French Blue

by Bond, Natasha

  Losing both didn’t even bear thinking about.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Olivier snatched up the phone, heart racing when he saw Lisa’s name flash up on his mobile screen. He’d just got back from an evening walk around the city to try to distract himself from worrying about Lisa and her family. He’d spent the day in his room, trying to sort out his university classes and conduct his gallery business via Skype, but his focus kept wandering back to his phone.

  “Lisa?”

  “Good news. Bella’s shown some signs of improvement.”

  Olivier could feel the relief underlying the exhaustion in Lisa’s voice. “That’s wonderful news.”

  “Well, it’s only the start of the recovery process. We’re not out of the woods, and we can’t be sure there’s been no long-term damage, but the treatment does seem to be working. They’ve taken her off the critical list, but she might be here for a week.”

  “How are your sister and mother?”

  “Shattered but relieved. We all are. Abi’s getting some sleep in the relatives’ room while Mum stays with Bella.”

  “And you? You need a break, cherie.”

  “I can hardly keep my eyes open. Mum wants me to come back to the house to have a rest and collect some fresh clothes for her and Abi.”

  “Can I help? I can get the car to come for us.”

  There was a pause on the line. “You mean you’re still in Oxford?”

  “Yes. I said I wouldn’t leave. I meant it.”

  He thought he heard a brief exhalation of surprise, then she spoke again. “I won’t say no. If I give you my parents’ address, can you meet me there?”

  “Good decision.”

  “Olivier…”

  “Oui, cherie?” He waited, a spark of hope firing.

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  “Ca ne fait rien.”

  “It does matter; more than you can imagine, but after you’ve taken me to my mother’s and back to the hospital, please go home.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

  Two weeks later, Lisa opened the door of her family home to find Olivier standing under the porch. His black hair was plastered to his head and his jacket was soaked. Water pooled on the tiles from his boots.

  “I have been home. Then I got your text last night saying Bella was out of hospital.” He smiled, and Lisa’s heart did a triple backflip.

  “I’ve had to delay the start of my new contract by two weeks. It’s not the best way to begin life with a new client, but under the circumstances, they said they could manage until Bella was out of danger. Even if they’d said no, I would have stayed here.”

  She hovered with one hand on the door, frozen. Over the past few weeks, she’d conned herself into believing that she didn’t care about him; that she’d been swept along in the moment, intoxicated by their relationship. That was what a Dom did, dominated you. No matter how much she’d tried to separate the physical from the emotional and the play from reality, she’d failed. She’d been right, of course. Once her anxiety for Bella had, thank God, diminished, the reality of losing Olivier had slammed into her.

  Him standing on her doorstep, soaking wet and even sexier than she’d remembered, and far more dangerous, was making things ten times worse.

  And ten times better.

  “Are you going to ask me in, or do I have to die of hypothermia first?”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I got a cab from the airport, and the driver dropped me in the wrong street. Fortunately, some very nice English ladies were kind enough to direct me to your pad.”

  Lisa shook her head. “I bet they were.”

  “Lisa? Who’s that at the door?”

  Lisa panicked as her mother’s voice boomed from the sitting room. “Shit.”

  “I can leave if you really want me to. I probably shouldn’t have come to the house.”

  “No. I didn’t mean to be rude. You’d better come in and dry off, but please, don’t say anything about our…arrangement.”

  He seemed angry but then sighed. “As if I would dream of doing such a thing.”

  “Sorry, I know you wouldn’t, but I’d die if my family found out.”

  Olivier made a cross sign over his soaked jacket. “Not a word.”

  Lisa opened the door. It was a terrible decision to let him in; even worse to let him meet her family, letting him into her life and heart again. Not that he’d ever left. Already she scrabbled for a way of describing him, and the reasons why a man none of them had even heard a word about had flown from Paris to see her.

  Two jaws dropped in unison as Mrs. Archer and Abi entered the hallway to find the tall, exotic and dripping stranger on the hallway mat.

  “Mum, Abi. This is Olivier Lemaitre, a friend of mine.”

  Olivier treated them to a charming look of apology that Lisa thought could melt a glacier. “Desole, but I was passing by on my way to a meeting in Oxford and remembered Lisa lived around here. I’m way too early, so I asked the taxi driver to drop me at the end of the street, but he got the address wrong. Now, I will make your lovely home all wet.”

  Mrs. Archer dashed forward. “Oh, don’t worry about that! Let me get you a towel. So how do you know Lisa? She hasn’t mentioned you.”

  Lisa struggled for an answer. Olivier had only been at the hospital briefly, and both her mother and Abi had been in the ICU during his visit.

  “Olivier’s a business acquaintance,” she said as Abi stared at Olivier as if he were an alien. “You know my friend, Mimi? Olivier does some um…charity work linked to the bank I was working for.”

  The lie brought heat flooding to the roots of her hair. Where was the slick PR consultant used to fending off awkward questions on the hoof now, when Lisa needed her?

  Abi raised an eyebrow. “Charity work? I must say, you don’t look like a charity worker.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive, Abi. May I call you Abi? I feel like I know you and Bella, Lisa talks so much about you.”

  Lisa forced a laugh. “I’ve mentioned you a couple of times, when I happen to have bumped into Olivier during the course of his work.”

  Olivier threw a bone-melting smile at Abi. “She talks of little else.”

  “You must have bumped into each other a lot, in that case.” Abi eyed them shrewdly and Lisa knew she was in for a grilling from her sister as soon as Olivier left.

  Mrs. Archer tsked. “Lisa, don’t keep Olivier standing on the doormat. Olivier, let me take your jacket and hang it to dry in the airing cupboard. Come into the kitchen and get warm by the Aga. Girls, could one of you possibly manage to put the kettle on?”

  Lisa forgave her mother for treating them like warring sisters this time, half-grateful for any distraction from Abi’s laser glare. She would never live this down now, and it would be even more difficult to explain that she was never going to see Olivier again if her family clearly guessed he was more than a business acquaintance. As her mother took Olivier’s jacket and Abi forged ahead of her to fill the kettle, Lisa was left like a spare part, wondering how Olivier had inveigled his way into the heart of her home.

  What would her family think if they knew his real relationship with her? Her mother’s hair would stand on end, and Abi would pass out with shock. She knew neither of them could possibly understand her lifestyle choices and couldn’t be expected to. And while she had every confidence that Olivier would not tell them, the very fact of him having landed on her doorstep was enough to make them guess he was probably her lover.

  Oh shit, Abi had that look on her face. The one Lisa knew only too well meant trouble. Still, at least Olivier’s appearance had offered a welcome piece of light relief from the stress of the past couple of weeks.

  “Don’t make it in the mugs. Use the teapot,” Mrs. Archer warned. Lisa cringed at her mum’s fussing but opened the cupboard to retrieve the pot.

  Abi had mischief in mind. “So do you come to Oxford often on business, Olivier?”

 
; “I come to Oxford quite often, though rarely on business. My brother and his fiancée live in the city. He was a fellow at St Cuthbert’s, but he lectures for the university now.”

  Lisa poured hot water into the pot as her mother gazed at Olivier. The mention of Alex brought another rush of heat to her cheeks.

  “A fellow? He must be brilliant,” said her mum.

  “Oh, he is. In fact, you might have seen him on TV. He did a BBC series last year about forbidden books.”

  “Oh my God. Professor Alex Lemaitre. Was that him?”

  “Bien sur.”

  Mrs. Archer smiled. “Yes, I can see the likeness now. So, what do you do besides your charity work, Olivier?”

  He sighed. “Oh, this and that. I occupy my time somehow.”

  Telegraphing a glare of exasperation, Lisa handed Olivier a mug of tea. “He’s joking, Mum. Olivier runs a prestigious gallery in Paris, and he teaches at the Sorbonne.”

  “You’re an artist? Wow, Lisa never said anything. What do you paint? Or do you sculpt or draw? Before Bella came along, I did a year at art school, and I loved it, but I had to give up.”

  “That’s a great pity.” He sipped his tea before continuing. “Although I used to draw and paint, for the past few years, I’ve taught instead. In fact, Lisa came to one of my classes a few months ago.”

  Both Abi and her mother stared at Lisa in disbelief.

  “Lisa was at an art class? She dropped art before her GCSEs.” Her mother’s face was incredulous.

  “What kind of class? Was she any good?” Good old Abi, thought Lisa, as blunt as a battering ram.

  Lisa died a little as Olivier replied, “It was a life class, as a matter of fact, and for a novice, she showed a remarkable aptitude for the human form.”

  “Did you say a life class?” Mrs. Archer’s voice hitched up a notch.

  “Yes.”

  Lisa didn’t care who saw her; she threw a don’t-you-bloody-dare-tell-them glare at Olivier, who sipped his tea innocently.

  Abi arched an eyebrow. “Well, well, my sister is a woman of hidden talents. We obviously don’t know as much as we thought about what she gets up to in Paris.”

  “Obviously not,” said Lisa, stung into action.

  “So why don’t you paint anymore?” Abi asked.

  It was the most natural question in the world, but it made Lisa hitch a breath.

  Olivier’s reply was as smooth as silk. “I decided to take a break, and what with running a gallery and teaching so many talented young people, perhaps I decided that my own efforts weren’t living up to my imagination.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t give up, not if you’re brilliant enough to have made a name for yourself. Are some of your pictures on the Internet? I’ll look them up.”

  Mrs. Archer cut in. “Will you be staying for lunch, or do you have to get to your meeting?”

  “Yes, what time is your meeting?” Abi asked.

  “Not until this afternoon. I’m in no hurry, but I won’t stay, if you don’t mind, though it’s very kind of you to ask. In fact, I had thought of taking Lisa out for a business lunch. I’ve a project I’d like to discuss with her.”

  “A charitable venture, is it?” Abi’s voice dripped innuendo.

  Lisa wanted to drop through the floor, but Olivier was unruffled. “I’d describe as more of a business proposition.”

  “Perhaps we should go out to discuss it,” said Lisa rapidly, unable to bear the torment any longer. “Shall I get your jacket?”

  “It won’t be dry yet,” said Abi, unhelpfully.

  “I’m sure Olivier will manage.”

  Sitting on the terrace of the gastropub overlooking the river, Lisa and Olivier were on to desserts. Olivier had opted for an espresso but insisted Lisa try the crème brulee, over which she had ooh-ed and ahh-ed and “I really shouldn’t have-d”.

  As she glanced round at the other diners, Lisa suddenly caught her breath. She and Olivier looked like any other couple, but they weren’t.

  They really weren’t, and the situation was killing her. He’d burst back into her life just when she thought she might be starting to get over him. Just when she’d hoped she could spend a night without lying awake thinking of him. Or a day when she didn’t have to swallow down a lump in her throat or squeeze back the tears.

  Tears that threatened even now in the middle of the restaurant and prickled at the backs of her eyes. She tried to cover her emotions with a joke. “I am so sorry for my mother and for Abi. They really gave you the third degree back there.”

  “You can’t blame them. I turn up on your doorstep from Paris. I don’t think they bought my story about being on business and certainly not about my meeting.”

  “No, I don’t think they did. I’m going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.” Lisa punctured the crust of her crème brulee with her spoon, wondering how on earth she would explain away Olivier’s visit to the family home. Should she carry on denying she was ever involved with him when this was over—it was already over, she reminded herself, the thought chilling her veins.

  Olivier sipped his espresso, seemingly unaware of her misery. “I’m so happy to see your sister and mother smiling,” he said, returning the tiny cup to its saucer. “If they’re concerned about your affairs, then things must be getting back to normal.”

  “There is that,” said Lisa, putting a brave face on things. “Their unhealthy obsession with my love life now seems like the least of my worries compared to what’s happened… Nearly losing Bella was the most terrible experience of my life. Now I know what real fear is, and God knows what Abi went through. I felt completely powerless to help or comfort her.”

  “But you tried, and I’m certain you did help her. You are a wonderful sister and daughter, flying back here, staying and supporting her and your mother. You put them first and they will always remember that and hold it in their hearts, even though they may not know how to say it to you.”

  “I’d never leave Abi or Mum alone to face something so terrible. I love my mother and sister. Like you love Alex, I guess.”

  He smiled briefly. “Yes. I suppose I do, though I don’t think I could come out and say it in so many words.”

  “It’s a guy thing…” She hesitated, nervous about probing deeper. “When you were ill. What did he do?”

  “Put his life on hold, as you did for Abi. When I got the news about the illness, he flew over from Oxford. He was supposed to be interviewing his students, but he left his job and came over for two weeks. He wanted me to come and stay with him in Oxford, but I didn’t want to leave Paris. I had my treatment plan there, and I couldn’t face leaving my home. If something happened…when it happened, I wanted to be there so Alex came back and forth almost every weekend.”

  “How soon after you found out about the prognosis did Caro leave?”

  “The next day.”

  “Oh Jesus. I’m so sorry!”

  “Don’t be sorry. Not you. I don’t want your pity, and I didn’t want hers. I have thought about things recently, and now I feel that it was better that she left then. I don’t want a lover who stays out of duty, no matter how much I wanted her to stay then.”

  “Maybe she couldn’t cope.”

  “She had no duty to cope. She owed me nothing but to get on with her life.”

  “I don’t think I would desert someone I loved,” said Lisa quickly. “Do you know what she’s doing now?”

  “I heard she was back in Lyons working as deputy director of a big public gallery, but I haven’t seen her and she hasn’t tried to contact me again. We’ve both moved to new phases in our lives.”

  Had they? Had Olivier really got over Caro’s betrayal and had he really forgiven her for leaving him when he needed her most? Had she forgiven Jody for breaking her heart and almost wrecking her career?

  You did that yourself, Lisa. You chose to get involved with Jody. You knew the risks, and you chose to take them.

  That was the truth. Jody owed her nothi
ng; what he had done was shitty, cowardly, cruel, but she had chosen to have an affair with a guy who owned her company, with a man who held that much power over her. She’d taken the chance with Olivier, thinking there was no risk but knowing even at the very moment he’d flamed her with one glance across that gallery that she was stepping into a pit of fire.

  She dug her spoon into the remains of her dessert, though her appetite had disappeared.

  Olivier glanced at his watch, as much, Lisa thought, to punctuate the conversation as check the time. “Do you actually have a meeting this afternoon?”

  He glanced at her, mock hurt in his eyes. “Of course.”

  “Oh.” She laid the spoon in the bowl, abandoning half the crème brulee.

  His expression changed from teasing to intense. “My meeting is with a certain Lisa Archer at a hotel round the corner from here.”

  Lisa felt her breathing quicken as Olivier’s hand crept over her fingers. “You know…” she murmured. “I have a feeling Lisa doesn’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  Olivier dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “What she thinks is immaterial. All that should concern her is that her Dom demands her attendance.” He lowered his voice. “And her total obedience.”

  Beneath the shelter of the tablecloth, Lisa’s thighs were rammed together. She longed to rub her aching pussy against the seat, while Olivier cast her a look that could set the table on fire. “You have an appointment with your Dom, and it would be unwise not to keep it.”

  Under the table, Olivier’s hand rested briefly on her knee before sliding under the hem of her skirt towards her stocking tops.

  “Can I get you anything else?” A waitress had appeared at their side, smiling.

  Olivier’s hand stayed where it was and one finger teased its way under the lace of her panties. She tightened her thighs and buttocks as his fingertip sought the sticky warmth of her pussy. Any moment, she might pass out from lust.