Unwrap Me Daddy_A Holiday Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  He looked at her wide-eyed. Hope was beginning to dawn in him. There was a chance!

  “You make it up to me by staying the heck away from me. I don’t ever want to see or speak with you ever again. Understand, Richie!?”

  “Mandz!”

  “It’s Amanda Sorensen to you!”

  She was surprised to see him look so deflated. For the last year, she’d imagined just such a scenario. He begged and pleaded for her forgiveness while she blew him off. Sometimes, she was cruel. At others, she took the moral high ground and actually forgave him but refused to take him back, forcing him to beg and plead yet again.

  And here it was – her fantasies of revenge made flesh. So how come you’re still glum? Rejoice! Kick him in the balls, ha haaah! Amanda told her evil twin sister to shut up.

  Amanda felt confused. She thought she’d achieved closure when she crossed the English Channel to move to France. She was still angry at Richie for betraying her, still felt humiliated at having invited friends and family to a wedding that never happened.

  Hurt him some more! raged her twin. You know you want to.

  A loud crash made her jump. A car had just smashed into the rear side of another, ripping off part of its fender. The crowds around them had a new spectacle to ogle at, leaving Amanda and Richie in obscurity, once more.

  What’s the matter with you!? He hurt you! Now hurt him back! Hurt him!

  “Just like those cars, eh?” Amanda said aloud.

  “What was that?”

  Amanda shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, anymore. Richie. Just leave me alone. Thanks for the flowers, but...” she sighed. “It just... it just really doesn’t matter anymore.” She walked off, framing expletives in case he followed.

  He didn’t.

  In her fantasies, he had followed her on hands and knees with tears in his eyes while she walked on with a smug smile on her face. Sometimes, he crawled on broken glass while she chuckled and walked off with an adoring David Beckham at her side.

  Just before she’d left for France, her fantasies had changed. In them, she’d eventually relented and taken him back, but only so that she could dump him at the altar. Or by arranging things so that he caught her in bed with someone else.

  She had a smile on her face now, it was true; even though Richie didn’t follow. But it wasn’t a smug smile. It was a smile of realization, because Amanda didn’t want to be like those cars. She didn’t want to go on hurting anymore. Nor did she want anyone else to hurt because of her. Except for Richie, of course, but she was only human.

  Behind her, Richie stood rooted to his spot, watching her walk away. Behind her, the drivers had stepped out of their cars and started shouting expletives at each other. It devolved into an almost brawl, forcing people to jump in and pull them apart.

  Amanda turned to watch the scene for several moments, then looked at Richie. He wasn’t paying attention to the scuffle. He only had eyes for her. They pleaded across the space between them, silently begging her to go back to him and let him know it was all right.

  Amanda turned away and continued walking. As the distance between them grew, she felt a sense of peace.

  You really should have kicked him in the balls, her sister said. “Not worth the effort,” she replied aloud, grinning as she did so.

  Her smile transformed her and men turned to see the beautiful red-head walking down the street. Not that she noticed, however, turned inward as she was with a profound sense of satisfaction.

  And so she broke many hearts on that cold, December evening as she walked aimlessly about the streets of Paris, happy with the company she kept – herself.

  Chapter 9

  “How is she?” Arnaud asked.

  “Mme. du Lac is much better, today,” the nurse said as she positioned a blanket over her patient’s legs. “We went on a walk this morning.” She nodded for emphasis at Arnaud’s surprised look, then walked away motioning him to follow.

  They stepped out of the solarium into the covered veranda overlooking the manicured garden surrounding his house. The nurse seemed oblivious to the cold as she shut the glass doors behind them, peering through one last time to make sure her charge was fine.

  “These things are... complicated, you understand?” she explained. “Sometimes, they’re fine and can act... eh, normally. At others, well...” she shrugged with a meaningful look at Sophie who sat motionless on her rattan chair as she looked out on another part of the garden.

  He sighed, knowing full well how often she could switch from a motionless statue to a normal woman who spoke and moved. “Is there any hope of her ever getting any better? Permanently?”

  “Monsieur, these things are not an exact science. The human mind is a complicated matter. And one as fragile as hers,” she finished with another shrug.

  “I see. Thank you, madame.”

  The nurse gave him another encouraging smile before returning inside to sit by the comatose woman. Arnaud watched as the woman started talking to his wife. If Sophie heard anything the nurse said, she gave no sign of it as she stared ahead blankly.

  Arnaud couldn’t bear the guilt. It’s why he’d buried himself in work over the years. Theirs had never been a marriage of love, but of convenience, rather. For Sophie was a d'Havrincourt, yet another noble house. Which also made her his cousin, as all nobles are related. Granted, it was several times removed, but still.

  It was the way of noble houses, only this time, it also led to what Sophie had become. Or so she believed, despite what the doctors said. Arnaud wondered if Sophie wasn’t right. The birth of their still-born child, a boy, had been bad enough. But when their second one, a daughter he loved so much, died after three months... Arnaud gritted his teeth at the terrible pain.

  Sophie began isolating herself, refusing to let him touch her. “It’s because we’re cousins!” she raged. “God is punishing us for our sins and the sins of our ancestors!”

  The few times she came out of her quarters were no better. She could spend days and even entire weeks refusing to speak to him, filling the house with a frosty atmosphere that cut through him like a knife.

  He had tried to be patient, had even come to love her for the sake of their lost children and their shared suffering. That he’d learned to love her too late, was another cause of his guilt. Not that it did any good. Sophie retreated more and more till doctors finally suggested that she be institutionalized.

  He’d refused. Better here in a fine house where medical professionals could give her 24-7 care in a place she had called home for over a decade.

  He walked into his study and smiled at the two women who sat drinking by the fireplace. Their frequent visits kept him sane. At their questioning looks, he shook his head.

  Camille sighed. “At least she’s not in one of her rages.”

  “Yes,” Sylvie nodded. “I like her a lot better when she’s a vegetable.”

  “Sylvie!” Camille hissed.

  Arnaud simply smiled. Sylvie had always had a way with words.

  “Will you be staying for dinner, Arnaud?” Camille asked, still glaring at her sister. “Elsa said she’s making one of her specials tonight.”

  Arnaud shook his head. “Will you two be staying the night?”

  “Might as well,” Sylvie replied as she poured herself another glass of port. “Shame to have this house so empty. You go on and have fun, luv. You’re looking positively bleached.”

  Arnaud gave each of the women a peck on the cheek and made his way out.

  “One more thing,” Sylvie said as he was about to leave the room. “Get laid, why don’t you? It’s about time you stopped moping around. Positively depressing, you know?”

  Arnaud grinned as he stepped out into the night.

  In her chair in another part of the house, the nurse prattled away at her charge while she crocheted an elaborate weave with quick flashes of her needle. Had she once drawn breath or paused in her crocheting, she might have noticed that her patient was breathing very hard
and that her hands were clenched in tight, shaking fists.

  *****

  Amanda stepped out of her office in her jogging outfit, stuck her earplugs on, and looked around guiltily. Satisfied that no one was looking her way, she scrolled through her iPod and selected Abba. When “Dancing Queen” came on, she began her stretches.

  Ever since her incident at the Tuileries, everyone insisted that she was safer jogging on the walled grounds of the MNHN, instead. Since it saved her the bother of having to go home first, and since she was tired of everyone fussing over her, she did just that.

  “Eagle” came on by the time she finished her stretches, so she began her run. She was very careful not to mouth along with the words, this time. She’d had enough ribbing from everyone when they found out she was an Abba fan.

  It took her fifteen minutes to make it to the southernmost end where she made her customary circuit of the botanical labyrinth. It still amazed her that no snow yet lay on the ground, but everyone assured her that it rarely did. January was usually when the snows came, and even so, it rarely stayed on the ground for long.

  As she broke out of the tree line, she saw a woman standing at the entrance to the labyrinth. The woman turned her way, so Amanda waved, but got no response, even though the woman clearly saw her. Amanda wondered who the person was since the MNHN was only open to employees, students, and paying guests. As it was evening, however, the park was closed, so she assumed it was an employee.

  Completing her circuit around the labyrinth, she made her way to the footpath at the southeastern end to continue her route around the grounds. The woman she’d seen at the labyrinth entrance was now standing in the middle of the footpath, looking at her as if she’d been waiting.

  Without missing her stride, Amanda bid her a “bonjour” but didn’t expect a reply as she weaved around the woman and continued jogging. She felt, rather than heard, a whirring that ended in a loud whack.

  “Oof!” was all Amanda managed as she fell on the hard gravel. Her right shoulder had gone numb. She rolled off the path into the thin copse of grass, vaguely wondering what had happened. Fortunately, help was at hand. She turned to her side to call out to the other woman for help.

  Pain stung her palms as something slammed against it. Amanda screamed and held out her other hand. The light coming in from the street beyond the walls was weakened by the thick copse of trees, even though most were devoid of leaves.

  Someone was hitting her with a rough branch or stick, stinging her hands and upper arms as she tried to ward off the blows. With her back in pain and the rough, frozen ground beneath her making it worse, Amanda kicked out, hoping to make contact. Unable to see clearly, her feet met thin air.

  Another whizzing sound gave her some warning. Amanda thrust her arm to her right, deflecting a blow aimed at her thigh. She screamed as the rough piece of bark tore through the flesh of her upper arm, ripping her skin off as it withdrew. A whizzing sound from above gave her another warning. She managed to block it with her left arm, but it broke upon contact and the upper half struck her hard on the chin.

  Amanda screamed as a booted foot stomped on her left shin. Another kicked her in her left thigh, followed by yet another below her ribs. All she could do was curl herself into a ball as more blows and kicks rained down on her.

  In desperation, she kicked upward, hoping for better luck, this time. An “oomph” told her she’d scored. Honing in on that grunt, she kicked at what she hoped was her attacker’s shin. A shriek told her that her luck was changing. She kept kicking, but the attacker was backing off. She blindly reached above her head, hoping to locate the broken stick or branch she’d been whacked with as she continued screaming for help.

  Another kick found her above her left thigh. Still squealing, Amanda’s found the stick. She clubbed the air to her left, praying she’d hit something. The stick made contact, a yell followed. Amanda desperately scrambled away, screaming as hard as she could while pointing the stick in the air to her left. She felt like passing out and hoped that help would arrive before it was too late.

  *****

  Arnaud was surprised. “Guillaume?”

  Guillaume normally waited for Arnaud in the downstairs lobby unless he needed to carry something for his boss. This time, however, the faithful driver stood in the office with a frantic look. Marie, his wife, stood behind him, looking worried.

  “Monsieur! It’s Amanda! She was attacked again. It’s serious, this time. They’ve taken her to the hospital. The Pierre and Marie!”

  “Let’s go!”

  But it was rush hour. The Pierre and Marie Curie University was just across the street from the MNHN. Arnaud punched his seat several times, but as usual, it did no good.

  “What did the police say?” he barked.

  “Only that she’d been severely beaten, monsieur. Some of the grounds keepers heard her screaming. Nothing yet on who did it.” Guillaume gulped. “But her injuries are severe.”

  Arnaud gritted his teeth. The traffic wasn’t moving. Without another word, he opened the door and jumped out – quicker to get there on foot. He ignored Guillaume’s surprised yelp and kept running.

  The staff at the reception lobby were no help. Nor were the police who were milling around. He was no relation to the woman, so they refused to tell him anything, not even to confirm or deny that an Amanda Sorensen had been brought in. He told them his name, but they just looked blank. Frustrated, he stormed away to make a few calls. It didn’t take very long.

  “Monsieur du Lac!” said the portly man in a three-piece suit who practically ran to him. “Forgive me, but we weren’t expecting you. We...”

  “What is the status of Amanda Sorensen!?”

  “Mme. Who?” the university’s CEO spluttered. He knew who buttered his bread, as well as that of the facility.

  “Sorensen. Amanda Sorensen. Find out!”

  “Oui, Mr. du Lac. Right away, sir.” And off he went waddling toward the reception desk. He wasn’t gone long. “Ah, Mr. du Lac? Ahah, yes. Eh... the madame is still being treated in... eh, yes, the X-ray room,” he said as he glanced at a clipboard. “Yes, eh... I’m afraid we don’t yet know the status of her condition. Some concussion, perhaps some fractures, quite a few cuts, internal bleeding is possible,” the man continued to babble as he read out a list, completely oblivious to how pale Arnaud had become.

  “I’ll wait,” Arnaud growled in a dangerous voice.

  “Oh,” the man blinked as he quickly stepped back. “Eh... of course, monsieur. I’ll see to it they provide you with whatever you need in the lobby, eh...” At Arnaud’s look, the man gulped. “M-m-my office is this way, Mr. du Lac. Eh... please f-f-follow me, yes.”

  Still stuck in traffic mere meters away, Guillaume prayed as he sat behind the wheel of the limo. “Please, Blessed Virgin. I know she’s British. Worse, she’s a Protestant, but it’s not her fault. She’s British, you understand?” He shrugged. “But if you could please see Amanda through this...”

  *****

  Amanda awoke to white light. No. It was a white room with yellow light. You fell asleep with the lights on, again! she chided herself. Not that she recalled her studio being anywhere near this big. Or as sterile.

  She jerked in panic at the sight of the man sitting beside her. That was a bad idea. Movement hurt. But how the hell did he get in here? And who... Oh!

  It was Arnaud. He was dozing off with his mouth open on a chair. Not one she recognized, which made her even more suspicious. Opening her eyes wider, she realized she wasn’t in her studio, which explained the size.

  Oh crap! I’m in a hospital. But why?

  Memory returned and she winced. There was an IV needle in her arm, as well as bandages on her face, arms, and hands. She could feel more on her body, but otherwise, the pain wasn’t as bad as she’d expected.

  Probably the drugs, she realized. Must also explain why it feels so good to see him... or am I? Is that you, Arnaud? Or am I so drugged that I think I’m seeing you?
Whatever. It’s nice to see you again. Even if you are a figment of my drugged up imagination.

  Amanda realized she missed him. And that she’d never seen him asleep. He looked funny with his mouth open and his head rolled back over the chair. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but there he was.

  Note to self: stay drugged so he stays there. She giggled at the thought then winced. She hurt.

  “You’re awake.”

  She flinched. “Oh. Apparently, so are you, handsome. Must tell the doctor to give me more of that good stuff.”

  Arnaud got up, stretched, and walked over to her. “How do you feel?”

  “Good, now that you’re here. I missed you!”

  He was about to take her hands but stopped. “I think they might have given you too much medication.”

  “Must have,” Amanda sighed happily. “I like seeing you here.”

  “I hope you still feel that way when the medication wears off.”

  Amanda thought about that for a moment. “You have a point. Hmmm... So does that mean you’re really here?”

  Arnaud waved his hands in frustration. “I want to touch you, but,” he waved at her bandages. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll find out who did this to you.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’ll make them pay.”

  “Now, now,” Amanda clucked. “Don’t fret. You’re here. That’s all that matters. Ummm... Arnaud?”

  “Oui?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “My god. Isn’t it obvious!?”

  “But you’re married.”

  His shoulders slumped as he looked away. “My marriage, it’s... it’s complicated. My wife, she... look, Amanda. It’s a very long story. None of that matters. What matters now is that you have to get better, all right?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I don’t like cheaters. Did you know I was supposed to get married?”

  “Supposed to? I thought... you said you were married. At the party, you said...”

  “I said I don’t go for married men. I was about to get married. Richie. He’s an accountant. We had the date all set up and the caterers and everything. And at the last minute,” she sighed. “Well, he got cold feet.”