by Zoe Blake
“I can walk, you know,” she teased as she wrapped her hands around my neck.
“Nonsense. The marble floors are way too cold for your cute little toes.”
Putting her down on a settee that had been placed in the center of the polished wood floor for the occasion, I signaled to the butler we were ready. In short order, a small army of staff swept in. Placing a small, linen-draped table in front of us, they then filled it with platters of fresh fruit, pastries, shaved ham, and eggs.
Elizabeth rubbed her hands with glee as I poured her a cup of tea.
“I love this surprise!”
I scoffed, “You must have a very low opinion of my surprises if you think a simple breakfast is it.”
Turning to the butler, I instructed, “You may let them in.”
One by one, a parade of models walked under the low-hanging crystal chandeliers and passed the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, to stop in front of us.
“Richard!” exclaimed Elizabeth as she jumped up, then sat on her legs so she could prop up on the sofa a little higher as she threw her arms around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “Is this what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s a private showing of the Yves Saint Laurent spring line, then the answer is yes,” I answered nonchalantly as I buttered a piece of toast. Although inside, I was more than pleased.
Truth was, until Elizabeth, I hadn’t really given much thought to fashion. I had professional stylists who chose the proper suits for me. Of course, I was photographed at the occasional fashion show, but that was more about business and politics than fashion. Yet, whatever my baby girl cared about, I would care about.
I know it pleased her when I showed an interest in what she wore or the latest designs from a particular designer, and what pleased her, pleased me.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. I am Jean and I have the pleasure of presenting the spring collection to you today.” He had a high-pitched nasally voice with a rather unsettling way of emphasizing the first beat of every word. The small man was dressed in unrelenting black as he motioned toward the models.
“First, we have Marie. She is wearing a cut-out bustier bodysuit in a pleated lamé velvet with an over-the-knee boot in leopard print suede. Next we have Christine who is wearing a tuxedo jacket in gabardine with sequins with this year’s signature look, a pleated Bermuda short in shiny lambskin.”
Elizabeth hugged me again as I peeled a clementine for us both. Giving her another wink, I handed her a small slice.
“This is so cool! I feel like Audrey Hepburn in one of those movies. You know the ones, where she strolls into a department store and they come out with a fashion show full of gorgeous gowns and furs for her to choose from,” she chattered on excitedly.
I chuckled. “I will have to take your word for it, baby girl. Can’t say I’ve seen many Audrey Hepburn movies. “
“Next we have Lorraine in a long lavaliere-neck dress in embroidered silk muslin. She is accessorizing it with a chic corset belt in python and a cowrie shell heart pendant charm necklace,” droned on Jean.
Nodding, I offered, “I think you would look beautiful in that one.”
Elizabeth beamed. “You think?”
“The green and gold will match your eyes.”
Elizabeth put her head on my shoulder.
This.
This moment right here was everything to me.
Once more I vowed to take Elizabeth somewhere safe, where her whole world would be me and me alone. She might not like it at first, but eventually after she accepted her fate, she would. I’d make sure of it.
In the end, Elizabeth chose a ready-wear, single-breasted jacket in dark blue velvet and silk with a pair of light denim Bermuda shorts and a pointed-collar crepe de chine blouse to wear out as we toured the sights of Paris.
Jean then promised they would finish the alterations by this evening to a long obsidian dress in embroidered zebra silk muslin and a short silk dress of royal blue and gold. The rest would be shipped to my London address by the end of the week.
After sipping coffee as we strolled on the Pont des Arts Bridge looking over the Seine River while we listened to the street musicians play ‘La Vie en Rose,’ I took her to view the Luxembourg Palace Gardens.
“Next time, if I’m given a little notice of your desire to see Paris,” I said in a teasing voice, “I’ll arrange for a private tour of the Palace de Versailles.”
Elizabeth looked up at me with that adorable gamine face of hers. “Are you still angry… about… about what I did?”
At that moment we were passing a small park on the square at Place des Abbesses. Taking her hand, I led her to a large two-story-high wall of cobalt blue tile.
Her cute mouth opened in wonder as she stared at the small rectangular tiles, each with the phrase ‘I love you’ written in different languages in white cursive.
Wrapping my arms around her shoulders from behind, I kissed her neck and murmured softly into her ear, “This is the Le mur des je t’aime. The I Love You Wall. It’s made of enameled lava tiles and features the phrase ‘I love you’ over three hundred times in two hundred and fifty languages.”
“It’s so beautiful!”
Reaching over her shoulder, I pointed to the slashes of red that crisscrossed haphazardly across the entire wall. “Do you see the red?”
She nodded.
“The red is a broken heart torn apart and then put back together by the love the wall represents.”
“That’s so amazing,” she breathed as her hands came up to clasp my forearms.
“This wall is us… no matter how we may fight… no matter how we may tear each other apart… in the end, there will always be love. Love that is universal in any language.”
She turned in my arms and pulled my head down for a kiss.
“Paris is yours, my love. What would you like to do next?” Looking at my watch, I said, “We still have several hours before the special surprise I’m having prepared for you.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and looked up at me shyly. “Can we go home? I didn’t want to say anything, but my feet are killing me!”
I looked down at her little feet. “I warned you not to wear those strappy things.”
Elizabeth intoned in a nasally voice mimicking Jean from earlier, “Sir, these happen to be a pair of Yves Saint Laurent Cassandra stiletto platform sandals!”
“You should have worn something more sensible.”
“Walk around Paris in sensible shoes?” she repeated in mock horror. “Death first!”
Swinging her up into my arms, I gave her a suggestive wink. “Guess I’m just going to have to carry you all the way back to my bed.”
“I think I know what I want to do with the rest of my time in Paris,” she purred before biting my ear.
Damn, I loved this woman.
By the end of tonight, she would know just how much.
Chapter 15
Lizzie
I stopped at the top of the dramatic circular staircase and looked down into the black marble-tiled entranceway. Richard was there waiting for me, impeccably dressed in a bespoke tuxedo with satin lapels.
He turned at the sound of my approach, and his eyes lit up as I made my way slowly toward him.
I knew the glow from the crystal chandelier highlighted the subtle embroidered zebra stripes of my completely sheer black gown, which swept the floor as I walked. A tiny pair of satin shorts and the long drape of the tuxedo tailcoat saved my modesty. I knew he was going to like the especially sexy, over-the-knee black suede boots I was wearing, which I made sure to flash him a glimpse of when I hitched my gown up high as I navigated the marble stairs.
Since I didn’t have any of the jewelry Richard had given me here in Paris, I wore only the pink diamond lovebird brooch on the lapel.
When I reached the bottom, he took me in his arms. “Do you have any idea what it is like watching you, knowing you’re mine?” His voice was a seductive, low timbre.
The posses
sive question sent a shiver down my body. This man. He was just so big and strong and intimidating and yes, scary as fuck, and all that intense energy was focused on me and me alone. It was powerful knowing you had the affections of such a man.
Powerful… and dangerous.
Forcing the dark thoughts to the back of my mind, I asked, “So what do you have planned for this evening?”
Richard winked. “A surprise.”
He led me out to the cobblestoned courtyard where a driver waited, holding the door open to a sleek stretch limo. Once inside, Richard held up a purple silk blindfold.
“Do you trust me?”
No.
“Yes, of course,” I stammered.
With trepidation, I closed my eyes as he tied the blindfold around my head. He guided me back into the crux of his shoulder as I felt the limo pull away.
Another game had begun.
A short time later, the limo stopped. I held my arms out in front of me and Richard helped me alight from the back seat.
Reaching up to stroke the silk fabric covering my eyes, I asked, “Can I take it off now?”
“Not just yet.”
We had only driven for a relatively short time, so I knew we were still in Paris. I could hear the sounds of the city all around me; laughter, shuffling feet, conversations in French, music playing in the distance. Despite the late hour, almost midnight, the city still buzzed and hummed with life.
Richard wrapped his arm around my waist and whispered into my ear, “This way, my love.”
From the hushed din, I could tell we had entered a building of some sort.
There was the sound of metal beneath our feet, then the swooshing sound of elevator doors closing. I gripped Richard’s forearm tightly as the floor shifted beneath me. After a few moments, there was a soft ding, and something over the speaker in French. Richard’s hand on my lower back guided me forward.
I could feel the cool rush of air hit my face. Gone was the sound of laughter and conversation, but I could still hear the music in the distance and an occasional car horn. A light breeze fluttered the long sheer skirt of my dress as Richard stepped up behind me. Immediately, I felt his warmth along my back as he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
Then I felt a tug at the blindfold. As the silk dropped away, I gasped at the sight.
Before me, in all her twinkling-light glory, lay Paris.
Running to the metal railing, I swiveled my head and looked up to see the massive metal structure disappear into the night sky.
We were alone on the Eiffel Tower’s second level.
“This is so cool!” I exclaimed as I jumped up and down before wrapping my arms around Richard’s neck and giving him a hug. His laughter was deep and rich as he held me close.
“Do you like my surprise?”
“I love it!”
“Good, because there is more.”
Taking my hand, he led me back onto the elevator. Higher and higher we raced, till we were so high my ears popped. This time when the elevator doors opened, I felt a little trepidation getting out. We were at the absolute top of the Eiffel Tower. Where before you could make out buildings and cars and little streetlamps and even the tiny forms of people walking about, now it was all just a bright blur of light stretching as far as the eye could see beneath a midnight blue sky.
Feeling dizzy and exhilarated, I let Richard lead me to a pair of doors guarded by two men in police uniform. As I looked to Richard, his only response was a secretive smile and a wink. Upon our approach, the men opened the door. I crossed the threshold into a cozy pied-a-terre. Its walls were covered in a faded red paisley wallpaper with many polished wooden cabinets.
As I moved further into the room, I stepped around the lush, jade velvet ottomans that were wrapped around the steel supports for the tower. With his arm on my lower back, Richard led me to a table placed off-center in the room. Pulling a high-backed upholstered chair out, Richard motioned for me to sit.
The table was beautifully set with gold-rimmed china and elegant crystal glassware. In the center was a small bowl of blush pink roses. Reaching out to stroke one of the soft petals, I smiled at Richard as he took the seat across from me.
“Nothing like a table with a view,” he quipped as he turned his head to look out the massive window to our right with its amazing view of Paris.
After casting a glance at the tuxedoed servers waiting along the wall, I leaned in, somehow feeling the need to keep my voice low. I whispered, “What is this place?”
Rolling the gold napkin holder down the rolled linen, Richard opened the napkin and placed it on his lap before answering. “This is the private apartment of Gustave Eiffel.”
“The guy who built the tower?”
Richard nodded. “Only the elite of the elite were permitted to visit him here.”
“This is so amazing! I didn’t even know this existed at the top.”
A server quietly approached our table with a silver bucket holding a solid gold bottle of Armand de Brignac Brut Gold Champagne nestled in ice. After showing the bottle to Richard, he poured us both a glass.
As I lifted mine to my lips, Richard stopped me.
“Let’s play a little game first, my love.” His tone was so deceptively light and playful.
I knew better.
My hand shook so violently the bubbles in the champagne flared up and slipped over the edge of the crystal flute to splash on my fingers. I put the glass down and waved away the server who had approached with a linen napkin.
“You like my games, don’t you, darling?”
Forcing my stiff lips to smile, I blinked back tears. “Of course, Richard.”
Somewhere hidden in a dark corner of the apartment, a violinist began to play softly. I listened for a moment and finally recognized the instrumental strains of the Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take.’
Richard rose and held out his hand.
I stared at it. His beautifully brawny hand that both protected and aroused as well as caused pain. Stealing myself, I placed my hand in his. I had chosen this path. I knew the danger. In my fairytale, Little Red Riding Hood likes it when the wolf bites.
We walked over to the massive windows.
Standing behind me, Richard moved my hair aside, brushing my neck with the backs of his knuckles, sending a shiver up my spine.
He ran his hands down my arms to wrap them around my wrists. Lifting my arms high, he placed my palms on the window. “Don’t move,” he breathed against my skin.
His hands caressed down my sides till his fingertips rested against the outsides of my thighs. Inch by agonizing inch, he pulled up the see-through gauze of my long dress. Once the fabric was around my waist, he pressed his thumbs into the waistband of the satin shorts I wore underneath it.
Getting a little of my own back, I shimmied my ass against his hard erection as I helped him push the shorts off my hips.
“Tease,” he growled before he nipped my ear.
The shorts caught at the tops of my knee-high boots, then slid to the floor. I gingerly stepped out of them.
As I stared out at the lights of Paris, I heard a soft rattling sound as the ice settled in the champagne bucket.
Richard’s hand reached between my legs.
I cried out as I felt the ice touch the warm skin of my cunt. Richard leaned his body in to pin me against the window so I could not escape the cold pain.
“Richard! Don’t!”
His free hand crept up to wrap around my throat.
I stilled.
“Shhh…”
I whimpered as he worked one of the round ice cubes into my resisting pussy. It was so cold, goosebumps rose on my thighs and arms.
Pushing the first one deep within my body with one long finger, he then pushed a second cube in.
“It occurred to me you might not fully understand the cold gripping fear I experienced the moment I realized you had fled the city yesterday.”
“Richard, please. It
hurts,” I rasped, trying to inhale past his grasp on my throat.
He pushed a third ice cube into me.
I rose on my tiptoes in a futile attempt to avoid the inevitable.
Every muscle in my body seemed to clench as I shook. It was hard to believe how numbingly cold just a few ice cubes could feel. It was torture. My stomach cramped.
“Do you feel that, baby girl? The painful cold that chills your blood and makes you feel sick?”
I nodded.
I heard the rustle of the ice bucket again. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I tried clasping my thighs closed, but Richard kicked at my feet, forcing my legs open. In quick succession, he forced two more ice cubes deep inside of me. Frigid water dripped down the inside of my thigh as the ice melted from the heat of my body. It did nothing to stop the brutal agony.
“This is what fear feels like. It takes over your entire body till you just want to curl within yourself. This is how I felt not knowing where you were or if you were safe.”
“I’m sorry, Richard. I’m so sorry.”
Involuntarily, I tried to push the offending ice cubes out, but Richard’s palm against my cunt kept them in place.
Suddenly shifting his body, Richard was in front of me with his back against the window. His chilly hands pressed against my tear-flushed cheeks. “Never do that to me again, little one. It would kill me.”
His dark eyes shimmered with intensity as he leaned down to claim my mouth. His tongue swept in to take possession. I returned his kiss with just as much fervor, clawing at his tuxedo jacket as I rubbed my stomach against his heavily engorged cock.
“That’s it, baby. Open your mouth for me,” he breathed against my lips.
He tasted like scotch and mint as the tip of his tongue teased the sharp edge of my teeth then skimmed along my bottom lip, before once more devouring me.
Breathing heavily, he pulled back. Placing his hands on my hips, he lowered to his knees between my legs.
“Oh, God! Richard!”
