Chapter 4

His Muse

Christophe kept me close to his side from the moment we left the ceremony room. So close, in fact, that I could feel the shift of his suit jacket against my side as we moved through the hotel and into the elevators. I held my breath, not knowing what to say to my new husband, preferring to keep quiet and listen. That philosophy had kept me alive more often than not and was a good tactic in most scenarios.

The elevator was stifling hot, the air buzzing with an energy that pressed against me at every angle. Not knowing what was going to happen next put me into a state of high anxiety.

Christophe suddenly patted the hand I had around his elbow.

“Relax, cheri. The hard part is over, oui ?”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and nodded.

He left his hand over mine as the doors to the elevator opened onto the casino floor. Flashing lights and rock music blasted into the once quiet space, jolting me to attention. I’d let his calm demeanor and gentle way lull me into a sense of calm, in direct opposition to the chaos of the casino.

“Do you want to try your hand at gambling?” Christophe gestured with his chin to one of the gaming tables.

I frowned and looked up at him. “I don’t have money of my own yet,” I answered truthfully. “And I would never waste a single dollar on something so frivolous as a game of chance.”

His lips twitched. “That is a very interesting response indeed. Says a lot about you,” he murmured, his tone expressing pride.

“Oh? What does it say about me?” I asked, genuinely curious what this man thought of me.

He led us through a series of slot machines at a quick pace. I crunched my toes in order to keep my too-large shoes from slipping from side to side.

“Okay, I’ll play along.” He smiled. “You respect monetary security which likely means you are frugal. A good personality trait, to be sure.”

“Frugality can be a necessity, not just a personality trait,” I countered.

“Noted. Let’s see…” He tapped his bottom lip with a finger. “You’re not inherently a risk taker. Because if you were to gamble a dollar and win, you could have two in its place. The possibility of losing the initial dollar is too high of a risk to you.”

I simply stared at him as he accurately described my exact logic back to me.

“And you’re disadvantaged, so you know the value of a dollar. You wouldn’t waste one on playing a game when that dollar could provide something more important to you, such as food, clothing, or shelter. How did I do?” He grinned wide, obviously proud of his deductions.

“I’d say if you were gambling, you’d have won all the chips.”

He laughed heartily as we made our way outside where a white stretch limousine was idling.

“Congratulations!” a bunch of giggling young women dressed in cocktail attire hollered as we exited.

“I’m getting married this weekend too!” another one of them screamed.

“Highly recommend it!” Christophe boasted to the stumbling women perched on incredibly high heels and short minidresses.

“Woo-hoo!” they cheered in return.

Christophe held open the door of the limo. “ Mon coeur .” He gestured for me to enter the vehicle.

I hiked up the small train on my dress and slid along the leather seat until I was on the opposite side, leaving room for Christophe. He folded his hulking frame inside and shut the door.

“Take us to Marino’s,” Christophe instructed the driver.

“Marino’s?” I asked.

“My favorite Italian place. It’s owned and operated by a family man. The food is superb. I always try and eat there when I’m in town.”

“When you’re in town?” I repeated. “Where do you normally live?”

“The city of love, cheri . Paris, France.”

My eyes must have widened to twice their size, because at my nonresponse, he laughed heartily. It seemed my new husband laughed a lot, which I had to admit was deeply refreshing, but also made me feel like a stick in the mud. Everything that was happening felt like a new, uncertain experience for me and I tended to wade into those type of things with caution, not jumping in headfirst. I didn’t think Christophe took the same approach.

“Will you be taking me to France?” I gulped, thinking how very far away that was from Celine. Then again, I had no idea where she’d be going.

“Of course. It is to be your home. When we’re not traveling for work. Alas, that will depend on what you want to do,” he added.

“What I want to do?” My brows pinched together in confusion. What in the world was he talking about?

“Do you always answer a question with a question?” One of his brows cocked almost as though he was teasing me.

“I apologize, husband. I’m very uncertain what it is I’m supposed to do. I know I am your wife, and Angus made it clear we do whatever our husbands tell us. So, when you say, ‘what I want to do,’ my only response can be whatever you wish for me to do.”

Christophe frowned and made an ugly sound as though he was disgusted. “ Fucking hell ,” he cursed. “I will admit I only scanned the contract details upon entry with my associate Darren Holt. I didn’t enter the auction planning on bidding at all. Frankly, I was surprised they let me in. And I am completely gobsmacked that I ended up purchasing your hand.”

My mouth fell open, but I quickly clamped my lips shut.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, fear and uncertainty at war within me. Would he send me back to Angus when he realized that he’d made an error? How could he commit to a woman for five years without having planned to get married in the first place?

“I don’t either.” Christophe reached out and took my hand, interlacing our fingers. “I just saw you up there, and I knew.”

“You knew what?” My question sounded weak and thready.

“That I’d found my muse. The great love of my life.” He lifted our hands and kissed the center of my palm. “God, or perhaps the universe, has mysterious ways of providing what we need exactly when we need it, oui? ”

“You think I was sent to you by God?” I gasped in disbelief. “I am nothing.”

His head jerked back as though affronted.

“You do not see what I see, mon coeur. And you could never be nothing. You sit here, by my side, beaming with such a great light, it almost blinds me in its beauty. I cannot wait to create art in your likeness. It will be my best work.”

“This makes no sense,” I croaked. “You’ll change your mind. I’ll end up back on the streets.” The waterworks threatened to fill my eyes while thoughts of being abandoned pummeled my nerves.

He shook his head frantically and pulled me up and onto his lap sideways. His long, strong arms wrapped around me as he tucked his face into the crook of my neck. “No, no, no. I promise you are safe. I am a man of my word, Alana. Just because I let miraculous things occur naturally doesn’t mean I would forsake such gifts. And that is what you are. A gift to me. My muse. From the second I laid eyes on you I had this need to create. To mold. To craft. I haven’t felt that in over a year. I was stuck, cheri . My art collecting dust. My inspiration gone. I was walking through life awake but lost.”

“Lost?” I whispered, knowing exactly what that felt like.

“Then I saw you, and, suddenly, I was found. My hands itched to get to work. Instantly I wanted to sculpt your face out of clay. I want to paint your delicate features so the entire world may look upon your glory and see what I see.” He traced the edge of my jaw with a single finger until I looked into his eyes.

“I have never known beauty such as yours. It would be a travesty not to share it with the world.” His voice was a deep rumble, a thunderstorm barreling through his chest and into mine where we pressed together.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He nuzzled his nose against mine. “I think you are an angel come from the heavens to bring great change. I do not know your entire story, but I wish to earn such a privilege one day. I believe together we can share something unique. Something neither of us knew could be possible.”

“I’m not what you think I am,” I responded, needing him to understand he was wrong. There was absolutely nothing heavenly or special about me. I was an orphan who’d been abandoned by her own mother. I was an abused woman who had barely survived horrors that no human being should have to experience. Damaged goods. He’d eventually see the truth.

“I think you are Alana Toussaint. My wife. My heart. My muse. I will accept no less.” He dipped his head and kissed me.

That kiss was unlike our first at the wedding ceremony.

It was harder, holding more meaning and context than before. And when he opened his mouth, I didn’t hesitate to do the same.

He groaned as his tongue slid along mine, the pleasurable sound hammering through my body. The kiss rose and fell like a summer breeze. His hunger for me took the desire higher, building to something that could explode at any moment. When that feeling came over me, I eased back, softened the press of my lips to his, and shifted to a gentler pace. He paid attention to my movements, allowing me to drive our passion in whatever direction I wanted.

I tested this theory by threading my fingers through the longer layers at the sides of his head, glorying in the silky strands slipping along my skin. He tipped his head to the side, and I followed, flicking my tongue inside his mouth and sucking on his tongue. His hips jerked, Christophe’s manhood responding to my touch. I wiggled my behind, pride filling my veins when he moaned. I may not have been experienced at kissing, but I knew how to make a man wanton.

When I nibbled on Christophe’s bottom lip, he clamped his hands on both sides of my face, kissed me firmly, and then pulled away, inhaling in a huge breath of air. “Jesus, your mouth will be the death of me.”

I smiled and his eyes twinkled.

“No woman who can kiss like that is nothing. I will teach you how very important you are, Alana. But first, we must eat!” He rubbed his nose along mine right as the car pulled to a stop.

“You want to eat right now?” I asked breathlessly, still in his lap, arousal coasting through my body in blissful waves I didn’t want to ignore. Mostly because I hadn’t felt this way for a man…ever.

“I see you are hungry for more pleasure,” he stated openly, and my face instantly heated. “You are very responsive to my touch. This is going to be good for our marriage, as I am eager to sample the pleasures of your flesh as well. Though, marriages cannot be built on physical connection alone.”

I frowned, not understanding what was happening. Christophe was a cyclone of emotional highs and lows. One minute he was plying me full of beautiful accolades, the next kissing me, then changing the subject all together to something entirely unrelated.

The door of the vehicle opened, blasting us with dry Las Vegas heat that blazed over every inch of my skin, making me instantly sweat. I despised being sweaty. It reminded me too much of South Korea, and I never wanted to go back there.

Christophe hauled us both out of the limo, cradling me in a princess hold. I squealed when he stood up and looped my arms around his neck, holding tight so I wouldn’t fall.

He chuckled, then loosened his grip around my knees and allowed my feet to glide to the ground.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around and seeing nothing but a sleepy, dark street. He put his hands to my shoulders then slowly turned me until I faced the brick building with dark green awnings.

“My favorite restaurant. As I told you, I’m hungry and I want to share something I love with my new bride.”

He was so incredibly forthcoming in his responses. There seemed to be no nefarious undertones, no hidden meanings. What you saw was what you got with Christophe Toussaint. It was unsettling. No one was this honest and predictable. At least not the men in the circles I’d been running around in.

Christophe offered me his elbow and I couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get used to being treated like a respectable woman.

“Ready?” He held his free arm out toward the establishment.

“I am, thank you.” And I wasn’t lying. I didn’t think I’d ever looked forward to sharing a meal with someone more. The only thing that would have made this evening better was if I’d known how Celine was faring with her husband.

Mine was turning out to be an enigma who thought I was special. No, he thought I was his muse. I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but I was smart. If Christophe thinking I was his muse would make him keep me for the next five years, ensuring I’d receive the full payout owed to me, I’d do whatever it took to be what he needed.