“Breakfast in bed, Stephane?” she questioned with impatience. “I don’t want any. You should have learned by now I rarely eat breakfast.’
He shrugged.
“Suit yourself but you are beginning to waste away. I am sure Christophe will want to be able to feel some weight on you,” Stephane bent his head and busied himself putting the tray down on the bed.
Mara couldn’t help but smile. She could see him mentally cursing his slip of the tongue and trying to hide his hurt at her rebuke.
He looked up sheepishly. Mara stood with her arms folded tapping her foot, ready to renew their fight from the night before.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Why you treated me so badly last night? You are jealous because you think Christophe and I are in love,” her arm shot out to raise an accusing finger.
“Weren’t you taught its rude to point, Mara”
“Don’t try and be clever with me. Admit it. I am the only woman who hasn’t lain down and allowed you to trample all over her and you can’t stand it. You don’t know how to deal with me,” she said a note of triumph ringing out from her voice.
Stephane’s face remained blank, unresponsive. The only tell tale sign to convince her she was correct was the uncomfortable stiffness in his broad shoulders that pulled themselves erect every time he was challenged or wanted to hide something.
He smiled arrogantly.
“I wouldn’t flatter yourself, Mara.” I would love to stay and chat but I have to inspect a site and meet Abdul.’
‘Ah yes, the aerospace project you two have running together,”she smiled sweetly and folded her arms again.
Stephane couldn’t help noticing just how much her breasts thrust upwards until they threatened to burst through the top of the gypsy dress. Maybe he had been wrong about the dress.
“How do you know about that?” he answered with a frown.
“Are you sure you can trust Abdul?”
“This was a project originally devised by my father before he died and him. I know what he is but he has never given me any cause to doubt him,” he lied. “He has had many successful ventures in France and although he isn’t my first choice of person to go in to business with, the project is sound. Why?”
Mara picked up a croissant and lay stretched across the bed propping her head up on her elbow to look at him with an air of mocking amusement, as though she was aware of something he wasn’t. It made him uneasy.
“No reason,” she said innocently. “Just a feeling I have.”
Stephane grit his teeth. This was Mara’s trump card and he just knew she would use it when the time was right. His blue eyes viewed her intently as she ate trying to work out what she was omitting to tell him without lowering himself to ask her and lose face.
“I will be back after lunch. Leon will stay here with you. Try not to give him a hard time, there’s a good girl.”
She called out to him as he had his back to her poised to open the door.
“For the record, Christophe and myself never were and never will be lovers. There hasn’t been anyone except Ryan.”
To his surprise relief flooded through his body but he would not give her the satisfaction of a comment. But his powerful shoulders relaxed as he went through the door communicating all she needed to know.
It was well after lunch when Stephane returned and Mara was feeling more like the luxurious rooms she had been locked were a prison.
“I have to get out of here. I can’t stand it. I need some air,” she announced sliding off the bed as he entered the room. “How about a walk?”
“I think that may be arranged.”
She couldn’t help noticing his smile was softer at the edges.
“Stephane, it is too dangerous. She may try and get away again,” Leon pointed out following him into the room.
“I doubt it, not after that warrant I had put out for her arrest last night,” he laughed watching her brow furrow at his lie. “Theft of an antique bracelet I think the charge is.”
“No, I suppose not,” Leon grinned.
Mara shook her head and grinned determined not to take the bait even though there was no doubt in her mind Stephane was not bluffing.
“I can’t go around dressed like this. When are we going back to the Chateau? I want to change. Maxine’s taste and mine do not match.”
Mara put her put her hand to her throat to cover the bruising that obviously made her self conscious. Every time she did it Stephane’s eyes were there studying it, darkening with anger because she’d been hurt.
“I don’t know you look very pretty in that dress,” he told her softly. ‘We aren’t going back yet. I thought we could go out for dinner then return.”
There was silence.
“All three of us,” he added hastily glancing nervously at Leon who appeared amused. “I’ll take you downstairs and we’ll get you some new clothes.”
“No way. I don’t want anything from you,’” she retorted walking away but he swiftly caught her hand.
“Just tell me what you need,” he said quietly clearly anxious not to provoke her any further.
He was holding her hand longer than he should have been, caressing his thumb over her knuckles. She looked down at his hand and withdrew her own quickly feeling her body tense and sting with pain at what could not happen between them.
“I don’t take bribes, Stephane. I want nothing from you,” she said quietly.
Her voice lingered on the last word for emphasis, her meaning clear and unequivocal not just clothes but him also. She watched the flame in his eyes that burned for her flicker and fade. It was another point she had scored and she wanted him to hurt for his own betrayal.
“Are you ready? We’ll go now.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“I thought you needed to get out of here.”
“I do but I am not going anywhere with you.”
Leon started to laugh as he perched himself on the arm of the chair. He lit a cigarette and continued to watch the familiar show were they exchanged a barrage of abuse. They were worse than a married couple. Mara and Stephane both stopped momentarily and gave him an impatient glance annoyed at his interruption and the Billionaire murmured something derogatory in French.
“Don’t do that,” she shouted. “I have told you before, if you are going to have an argument with me at least have the courtesy to speak in my language. What did you say?”
“I said that you were like a child having a tantrum,” he said shouting back at her.
There was another snigger from the far corner of the room.
“Oh and I haven’t heard that one before. Do you want me to tell Leon what you did the last time that you called me that?”
Leon looked up with interest.
“Please do, Mara.”
“Be quiet and move now.”
There was fear in Stephane’s eyes that he was about to be given away.
“Or what? Come on surprise me this time,” she challenged losing herself in the argument.
“Or I’ll drag you out.”
“Try it.”
The Count roughly took hold of her arm and started to pull her towards the door and out of the room before she could even react.
Mara tried to throw him off but his grip was tighter than ever and she knew it was with anger. He marched her out of the door slamming it behind them and guided her into the lift as the doors opened.
“Take your hands off me,” she demanded making a concerted effort to push him away, annoyed he had succeeded in removing her from the room.
As the lift doors closed he relaxed his grip and she wasted no time on turning on him.
“You arrogant pig.”
“Oh be quiet. If you just did what you were told we would all get through this a lot easier.”
“I am not interested in making life easy for you, Stephane. The more difficult the better.”
Before she could say another word the lift doors opene
d and he was pulling her outside into the lobby of the hotel. Suddenly aware that people were watching him drag her across the floor, she ceased her struggling and shrugged him away.
“I hope you are going to behave yourself,” he whispered in her ear, smiling at some of the other guests who acknowledged him.
The Count took hold of her hand knowing it would annoy her and felt it trying to wriggle free. He held it tighter until she winced and gave up. Satisfied she could not escape his hold he tugged her towards the small boutique at the far end of the Reception Desk .
“Now look for something to wear. What about this?”
He picked up a short cream flimsy summer dress through which nothing could be hidden. He handed it to Mara who gave him a look of despair.
“Get real,” she said snatching it off him and putting it back on to the rail.
He led her round the shop looking at the designer clothes all bearing similarity to the first.
“May I help you, Madame,” a young French woman approached, grimacing at Mara’s state of dress that was incompatible with the hotel’s silent code.
Mara’s hand shot to her throat and for a moment Stephane saw her vulnerable, a side she tried so hard not to let him see. Protectively, he moved closer, slipping an arm around her waist, drawing her to his side.
“Yes, my lovely wife is looking for something to wear.”
The woman smiled at Stephane with admiring eyes. She couldn’t understand the blush on Mara’s face as anger pierced her eyes, nor the mischievous grin covering the Count’s lips.
“Something cool and comfortable but stylish,” he continued.
“Of course, Monsieur.”
The woman walked in to another adjoining room beckoning them to follow her. As they walked Stephane’s attention rested on the woman in front, his eyes travelling the length of her body in admiration. Mara gave a loud tut.
“I suppose you know all her vital statistics with that powerful stare,” she whispered, contempt audible in her voice.
“Don’t worry, darling. I only have eyes for you.” he mocked squeezing her hand.
Mara tried to pull away again but he refused to let go of her hand enjoying the power he held over her.
“Is it for day wear?” the woman asked.
She was in her early twenties, long titan hair sweeping down her back.
“Yes. Do you have a trouser suit?” Mara asked.
“Oh no, darling, you don’t want a trouser suit. It is far too hot for tone of those.”
Stephane pulled her to a rail and lifted up a sleeveless well fitted red dress and jacket.
“What about this, Mara?”
His captive tried to pull her hand free once more and this time he relented and let it go with a smile. She roughly took the dress and matching jacket from him, holding the outfit in front of her for a closer inspection.
“Have you got a scarf and some shoes that would go with this?” she asked the woman.
“Yes we should have. I will go and look for you and bring them in to you. You can try the dress and jacket on in here.”
The Boutique assistant led Mara in to a small room walled with mirrors and a light beige and white carver chair in one corner.
When she walked back into the changing room she found Mara in her underwear.
“Madame, I have brought you . . .”
The woman fell silent noticing the discoloration lining Mara’s throat as she reached up for the dress hanging on a hook. The woman looked at Mara with pity.
“I brought you some shoes and a red and black scarf which I think will match,” she said quietly.
She put down the shoes and the scarf on the chair and then looked at the black silk lingerie in her hand.
“Your husband gave me this for you to try. He thinks you will look fabulous in it.” she said trying to smile as she handed over the garments.
Mara was holding the suit to her body to hide the bruising in vain.
“Oh he did, did he?”
The woman looked uncomfortable and made an excuse to leave the room. A few minutes later Mara emerged from the changing room in the complete outfit.
Stephane stared at her with wide eyes taking in every sexy curve and swell of her body neatly accentuated by the well fitting dress. Eager to touch her he wound his hands carefully around Mara’s small waist, moving them gently up and down to judge the fit. He half expected her to shrug him off but she didn’t.
“Are you going to have it?” he asked.
“Yes I will.”
He watched her glanced at the assistant and then whispered to him, “I think she believes you have been man handling me.”
“What?”
“She saw the bruising on my neck.”
“Well that will explain it.”
“Yes why your feeble attempt to get her in to bed failed,” Mara gave a small laugh and then coughed as the woman approached again to warn him.
He quickly removed his hands from her waist and backed away disturbed the woman could believe he was responsible for hurting Mara.
“I’ll take it all, “ Mara said confidently “Monsieur will be paying. Can you have my dress dry cleaned and returned to my room please.”
“Of course, Madame.”
Stephane took out his credit card.
“I’ll just be waiting outside, darling,” Mara smiled devilishly, walking slowly out of the shop when he was engaged in paying.
The Billionaire quickly gave her a warning look but knew he had been ignored. Anxious she was about to escape he hurriedly paid watching her move into the lobby towards the glass turn door. The doorman hailed her a taxi at her request and genteelly opened the door. He was about to shut it after her when he was abruptly stopped.
“Oh, Stephane you made it and I was so looking forward to you not being able to.” she smiled sitting back in the seat making her self comfortable. He climbed in beside her.
“And where do you think you are going?” he asked contented that he‘d foiled another of her attempts to escape.
“I thought I might visit Versailles. It is lovely this time of year.”
“Really.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mara had made the obligatory visit Versailles and the Palace every time she was in Paris. Situated on the outskirts it was unlike any other building she had ever seen with its grandiose style and heavily ornate interior. Apart from that though there was nothing else much to see, the majority of the furniture having been sold to fund the Anglo-French war in America. What was left was sparse. But the Palace had never really interested her anyway. Mara loved the gardens that lay beyond it.
It took them an hour to get there. She got out of the taxi first leaving Stephane to pay and marched towards the house up through the car park amidst a gaggle of tourists. He quickly ran after her and took hold of her arm pulling her back.
“If you are going to keep rushing off I’m going to have to keep hold of you. Slow down.” he told her sternly.
Mara frowned at him as he let go of her.
“Why don’t you try and keep up?” she snapped.
“Have you been here before?”
“Yes I have on many occasions. I just want to go into the gardens.”
The Count bought two tickets and let her lead them into the formal gardens just outside the house. They were based on an English Garden design by Andre Le Notre and were decorated with soft pastel colors of white pinks and blues. They continued a long the gravel path not giving them much attention. Mara never spent much time there. The gardens directly outside the Palace were so neatly cropped and walking around them only made them look untidy.
She stopped before the steps that led down to the water gardens.
“It’s so beautiful isn’t?”
Stephane nodded.
“You can see for miles from here. I can’t believe how far it stretches,” she gushed like a child.
Every time she visited she could imagine the Kings and Queens of old walking about the g
ardens, heavy crinoline dresses ruffling in the wind as they swept up and down the steps. Their children playing hide and seek behind the sharply coned trees in the formal area, the gardener under threat of execution if they were not to perfect shape.
The Art of Retaliation Page 16
