by Madeleine Oh
He was still hard but softening and soon he eased out, but for what seemed like ages, they lay together in a panting, tangled heap.
He did not regret his rash promise to help her and seconding Luc to join them. She was worth it.
Chapter Thirteen
If Branko had his druthers, he’d have stayed in that room for weeks on end. However they both had jobs to keep and easygoing as Luc was as an employer, he did expect his letters to be answered and his meals served on time.
After a day wandering Monaco and admiring the rather pretentious yachts in Monte Carlo harbor, they were back at Les Santons by five.
Helen was already settled in the kitchen with her eternal cup of coffee. “Hello,” she said as they walked in, “had a good weekend?”
“Wonderful,” Adele replied.
And why not? It was the truth but the interested gleam in Helen’s eye stirred in Branko an inexplicable urge to protect Adele. Although from what, he wasn’t too certain. She could take care of herself after all.
“I’ll be off, then,” he told her. “See you in the morning.” Or would he do better to stay for dinner? “Is Luc here?” he asked Helen.
“He is,” she replied, “and that’s why I’ve been lurking here since he got back. He’s rather testy and I thought I’d better warn you, Adele. If he complains about the food, it’s not your cooking. His mother set him off.”
“He doesn’t get along with his mother?” Adele asked.
“He does, but once in a while she gets on a high horse and demands he take care of something or other.”
“What’s it this time?” Branko asked. Might as well be prepared.
“She wants to get some income from a parcel of land she owns over near La Turbie and Luc has been given the privilege of making it productive. Seems he offered to build apartments on it and almost got himself thrown out of her house.”
“Does this happen often?” Adele asked the room in general.
“This is the second time since I’ve been here,” Helen said. “Last time she wanted to raise all the rent on her properties and he told her she couldn’t as the government had reintroduced rent controls. I think she wanted him to run for the National Assembly and get the law repealed. She settled down then. She will now. I hope.” She turned to him. “What do you think, Branko?”
He thought now was not the time to ask Luc’s assistance with Adele’s problems. “It’ll calm down. It always does. Give it a few days.” He smiled at Adele and hoped she understood.
She nodded. “Okay, so tread warily for a few days and make sure there’s a really good meal tonight. Got it.”
* * * * *
It was Wednesday before Branko judged things calm enough to broach Adele’s needs to Luc. Luc hadn’t resolved the problem over the land but his mother had stopped calling him every couple of hours to demand action and the household had settled into the usual routine and he, Branko, was about to shake things up again.
But he’d given his word to Adele and she was counting on him. Damn, he’d do it.
As it turned out, Luc broached the subject first.
“How’s the new cook getting along with Helen?” he asked.
“Pretty well, you’re pleased with her cooking?”
“Yes. She’s not the same as poor Madame Louise but she’ll do. Settling in all right, is she? Everything went well over the weekend?”
Luc was asking… “It was close to incredible, after a bit of a rocky start.”
That got his attention. “Trouble, was there? You know my rules.”
“No, nothing like that, it’s a bit involved.” He went on to fill Luc in with the events and revelations of the weekend. It took some time and then Luc had a few questions of his own, hardly surprising given the lack of solid information.
“So.” Luc swiveled back in his chair. “You really expect me to get Poulain and his agencies looking into this. She’s already been warned off with an ordonnance restrictive.”
“She takes that as confirmation he’s still alive. So do I, come to that.” So would Luc, surely.
“Certainly sounds like it but does she realize her long-lost father may not be the sweet papa of her childhood fantasies? He’s been gone well over twenty years and obviously doesn’t want contact.”
“She’s not a fool, Luc, but she’s an only child with virtually no family. Mother dead, one distant uncle whom she’d never met until recently, a senile grandmother and aunt she’s never seen. Adele has enough gumption to realize the man could well have remarried, have another family, gone to jail or who knows what? But we do know he was once a bookkeeper at Velours Noir.”
“Nice bit of detective work you did there.”
A thought struck Branko. “Did you know him?”
“Unlikely, my dear Branko. I was still at school when he would have been there. All we know is he worked there for a few years and lived in Nice.”
“Maybe still does. Won’t hurt to try.”
“It will cost money. Are you prepared to have me take it out of your wages?”
It might beggar him. Branko knew what Poulain and his associates charged but what the hell? “If required, yes.”
Luc didn’t need to crackle like that. “You are smitten, Branko.”
No point in trying to deny it. “She has impressed me, in many ways. If I can help her with this, I will.”
“You really mean it. Very well, call Poulain. I suppose you’ll want to take her down there to talk to him?”
“Yes. If it’s convenient.”
“See what you can set up next week. I need you this weekend, it’s the exposition in Marseille.”
Damn! He’d forgotten about that. No weekend with Adele. Double damn. “I’ll call Poulain.” He could do that much for her after all.
* * * * *
He’d expected her to be more appreciative. “So what happens next?” True, she was chopping onions so that might be why she sniffed.
“We go and see Poulain on Tuesday and he will take all the information you have and initiate a search. His contacts are very good.”
“I see.” She gathered up the chopped onions and tossed them in the pan heating on the stove. The spit and hiss from the fat rather matched her frown.
“Adele. He’s good, if your father can be found, he’ll find him.”
She ran her hand through her hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “I believe you, Branko, and I’m going to make a point of thanking Monsieur Prioux. I know I sound like a spoiled child but I want to find him now. I’ve waited years!”
Branko put his arm around her shoulders. “After all this time, it’s surely worth waiting a few more days if it gives you an answer.” He wouldn’t add it might be weeks or months. Missing person searches weren’t exactly easy. He kissed her on the back of her neck and knew she was smiling. “We’ll get you an answer.”
She turned and looked up at him. “It’s not that, Branko, honestly. It seems I’m so close but really I know little more than I have all my life.”
“We know he was in Nice, and if that letter you received is anything to go by, he’s most likely still alive, possibly in the area but guards his privacy.”
“Do you think that means he doesn’t want to see me?”
Quite possibly. He drew her close. “Could be he feels guilty and can’t face you.”
A loud sizzle from the pan got her attention. She lowered the gas and gave the pan a stir. “He should feel guilty but that’s no excuse.”
“Adele, my love. Sooner or later we’ll learn something. Be patient.”
“I’ve waited this long, I suppose a few more weeks won’t kill me. You’d better scram. I’ve a dinner to prepare.”
“I’ll ‘scram’ then. Sorry about the weekend. I’d hoped to invite you to my house and have you over my knee again but alas.”
“Waiting sometimes makes it even better.”
She was right there. Didn’t make it any easier, though. He wanted her, no, needed her and a weekend without her body next
to his was just something to be endured.
* * * * *
They got Poulain’s report ten days later. It was sparse and unenlightening and Branko hoped Luc didn’t feel he’d wasted his money.
“You want to show it to her?” Luc asked, after he’d tossed it to Branko to read. “It’s not what she hoped for, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. She’d known all along finding him was a faint chance at least but this? Her father presumed dead and a surviving stepmother. Odd wasn’t the word, no trace of a death certificate and a presumed bigamous marriage since there was no evidence of a divorce. Poor Adele. Or did it just underscore what she already knew of him? “Mind if I take it to her now? She’s been anxious.”
“Go ahead. If you like, tell her to leave dinner for Helen and me and then you can take her off to console her.”
“Thanks. I will pay for the search.”
Luc waved that idea away. “No need. We’ll charge it to employee search or something. It’s worth it to keep her. She’s good and you’ve been remarkably pleasant and good-tempered since she arrived.”
It was true. With Adele around, he was relaxed and keyed up at the same time. Tonight wouldn’t be sex games. Tonight, he’d give her a shoulder to cry on if she needed it. Otherwise they’d have dinner at Le Nid d’Aigle, the little auberge up high in the old village, and then he’d take her to his house and make slow love to her or do whatever she wanted as many times as she desired. She could cry on his shoulder all night if that was what she needed.
Things didn’t quite work out that way.
Chapter Fourteen
“Let me get this straight,” Adele said, after looking through the slim folder. “According to all this agency could discover, my father lived in Nice for three years. That just confirms what I suspected and you confirmed in the records of Velours Noir. He moved to Cannes and bought a flat. Two years after that, he disappears without a trace but leaves behind a wife.”
“That’s a bit iffy,” Branko said. “They found no trace of a marriage or a divorce.”
“So he left Mother and set up house with a fancy woman and gave her his name.” She sounded most put out. Understandable. “Then disappeared. Sounds most peculiar, to put it mildly.”
“He could have died outside France. Maybe married this woman overseas.”
“To use an expression Helen said the other day, he’s a piece of work.”
“What next?” It had to be her choice, even if it made no sense to him.
“I’m torn. Part of me wants to go raging up to this woman and ask her what the blazes she was doing with my father. On the other hand if she’s been a widow for fifteen years, it’s a bit late. Maybe I should just let it go.” She paused. “I wonder if Maman knew about her, but never told me.” She shook her head. “I think she’d have told me, if she knew. On the other hand, she was always so emphatic about not talking about him and not wanting me to know anything, so perhaps she did know all along but kept it to herself.” She let out a great sigh and looked at him across the kitchen table.
Maybe he should have waited until they left the house to show her the file but she’d wanted to know so much. “You can never really know what someone is thinking or knows. She might have been trying to protect you.”
“You know, it wasn’t just us he abandoned, but his family too. I often wondered if he was in jail but seems he really did leave his old life behind and make a new one. And now he’s gone and I’ll never know why he left.”
She reached across the table. “Let’s go and have dinner and just let me be happy being with you, Branko.” Sounded perfect to him.
It was ideal up at Le Nid d’Aigle. The evening was cool but pleasant in the sheltered garden, the tourists had left, most of them at least, and only two other groups were eating in the evening. He looked at her as she cut a square of pizza and spiked it with her fork. She looked up and smiled as she met his eyes. “Thank you for putting up with me.”
Was she joking? No, she was serious. “Adele, I wanted to help. So did Luc. I wish we’d found what you hoped for but we did the best we could.”
“Branko you did miles above what was reasonable. You’ve been a fantastic friend and Luc, well, few employers would have done what he did.”
The “friend” rather stung. “I hoped I was more than a ‘friend’.” Now he sounded piqued.
“Branko. I don’t let just anyone spank me, fuck me and bugger me, so please, rest assured, you are a lot more than a ‘friend’.”
“How about your Dominant and your lover?” Might as well go for broke. But if she said no…
“Only if I can be your submissive.”
“Maybe I should take you back to my place right now and have you prove your submission.”
“That,” she replied, “is a wonderful idea but…” What the hell was that “but” about? “Let me tell you what I really want to do.” Her eyes, deep blue and earnest, met his. “I want to go into Cannes, it’s not that far. I drove in with Helen when you and Monsieur Prioux were away. I want to see where this woman lives. After all if it was my father’s property and he’s dead, it should, by rights, be mine.”
“You’re going to throw some poor old woman out of her house?”
“I don’t think so. Not unless it’s some enormous palatial place that he had while Mother and I lived in three rooms, but I would at least like to lay claim to it. Maitre Poulain could do that for me, couldn’t he?”
Didn’t sound unreasonable. “We can ask.”
“So, let’s finish this pizza. It’s too good to waste and then, please, Branko, drive me there. It’s not late.”
* * * * *
It hadn’t been late when they left Eze but it was dark by the time they drove along the Croisette in Cannes. “Thanks for humoring me,” Adele said, resting her hand on Branko’s knee. “I needed to come and see for myself.”
“Just ‘see’?”
“At first. If it’s some massive place worth millions of euros…”
“You’ll claim it as your due as his daughter, so we can open a kinky club there and have our own private dungeon that only you and I can use.”
“We ought to let Helen and Luc use it too.”
She knew about Helen after that first evening but… “Luc?” he asked.
“Oh please, Branko! I’ve looked at his library, he’s as bent as a corkscrew.” That was one way of putting it. “Besides, Helen told me a lot about him.”
“You and Helen have become very tight.” What else had she told Adele?
“We had a good time over the weekend, talked, drove around the hills, and all the way to Antibes and back. I like her.”
That might make for some interesting encounters one of these fine days.
Meanwhile, with an address to find, he needed to concentrate on his Garmin.
Rue Georges Clemenceau was easy enough to find. Parking wasn’t quite as simple but he found an illegal spot and it would have to do.
“What now?” he asked Adele.
She shook her head. “Hell if I know. Better go and look, I suppose.” He let her lead. He’d be her backup if she needed it. 189 bis wasn’t so hard to find, it was a flat over a shoe repair shop. Not exactly glamorous quarters, the long-absent Jules Royer had lived modestly.
Adele hesitated several minutes and just as Branko expected her to turn around and say she wanted to go back, she stepped up to the door and pressed the buzzer marked “Royer”.
“Hello?” A female voice spoke through the intercom.
“Madame Juliette Royer?” Adele asked.
“Yes.”
“Apologies for bothering you but I’ve some papers from Maitre Poulain in Nice. May I come up?”
“What does he want? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Just a formality. There’s been a claim of ownership against this property and I’m contacting everyone to confirm identity of the legal owners.”
Adele had balls, no two ways about it. Lied well too.
&nb
sp; “What do you need from me?”
“Just identification so we can confirm for the property records.”
“Sounds most odd.”
The woman on the other side of the intercom was dead right.
“It’ll only take a couple of minutes. Please. You’re my last call. If I get this done I can go home and it’s getting late.”
Adele won her over. The door lock buzzed and she went in.
Branko followed.
They were halfway up the first flight of stairs when he caught up with her. “Adele,” he said, catching her by the elbow, “are you sure about this? You don’t know what’s waiting up there.”
She stopped and shook her head. “Let me go, Branko, I need to know. It’s bothered me all my life. If my father is dead, abandoned someone else or had another family, I have to know.”
He so wanted to protect her from possible hurt and heartache but recognized her need. “Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”
She moved down a step and kissed him. “Thank you for understanding.” He didn’t really but recognized need when he saw it and Adele needed to climb those stairs and face whatever and whoever awaited.
And he’d be right behind in case she needed him.
When they reached the second landing, a tall, gray-haired woman stood before a closed door. So, she’d come to meet them. Was she suspicious, cautious or just unwilling to let them inside her home?
“So,” she said. “You wish to confirm my identity. Here’s my carte d’identite.” She held out the small plastic rectangle. “I am Juliette Royer. Does that satisfy your notaire? Although why anyone needs to verify I own my own property is beyond me.”
Adele walked across the landing toward her and, as she reached the light from the landing window, the woman gasped. Shock wasn’t too strong for the look on her face. “Pauline?” she asked, her voice tight and harsh. She shook her head. “Forgive me, of course not. Look at this,” she said, holding out her carte d’identite. “Verify I am who I am and perhaps I can get back to cooking my dinner.”
“Pauline?” Adele repeated, ignoring the carte in the woman’s hand and stepping forward so they both stood in the light. “You knew my mother? Pauline Royer?”
