Cass stopped suddenly and turned to him. “Rory O’Malley, you are such a romantic when you want to be.”
“Shhh. Tell no one,” he replied pulling her tightly into his embrace. They continued walking along the street wrapped in each other’s arms until Rory opened a little black railed gate and dragged her up some steps to a big oak door.
Rory rang the doorbell and kissed Cass softly on the lips.
The door flung open and Cass smiled as the small petite Frenchman embraced Rory. Only coming up to Rory’s chest he matched Cass in height. He looked around Rory’s body and waved at Cass.
“And who is this Rory?”
Cass put out her hand, which was ignored and instead she was quickly pulled into a warm hug. He smelled of lavender oil and felt tiny in Cass’ embrace.
“Marcel, meet Cassidy Evans. Cass is the artist I was telling you about on the phone.”
“Of course, the very talented Cassidy Evans. Very beautiful heh?”
Marcel was spinning Cass around and lifting her hair up and down.
“Green eyes and those boobies! Wow! Tres belle, Cass. Come, come. We will go inside and eat and talk.”
Rory wrapped his arm around Cass’ waist and walked in behind Marcel, she mouthed. “I love him.”
Rory whispered, “I thought you might and hey, I love your boobies too.”
He put his hand on her right breast and mouthed, “This is my favourite one.”
Cass slapped his hand away and mouthed, “fiend” laughing silently.
They turned to Marcel and found him staring at them, a small smile across his face.
“So, tell me Rory, how is business? You mentioned looking for some paintings and so you came to Paris. Where else would you find art worth buying, eh? Let’s have a drink. Cass will you share a kir royale with me?”
“I’d love to Marcel.”
Cass hadn’t a clue what a kir royale was but didn’t want to look like an idiot. She was delighted when it turned out to be a combination of champagne and crème de cassis, a blackcurrant liqueur. She took the cool refreshing drink and sipped it eagerly.
“Rory, for you too?” Marcel held up another kir royale and Rory nodded.
“The same, thanks Marcel. So, this new acquisition of yours? Tell me about it.”
“I have it here. I had an expert look it over today and will sign the papers tomorrow. I will have Philippe show you later. He is in town buying some crab from the evening market. He should be here in a minute.”
Marcel moved over to Cass and sat beside her.
“Cass, are you familiar with the artist Henry Muller.”
“Why yes Marcel, German painter from the high renaissance period. I’m an admirer. Great brushstroke work, heavily influenced by Albrecht Durer.”
“Excellent, I shall enjoy showing it to you later.”
He patted Cass’ hand. She smiled at him, touched by his warmth towards her.
“This woman is beautiful, intelligent and educated Rory. Wherever did you find her?”
“He nearly ran over my kitten Marcel. The brute. So I had to try and keep him in line.” Cass pouted playfully. Marcel burst out laughing.
“I love you already, Cass. We will be great friends. Oh, here’s Philippe back. In here Cherie!”
Cass looked up as a grey hair man trundled in with a bicycle and wicker basket.
Dressed in a cream linen suit that was well wrinkled and a size too big, Philippe was the exact opposite of Marcel’s suave elegance. He walked toward Marcel and kissed him softly on each cheek. Turning to Rory, he opened his arms and hugged him warmly.
“Rory, so happy to have you here. It’s been too long, no?”
Rory ended the embrace and kept hold of Philippe’s arms.
“It has been an age my friend. Too, too long. You must come back to the resort soon. Come meet my Cass.”
Cass swung her head in his direction. Did he just call me his Cass?
Philippe opened his arms and snuggled Cass into him and kissed her twice on each Cheek. He grabbed himself a drink and sat down beside her.
“Cass, we are honoured to have you in our home. And an artistic consultant too? Did Marcel show you the Muller?”
“Not yet, but I am so looking forward to seeing it.” Marcel interrupted.
“But first we eat, eh?”
Rory leaned into Cass.
“Marcel is a wonderful chef; he is the star of a very popular cookery programme here in Paris.”
Cass shook her head at Rory.
“How do you not suffer from gout with all the great food you get cooked for you?”
“Because I work it off. I run and swim seven days a week. However since I met you, I’ve found more pleasurable ways to exercise.”
Cass blushed and raised her eyebrows at him.
“So I am doubling up as an exercise program, interesting.”
“The most fun I’ve ever had while sweating. Apart from when my brother Rian got us chased by a gang of angry Kerry hurling fans after a match a couple of years ago!”
“I understood exactly half of that sentence.”
“Ah, I’ll bring you to a hurling match. When you come to Ireland to visit.”
Cass stopped smiling and looked him deep in the eyes.
“I’d like that.”
Rory looked into her soft eyes and felt a sudden feeling of sadness envelop him. He was lying to her. Lying by omission, but lying nonetheless. He needed to tell her about Aoife and soon. Marcel cleared his throat and stared at Rory a curious expression on his face. Rory gave him a small smile and a nod.
“Right you two gorgeous people. I am cooking the crab; our food will be served in ten minutes. Philippe will assist me in the kitchen. Rory take Cass outside and show her our lovely gardens. I have set up the table outside and we will eat there. Be good children.”
“Can’t guarantee anything,” Rory muttered as they passed him and went out doors.
“Come on Cass, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
The grounds were beautiful and they walked through walled gardens of herbs and flowers. Cass’ senses were enveloped by the scent of mint and honeysuckle.
“It’s so beautiful here, Rory.” She picked a sprig of mint and held it to her nose.
“It is that,” he said, and watched her closely, linking her arm. Cass moved through the lines of vegetables and bent down picking some peas. “Rory, how do you know Marcel and Philippe? Is it through business?”
“Marcel and Philippe have been to all the O’Malley resorts over the years and have become very good friends of the family. They are very generous with their time, I like to drop in on them whenever I’m in Paris. Now that they adore you, you’ll never be rid of them.”
Rory smiled at Cass biting his bottom lip. Cass smiled back shyly, “Are you flirting with me mister O’ Malley?”
“So glad you noticed, Miss Evans. I’ll have to bring you over more often. Paris suits your complexion. You grow more radiant every day I know you.”
“Rory. I’m not looking for a relationship. You do know that right? I mean we’ve had fun and I’m loving spending time with you, but I don’t do relationships.”
She watched as Rory turned to face her, his face reddening slightly.
“Of course. Just a bit of fun to alleviate the boredom while we work together.”
Cass nodded at him. “Perfect. So we both know where we stand. Just a bit of fun.”
Cass suddenly felt like shit and somewhere inside her shouted liar so loudly she was afraid he would hear. She was afraid. Afraid of the rejection, so she rejected him first. Stop with the self-diagnosis!
Thirty minutes later Cass was full and refused to eat anymore of Marcel’s fabulous Charlotte summer trifle.
“Seriously, I am stuffed. That was some meal Marcel and thank you so much for welcoming me into your beautiful home. I don’t think I’ve laughed so much in a long time.”
“Well darling, you are the most delightful guest. Now as promise
d, the piéce de résistance. Come and see our new painting.”
Marcel and Philippe led them down to a room at the back of the house. Cass was flabbergasted by the art that adorned the walls. Picasso, Manet, Jack B Yeats and some lesser known artists too. She noted Schneider and Deer and several others. Cass stared at each one in awe.
“And over here is our new baby, look Cass what do you think?”
Marcel unveiled the painting, treating it with gentle hands and looking at it lovingly. Cass moved forward and inspected it.
“Marcel, that is amazing.”
“Well worth one point five million, no?”
“That’s some investment” said Rory.
Rory looked over at Cass and saw that she was examining a corner of the painting squinting and cocking her head from side to side.
“Cass?”
“It’s a fake.” She looked shocked. Marcel and Philippe both seemed to gasp in unison.
“No Cass, you are mistaken. I have had it appraised by our dealer and his expert concurred. He is very reputable; he has sold us work before. Come, take another look. I know you are in the consultation business, but you are so young with still so much to learn. Maybe you have made an error, eh?”
Marcel was distraught and Philippe put his arm around him.
Rory joined Cass at the painting.
“How can you be so sure, Cass?” Cass bit her nail and turned her head to the side.
“It’s excellent work Rory. But, an excellent forgery. I’ve no doubt about it. Do you see this colour here, right in the very corner? A very small sliver of Bakelite. It is a paint pigment, an artificial resin that can only be achieved by using a derivative of phenol formaldehyde.
This painting has a date of 1489. Bakelite was not used until the early 20th century.
Someone has done a superb job here, but it needs to be checked by an independent professional other than the dealer. And his so called expert.”
Philippe rubbed his hands through his hair and straightened his glasses.
“Marcel, if Cass is sure, then we had better do as she says. We cannot afford to be taken for fools. Let us call out the dealer, he is in the city.”
Marcel stalked over to the phone and started a conversation that Cass could only describe as tense and erratic. Speaking in rapid French, the phone was passed from Philippe to Marcel and back again. It ended suddenly with Philippe roaring down the phone and then slamming it off the table.
“Ten minutes, he will be here, with his so called expert!”
Marcel was standing arms folded and glaring around the room.
“Something is not right Philippe. He was how you say?” He gestured at Rory and Cass. “Caged?”
“Cagey,” said Rory.
“Yes. Cagey. He was cagey, and nervous.”
Rory took out his phone and made a call. He spook in fluent French and Cass felt guilty for immediately getting aroused. Especially in the middle of a very obvious crisis. Jesus Cass, calm it down for heaven’s sake! He hung up and looked over at Cass and ran his hand through his hair.
“I called a good friend who is high ranking in the police nationale, the local police force. He’s in the fraud squad and is on his way.”
“When will he be here,” asked Philippe.
“A few minutes, the headquarters is only a mile through the city,” answered Rory.
The doorbell rang suddenly and Cass nearly jumped out of her skin. Two men were led in by Marcel. The first man introduced himself as Louis Valimi, the art dealer. He was a small man, elderly and he seemed incredibly nervous. The second man, a great hulking figure, was the so called expert. He remained silent and glared around the room. Monsieur Valimi made his way over to the painting, while the second more burly man waited beside Cass.
Rory stood beside the door with Philippe, and blocked the exit.
The bigger man turned to Marcel and snarled at him. “Who says this is a forgery?”
Cass turned to the large man beside her and spoke to him.
“I do. It is an excellent forgery. The painter is quite talented in his or her own right, but the use of Bakelite resin on the corner is an unfortunate giveaway. It is not only an offence to sell this painting, but also a crime against the original artist and the buyer too.” Monsieur Valimi laughed in Cass’ direction.
“Marcel, how long have we known each other? Eh? This little girl, she knows nothing. It is a not a forgery, it is the real thing. You owe me €1.5 million euros. I would like it now please. I will take a cheque.”
The doorbell rang and Rory went to answer it.
“Now, Monsieur Valimi, we will sort this out at a police station, non?” said Philippe.
Cass felt her head explode in pain and yelped as the big man beside her dragged her back by the hair.
“You silly bitch, you tell them that it you made a mistake. No harm done.”
And then everything happened at once. Marcel and Philippe ran towards her. Marcel dived for the mans’ legs and all of a sudden Cass felt her hair being released. One moment she was trying to push him off and the next she turned to see Rory, hauling him up by the throat and punching him twice in the face.
“Keep your fucking hands off her,” he shouted.
Cass could only watch as the three police officers tried to pull Rory off the large figure, who was now trying to crawl away on the ground.
Marcel was crying and clinging onto Philippe. A uniformed officer had Monsieur Valimi by the arm. Rory and the two other officers had the bigger man on the ground and were wrestling to get handcuffs on him.
An hour later with the two men in custody, the painting taken as evidence and statements given, Cass and Rory were more than ready to leave. Marcel had been plied with brandy and valium and Philippe was offering untold gratitude to Cass as they headed off into the night.
Rory held Cass’ hand tightly the entire walk home and was silent for most of the journey until they reached their hotel room. Cass put her hands on his chest and looked up into his face.
“Are you okay, Rory?”
“Are you okay, more to the point? I can’t believe I got you caught up in that. If he had hurt you more than he did, I would have killed him.” He turned from her to hide the rage on his face.
“Hey.” Cass grabbed his arm and turned him towards her.
“I’m okay, really I am. You saved me. You’re my hero.”
She smiled at him and reached up on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. He snorted at her.
“I never should have answered the door. I should have stayed with you.”
“Coulda, woulda, shoulda, Rory. I’m just glad that Marcel and Philippe didn’t get done for over a million euros. There are some unscrupulous dealers out there.”
He looked at her face and felt nauseous. “You were hurt.” It wasn’t a question.
“No. I’m fine. I just got a shock. We all did.” Poor Marcel. Suddenly she pictured Marcel diving for the big man’s ankles in order to protect her. She started laughing and found that she couldn’t stop.
“What the hell?” Rory stood with a look of total and utter confusion and concern on his face. He advanced on her but Cass put out her hand to stop him.
“No. No, I’m fine, honestly,” she insisted still laughing and holding her side. “Did you see Marcel, grabbing his ankles?” Rory shook his head in exasperation. “It was a bit hard to miss since we had to peel him off with his eyes still scrunched up. He’s a wiry little thing isn’t he? Rory laughed along with her. It was the best tonic.
“Do you want a drink,” Rory asked pouring himself a large scotch.
“No, I’m fine. I think I’ll go to bed. I’m shattered.”
She kissed him and made her way to the bedroom. Rory sat in silence for the next half an hour trying to come to terms with the feelings the assault had brought up. He had only ever felt this protective of a woman when it was one of his sisters or his mama and granny. Oh, he would protect any woman who was in danger, but he’d never felt
that urge to kill anyone over a woman before. Not just a woman though, his woman. His Cass. He took of his top and paced up and down the room. He had to come clean; he had to be straight with Cass. And tell her why he had found her. Tomorrow. Do it tomorrow. He’d tell her tomorrow when they got back to London.
That night he held her so tight that she kept trying to wriggle free, in order to breathe. He woke often during the night, worried for her safety and captured her again into his arms. When they flew back to London the next morning he spent the first twenty minutes of the flight with his brain running over and over the events of the past seven days. He watched her fondly as she read a book on French architecture. Biting her bottom lip as she read, he waited for the perfect moment to come. He needed to tell her soon. Maybe here and now on the plane was the best place. She would have to listen to him; at least she couldn’t run away. No, that was selfish and unfair of him. She might need some space for a day or two after the bombshell hit.
“What?” She looked up at him and caught him staring. She closed the book with a snap and threw it beside her.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I’m a bit pissed off with you.”
Rory shifted in his seat. Had she figured something out? “Tell me why?” he said.
“Well,” she whispered. “We are sitting here in your private plane, with just a pilot and a stewardess who stays in the cockpit. I kind of assumed you would at least have the decency to offer it to me.”
Rory looked at her confused. “Offer what Cass?”
“Entry into the mile high club,” she grinned at him.
He didn’t need to hear it twice; he jumped up out of his seat and grabbed her by the wrist. “Right you little minx. I was trying to be polite, but since you have a dirty mouth, that’s gone out the window. Let’s go missy, into the back now!”
Cass felt a ripple of excitement flash through her and looked up into his face. She held his eyes as he dragged her back to a room at the back of the plane.
“Open the door and wait for me.”
Cass opened the door and marvelled at the space. A double bed and an en-suite bathroom. How had she not discovered this on the way over? She began to undress and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. She heard the door open and walked out naked. Watching Rory’s eyes widen, she realised that she loved the feeling of power it gave her to see him so consumed with her.
Juice: The O'Malleys Book 1, contemporary Adult Romance Page 11
