Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

LIZZIE

W e arrived in Paris around midnight.

I awoke to a gentle caress on my cheek.

"Wake up, little one. We've arrived at your escape destination."

Sitting up on Richard's lap, I rubbed a hand over my eyes, too emotionally and physically drained to even worry about the slightly sarcastic comment.

I was already missing the warmth of his chest as I gripped his jacket, which had been draped over my nakedness. Standing on wobbly legs, I turned to search for my gown.

It lay on the floor of the train, dirty and in tatters.

Before I could even voice my dismay and shame at not having anything to cover myself with as we left the train, I felt Richard behind me. Grasping the jacket draped over my shoulders, he held it aloft so I could slip my arms inside. Turning me, he tapped my nose. "Don't worry, love. You won't be doing a walk of shame through the Parisian terminal. I'm the only one who gets to see this gorgeous body of yours."

Leaning to the side, he picked up his belt and wrapped it tight around my waist. He then picked up each arm and rolled the cuffs of his expensive dinner jacket till my small hands appeared. I felt like a child being dressed for the day.

Richard took a step back and surveyed his work. Shaking his head, he teased, "It's not quite right."

Then, walking a few steps down the aisle, he returned with my gold purse and the diamond lovebird brooch. Giving me a wink, he pinned the brooch to the lapel.

Looking past him to my reflection in the train windows, it surprised me how wanton I looked. My hair was a wild mane of tangled curls. My lips were swollen and bruised, which gave them a pouting supermodel appeal. While still scandalously short, his jacket covered my ass and the tops of my legs. The large diamond brooch minimized the impact of the cleavage-baring dip in the front. Overall, I looked rather stylish and sexy.

Taking my hand in his firm grasp, Richard leaned down to whisper in my ear, "The City of Love awaits."

My skin prickled with goosebumps. I wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation.

All of this was some strange, macabre fairytale, and Richard had a way of being both the villain and the Prince Charming all at once.

If I had been traveling with a normal human being, they would have probably thrown me into some French jail, then strip searched and questioned me for trying to enter a foreign country half-naked with no passport or identification.

I wasn't with a normal human being; I was with Richard.

The moment we stepped onto the platform, a small army of his staff besieged us. Several men dressed all in black raced to stand on either side of us, holding blankets high so it obscured us from public view as we headed toward an unmarked doorway.

As we walked, two older women and one younger man kept pace alongside of us, each holding up a phone.

"Is that Harris?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Richard snatched up the mobile. "The threat is worse than we thought and I want fucking answers. I want you and your team here now." Looking at his watch, he said, "Take the helicopter. It usually takes about an hour and a half to get to Paris from London. I'll expect to see you then."

Richard handed the phone back to one of the women and took the one from the young man who breathlessly said, "The palace, Your Grace."

"Tell her I need an Instrument of Consent by tomorrow," said Richard into the phone. After a brief pause, he barked, "I don't give a damn about royal protocol. Tell her it's for Richard," before he handed the phone back to the flustered young man.

The palace?

Royal protocol?

Holy shit! By her , did Richard mean the queen?

And what the hell was an Instrument of Consent?

Richard placed his hand on my lower back and extended his arm out to force the encroaching horde of staff to take several steps to the side as we passed.

The second woman was practically running to keep up with Richard's long strides… as was I.

"The chef is at your residence preparing the meal. It will be ready when you arrive, Your Grace."

Richard nodded. "And the other item?"

The woman's cheeks flamed. "I'm still trying to get ahold of them. There is no answer."

"In my contacts, there is the mobile number for Bellettini. Use it," he responded.

That was the name of the CEO of Yves Saint Laurent.

What the hell was going on?

I wanted to ask, but by then we were being whisked down a long narrow hallway through a set of double doors. I had expected to at least see some form of customs, so it was a shock to feel fresh cool air hit my face and bare legs.

Outside, waiting along the curb, was a small motorcade; two security SUVs at the front and back of a long limo, and several motorcycle cops. Richard and I were quickly hustled into the limo. The moment the door shut, it seemed eerily quiet compared to the chaos we had just experienced.

As disconcerting as I had found the chaos, being alone and isolated in a limo with Richard seemed worse.

"I don't understand. How? When?" I couldn't even form the questions.

Richard gave me a tired smile and stroked my hair before wrapping his hand around my neck to pull me close against his shoulder. He kissed me on the forehead. "You should know by now… I always get what I want, when I want it. No matter the cost."

As the motorcade pulled away from the Gare du Nord train station, I watched the lights of Paris through the car window and tried not to think about my future with Richard.

For the moment, I just wanted to be lulled by the beauty of the city and imagine we were a normal couple on a normal romantic holiday.

Despite the late hour, the city still hummed with activity. Couples walking arm in arm. Stylish women walking even more stylish little dogs. Outdoor cafés filled with laughing people leaning over tables littered with empty coffee cups and half eaten biscuits.

As we drove over the Seine on the Pont au Change, I caught my first glimpse of Notre Dame. It was sad to see the building looking so dark and cold, but you could see the outline of scaffolding enfolding her in its skeletal embrace.

As the motorcade turned right, I craned my neck to try to possibly catch a glimpse of the lights of the Eiffel Tower. I thought I could see the top but I couldn't be sure.

Richard chuckled. "Don't worry. I will take you to see the Eiffel Tower tomorrow."

Realizing I was sitting on the edge of my seat, leaning over him, I abashedly shifted back and leaned into the plush cushions, trying to appear more like the sophisticated, world-traveled women I assumed he had dated as opposed to the awestruck young American girl I was.

"Do you take the elevator to the top with all the common mortals, or is there some top-secret entrance for Godlike billionaires?"

Richard just smiled. "You must wait and see."

After several more minutes we turned down a quiet street in the shadows of a large twin-spired gothic cathedral. We stopped alongside two massive hunter green doors. Someone from the first SUV jumped out and opened the doors. The limo had to back up, turn, then back up again before squeezing through the narrow cobblestone passageway that was probably built over a hundred years ago and meant for carriages.

My mouth dropped open as the car pulled into a large circular courtyard. The house before me was all white with tall windows, actual gas-lit lamps flanking the doorway, and several balconies.

The entire place was ablaze with light. Through every window there was the champagne glow of warmth and welcome.

Again, I marveled at how Richard could accomplish all this when a few hours ago he didn't even know he would be in Paris.

For one insane moment, I wondered if he somehow knew.

That was impossible of course; until I'd found the feather and overreacted, I myself hadn't known I would try to flee to Paris. How could he possibly have known?

Still, there was this queer feeling in my stomach.

Somehow, someway, Richard was always a few moves ahead of me on the board.

While his home in Mayfair had a more sedate, refined elegance fitting an English gentleman of his stature, his home in Paris was opulent almost to the point of obscene.

Everywhere I looked there was polished marble and gold. Gold chandeliers, gold sconces, gold scroll and leaf design volutes at the top of the marble columns, which rose above the entranceway to at least three stories high to help hold up a ceiling decorated with a spectacular mural filled with fat cherubs and pink clouds.

"It's… ah… it's…"

Sweeping me into his arms, Richard strolled up the wide center staircase. "Don't strain yourself trying to say something nice. It's gaudy and garish as hell."

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I buried my head in his shoulder and laughed. It wasn't often Richard admitted that something within his sphere of influence was not up to his exacting standards.

"I bought it furnished and I haven't redecorated. You can have that honor later… but right now I'm getting you into a nice hot shower."

"Will I have company?" I asked cheekily.

"I'm never leaving your side again," came his earnest response as he tightened his arms around me.

I barely glimpsed the circular entrance to the master bedroom suite before he carried me down a long corridor of mirrors and doors that I could only assume were closets.

Inside the bathroom, there was even more gold and marble, but I barely noticed as Richard was busy unbuckling the belt around my waist and tearing at his jacket.

The large walk-in glass shower quickly filled with steam as I stepped inside, hissing as the scalding water hit my chilled skin.

Reaching for the bar of soap, I inhaled its masculine sandalwood scent as I lathered it between my hands and then rubbed small circles over my stomach before reaching between my legs.

Richard's large tanned hand enclosed mine.

"Oh!"

I hadn't heard him enter the shower. Looking down, his hand looked swarthy and almost menacing as it nestled between my soap-covered thighs. His hand moved up to cup my breast as he kissed my neck before turning me around and pressing my back against the cobalt blue tile. Raising his arms, he caged me in. Using the tip of his tongue, he teased my lips with small licks, before claiming my mouth for his own.

I placed my hands against his chest, pushing my fingers through the thick curls of inky hair that covered that hard, muscled expanse before returning his kiss. Leaning up on my toes to press my mouth more firmly against his. Loving the way his tongue swept in to swirl and capture my own.

Pulling his head back, he cupped my jaw with both of his hands.

His jaw looked tense, his dark blue eyes hard and serious.

"I will make sure no one comes near you ever again," he vowed.

Despite the heat of the shower, my limbs went cold.

If Richard were anyone else, anyone else in the world, I would have assumed he had misspoken. I'd have assumed he meant no one could threaten or scare me again, like with the dead bird.

But he hadn't said that… he said that no one would come near me ever again. As I knew too well, whatever Richard said… he meant.

Thinking back on the isolation of his estate, when he had me truly believing I was in the Victorian era with no access to any form of communication, friends, or help, I now wondered what an extreme version of that would be… and if I would survive.

"It was probably just a prank. I overreacted," I stammered, trying to placate him.

Richard shook his head slowly. "No. It was a mistake allowing you to return to the modern world. One I won't make again. You were happier without all its noise and corrupting influences around you. You were safer."

My heart beat so fast I thought I would faint. It was happening again. This was how it began the last time, Richard taking over and dominating my life… and me letting him. Soon, once more, I would be so far down the rabbit hole I wouldn't be able to remember what was and wasn't real. Once more, my only reality would be him and the kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain he forced me to endure each day.

"Richard, I…"

"Shh…" murmured Richard against my lips. "You're tired. We'll talk about this more later."

Somehow I knew there would be no further discussion, Richard had made up his mind.

Wrapped in a plush robe, my legs were curled up on the seat as I sat at a small round table inside the lounge area of our bedroom suite while bleary-eyed servants, no doubt roused from their beds, brought in one decadent dish after another. Raising the cloche off the dinner plate in front of me, the servant said something in French that I didn't understand, but I knew the look of my favorite dish from Aqua Shard: Barbary duck breast with apricot ravioli.

Richard nodded his approval to the staff before picking up his fork and knife and cutting into his own succulent duck breast.

"How in the world?" I asked, giving him a confused look.

Richard shrugged. "I promised you your favorite dish prepared by the chef of Aqua Shard."

It was an outrageously thoughtful gesture. The man had flown the chef over from London in the middle of the night just so I could have a dish I liked. It was also a gesture of his power and control over everyone and everything. As he liked to remind me, he got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter the cost.

After choking down a few bites of food, I told Richard I was tired and would like to go to bed. Brushing his mouth with his linen napkin, he rose and led the way toward two wooden doors, pushing them both open. He stepped aside and gestured for me to enter.

In keeping with the cobalt blue and gold theme of the bathroom, the bedroom was similarly furnished, but the only thing that caught my eye was the contraption to the right of the bed.

My steps faltered.

"Please, no," I protested weakly as I raised pleading eyes to Richard.