realized Vincent knew the language as well.

“She owns a dozen or so of the most successful bars and clubs along the Rivera, which means she can either be our worst competition or an ally.”

“An ally?” Carrie asked. “It seems to me that anyone who is trying to reach your same target customers would be competition, no matter how friendly.”

“Smart woman.” Vincent gave Carrie the kind of charming smile that would've bothered me if he'd been more her type. “In most businesses, this would be true, but one of the reasons I wished to open a branch of Club Privé here is that none of Alizee's clubs cater to exactly that particular clientele.”

I snagged two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter's tray and handed one to Carrie. She took it but barely glanced at me as she continued to question Vincent.

“A lot of sex clubs have issues with underage girls and prostitutes. What measures are you going to take to make sure everything at the club is legal and consensual?”

I tried not to wince at her words. At least she hadn't mentioned Howard's involvement back home.

“That is indeed a problem many clubs face, no matter who they serve.” Howard's expression was the perfect combination of serious, enough for Carrie to know he wasn't blowing her off, but not severe or forbidding enough to completely bring down the mood. “I have actually budgeted for extra security, whose main purpose will be to ensure that all activity is legal, safe and consensual.”

Carrie looked reluctantly impressed. I had to admit, I was too. I hadn't expected Vincent to have anything in place already. I'd fully planned on needing to have a discussion with him regarding prohibiting prostitutes from working the club.

“In fact,” Vincent continued. “If you would like, I could introduce you to the man who will be the head of security.”

“I'd like that,” Carrie said, glancing up at me.

I nodded and put my hand at the small of her back as we followed Vincent through the crowd. Her skin was soft against the palm of my hand and my blood heated with the touch.

As we walked, Vincent would pause every so often to speak with someone, offering them a handshake and a hearty smile. He always introduced us both as the partners in his newest business venture and never made it seem like one of us was more involved than the other. To my surprise, he didn't make a single sexual comment to any of the people he talked to, not even when one of the women overtly flirted with him. He was every bit the gentleman and I wondered which part of him was the real Vincent Paoli. Who did he put on an act for, the group or the individual? And if the leering wasn't who he really was, why did he think that was the type of person I wanted to deal with?

I mulled over the question as we mingled, meeting others who would be involved in the club. There were politicians who would be in charge of permits. Members of boards who approved zoning requirements. The owner of the construction company Vincent had on stand-by. The head of security and a manager Vincent was bringing over from another club. Each one was charming and pleasant. They were all enthused about working on the project and had a thorough knowledge of what their part would be.

Before I knew it, Carrie and I were dancing to a slow song and a couple of hours had passed. The words were in French, so I knew Carrie didn't understand them, but they were perfect for us, talking about lovers finding each other through insurmountable odds.

“All right,” Carrie said suddenly. “I'm convinced.”

“Convinced about what?” I asked, wondering if I'd missed something while I'd been listening to the song lyrics.

“Vincent,” she answered. “He seems like a genuinely talented businessman with a lot of important connections. He knows what he's doing and the obstacles he's going to have to face.”

“So you trust him?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.

She made a thoughtful face. “I trust that you trust him,” she said. “I admit that my vision isn't exactly unbiased here, so I'm trusting what you say.”

I smiled and pulled her closer. She rested her head on my shoulder and slipped her arms underneath my jacket. Her fingers traced patterns on my back as we danced.

As the song faded into another, she spoke, “How many dances do you think we'll have to do before we can make an escape? Because I have a totally hot boyfriend I can't wait to get back to my room so I can tear off his clothes.”

I immediately stopped dancing and started scanning the crowd for Vincent to tell him goodnight.

 

Chapter 5

Carrie

The ride back to the hotel and then up to the room was excruciating. Part of it was because I wanted to do exactly what I'd said to Gavin. Tear his clothes off, ride him like a pony...

But I knew that would have to wait. I'd told him I would trust him about Vincent and I meant it. Part of what had been missing in our relationship was that element of trust. I hadn't even realized it until those women showed up in our room. If I'd truly trusted him, I never would've needed to ask if he'd invited them. In that moment, however, I'd wondered if he'd planned it; if he decided to spice things up because he wasn't satisfied with what we had. I'd worried our sex life wasn't enough for him. That I hadn't known had told me our communication was in trouble, and I needed to fix it.

When we stepped into our room, I kicked off my shoes and walked toward the love-seat. I grew warm at the memory of what had happened here this morning, but reminded myself that there would be time for that later. This was more important.

I sat down in the chair instead and looked up to see Gavin approaching, a puzzled expression on his face. He draped his jacket over the arm of the love-seat and sat down, loosening his tie as he went.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “I thought you said you had a hot boyfriend whose clothes you wanted to tear off.”

I smiled, but my heart wasn't in it. I had no clue how to broach this subject. Gavin had taught me a lot about things I never thought I'd want sexually, but we'd never covered this. So much had happened between us those first couple months that I sometimes forgot we hadn't gotten to do the normal “new couple” stuff where we slowly revealed things about ourselves. Instead, right away, it had been intense, personal stuff that most people waited at least a few weeks, maybe even months, to get into.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I said. I folded my hands on my lap. “But I'm not really sure where to start.”

He looked concerned and he reached out to cover my hands with his. “Just say it, babe. You're scaring me.”

If only it was that simple, something I could blurt out in a single sentence. “It's about... sex.”

Now he looked confused as well as concerned. “Sex?”

I took a breath and reminded myself that I wasn't talking to some stranger. This was Gavin. The man I'd loved almost from the first time I'd seen him. The man who'd saved me, in more ways than one. He knew my body better than I knew it myself. We'd been through so much and had never turned away from each other. I'd trusted him with my heart and soul, with my body and mind. How could I say I loved him, trusted him, if I let this go?

“When we first started sleeping together, you said there were things you wanted to teach me, things you wanted to do to me.” It was the memory of what he'd said rather than embarrassment that made my face flush.

“Yes?” Gavin said the word slowly, more a question than a statement.

“Why'd you stop?” The question was more blunt than I'd intended it to be, but at least I got it out there.

“Why did I stop what?” He shook his head. “I don't understand what you're trying to say.”

“Why don't you want to do those things to me anymore?” I looked down at our hands. “You once said you wanted to spank me. You tied me up. Teased me.”

Gavin's hands tightened around mine.

“You don't talk about any of that anymore. Didn't you like it? Was...” I forced myself to ask the question I'd hidden inside the darkest parts of me. “Was I not good at doing... that?”

Gavin swore under his breath. He hooked his finger under my chin and raised my head so that our eyes met. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you stopped. Stopped doing it. Stopped talking about it, telling me what you wanted to do.” I blinked at the sudden burn of tears. I hadn't realized until now that part of the reason I hadn't wanted to talk about this was because I was scared that I was the reason things had changed. Not because of work or things like that. Those were my fault. But rather I hadn't been what he wanted.

Gavin's fingers tightened almost painfully on my chin. “Babe, that isn't it at all.”

He kissed me, his lips hard against mine. The kiss was brief but fierce, sending electricity straight through me, right down to my toes. He released my chin but kept his gaze on me. His eyes were blazing.

“After what happened with Howard.” A flash of anger crossed his features at the name. “I didn't think you'd want anything to do with that lifestyle. I assumed you'd always associate what he did with what I wanted to do.”

I started to shake my head, wanting to protest, but he continued on without letting me say anything.

“Every time I asked you to do something, I felt like I was forcing it on you, like you only agreed because you thought that's what I wanted.” He reached out and twisted a curl around his finger. “How could I claim to love you when I made you do things that bothered you? I could live without the bondage or any of the other stuff I used to be into. I couldn't – I can't – live without you.”

A rush of relief went through me, so strong that it made my knees shaky.

“Gavin, everything you did, I loved.” I pushed back his hair, letting my fingers linger. “I didn't ask you to teach me about your lifestyle, about the things you enjoyed because I felt like I had to.”

I leaned forward to kiss him, my tongue tracing along his bottom lip before I bit down on the soft flesh. Gavin made a sound that made me instantly wet. His hands gripped my shoulders and I knew he wanted to pull me to him. Instead of letting him, however, I pulled back and he let me go. Before I gave over control, I needed to make sure he understood I was telling the truth.

“I wanted you to teach me because I wanted to try new and different things,” I continued. “I still want that.”

“Carrie,” he began.

I held up a hand and he stopped. “You introduced me to this world I'd never known existed, and then, suddenly, I was back to my plain vanilla life.” I started to look away, but forced myself to meet his eyes. “Every time you touch me, I feel like I'm on fire, but lately, when we've had sex, it seems like there's this part missing. It was still great and I never faked coming, but it wasn't quite...”

“Satisfying,” he finished quietly. “I felt it too. There'd be glimpses of it, of what we used to have, but it wasn't the same.”

“I think it was because we haven't been honest about what we want in the bedroom.” I allowed a half-smile. “Or the living room or the shower.”

He smiled back, but I could see he was being cautious. “So what do we do? How do we fix this?”

“We have to be honest with each other,” I said. “About everything.” I took his hand between both of mine. “I need you to tell me about the things you want, what you enjoy. Your fantasies.”

I could see emotions warring on his face and I understood it now. He was fighting against his nature, against things he thought might scare me. One of the reasons I truly fell in love with him was his protective nature. That's who he was and I loved him for it, but he needed to accept that I meant every word.

“The other day,” I said. “When I put my hands behind my back and you had to guide my mouth, did you like that?”

Gavin's Adam apple bobbed and I felt his hand twitch between mine.

“Did you hold back?” I asked. “Did you want to fuck my mouth harder? Deeper? See how far I could take you?”

I saw him hesitate, but then he nodded.

“But you didn't because you thought it would be going too far.”

“I never want you to be uncomfortable or feel like I’m using you.” Gavin's voice was rough.

“What if I want you to use me?” The question came out before I knew I was going to ask it.

“Fuck,” Gavin muttered. “You can't say stuff like that, Carrie.”

“Why not?” I pushed. “You once told me that the BDSM lifestyle isn't about pain or control. It's about trust.” I picked up his hand and placed it over my heart, my skin burning where it touched his. “I've trusted you with everything.”

“And I trust you,” he replied.

I shook my head. “Not with everything. You pulled this part of you away from me and hid it. I know you did it for a noble reason, but the why doesn't matter.” I slid his hand sideways and down until he was cupping my breast. “Trust me. Talk to me. Be that man again who teased me with all of the toys in Club Privé, promising to show me his world.”

“It's not you I don't trust,” he said quietly. “It's me.”

That stopped me for a moment. “What are you talking about?” Now it was my turn to be confused.

“I don't want to hurt you or scare you,” he admitted. “What if something I want is going too far?”

“Then I'll say stop, and you'll stop,” I said simply. “We have safe words for a reason. You told me that. Do you ever doubt you'd stop if I asked?”

“No,” he answered immediately. “I'd never do anything like that.”

“Then let me tell you a secret.” I gave him a moment to think about what my secret could be. “I liked it when you pulled my hair. When you were in control. I liked when you told me that I wasn't allowed to touch myself because my pleasure was yours.” His hand tightened around my breast. “And when you said you wanted to spank me, it made me wet.”

“Carrie, babe, please.” There was an almost desperate note in his voice.

“Just one thing,” I said. “Tell me one thing you like, one thing you want to do to me.”

He took a breath. “I liked tying you up. Restraining you.” He looked down as if he didn't want to see my expression.

I slid off the chair and down onto his knees. I caught a glimpse of surprise on his face as I reached for his belt and I knew what he was thinking. He was wrong though. I wasn't going to give him a blow-job. Well, not unless that's what he wanted me to do. I pulled his belt from its loops and then looked up at him. He looked puzzled now.

I looped the belt and then held it out to him. He took it, but still wasn't understanding. Apparently, I needed to spell it out for him.

I said three simple words and watched his expression change.

“Tie me up.”

 

Chapter 6

Carrie

When I told him to tie me up, I really thought he was going to argue, but I supposed denying himself for nearly a full year had whittled away at least some of that restraint.

Then, he changed right before me. His expression. His eyes. Everything.

“Hands,” he commanded.

I held them out. I recognized that tone. I liked that tone.

He slipped the circle of leather around my wrists and watched my face as he pulled it closed. I knew, at least for a little while, he'd need my reassurance that whatever he did was okay, so I nodded.

“Stand.”

It was more awkward than I'd realized to go from kneeling to standing with bound hands, but I managed to do it. He stood as well and took the end of the belt. He led me across the room and into the bedroom. He paused there for a moment, scanning the room as trying to decide his next more. When I saw his eyes light up, I knew he'd gotten an idea.

The bed had four tall posts at each corner, almost like you'd see on a canopy bed, only this didn't have a canopy. I supposed they were some sort of decorative thing, but right now, it seemed that Gavin had another purpose in mind. He led me to a post at the base of the bed, stretched my arms above my head and then fiddled with the belt and the post. I couldn't see what he did, but when he stepped back, my hands were fastened high above my head.

He walked from one side to the other, apparently checking to make sure whatever he'd done would hold. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him give a satisfied nod and begin to strip off his clothes. I tried to turn to watch, but he'd picked a place that was just out of my sightline, even if I craned my neck.

His voice was low, caressing my skin. “A total denial of sight forces focus onto the other senses.”

I heard him walking toward me but couldn't see where he was. No matter how much I trusted him, it was unnerving.

“But, sometimes, allowing sight that is limited provides for an experience that is just as exciting.” He was right behind me now.

I inhaled sharply as his hands skimmed over my bare back and then down over my hips. His touch was light, but that didn't change the charge that flowed across my skin. Then his hands slid beneath the sides of my dress, moving across my stomach and then up to my breasts.

“Knowing that I'm here, just out of sight.” He cupped my breasts, the fabric of the dress straining against the intrusion. “That if I wasn't speaking, it could be any man behind you.”

His thumbs flicked across the tips of my nipples before he pinched the sensitive flesh between thumb and finger. I moaned and he chuckled, that deep, sensual sound that always made my pussy throb. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed that laugh until I thought about how little I'd heard it recently.

“Lucky for you,” he said. “I don't share.” He pulled his hands from under my dress and went back to my hips.

I stared at the bed post, my breath coming faster, my pulse racing. Not being able to see him but knowing he was there, naked, hard and ready for me... it was a new form of torture. I wanted to touch him, taste him, but I couldn't do anything except feel. When his hands slipped beneath the hem of my dress, I instinctively parted my legs. I was wet and aching.

“I know what you want,” he said. His fingers teased at the edge of my panties. “You want me to touch you.” He ran a finger along the crotch of my underwear. Hard enough to make me feel it, but too light to give me anything.

“Yes, please,” I said.

“Not yet.”

He removed his hands and I felt his mouth press against my spine. I shivered as his lips traveled down my back, stopping at the place where my dress began before they moved up again. He ran his hands over my dress, teasing at my nipples through the thin fabric. His mouth pressed against my ear and I could feel the heat radiating through his body, his cock hard against my ass.

“You asked me what I liked, what I wanted to do with you. Do you still want to know?”

There was an edge to his words, but I could still hear an undercurrent of tension that didn't have anything to do with sex. He was testing the waters, trying to see if I was going to back out.

“Tell me.” I pulled at my restraints, wanting to turn and look at him, meet his eyes and let him know that he could tell me anything.

That was why he was talking now, I realized. He didn't want me looking at him when he said certain things. He was still afraid I'd react badly because of what had happened with Howard.

“Tell me, Gavin,” I said.

“With you like this,” he began. “I'd love to teach you what it feels like to have a flogger used on your back.”

I remembered our conversation back when this had first begun, when he'd said something similar.

“Not just on my back, right?” I asked. When I felt his body tense, I knew he'd remembered too. “You once said you could make me come with one. Is that what you'd like to do to me now?”

“Very much.” Gavin's hands slid down the front of me and under my dress. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties and then down between my legs. “Right here.” He pressed a finger against my clit and I moaned. “I'd love to have this all swollen and throbbing, then take it into my mouth, soothe it.”

“Fuck.” I swallowed hard.

“I want to claim every inch of you, Carrie. Fuck your mouth. Your ass. Leave no part of you untouched.” He nipped at my earlobe. “Push you further than you'd ever thought you'd want to go. Right now, I want to take you, hard and fast. Make it so you'll feel me for days.”

“Do it,” I said. My voice was shaking, but not with fear. The desire inside me was hot and sharp, almost painful in its intensity. I didn't know if it was what Gavin was saying or that he sounded like his old self again. Whatever it was, I didn't want to lose it again.

I felt a tug against my dress, then a tearing sound. I realized what he'd done even as the pieces of my dress fell forward, hanging loose from my shoulders. My jaw dropped. Had he seriously just ripped the seam of my dress? Before I could ask, he was yanking my panties down to my ankles and nudging my legs apart.

“Oh fuck!” I yelled as he buried his cock deep inside me with one thrust. “Fuck!”

He wrapped one arm around my waist, keeping me still as he pounded into me. The other hand was busy at my breasts, fingers pinching and twisting my nipples until they were burning.

“Yes!” I cried out. I pulled at the belt, unable to stop myself even though I knew I couldn't get free. “Fuck, Gavin, please, baby. Please,” I begged.

“Please what?” Gavin asked. He swiveled his hips and I keened.

“Make me come,” I begged and squeezed my eyes closed. I was at that edge between pain and pleasure, so close to coming that my body was starting to tremble. All I needed was him to touch my clit and I'd come, I knew it.

“What if I don't want to?” he asked.

I couldn't figure out how he was able to talk when I could barely breathe.

“What if I want to deny your release? Keep you on that edge for hours?”

I whimpered at the thought of that sweet torture, the way the pressure would build and build but not dissipate.

“I want to do that,” he said. He lightly bit at the back of my neck. “Does it frighten you?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?” he asked without missing a single deep, penetrating stroke.

“Because,” I gasped. “I trust you.” My arms were starting to ache. My wrists hurt. My nipples were throbbing, sending pinpricks of pain through me. I knew that my pussy was going to be sore tomorrow. And I was so close to climax that it almost hurt. But still, I trusted him to take care of me. “I trust you,” I repeated.

“Fuck,” Gavin groaned. The arm around my waist tightened and he pressed his face against the side of my neck. He was mid-stroke as I felt him start to come.

I waited for his fingers to finish me off, to do what I couldn't, but he stilled, holding me against him as his cock emptied into me. My head fell forward, my body tense with pent-up energy. I pulled at the belt, making frustrated noise when nothing happened.

“I've got you,” Gavin whispered in my ear.

He brushed his thumb over one of my swollen nipples and I flinched. When he pulled out, my knees almost gave out. Every cell in my body was screaming for relief. As soon as he untied me, I'd have it. It wouldn't take much.

Something brushed against my calves and I opened my eyes, looking down. Gavin was moving between me and the bedpost. He slid his hands around the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer until he was able to maneuver my legs over his shoulders, placing his mouth right where I needed it.

He kept his hands on my ass, holding me still as his tongue darted out and flicked against my clit. A shudder ran through me. His tongue began to circle and dance around that little bundle of nerves until I was shaking. The moment his mouth covered it, I was gone.

My body went rigid as a burst of white light flooded over me. My hips bucked against his face and he only sucked harder, making me scream. Even after his lips released me, he wasn't through. His tongue dropped lower, lapping up every drop of our mingled juices. He thrust his tongue into me, sending another climax rolling over me as the first started to abate.

Again and again his mouth brought me until I was gasping, my nerves misfiring with every pass of his tongue. Only when I was sobbing, begging him to stop did he finally lower my legs to the floor where they immediately buckled. I cried out in pain as my shoulders wrenched and the leather cut into my wrists, but I didn't have the energy for anything else.

Gavin stood, one arm around my waist to hold me up as his other hand released the belt. As soon as my arms dropped, Gavin scooped me up and carried me to the side of the bed. He pulled off the pieces of my dress and my panties before sliding me between the sheets. He knelt next to the bed and I watched as he freed my hands. He frowned as he saw my wrists, red and most likely bruised from how hard I'd been struggling. I mustered up enough energy to reach out and put my hand on his cheek.

“That was perfect,” I whispered.

Relief and pride mingled on his face. He gently pushed me back as he climbed into the bed, maneuvering until he had me half-laying on his body, his arms around my shoulders, one of mine around his waist.

“I missed this,” he said softly. “I hadn't realized how much keeping this from you was pushing us apart. I've missed being close to you. And I've missed this part of our sex life. I knew I could live without it, but I hadn't thought it would mean this much.”

I pressed my lips against his chest. “Don't hold back on me again.”

“I won't,” he promised. He kissed the top of my head. “And thank you for making me deal with it.”

I nodded, suddenly exhausted. I closed my eyes and listened to the steady thrum of his heart. As I sank toward the darkness, I thought that maybe this trip hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

 

Chapter 7

Carrie

I was starting to regret having told Gavin to fuck me so hard I'd feel it the next day. Oh, I'd enjoyed every second of it the night before and I even liked the smug smile on Gavin's face the next morning when I grimaced as I sat down. What I wasn't enjoying was how difficult it was for me to walk normally and act like every movement wasn't causing my nipples to chafe against my bra and my pussy to throb in protest. If we'd been back home, it wouldn't have been too bad, since most of my work was done from my office where I could suffer in private. Here, however, we had an appointment to see the location for the club today. And since it had apparently been rescheduled once, there was no way I could ask for it to be postponed. Especially since I had no desire for Gavin to try to explain why.

As we climbed into the car Vincent had sent for us, Gavin's eyes flicked down to my wrists and he frowned. I reached over and took his hand, lacing my fingers between his. The belt had left faint black and blue marks around my wrists and I knew he was thinking back to my bruised wrists after Howard had tied me up. I raised our hands and kissed the back of his. I'd considered putting concealer on them and if they'd been any darker, I probably would've, but they were light enough that no one would notice unless they were really looking. Besides, I wanted him to know I wasn't ashamed of what we'd done. Granted, I wasn't exactly trying to advertise it, but I wasn't going to hide it either.

“Are you having second thoughts?” I asked. I needed to know if he was going to close down again.

“Are you?” he countered. He traced his finger across one of the bruises, careful not to actually touch the skin.

“Not a chance.” I squeezed his hand. “I'm looking forward to what we do next.”

He visibly relaxed and I breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, that'd be the end of it. I loved that he was worried about me, and I appreciated everything he'd been willing to sacrifice, but I wanted us to move past what Howard had done, and we couldn't do that if he was tiptoeing around what he wanted, afraid I'd freak out.

I leaned against Gavin and he put his arm around me as we watched the scenery go by. The weather was just as gorgeous as it had been the day before, sunny and the perfect temperature. If we could get through with the inspection of the location in good time, maybe we could check out more of the sights Cannes had to offer.

We were on Rue des Féres Pradignac soon, driving past various bars and nightclubs. I didn't catch any of the names, but they all looked high-end. About three-quarters of the way down the street, the car slowed down and pulled up to the curb. Vincent was already waiting outside.

“Gavin! Carrie!” He beamed at us both and gave me an enthusiastic, but not exactly inappropriate, hug. “It is good to see you again.”

I smiled and nodded but didn't speak. A figure was stepping out of the shadows and my smile tightened.

“Good morning.” Alizee gave Gavin and me warm and professional smiles. “Vincent asked for me to come take a look at your location. He wished for my opinion as I am, if you do not know, well-versed in the business of pleasure in this part of the world.”

“He mentioned that you own quite a few bars and clubs,” Gavin said. He gestured up the street. “Any of these yours?”

Alizee nodded, but didn't elaborate on her own businesses. “Vincent chose wisely.” She folded her arms and looked at the front of the club. “This building is perfectly located. There are bars and clubs there, there and there.” She pointed to the businesses across the street and next door. “They are for dancing and drinking, but no girls. No sex. Putting a club here that caters to sex will draw customers from those clubs, but not take enough of their business to cause problems.”

I wondered if Vincent had really thought of all that or if it had just been a great deal on a building in the right section of the city. I didn't see any other places that looked like they would be up for sale.

“Shall we take a look inside?” Vincent opened the door and made a gesture for Alizee to enter first.

She did, and then I followed. Gavin came after and Vincent last. The interior of the building was dark so I stepped to the side while I waited for my eyes to adjust. They didn't have to do much since the overhead lights came on a moment later.

Gavin stepped to my side as we looked around. The place was dusty and had an air of disuse, but it was obvious that someone had been caring for it enough that there didn't seem to be any of the pest problems that empty places back home would've had after just a couple days.

A bar ran along one side, the shelves behind it looking like they could hold a fair amount of liquor. Other than the bar, the rest of the building was empty. The ceiling was high, with simple lighting. The floor was wood, typical for a dance club. The space itself was impressive, but it was down to nearly the bare bones.

“Vincent has explained to me that you are quite the visionary when it comes to the design of these clubs.” Alizee stepped between Vincent and Gavin, though it was clear she was only talking to Gavin. “Tell me, what do you see here?”

I looked up at Gavin. I hadn't been there when he'd created the club back home, but I'd seen how impressive it had been. Despite all of the negative things I associated with it, the design had been amazing.

“We don't want something identical to the club in New York,” Gavin began. He walked into the center of the room and looked up. “But we want the feel to be the same. Something sensual. Seductive.”

“This is good,” Alizee said. She took a few steps toward him, her eyes narrowing as she watched him.

I frowned. I wasn't sure I liked how she was looking at my boyfriend. It wasn't anything overt and she hadn't said or done anything that was even the slightest bit inappropriate. Just a feeling I had, something in my gut that said maybe I shouldn't trust her.

“I'm thinking we work with the wood that's here,” Gavin continued with his vision, oblivious to what was going on in my head. “Strings of lights instead of pulsing ones. Something to differentiate it from the other dance clubs. Long, filmy curtains.” He turned back to Vincent and shrugged. “Just my first impression. And I'll put together a couple different ideas so we can decide together on what we want.” He looked at me to make sure I knew he was including me in the decision.

I smiled, hoping he couldn't read the thoughts on my face. As Alizee began discussing the practicalities of some of Gavin's ideas, I tried to look like I was paying attention, but I was more concerned with keeping my eyes on the other woman. I watched her movements, where her hands went, how she tilted her head, the way she smiled. I'd watched Leslie and Krissy flirt enough to know all the signs. After just a few minutes, I was forced to admit that either Alizee was very subtle or I wasn't reading her right.

Or, I thought, it wasn't that she was interested in Gavin sexually. Maybe there was another agenda here. If she had other clubs and bars in the area, it was possible Vincent was wrong and she saw our club as a threat. Maybe she was looking for weaknesses, or trying to steer us in the wrong direction.

That might've been a possibility, I conceded, if Vincent hadn't acted like the woman walked on water. He knew what he was doing, and I seriously doubted he'd invite someone who'd hurt his business venture.

It was just that I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her. I wanted to pull Gavin aside and ask him about it, but I knew this wasn't a good time. Especially since I'd just spent a good portion of yesterday talking about how I trusted him. I'd feel him out about Alizee later and see if he'd gotten the same vibe from her. If he hadn't, I wouldn't push the matter. I'd chalk it up to some lingering issues on my part and let it go.

With that decided, I turned my attention back to the conversation.

“It will be a good idea for you to meet with the owners of the other establishments around here,” Alizee was saying. “You will want to establish a mutual agreement where you refer customers in accordance with their desires. For example, should a customer ask for a dance club, you could point them across the street. In turn, any customers who inquire about things of a sexual nature, that club would recommend this place.”

That was really smart, I thought.

“Well, Vincent will be taking care of that,” Gavin said. “Carrie and I live in New York, so most of the personal connections will be his responsibility.”

“No.” Alizee shook her head. “You are to be the face of the club.” She glanced at me. “You and your beautiful lover.”

Gavin protested, “Vincent–”

“We will work out those details later,” Vincent hurriedly said.

I got the impression that Vincent didn't want to take sides.

“Right now, we must discuss the changes we need to make to the space,” he continued. “Alizee knows the best contractors in the city. She will be able to direct us to the best pricing.”

“Right,” Gavin agreed. “Well, the first thing we need to look at is the foundation. Make sure it's solid. Once that's done, we'll want to take a look at the basic structure. We'll want inspectors who know the required standards we'll have to meet.”

I'd been distracted before by my own thoughts, but this time, the conversation itself wasn't one I followed very well. I knew, in theory, what all went into the design of Club Privé, but I hadn't been a part of the day-to-day practicalities of it. There was a reason I was a lawyer and not a businesswoman.

I could see, however, what a savvy businesswoman Alizee was. She didn't just follow what Gavin was saying. She made suggestions, provided information. She was actually more involved in the conversation than Vincent was. And way more than me. When they'd started to walk through the building, Gavin had taken my hand so we walked side-by-side, and he wasn't shutting me out, but it was obvious I wasn't serving any real function here.

When there was a pause in the conversation as Alizee and Vincent started talking rapidly in whatever language they spoke, I tapped on Gavin's shoulder. He looked down.

“I'm going to step outside and call the office. I want to see how things are going. Find out if Zoe's heard how Robyn's doing.”

Gavin glanced at his watch. “It's close to five back home. Did you really make Zoe work full days when you're gone?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, Gavin. I'm not a slave driver. She's supposed to stop in for a few hours every day to get the mail, sort through email, that kind of stuff. I asked her to come in later in the day so if I did call, I didn't have to bother her on her time off.”

“Good idea.” He smiled at me and kissed my forehead. “If we're done before you are, I'll meet you outside.”

I nodded and headed back toward the exit. I blinked a few times as I stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight. I pulled a pair of sunglasses out of my bag and slipped them on before fishing out my phone. I walked down the sidewalk as I waited for the call to go through.

“Carrie?” Zoe's voice crackled, then cleared. “Is everything okay?”

“It's fine, Zoe.” I smiled at her concern. “I just wanted to check in. Anything new going on?”

While Zoe filled me in on motions and files received, I turned and started heading back toward the building. As I did, I noticed a man across the street leaning against a beat-up car. His eyes were on me and, as I passed, he nodded. I gave a half-smile, grateful I had the phone as an excuse not to respond. I wasn't sure if he was flirting or just being polite, but I didn't feel like meeting any strangers at the moment.

“And what about Robyn?” I asked. “Have you heard from her?”

“No.” Zoe sounded frustrated. “And the D.A. called yesterday. Said if Robyn doesn't show up to testify in front of the grand jury, chances are, Little Tino's going to walk. Again.”

I sighed. “Well, keep me posted and let me know as soon as something happens.” I refused to say 'if.' I was still holding out hope that Robyn would come to her senses and testify. She just had to admit what a part of her already knew, that Little Tino was using her. I didn't understand how she could let him do that to her. Did she really think so little of herself, or was she actually so in love with him that she was willing to ignore everything that told her what a dick he was?

“Are you and Gavin having fun?” Zoe asked.

I smiled, even though she couldn't see me. “Yes, we are.”

“That's great,” she said sincerely. “You two deserve it. Now don't worry about anything back here. You guys just enjoy your vacation. Everything will be waiting for you when you get back. I promise.”

“Thanks, Zoe.”

“Anytime.”

As I ended the call, I heard a man's voice call my name.

I turned, expecting to see Gavin. Instead, the stranger from across the street was coming toward me, taking long, quick strides that were closing the distance between us at a rapid rate. There was no way I could outrun him.

 

Chapter 8

Carrie

“You are Carrie Summers?”

The man was just a few feet away now and I was frozen to the spot.

“My name is Pierre Bastillo.” He stopped before he was within reaching distance, as if he'd figured out that his approach was freaking me out. “I am a journalist.”

A journalist? The fear I'd been feeling at being accosted by a stranger was replaced with confusion. Why was a reporter in France trying to talk to me? Better yet, how did a reporter know who I was? Even back home, once the insanity surrounding Howard had died down, no one really paid that much attention to me. It was actually one of the most frustrating things about what I did. I tried to get the media to do stories about human trafficking, but they were always overshadowed by the more “important” stories. Like whichever celebrity had posed nude this week.

“I was at the party the other night and saw you speaking with Kelsey Larson.”

I relaxed slightly, but still kept my guard up. No respectable New Yorker would accept only that for an explanation. I clutched the strap on my bag, remembering the instructions from my self-defense class that explained how to use a purse as a weapon.

“All right, Mr. Bastillo,” I said. “But that still doesn't explain how you know who I am.”

“Pierre, please.” He gave me an easy smile, flashing white teeth against tanned skin and showing off a single deep dimple. His eyes were a bright, sparkling green. “I am sorry if I frightened you.” He held up his hands, palms out. “I assure you, it was not my intention.”

“Well, intention or not, it does cause worry when a stranger knows her name but doesn't say how,” I said wryly. I'd stopped thinking I was in trouble, but I didn't relax my stance. Again, growing up in the city had taught me to be cautious, especially when talking to a strange man. No matter how good-looking or seemingly polite.

“I apologize,” Pierre said. “When I saw you speaking with Ms. Larson, I wondered who you were as Ms. Larson appeared to know you. I researched and discovered your firm in New York.”

That made sense at least. It wouldn't have been hard to get a picture of me at the party. Show it around a bit and get a name. My name plus a photo would easily lead him to my firm. I had to make myself easy to find. What good was an attorney who specialized in helping victims if the victims couldn't find them? Gavin had been nervous about me putting myself out there, asking what would happen if a sex trafficker decided to come after me. I'd told him that I couldn't ask the victims to be brave and stand up to their abusers if I wasn't willing to risk myself. He hadn't been happy about it, but he hadn't mentioned it since.

“Yes, I'm a lawyer,” I said, giving Pierre a small smile. “I'm still not sure why that merits being approached by a French reporter.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “That is the saying, is it not?”

I nodded. He actually spoke English better than a lot of Americans, and with only a hint of an accent.

“I have been asking my editor to allow me to write a piece on sex trafficking in the French Rivera, but he has not been very... supportive of the idea,” he said. “I wanted to speak with Ms. Larson, but was unable to set up an official interview until next month.”

“You want to interview me?” I tried not to sound too suspicious. Back in New York, when reporters had wanted to talk to me, it hadn't been to shed a light on the horrors of the modern-day slave trade but rather to pry into my sex life with Gavin or to sensationalize what Howard had tried to do... or both.

“That would be one option,” he said. “But I would prefer to use your expertise in the field.

“In the field?” I echoed.

He nodded and reached into his pocket. “I have decided to pursue the matter without my editor's approval in the hopes of writing a story that he will insist on publishing.” He held out a business card. “Or one that I can perhaps sell to another publication.”

I took the card. Pierre Bastillo, journalist. There was a number and an address on the front. I flipped it over and saw another number hand-written on the back.

“The number on the front is for my work phone. The one on the back is to my personal mobile.” He gave me another of his charming smiles.

I was willing to bet he was used to that smile getting him a whole lot of things. To be honest, if I hadn't been with Gavin, it might've worked on me too. Now, however, I was only interested in the work offer.

“What are you thinking?” I asked. “You want to know about the kinds of cases I've worked? The sorts of patterns I've noticed?”

“That would be the first step,” he said. “And I would share the things that I have found here in Cannes. I would want your opinion about them, if my instincts are correct or if you believe I am wrong.”

I glanced behind me to see if Gavin or the others were coming, but there wasn't anyone. I turned my attention back to Pierre. “I'm waiting for my boyfriend. We could talk a bit now.”

Pierre glanced at his watch. “As much as I would love to chat with you now, I’m afraid I have an appointment I cannot miss.”

“I'm only here for two weeks,” I said. “But my boyfriend will be taking care of some business periodically. I could contact you then.”

“That would be perfect.” Pierre hesitated, and then added, “I was also wondering if perhaps you would not be adverse to also participating in some field work. Interviews and the like.”

I knew what Gavin would say to that. Absolutely not. There was no way he'd want me to go wandering around Cannes alone, much less with a stranger. And definitely not a stranger who was a reporter digging into a dangerous crime. Gavin had already told me back home that he didn't like me getting personally involved with the cases I worked. At least there, I had to be careful I didn't overstep my bounds because I didn't want to risk having a case thrown out for misconduct or anything like that. Here, I didn't have to think about any of that. I was a tourist tagging along with a journalist. This was about exposure and awareness, not prosecution. It wasn't my job to build a case.

“I'm in,” I said with a smile. I dug into my bag until I found one of my business cards. I scrawled my cell number on the back. “I'd prefer to call you from the hotel to avoid roaming charges on my phone, but if something big comes up, please let me know.”

“I will,” he said. “I really must be going now, but I am grateful that you are agreeing to do this. I believe it will make a real difference.” He held out a hand.

I shook it. “Thank you for coming to me, Mr. Bas – I mean, Pierre.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said as he held my hand just a moment longer than necessary. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“And I do you.” I quickly added, “I can't wait to see what we'll be able to accomplish.” I didn't want him getting the wrong idea. I wasn't certain he was flirting with me, but better safe than sorry. I might've been able to spot a woman flirting with a man from a mile away, but I was more clueless when it came to men flirting with me.

He gave me another of those smiles and then headed back the way he'd come. I watched him go. I was definitely feeling better about having time to myself while Gavin was off with Vincent planning things. He'd said that the only thing he had to do was check out the location and close the deal, but I knew my boyfriend. He was a perfectionist and he wasn't going to leave the details to people he didn't know, no matter how much he said he trusted them. As soon as I'd heard the excitement in his voice when he was describing what he thought the club should look like, I knew he'd want to be involved in the design. I also knew he'd feel guilty and not do it unless I convinced him that I had things I could do while he was busy. I just had to figure out how to sell it right.

I also needed to figure out how to get this story back home. The international exposure would definitely help put pressure on Congressman White to throw his support behind my proposal. It always made politicians look bad when other countries were dealing with problems and they weren't. Americans never cared about a problem as much as they did when they were being ridiculed for not caring.

Between how well things were doing with Gavin and me, and the possibility of being able to do some good while I was here, this trip was definitely turning out to be better than I'd ever hoped.

 

Chapter 9

Gavin

I could tell Carrie was getting bored before saying she was going to step outside. She was the kind of person who had ideas to improve once the main things were set. Once the space was designed and she could visualize how everything looked, I was sure she'd have suggestions about how to make things flow more smoothly, or she'd spot potential problems. And while I knew she liked hearing my ideas, when we started getting into the real business-type stuff, that was beyond her usual involvement and I knew she wasn't enjoying herself.

When she left to call Zoe, I was able to focus solely on the club. Vincent had been right. Alizee really knew what she was talking about. She had suggestions to make the process go faster, names of companies who'd do the best work for the best price. I was starting to wish I had someone like her back home to help me with the renovations when she put her hand on my arm.

There wasn't anything overtly sexual about the move and she didn't keep it there longer than was appropriate, but it seemed like it was much more personal than our relationship called for. If one of Carrie's friends had done it, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but I'd known them for a year. Alizee was a wonderful businesswoman and she apparently had a history with Vincent, but I barely knew her.

“Should you wish to go with your curtain idea, you will want to contact Fleur Roux,” she continued what she'd been saying, seemingly oblivious to how I'd tensed at her touch. Either that or she was just too polite to say anything. I was betting on the latter. She was far too intelligent to have not noticed.

“Is she in Cannes?” Vincent asked.

“No, Corsica,” Alizee said. “But her prices and quality more than make up for the short distance you would have to travel.” She handed Vincent a card to keep with all of the others she'd given him. “Mention you know me and she will give you a discount.”

“I'd like a copy of the city's building code,” I said. “I want to read it before solidifying designs for approval. I don't want to do something that will have to be undone because it's against some obscure subsection.”

“You will find,” Alizee said. “Anything, and anyone, can be bought for a price.” She brushed her hand against mine, the gesture so casual that I wasn't sure if it had been intentional. “Design as you will. Let Vincent handle how to make sure it is allowed.”

I wasn't about to turn a blind eye to another partner's illegal dealings, even if it meant I'd have to tweak certain aspects of my plans. For all I knew, I wouldn't even have to change anything. Yet another reason I wasn't going to say anything now. I'd talk to Vincent later if the issue came up.

“Will you be hiring local women as the entertainment?” Alizee asked.

That was as good a lead in as I'd get to make sure my partner knew where I drew the line for sex in the club. “I suppose we'll hold auditions for any dancers or singers,” I spoke before Vincent could. “But I've found it's a good idea to have both male and female waiters and bartenders. I'd also recommend both genders for dancers and singers. You'll want to draw both men and women as customers to allow for proper pairing ratios.”

I saw a brief frown crease Alizee's face and then it was gone. Vincent's smile looked a bit forced, but neither of them said anything. I moved on.

“Of course, I'm sure once the club's popularity takes off, we'll have plenty of managers contacting us to have their singers perform. Anyone who wants to put a little sexuality into their reputation will line up to get in here.” I motioned toward the far end of the room. “That's the perfect place for the stage.”

The temperature in the room had chilled slightly when I'd made my little speech, but things warmed up again as we started going over the technicalities of wiring and sound systems. A few minutes later, I found myself between Alizee and Vincent as we walked the length of the bar. Vincent was in the middle of a story about how he'd found this place when I felt a hand on my upper arm. I looked over at Alizee.

“Are you going to be designing places for customers to indulge their fantasies? Their desires?” Alizee squeezed my arm, then slid her hand down, staying in contact until she reached my wrist. “Vincent said you have a room in your club in New York.”

My thoughts flashed across the ocean. Club Privé did indeed have a private room for members. I'd used it with Carrie the night she'd shown up at my club. It had also been where I'd found her naked and tied to a bed while Howard suggested we rape her together.

“There is one,” I said vaguely. “But there isn't a second floor here. I'm not sure how that would work.”

“I have a thought,” she said.

She took a step closer to me, invading my personal space. I thought about taking a step back, but I didn't want to offend her.

“Couches,” she said in a low voice. “Surround couches with curtains. They are sensual, allowing for some privacy while providing the excitement that comes with exhibitionism.” She looked up at me. “You do find that exciting, no? Knowing others are hearing you? That they could interrupt?”

I did take a step back now, but I combined it with a turn so that I was starting to walk again. “Not really my thing.”

That was at least mostly true. The suggestion of being caught was exciting. Fucking in the middle of a large room where only curtains kept others from seeing me... that wasn't really my thing. Especially if it meant others would see Carrie. That wasn't even negotiable.

“A shame,” Alizee said from behind me. “It can be very arousing.”

I was suddenly very glad Carrie was outside. Since we were discussing a sex club, it wasn't weird that we were talking about sexual preferences, but I had a feeling Carrie wouldn't see it that way. And that's all it was. Alizee knew I had a girlfriend and we were working together on a business. Anything else was just me worrying about how Carrie would take things.

“So, Gavin, what do you think?” Vincent asked as he made a sweeping gesture to include the entire building. “Should I make an offer or look elsewhere?”

“If you do not take advantage of this opportunity,” Alizee said. “I will. This is prime real estate. With your joined vision, I believe it will go far.”

I looked at Vincent and shrugged. “I think she just said it for me.”

“Excellent!” He beamed. He rubbed his hands together. “This calls for a celebration. Drinks?”

I didn't point out that it was barely afternoon. “I'd love to, Vincent, but I think Carrie and I would like to spend some time together. See the sights.” I smiled at him and then at Alizee, taking care not to stay longer on one than the other. No need to give her the wrong idea. “Besides, if we're going to be coming to Cannes on a regular basis, we need to learn the lay of the land, right?”

“Enjoy this beautiful city with your beautiful lover.” Vincent winked at me. “May I suggest the beach? I am sure Carrie would look quite stunning in a bikini.”

“Shall we three meet tomorrow for lunch?” Alizee said. “I will bring my contact information and advise the best scheduling to complete your project in the most timely manner.”

Yeah, I really did wish I had someone like her back in New York. I hadn't even wanted to call the foreman to see how things were progressing.

“That sounds wonderful,” Vincent said. “Will you be able to complete concept art by then?”

I thought for a moment. Carrie and I could spend the day together and then I could spend tonight and tomorrow morning putting things together. I nodded. “I'll have some options together.”

“Very good,” Vincent said. He looked at Alizee. “Thank you again for all of your assistance.”

“My pleasure,” Alizee said. “Shall we get that drink now, Vincent, my dear?”

She took his arm and the two of them headed toward the exit. I followed. When I stepped outside, I looked around for Carrie. She was standing a few feet away, watching a good-looking man walking across the street. Puzzled, I started toward her.

“Hey, Babe,” I called.

“Hi!” she said brightly as she turned. “You're never going to guess what just happened to me!”

I kissed her cheek as she told me about the reporter who'd just asked her for input into a story on sex trafficking in Cannes. I smiled down at her, enjoying the way her entire face was lighting up. I loved seeing her that way, even if the situation was something that I found a little concerning. If we were back home, I'd do some checking up, making sure no one was taking advantage of her, but I didn't really see some random person in France tracking her down for a story that was all over. As long as she stayed in public, I wasn't going to tell her I didn't think this was a good idea. Actually, I thought it was a great idea. Just the thing to keep me from feeling guilty while I was working on the club with Alizee and Vincent.

This trip really was turning out to be great in many ways.

 

Chapter 10

Carrie

Pierre was thrilled to hear from me so soon, probably more so than was a good idea, but I wasn't going to read too much into it. Gavin and I were here for a week and a half. I fully intended to spend the time we had together having fun. When Gavin was busy, however, I wanted to do some good.

We'd had a great time yesterday, checking out the sights. We'd watched the boats, walked along the public beaches. The weather had been perfect and the people great. I loved my hometown, but Cannes was definitely ahead in those two columns. One of the ways the two cities were alike, unfortunately, seemed to be the same thing going on in every big city in the world. Today, I intended to do something to at least shed some light on that problem.

Pierre was already sitting at a table in the café where we'd agreed to meet. He smiled and stood as I approached.

“Ms. Summers,” he said and gave a little bow.

“Carrie, please,” I said, sitting down across from him.

“I am thankful you called,” he said. “I was hoping to begin some investigations today.”

“So where do we begin?” I asked.

“With coffee.” He winked at me.

“Coffee?”

Pierre signaled the waiter. “Yes, coffee. And we talk. You share with me the things I should be looking for. I tell you what I have been working on. I ask questions. You ask questions.”

“So this is an interview?”

“No,” he said. He shook his head. “I will not be including anything we discuss in my story.”

I took a sip of my coffee. Wow. That was amazing. I was impressed that Pierre managed to get it right. “This is great.”

“I am so glad that you like it.” He flashed that brilliant smile at me. “Now, let us talk.”

Pierre and I began to chat. The flow of information came quickly, moving from one area to the next. I told him how young people were targeted, the common characteristics of the ones who were caught up in the sex trade. I expected questions about what had happened with Howard, but Pierre never mentioned it. He had to have heard about it. No one in the media in any major country could've missed that story.

“Is any of this information helping?” I asked halfway through, wondering if I was providing anything Pierre didn't already know. I was glad he'd asked for my help, but pretty much everything I'd said so far could've been found in an internet search.

Pierre nodded. “I would like to know more about the methods by which people are trafficked. How they are moved from one place to another.”

“Okay,” I said. I fell silent for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “Well, there are lots of different ways the trafficking works. Some underground, some more blatant. It can be anything from internet sites where buys are set up, to back rooms.”

“Are those not the smaller operations? A few people here or there?” Pierre asked.

“Most of the time,” I agreed. “The larger operations are the ones most difficult to uncover because they have so many moving parts. Usually they've been able to grow so large because they have people in the government, people who look the other way and cover up the messes.”

Pierre nodded. “I understand.”

“The vast amount of money that changes hands in this business can be used to grease a lot of wheels,” I said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from my voice.

One of the things that had always sickened me the most about the people involved in the human trafficking industry was how easily a person's life was traded for money. Normal people pictured traffickers as the flashily dressed pimps who stood on the street corner, cat-calling obscenities to the decent folk who walked by. In reality, the majority of traffickers were average-looking, middle-aged men who had wives and kids.

“How are those operations run?”

I gave Pierre a puzzled look. I didn't spend much time in the courtroom, but I knew a leading question when I heard one. He was trying to get me somewhere. I just didn't know where.

“It depends on if it's local or overseas,” I said. “Most of the local girls are runaways who end up getting into it because they need money.” I thought of Robyn. “But there are those who end up getting picked up by someone in the industry, a pimp or a guy who's hired to break in the new girls. They pretend to be a boyfriend and eventually get the girl to have sex with other men.” I paused, then amended, “It happens to boys too, but it's more prevalent with girls.”

“It is much the same here,” Pierre said. “Though that’s usually the story of those on the streets.”

“Most of those girls are on the streets,” I agreed. “But these are tricks sometimes used by men who want to sell their victims. Foreign girls are usually brought in with the promise of a good life, a job as a nanny or in a factory. Some are sold by their families, others kidnapped.”

“And it’s your job to find who these people are and stop them?”

I shook my head. “What I do is work within the legal system to help the victims in any way I can.”

“I heard how you helped the young woman who had been kidnapped by a wealthy man from your city.”

I stiffened. Here it came, the questions about Howard.

“This man, he used a club to find buyers and hide what he was doing, did he not?”

“He did,” I replied. I wasn't going to offer anything else until I knew what he wanted.

“Is that a common practice?” he asked. “Using a club to cover for a trafficking operation?”

Okay, so he wasn't trying to get personal. At least not yet. “It's not exactly uncommon.”

Pierre nodded and leaned forward, the expression on his face suddenly serious. “This is what I think is happening in Cannes.”

I relaxed. He really was after a story here, not me.

“There is a woman who owns many clubs and bars,” he began.

My stomach sank.

“I believe she is using them as a means to traffic.” He glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening. “She lives in Corsica, which I believe is her base of operations, but she uses the clubs here to distribute her... product.”

“Do you have any proof?” I wanted to ask for a name but I was afraid of what he'd say. I needed to know how much of this was speculation.

“Not yet,” he admitted. “But that is what I intend to do with you. I wish for you to help me build a case against Alizee Padovani.”

***

I must've spent a good twenty minutes silently cursing as Pierre had filled me in on his suspicions. Everything he said sounded pretty circumstantial, which made matters worse. Alizee could be a trafficker, but coincidences do occasionally exist. Technically, Gavin could've had a good circumstantial case against him for what Howard had done. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

The problem was, if Alizee was getting involved in the club here and was what Pierre claimed, that meant she could damage the business. Not to mention, Gavin would be stabbed in the back again. I just didn't know if I should warn him now of the possibility or wait until I had solid proof. What would happen, though, if we left before Pierre and I found evidence? Could I let Gavin keep working with her without knowing? For how long?

I was pretty sure Pierre sensed that something was off because after he laid everything out for me, he said he had some things to do and I should take the rest of the day to think over what he'd said. He promised to call tomorrow to see if we'd be able to meet again, and we said our good-byes.

The whole way back to the hotel, I mused over what to do. I wanted to be honest with Gavin, especially since we'd talked about working on our communication, specifically not hiding things from each other. But, I also didn't want to start a fight and I knew if I accused Alizee of being like Howard without any proof, he'd be angry. He'd already been annoyed at my distrust of Vincent. An accusation like this would be worse, especially since I knew it would probably look like I was jealous. I wasn't, of course, but I knew it could come across that way.

By the time I arrived at the room, I'd made my decision. If it came up in conversation, I'd tell the truth. If Gavin asked me what I thought of Alizee, I'd drop a couple hints about how I didn't trust her. If I had solid proof, I'd tell him. Other than that, I was going to keep my mouth shut and hope that Pierre was wrong. I didn't quite trust Alizee, even without the speculation, but for Gavin's sake, I didn't want Pierre to be right.

Gavin was already in the room, but was on the phone, so I waved as I headed to the bathroom to freshen up. When I came out, he was off the phone and smiling.

“We checked out the public beaches yesterday, but didn't swim. I was wondering if you wanted to go down to the private beach this afternoon.” He came over to me and put his hands on my waist. “I happen to know there's a dark red bikini in your bag that I'm dying to see you in.”

“Oh really?” I asked. “And how do you know that?”

“I might've seen it when I was looking for one of my t-shirts in your bag.” He grinned. “You do have a bad habit of stealing my shirts to wear to bed.”

“I wasn't planning on wearing anything to bed most of the time we're here,” I teased.

His eyes darkened. “Keep talking like that and I don't think I'll want to leave the room.”

I took a step back. “In that case, I better go change for the beach.” I started toward the bedroom and then stopped as a thought hit me. I turned back to face Gavin. “You know,” I said. “That is a topless beach.”

He scowled. “I don't think so.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was he honestly telling me what to do? I'd been joking when I'd first said it, but now I was seriously considering it, just to remind him that he didn't own me.

“And what if I want to go topless?” I asked. I folded my arms and lifted my chin. “Are you going to forbid me to do it, Gavin?”

I saw the war on his face. He wanted to say it, to tell me no, but he also didn't want to be that guy, the one who controlled the woman he was with. I waited to see which man would win. Would we end up in a fight or would he let me make my own choice?

Less than fifteen minutes later, we stepped onto the hotel's private beach and Gavin looked down, waiting to see what I would do.

 

Chapter 11

Gavin

I gritted my teeth to hold back a comment when Carrie reached behind her to untie her top. I knew this was a private beach and that anyone behaving inappropriately would be dealt with by the hulking security guards who stood around the perimeter, but that didn't mean men weren't going to be looking. And I didn't like the idea of men looking at Carrie. Actually that was an understatement. I hated it. I'd forgotten just how much it bothered me.

When she wore sexy dresses and men watched her walk by, or the times when they stared at her cleavage, I enjoyed putting my arm around her waist, letting them know she was taken. But even when she wore her most revealing dress, it wasn't a bathing suit. When we'd been on the beaches yesterday, I'd thought about what it would be like to have men seeing her in a bikini. I'd never dreamed she'd consider going topless.

I loved how far she'd come from the quiet, fairly self-conscious woman I'd met a year ago, to someone comfortable enough with her own body that she'd go half-naked in public. It was like the thing with Alizee, when she'd talked about exhibitionism. It was one thing to taunt and tease the idea, but something else entirely to actually do it.

No matter how much it bothered me, though, I didn't tell Carrie not to do it. It wasn't my decision to make. I refused to be one of those possessive jerks who acted like their girlfriends or wives were their property. Still, it didn't stop my hands from clenching into fists as she untied her top and let it slide off.

Fuck.

Her breasts were perfect. I knew some guys liked them smaller and others preferred them large, but hers were exactly what I wanted. A little more than a handful, firm but not fake-feeling firm. There was no doubt they were all natural. Her nipples were a slightly darker rose color and perfectly proportioned to the rest of her. I'd once spent hours on her breasts alone, teasing and sucking, playing with her nipples until they were hard and sensitive.

Dammit. I shifted, wondering how in the world I was supposed to keep an erection away when she was right there. I had a difficult enough time not getting hard when she was in regular clothes. Hell, I thought she was sexy in sweats.

Carrie reached over and took my hand, reminding me that we weren't in the privacy of our home or hotel room. I gave her a tight smile and looked around. Other women were walking around without tops, but my gaze slid right over them, searching for the men who were staring at my girlfriend.

“Come on,” she said. I could hear a note of amusement in her voice as she pulled me toward the ocean.

I followed, barely feeling the water flowing over my feet and lapping against my ankles. She laughed as a wave hit her knees and the sound made me smile for real. I loved hearing her so happy. And if this made her happy, I'd be damned if I ruined it. It wasn't like there weren't hundreds of other beautiful women showing their breasts. It was a cultural thing. No need to freak out about it. Yeah, I needed to keep telling myself that.

I grabbed Carrie around the waist and lifted her out of the water. She squealed as I spun her around, sending both of us into a wave that splashed over us. She gasped as the water soaked us both and squirmed in my arms, turning around so we were facing each other. Her nipples were hard as they brushed against my chest. The response was immediate as I felt my cock stiffen in my trunks.

I brushed my lips across hers, not trusting myself with anything more serious. Her, half-naked and wet, in my arms, would be a test of even the most iron self-control. I wanted to ravage her mouth, slide my hands beneath her bottoms, feel how tight she was, how ready for me. I wanted to walk us deeper into the ocean, pull out my cock and fuck her right there.

“If I go home without a tan, Leslie and Dena might kill me,” Carrie said. She took my hand again and led us out of the water.

A quick glance down told me she looked almost as amazing from the back as she did from the front. Of course I already knew that, but wow… that bikini was something else. I used my free hand to tug the wet material of my trunks away from my body, hoping to draw attention away from my pretty impressive erection. I was seriously regretting suggesting coming to the beach.

We headed for a pair of chairs sitting out in the sun and Carrie immediately settled on one, leaning back and closing her eyes. I sat in the other one, drinking in the sight of her, that body I knew so well. I knew how every inch of her felt, how soft her skin was between her breasts. The dip over her ribs and the slight swell of her firm stomach. I knew how tight and hot her pussy would be if I slipped my fingers inside her.

“Dammit, Carrie,” I muttered under my breath. How was I supposed to relax when she was so fucking distracting?

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the heat of the sun and the sound of the waves. Anything but my girlfriend. Slowly, the tension began to seep out of me. It didn't last long though. As soon as I heard male voices coming closer, I opened my eyes. I needed to know if they were looking at her. One glanced her way and I scowled, but as soon as he put his arm around the other man's waist, I started to relax. Then I heard part of their conversation as they passed.

“...think they'd be interested in joining us?”

“I doubt he swings both ways.”

“Pity. Maybe they'll let us watch.”

I didn't have any proof that they were talking about us, but it managed to ruin any chance I had at being able to sit back and enjoy the sunshine and scenery. I managed to make it through another thirty minutes without losing my mind or my temper, but my body was so tightly coiled that I knew I was going to need to blow off some steam or I was going to go crazy. Carrie had said that she wanted to know the kinds of things I enjoyed. I fully intended to show her a side of me that was a bit darker than what she'd seen before.

“We're going back to the room,” I said suddenly. I sat up and looked over at Carrie.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't move.

I turned so that I was facing her, close enough to touch even though I didn't.

“I told you once that you were mine,” I said. I pitched my voice low and watched her shiver as I spoke. Damn, I loved how she responded to me. “Now we're going back to our room and I'm going to show you what that means.”

Her eyes darkened with desire and she sat up. She reached the small bag where she'd stashed her top and pulled it out.

“No,” I said firmly. She gave me a puzzled look. “You wanted to go without it. Wanted men to look at you. Now you don't get to put it back on as long as we're on the beach.”

I stood and held out my hand. She took it, smiling as I threaded my fingers between hers. I fully intended to make sure she understood that I hated knowing other men had seen her breasts, but I also wanted her to know that I wasn't actually angry with her. Worked up, hell yes. Wanting to vent some frustration in a positive manner, definitely. Acting out of anger, no. Anyone who truly understood the BDSM lifestyle knew where the line was and respected it.

By the time we reached our room, I knew I was going to be getting pretty close to it, but I'd never cross over. The moment the door closed behind us, I spoke, “Stop.”

When she immediately did as I said, I knew this was going to go well. I reached out and yanked the tie for her bikini top. It fell to the floor, exposing her now-lightly tanned breasts.

“Did you enjoy men staring at you?” I asked as I stepped closer. I kept enough space between our bodies that we weren't actually touching, but close enough that she could feel me there. “Did you like knowing that they were imagining what it would be like to touch you?”

I reached around her and covered her breasts. I squeezed until she made a soft noise. Judging by how quickly her nipples hardened against my palms, she wasn't going to protest at least a bit of rough treatment. That was good. I wasn't particularly feeling gentle at the moment.

“Well, you may have enjoyed having men ogle you, but I didn't.” I put my lips next to her ear. “But I think you knew that. In fact, I think that's why you did it.” I pinched her nipples, hard, and she whimpered. “I think you decided to take off your top because you wanted me to punish you.” I dropped my hands and slid them down over her stomach and back around to her ass. “Is that right, babe? Do you want me to punish you?”

She didn't answer, but that was okay. The game worked whether she admitted it or not. The only thing that really matter was if she said her safe words. Anything other than that was just part of the experience.

I took a step back and pulled off my shorts. I was already hard from her show and the anticipation of what was coming. “Walk over to the window.”

I saw her shoulders tense, but she didn't protest and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. They were closed so the air conditioning could run while we were gone, but I didn't want them open at the moment anyway. It was the illusion of the thing that mattered. We had an ocean view and were too far up for anyone to see us unless they happened to have binoculars on the beach or in a boat. It was a risk, I supposed, but that's what made it so exciting. The curtains were already drawn back so Carrie stopped a couple feet away, obviously not trusting that no one would be spying.

“All the way to the glass,” I said.

She hesitated, but then crossed the remaining space until she was directly in front of the window.

“Put your hands on the window.”

I saw her breasts heave as she took a deep breath, then followed my directions. I closed the distance between us and placed my hands on her waist. I rubbed my thumbs up and down her spine before hooking my fingers in the waistband of her bottoms and pulling them off. She stepped out of them without having to be told and I straightened. I moved off to the side and then looked at her reflection in the window.

“Take a step back, but don't move your hands.” I reached up and unpinned her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders and down her back. “I want your ass out.”

She shifted her stance until she was standing the way I wanted her. I took a moment to savor how she looked. I wanted Carrie to enjoy this as much as I did. The thought of her begging me to spank her was heady, but there would never be another first time, and there was nothing like watching someone experience it for the first time.

“Do you remember what I told you?” I asked as I ran my hand down the length of her spine. “That, if done right, spanking could be as much of a turn on as oral sex?”

She nodded. “I remember.”

“I once threatened to spank you for disobeying.” I reached under her and gave a light tug to her nipple. “I didn't do it then, but I'm going to now.” I buried my hand in her hair and turned her head until she was looking at me. “I'm not going to be gentle.”

Her eyes darkened to nearly black and I swore silently at the desire I saw there. My guess had been right. She'd done all this on purpose, wanting to see what I'd do. She didn't want me to be gentle. My hand tightened in her hair and she made a sound that made my stomach tighten. What had I been missing with her all this time?

I kept my hold on her as I raised my other hand. I wanted to see the expression on her face the first time I made contact. I might not have planned on being gentle, but I wasn't going to start off as hard as I really wanted to. Not for someone who'd never done this before.

She gasped as my hand came down, a loud crack sounding in my ears. A slight sting went through my palm and my cock grew impossibly harder. It had been too long since I'd been able to indulge this part of me. I landed another smack on her other cheek. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, and as I spanked her harder the next time, she made a sound that was half-pain, half-pleasure.

I let go of her hair and she turned her head forward. My hand came down again and elicited another of those wonderful noises. My other hand moved underneath her, fingers roughly pushing between her legs until I found her clit.

“Oh!” Her head jerked up, her eyes wide as I rubbed against the little bundle of nerves, quick circular motions that her body wasn't quite ready for.

My fingers were still working over her clit when I spanked her again, twice in rapid succession, hitting the same spot. I could feel her skin heating up and my palm was getting hot. Her hands squeaked against the glass as they slid an inch downwards, but she didn't pull away. Even as she yelped when I struck her ass again, she stayed where she was.

I ran my hand down further, ignoring the whimper as I lost contact with her clit. By the time my fingers reached her pussy, my hand was soaked. I pushed two inside, making her gasp.

“So wet,” I murmured. “Are you enjoying your punishment?”

I didn't expect an answer, not when I had two fingers inside her and was still spanking her with my other hand, but she had other ideas.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.”

Fuck.

I was tempted to put her down on her knees and fuck her mouth until I came, but that could wait. Maybe later tonight, after I was ready for a second round. For right now, I wanted to bury my cock inside her and make her scream my name.

First, there was one other thing I wanted to do. A taste of things to come. I pulled my fingers out of her and she made a sound of frustration. As I stepped around to stand behind her, I groaned. Her cheeks were red. Not the kind of red that bruised or caused any harm, but the kind that would make it tender for the rest of the day.

I leaned over her body, hearing her hiss as I rubbed against her ass. I cupped her breasts as my chest rested flush against her back. My fingers immediately began to twist and pull at her nipples, fast, hard tugs that made her cry out.

“These,” I spoke low in her ear. “Are mine to see, to touch. Mine to pleasure.” I scraped my teeth against the side of her throat. “I’m the only one who gets to bring you pleasure. The only one who gets to see you come.”

Our eyes locked in the window's hazy reflection.

“How would you feel if another woman saw me naked?”

A sound very much like a growl came from Carrie. Her eyes flashed and I chuckled.

“Exactly.” I tweaked her nipples again. “The next time you decide to do something like that, these are going to pay.”

She shuddered, but the expression on her face made it clear it wasn't in protest. She might've just been learning the game, but she'd been made for it.

“It'll be a flogger to these pretty little tits you're so proud of.” I kissed her shoulder. “And if you're really bad, maybe even to your clit.”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“You said you wanted to know what I liked,” I said as I straightened. I ran my finger down her crack and circled her asshole. “And soon, we'll work on the pleasures that come from here.”

I watched her eyelids flutter. Damn. If just a light touch could do that, what would she do when it was my tongue? A finger? My cock? So many different ways I wanted to take her, and I couldn't wait any more. I was so hard that it hurt.

I nudged her legs with my knee and she walked forward until she was standing straight, her hands still on the window, her swollen nipples touching the cool glass. If she still had any qualms about being naked in front of the window, she didn't voice them.

I bent my knees slightly and positioned myself at her entrance. I pushed forward slowly, knowing if I went too fast, it'd be over too quickly. I needed the tight pressure of her, the resistance that came from her pussy stretching around me. Listening to her moan as I entered her though was almost my undoing. Worse was when she began to beg.

“Gavin, please.” Her fingers flexed against the glass. “Please, baby.”

I closed my eyes as I reached the end of her. She fit me perfectly, as if we'd been made for each other. People laughed at things like that, said it was just biology, but I knew that wasn't the case, especially for someone built like me. Our bodies were like two halves of a whole, and I saw now that we were even more sexually compatible than I'd dreamed. I could feel her pussy quivering around my cock, feel her muscles trembling beneath my hands. This wasn't someone who was tolerating something her lover wanted. She was hovering on the edge of an orgasm, ready to explode at any moment.

“Think you can come from my cock alone?” I asked. I could hear the strain in my voice as I pulled back until I was almost out and then pushed back inside. “I think that should be part of your punishment. If you can't get off like this, you don't get to come.”

“Please!” She looked at me, her expression desperate. She was closer than I'd thought.

I gave her a wicked smile and repeated those slow, even strokes until I was sure I could last long enough to make her scream. The entire time, she continued to plead with me, her entire body shaking as I kept her hanging right on that edge. Finally, I shifted my hips as I thrust again, pressing my cock against that spot inside her I knew would take her over.

She gave a strangled yell as she came and I swore. Her pussy contracted around my cock, squeezing it almost painfully. I could feel my own body reaching for its release, wanting to join her. I fought it back, determined that this wouldn't be it. Before she could come down from her high, I drew back and then slammed into her again. She keened, her body going rigid. I gripped her hips and began to pound into her, each thrust pushing her up onto her toes.

“Gavin, yes. Gavin. Fuck, baby. Yes.”

My name fell from her lips and drove me harder and faster. She'd once told me she'd never been vocal in bed before, and knowing that I could make her say things, do things, that she'd never imagined, was a heady aphrodisiac.

I could feel my balls tightening, the heat in my stomach ready to come apart. I was close. And so was she. I didn't think she'd technically stopped coming after that first orgasm, but her body was building toward something bigger, I was sure of it.

I pressed myself against her, changing the angle of my thrusts and giving my mouth access to her neck. I sucked on the side of her throat, pulling the skin into my mouth until I knew she'd have a mark. My mark.

“Mine,” I growled against her neck as I buried myself deep.

She cried out and I felt her come again. The sound of her pleasure and the spasming heat of her was too much and I came, feeling my wet heat surge from my body. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight as I emptied myself into her. I pressed my face against her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her as pleasure washed over me. I sank down to my knees, taking her with me, our bodies still joined as I cradled her on my lap.

We sat there as our breathing slowed and the sweat on our skin dried. Only when my knees began to protest the awkward position did I move her, feeling a pang of loss as I slid out of her. I stood, pulling her with me, and slid my arm around her waist.

I looked down at her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

She smiled at me and stretched onto her tiptoes to brush her lips across mine. “I'm great. Thank you.”

“No,” I said. “Trust me. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against my shoulder. “What do you say we go get cleaned up and then order room service?”

“That sounds perfect,” I said.

We were half-way to the bedroom when I heard my phone ringing. I fully intended to ignore it, but Carrie pulled away.

“I'll get the shower warmed up,” she said. “You answer the phone.”

“I don't have to.”

“Go.” She gave me a gentle push and then headed into the bedroom.

I kept my eyes on her still-red ass even as I walked over to the table and picked up my cell phone. I didn't recognize the number, but it looked like it was local.

“Hello?”

“Bonjour, Gavin.” A woman's throaty voice came over the phone. “This is Alizee.”

“Hello.” I frowned. Why was Alizee calling me instead of Vincent?

“I would like to discuss a few things with you and Vincent.”

At least she got right to business. I would've felt a bit awkward having to make small talk while standing naked in my hotel room. Business was weird enough.

“Tomorrow morning, you and Vincent will have brunch on my yacht.”

Did she just tell me what to do? I really hoped it was just a language barrier thing making what should be a request into a demand. She was already far more involved than a non-partner technically should've been, but I agreed with Vincent… it wouldn't be a good idea to piss off someone who could be considered a business rival or who had so many connections in Cannes.

“We will discuss things then,” Alizee continued.

“Okay,” I agreed. I listened as she told me where to go and then said a polite good-bye. I stood there for a moment after the call ended. I'd have to tell Carrie about the meeting but didn't think it'd be a good idea to let her know all the details. I didn't want her to have any reason to think there'd be a repeat of what had happened with Felice and Marguerite. Especially not after that little display of possessiveness I'd just put on. Any argument about a double standard wouldn't go over well.

With that in mind, I started toward the bedroom. There was no way I was going to ruin what was shaping up to be an amazing night.

 

Chapter 12

Gavin

I felt guilty for not giving Carrie the details about my meeting today, but I convinced myself I wasn't actually lying to her or denying anything. If she'd asked specific questions, I would've answered them. I knew it was a cop out, but I allowed myself to be deluded into thinking I was doing the right thing.

Then, I showed up at the slip where Alizee had told me come. Warning signs flew up when I didn’t see Vincent anywhere.

Alizee stood on her yacht, looking stunning in a gold bikini that showed off a figure most women would kill for. She smiled and motioned for me to come aboard. Hoping that Vincent was just below deck, I headed up. Alizee held out a glass of champagne.

“I'd better not,” I declined with a polite smile. “It always takes me a couple minutes to get my sea legs back. I don't want to spill anything.”

“Nonsense,” Alizee said. She held the glass closer to me. “Please.”

I had a feeling it'd be pointless to argue. Alizee struck me as the kind of woman who always got what she wanted, no matter how strongly someone protested. I took the glass but didn't drink anything. I was all for having a glass of wine with lunch, but wasn't so sure a liquid brunch on a boat was a good idea.

“We’ll be casting off shortly,” Alizee said. “My crew is made up of only the best. I am sure that sea legs will be quite adequate for smooth sailing.”

I looked around. “Where's Vincent?”

“Oh, he will not be joining us.” Alizee smiled at me, her eyes floating down to my lips. “He called a while ago. Apparently, something he ate last night did not agree with him. He fears he has food poisoning.”

I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. I felt bad that Vincent was sick, but I was also annoyed that the brunch hadn't been canceled. While I appreciated Alizee's help, she was going to be working much more closely with Vincent. I wouldn’t be involved in most of the day-to-day stuff getting the club going. Although I was willing to spend some time working, I didn't want to spend it with a strange woman when I had a beautiful girlfriend I could be with. A beautiful girlfriend who was going to spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon with a good-looking French reporter because I'd told her I had to work.

I forced a smile and opened my mouth to offer some sort of excuse as to why I should leave, but the boat lurched and we pulled away from the dock. Dammit.

“Come,” Alizee said. “We shall eat first, then talk business.”

I considered asking her to tell her crew to back up and let me off, but I knew that would come off as rude. Even if Vincent was the main one dealing with Alizee, I didn't want to do anything to offend her. Besides, she hadn't really done anything that would merit that kind of behavior. Even her flirting wasn't something I couldn't logically explain away with culture or personality.

I took a drink of my champagne as I followed her. Alcohol seemed like a good idea after all. I was really glad I hadn't said anything to Carrie about the kind of meeting I was having. When she asked later, I'd keep it vague and simple, tell her that the meeting was fine. Boring stuff talked about. She didn't need to know about how it was just me and a scantily-dressed Alizee on an expensive yacht. Well, us and the crew, but crews on boats like this were in the background, trained not to be seen, not to see.

“I had the chef keep the meal light,” Alizee said as she led me around to the back of the boat where a table and chairs had been set up. “I wasn’t sure how you or Vincent would be on the water.”

I looked down at the array of food spread across the table. Light, yes. Cheap, not even close. There was the rich people staple of caviar and crackers. Cheeses that I knew easily ran hundreds of dollars. Fruit that had to be imported.

“Help yourself.” Alizee waved her hand over the table and then picked up a strawberry. “These are delicious with champagne.”

As we ate, Alizee and I made small talk. She never tried to pry into anything personal, keeping the conversation mostly on my life in New York City, though she seemed to avoid mentioning Carrie. I wasn't sure if that was intentional, because she didn't want to say anything to acknowledge I had a girlfriend, or simply because the questions she asked didn't lead there. Either way, I let her direct the non-business part of the conversation. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea that I was interested in her that way. Everything I asked was associated with work.

“Have you been to Cannes before?” Alizee asked as the boat slowly turned, giving us a beautiful view of the coast.

“Yes,” I said. “But only for a few days, and I rarely had time to enjoy the sights before.” I gave my most charming smile. “And never with my girlfriend.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. Summers.” Alizee turned toward the coast and walked over to the side of the boat. “She is quite lovely.”

“Yes, she is,” I agreed as I followed Alizee.

“How involved is she in the club?” Alizee asked. “She did not seem too interested in our conversations before.”

“She's more of a silent partner,” I said. “She's very busy with her work.”

“And what does she do?”

“She's a lawyer. Works on sex trafficking cases,” I said.

“And how does that work with your sex club?” Alizee asked, lifting her glass to her lips and staring out onto the water.

“Better than you'd think.” I kept my answer vague. Vincent still didn't know that Club Privé had changed its focus. I wasn't about to tip my hand to Alizee.

We were circling around toward the dock and I was surprised we weren't staying out longer. I'd fully expected her to keep me out here for hours, especially once I'd discovered Vincent wasn't coming. Even if her flirting was just who she was and nothing personal, I'd gotten the impression she was the kind of woman who liked undivided attention from those she chose. And, at the moment, she'd chosen me.

“I’ve been to your America,” Alizee said. “To New York, though I did not visit your club. I like America.” She glanced at me and drained her glass. “But there are many things about my home country I like better.”

I frowned. I wasn't sure where she was going with this.

“America likes to pretend that it is sexually free, but there are still many who do not see that where women are concerned. We are to be demure, sexually innocent, even if in pretend. We are to be the responders, never the initiators.”

She turned towards me and gave me a look that said everything I'd been trying to pretend wasn't true actually was.

Shit.

“I work in a man's world, and I learned a long time ago that I must take what I want.”

I really wasn't liking where this was heading. I was still trying to figure out the best way to politely decline her interest, but before I could, she took a step toward me.

“I know what I want, and I always get what I want.”

I held out a hand to try to stop her but she ignored it and kept coming.

“I can make all your problems go away,” she purred. “For a small price, of course.”

What the fuck was she talking about? “Problems?”

She wrapped fingers around my wrist and shifted her weight until my palm was pressed firmly against her breast. She gave a throaty laugh as I quickly pulled my hand away.

“Don’t underestimate me,” she warned. “Just because I have breasts doesn’t mean I’m soft. Or weak. I know you. I know about your, ah, financial issues. You need this deal very badly.”

I turned from her, but she slithered closer, pressing against my back. Her hands snaked around, grabbing hold of the rail in front of me, trapping me between her and the warm metal. I could break free, of course, but I knew she had me trapped in a different way. Like I'd told Carrie, we weren't broke, but if this deal fell through, we were going to be in trouble very soon.

I didn't try to hide the anger in my voice. “What do you want?”

“Your surrender,” she murmured and I could hear her breathe in my smell. “You give me what I want. I give you what you want.”

Heat rose within me, but it wasn't anything remotely close to desire. I’d never hit a woman out of anger, but Alizee was seriously testing my self-control.

“What exactly do you think I want?”

She laughed. “You want it all, just as I do. You want your little girlfriend to be happy. You want your new dance club to thrive. You want to pay your bills and never let anyone know how close you are to desperation.” Her hands moved from the rail to my stomach, one hand slipping beneath my shirt and touching skin.

She had stressed the word ‘dance’ when she referred to the club and I heard the underlying threat in her voice. I wrapped my hands around her wrists and pulled them away from me. Then I turned to face her.

“I’m not for sale.”

She laughed again, her eyes glittering. “Of course you are. You would be foolish not to be. An hour of your time and attention removes all of your troubles.”

It was my turn to laugh. I repeated, “I’m not for sale.”

“Vincent will be very disappointed to hear this,” she said, moving so that her body was nearly flush against mine.

Fuck. My mind screamed at me to push her way and then I realized that I was fucked either way.

 

Chapter 13

Carrie

Sitting wasn't exactly comfortable after last night, but I definitely wasn't going to complain. What had happened between me and Gavin had been one of the most intense experiences of my life. When he'd first mentioned spanking me, back when our relationship was beginning, I'd been turned on, but also nervous. I hadn't been at all sure I'd like it.

But, oh, I had. I'd more than liked it. I'd been wet from the first strike.

There were, however, consequences. One of which was how tender my ass was at the moment.

“These are the things I found about Alizee's businesses.” Pierre handed me a folder of papers. “As you’re in the club business, I hoped you would take a look at them, see if you can find anything suspicious.”

I spread the papers out on the café table, but immediately realized the problem. “It's in French.”

“So sorry,” Pierre flashed that grin. “I’ll translate.”

For the next half hour, Pierre and I went over the papers. He'd tell me what they said and I'd tell him if it was important. Most of it wasn't. A couple of the papers contained financial information, so I set those aside to go over more carefully and look for any sort of discrepancies that could indicate how money was being siphoned off into areas it wasn't supposed to be.

“There are some things that could indicate trafficking,” I said as I turned over another paper. “Trips to places that are known for their poor human rights laws, places where people disappear and the authorities turn blind eyes.”

“But these things can be explained for other reasons, no?”

“That's the problem,” I said. “I’m not seeing direct proof.”

“I am seeing one thing repeated,” Pierre pointed at a line in one of the papers. “It seems that Alizee likes to use her yacht on some of her journeys. Because of her connections, I believe she receives only cursory checks at borders.”

“You think she's using her yacht to traffic people,” I said.

Pierre shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“Maybe we should go check it out,” I suggested. “Maybe if no one is on board, we can get close enough to see if there are any hidden compartments, places where people could be smuggled.”

“You’re suggesting we sneak inside?” Pierre gave me a sly smile. “You would make an excellent reporter.”

“I have to admit,” I said. “I’m enjoying not having to think about how things will play out in court.”

“Let us go then.” Pierre stood and gestured toward his car.

As we rode to the docks, Pierre chatted about the mundane things, nothing too personal, but the kinds of questions that could be personal if either of us wanted them to be. He never crossed the line, but I got the feeling he was sussing me out, trying to determine if I was interested. I ignored the subtle signals and kept things polite and professional. Friendly was fine, but I wouldn't let it go any further than that. I also wasn't going to say anything preemptively. If he made a pass, then I'd handle it.

We parked in the main lot and walked down the dock toward the slip where one of the papers had said Alizee kept her boat. We were a few feet away when I realized it wasn't there.

“Well, that was a wasted trip.” I sighed. I supposed we could start going over papers again, but I'd been looking forward to some sort of action. The idea of sneaking onto a boat gave me a thrill.

“Maybe not,” Pierre said.

I turned to look at him and found him with binoculars, peering out toward the ocean.

“The yacht is out there.” Pierre pointed. “I believe she’s there with someone. Perhaps a contact.” He held out the binoculars.

I took them and focused on the spot where he was pointing. I adjusted the sight, and then adjusted it again, desperate to sharpen the blurry image of the two people I instantly recognized.

It wasn’t possible. Was it? No, it couldn’t be.

There, in an intimate embrace, was Alizee…passionately kissing my boyfriend.

To be concluded in Club Privé – French Connection Vol. 3