“Besides that, I hope you don’t think you’ll be working with Vince and Jordan again.” He stopped eating to stare at her. “Because that will never happen.”
She pushed her nails harder into her palm, sure she would draw blood. “No, I didn’t think so.”
He liked that answer, and returned to his dinner. He only complained about the wine two more times. And finally they were finished.
He was serious about having sex again in the back of the limo. “Come sit in my lap, and slide your pretty little ass down on my cock.” He’d gone from relentless four-play to none at all. He was hard and ready for her. He displayed it proudly as he unzipped his pants and pulled it out.
She remembered when Jordan took her quickly without getting her ready first. It hurt, and Damien was at least twice as big as Jordan. She bit her lip, and he must have read her mind. “Put your mouth on it and get it wet, little slut.”
She closed her eyes and leaned toward him.
Chapter Fifteen
“Did you know that Arianna Becker was dating Damien Tremblay?” Sam stopped when he heard her name. He turned and watched as Selena walked toward him. Three months ago Arianna Becker destroyed two lives, ruined Sam’s own dreams, and made one man very happy. Or to be precise, it was two months, three weeks, four days, and if forced to he could probably pinpoint the hour as well.
Sam gazed down at Selena, her cleavage overflowing in a tight red silk blouse. He would still rather wait for Arianna than be with Selena, even if they were the only two women on Earth. Did he know that Arianna was dating Damien Tremblay? Was that sarcasm he heard in her voice? It had to be, because she knew that he and Jordan had grown close, and they remained that way. Sam had become Jordan’s de facto nursemaid.
He spent nearly every night at Jordan’s house, and made sure he woke up in time for work. Not exactly on the terms he’d hoped it would be, but he didn’t mind. He, like Jordan, was existing and waiting for some turn of events. They hadn’t heard from Vince since the day he found Arianna. He arranged for a former Marine buddy to come to the house and pick up his things. Through gossip they’d heard that he transferred to the field office in New York. The reason he gave for the transfer was to be closer to his family, but Sam assumed it was to get away from Jordan.
“Yes, I knew,” Sam said through gritted teeth.
“So tell me, Sam. As one of her groupies, why don’t you explain the appeal of Arianna Becker? Because I just don’t see it.” She fingered the buttons on her shirt, pulling the V open farther as she did it.
“For one thing, Selena, Arianna is nothing at all like you.” Selena scoffed loudly. “She doesn’t need fake boobs, or to show off what she has, in order to get men’s attention. She doesn’t take sex lightly; it’s not a pastime for her. And finally, she’s a real, tough as nails, kick-ass girl who hunts monsters. She’s my hero, Selena. Yes, I’m a groupie. And yes, I’ll wait for her. Anything else you’d like to know?”
Selena turned in a huff and stormed off. He felt so much better getting that off his chest. He should have done it after they slept together. No, he thought as he turned and walked out of the court house, he should have never slept with her to begin with.
He fell for the outer package, once, without knowing her. When he came into the office two days later and one of the other lawyers was talking about having sex with her and another woman the night before, the day after Sam did, he realized he’d never see her again.
He climbed into his convertible to head back to his office. But first he pulled out his phone and called Jordan. “Hey, how are you?”
“Fine,” Jordan said. “You don’t have to check on me every five minutes.”
“Yes, I do,” Sam stated. “Have you eaten?”
“I brought left-overs to work with me,” Jordan replied.
“That didn’t answer my question,” Sam argued.
“Yes, I ate it,” he sighed.
“Good. Do you need me to pick anything up on my way home?” Home, Sam thought. Who would have thought his home would be with a half-bi guy and two empty bedrooms.
“Stuff for salad, and peppers. I have tofu and rice, and I was going to stuff the peppers with it.” Jordan said.
“Yummy,” Sam grinned and rolled his eyes. “See you later.” He ended the call and stared down at the phone. He wondered how long they would wait. He wondered if he’d date again. And he wondered if he would mind sharing the girl with Jordan.
All of it was just too dark, he sighed. He didn’t even want to think about women. Until he realized that he hadn’t had sex in over three months. That wasn’t unusual, he shrugged. But for some reason Jordan hitting on him all the time seemed more and more like a logical solution.
God he hoped Arianna came to her senses soon. He had to believe that she had an ulterior motive; Damien was holding something over her head. Was he threatening Jordan? He would never know unless he spoke to her. Perhaps he could call her, as her attorney. Surely Damien couldn’t know that he was pining for Arianna as well. He’d talk to Jordan about it later, over tofu stuffed peppers and plenty of wine.
Vince spent his evenings in bars, and his nights with hookers; unless he found a girl who was just drunk enough to consent to a one night stand, but not too sober to realize that he’d never have a relationship with her. Ever.
He was done with women, forever. Seeing the new ingénue taking over the elite international social circuit splashed on the gossip magazines with her psycho boyfriend was enough to remind him that women were vile, evil creatures. Why in the hell did she have to look so happy? Why did she have to wear the latest designer fashions? And why did she have to flash her new engagement ring to all the paparazzi?
Didn’t she know that Vince was teetering on the virtual window ledge every minute of every day? Did she even care what she was doing to Jordan?
Apparently Sam had stepped in to take care of him. But Vince had no one to care for, or to care for him. He knew that he could return to DC and apologize to Jordan at any time, and he’d probably take him back. But where did Sam fit in? Vince knew that he would do the wrong thing eventually, like walk in on Sam in the shower and shove him against the wall and kiss all the way down his gorgeous body.
He closed his eyes at the thought of it, took another drink of his beer, and looked around the bar. He needed to find a new bar. He’d already slept with most of the girls there. He assumed it would be a hooker night. He was sleeping in the apartment over his parents’ garage. At least when he brought home women it wasn’t that awkward.
Vince’s phone rang, and he saw that Sam Clark was on the other line. He clenched his jaw for a moment, then answered the call.
“Hi Vince, how are you,” Sam asked politely.
“I’m just fucking great. How are you getting along?” Vince answered sarcastically.
“Jordan and I are actually okay. We’re making it.” Sam sighed. “Not that you asked about Jordan.”
“What the fuck do you want, Sam?”
“Vince, you don’t have to be so damn rude all the time. We know you’re hurt, okay? Everyone knows you’re hurt. We’re all hurt.” Sam chided. An awkward silence fell between them. “I can’t talk to Jordan about this. If he even sees a picture of her on TV he shuts down for hours.”
“What, Sam? Do you want to talk about your theory that Damien Tremblay is forcing her to be with him again? Have you seen the size of the rock on her ring finger? She’s not handcuffed to him.”
“Vince, you and I both know that she was crazy about you and Jordan. There was no way that she would just drop that kind of love for no reason,” Sam stated.
“Listen, counselor, I know that you want to find a reason for everything.” Vince put some money down on the bar and left. His need for female companionship was totally gone now. “Maybe his dick is as big as his bank account. How is that for a reason?”
A couple of girls who looked like they were too young to be in a bar walked by just as he said it and grinned at V
ince. Young girls always fell in love after sex. Always. “I’m not talking about myself, ladies. Trust me.” They giggled then. Vince did turn to watch their asses wiggle as they walked inside. He was human, after all.
“Think like a person and not like a prick,” Sam ordered. “Stop acting like such a douche. Are you prepared to come back if…”
“She’s not coming back, Sam. It’s best for you to move on, unless you’re ready to give in to Jordan’s advances.” Vince stopped in an alley to take a piss. “There are some advantages to it. He’s a great cook, and he’s obsessively clean. Plus his manners are impeccable.”
“I have no idea what he or Arianna ever saw in you,” Sam snapped.
“Yea, me either,” Vince said as he ended the call. He took off walking, and kept walking until 4 am, and he found himself at the GWB. That was going to be one expensive cab ride back to Queens. Or, he could take the subway, he thought. He’d probably have more fun. And he might even get laid.
Arianna was used to dressing up and playing a part. She’d done it as part of her job for over five years. She did it all the time when she hunted sex offenders. She would always be The Executioner. She would always have Florian Desjardins somewhere in the recesses of her soul.
The clothes were way more grown up now, and much more expensive, but she was still acting, and she was still hunting the bad guys. Well one guy in particular. And she didn’t have to hunt him. She slept with him every night.
She looked down at the huge diamond ring on her finger and wondered what the hell she was thinking. But whenever she thought that she remembered Damien’s confession that night in the glass bottom hut. No one else would ever know that he was complacent in those murders. And if she didn’t do something about it, no one would.
The worst part wasn’t having sex with him, or kissing him. The worst part wasn’t having him call her his little slut. No, all of that was tolerable, and sometimes even enjoyable.
The worst part was meeting his kids. His daughter was almost as beautiful as her daddy, with long blonde hair that she constantly asked Ari to brush. Her name was Isabeau Clarice, she was six years old, and she stole Arianna’s heart. Her brother’s name was Julien, and he was a handful. At eight all he wanted to do was ride horses or motorcycles, or anything fast. He looked exactly like his father.
Spending time with his children almost made her want to let him live. He was such a good dad, too. He saw the kids as often as he could. Damien and Arianna spent lots of time at his ranch near Montreal. Oddly enough, when Arianna met with Dutton, and gave him the “you can’t fire me I quit,” speech, Damien quit his job as well. Funny how that worked out. She was sure it didn’t seem that he took the job to stalk her at all.
Damien was teaching her to ride while keeping an eye on Julien and Isabeau on their horses that morning, and she stared at herself in her riding clothes. Three months she’d been with him, and sometimes she couldn’t recognize herself.
“Maman Arianna, braid my hair s'il vous plait,” Isabeau demanded as she stormed into their bedroom with her hairbrush. Arianna bent down and picked the little girl up, then twirled her around in her arms. Her eyes were an even more intriguing color than Damien’s. They were golden with a green circle around the outside. Her mother’s eyes were brown, so she wondered, at times like this, if she and Damien had a child if they would also have cat’s eyes.
Then she deposited the little girl onto their bed, and said, “I will braid your hair, Lady Isabeau, if you count to me again in French.”
“En Français,” Isabeau corrected her. “Un,” she said, and waited for Arianna to repeat it.
“Un,” Arianna said, and Isabeau giggled. She thought Maman Arianna’s accent was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Deux,” she continued. Arianna said it back to her, to more giggles.
She heard a noise, and turned to see her fiancé staring at her from the doorway. He leaned comfortably against the frame, arms crossed, and smiled contentedly.
“Trois,” Isabeau said.
“She knows how to count to ten by now, Isabeau. You should teach her the letters,” her father suggested. Arianna smiled back at him warmly.
“Papa, her accent needs work,” Isabeau stated haughtily. That she took straight from her papa. He walked up behind Arianna and kissed her neck affectionately. Then he kissed his daughter, and sat on the bed beside her to watch and wait patiently.
At least he was patient with his children. His patience with everything else was limited, but with his kids it was endless. Arianna never heard him raise his voice to them, even when they might have needed it.
Arianna finished Isabeau’s braid and kissed the top of her head. “Now carry your hairbrush back to your room while I put my boots on, s'il vous plait.”
“Oui,” she responded excitedly, then hurried out the door.
“I want to have babies with you, Arianna.” He pulled her down onto the bed beside him, and nuzzled her neck. “I wonder if they will be brown, or pale, or somewhere in between.”
She purred in the back of her throat. Sometimes she couldn’t control her responses to him, like now. Isabeau made her want her own baby, with Damien.
“It’s not like we aren’t trying,” Arianna lied. The birth control she used was supposed to be good for three years, and she’d had it implanted just a little over two years ago. She shouldn’t have children until…
“You’ve only had one period since we’ve been together, and it was only for two days or so. Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?” He asked again.
She walked over to her shoe closet, not to be confused with her clothes closet. The bedroom was so big that she and Damien both had two closets. He needed it. The man had more clothes than she’d ever seen. She wasn’t far behind, since one of his favorite hobbies was shopping. She searched around for her riding boots.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant,” she said as she walked toward him. She sat down on the bed with her boots, and pulled one on.
“Arianna, are you on birth control?”
She paused for a moment, then pulled the second boot on. She stood and turned toward him. “Yes, I am.” She admitted. The emotions in his hazel eyes went from confusion to disappointment to anger.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His usually melodic voice became hard. He bounced off the bed and stalked toward her. His hands went out to her shoulders, and he pushed her against the door of her closet. “Why didn’t you tell me, Arianna?”
He didn’t lay a hand on her, but his voice and his attitude were both menacing. She probably would have been afraid, if she was smart.
“You didn’t ask,” she said matter-of-factly. He put his finger in her face. She felt very uncomfortable. “Please don’t do that.”
“We’ll have it removed. You can do that, right?” He didn’t ask if she wanted to do it, he informed her that she was going to do it. “Soon.”
“Papa, what are you doing to Maman Arianna?” Isabeau had returned, and she stood watching in the doorway.
“I was just about to give her a kiss,” he lied in a playful voice. Arianna closed her eyes, and he kissed her quickly on her mouth. “Shall we go find Julien and head out to the stables?”
His ranch was huge. It made the main house on the island look like a hut. She still got lost sometimes going from the kitchen to their bedroom. Not only did the 700 acres contain the living quarters, but there were stables, barns, a “fromagerie,” several acres of farmland, and a beautiful flower and butterfly garden. His ranch in some ways was better than the island. The best part was definitely the kids.
Damien wanted to be between Arianna and Isabeau, but little Is wanted to hold Arianna’s hand. So they walked like that to stable, Arianna between Damien and the love of her life, with Julien leading the way as he always did.
They spent a lovely morning on the horses. The trees had all changed colors. He pointed out the red and gold maple trees, and told her that’s where they got their syrup fo
r pancakes.
“I love pancakes,” Isabeau piped up.
“I love pancakes too,” Arianna grinned at the little girl.
He had pastures with cows, chickens just like on the island, and more fruit trees that were now empty of fruit but full of beautiful leaves.
“The farm also makes apple butter and pear and peach marmalade. We have fresh berries in the summer as well, including saskatoons.”
“More fruit I’ve never heard of,” she grinned.
“I think we have some jam. You’ll have to try it.”
“Strawberries are my favorite,” Isabeau stated.
“Mine too,” Arianna said happily.
“The farm is fairly self sufficient. What we don’t make, we barter with neighbors.”
“You are so smart,” she said as she stared at him wide eyes. He smiled back at her.
They were on their way back to the stables. Having such a good ride already, Arianna became distracted watching Is expertly in control of her white pony. She dropped the reins for just a moment to pull out her phone. She wanted to take a picture to remember all of it when… That’s when her horse got spooked and bolted, and Arianna tumbled off the back.
She stood up, and tried to laugh it off. But then she felt dizzy, and collapsed onto the ground. Is slid quickly off her pony and ran toward Arianna. “Maman Arianna, are you okay?” She sounded so dramatic as she fell on the ground beside Arianna and grabbed her hand. She made it to Arianna’s side before Damien did.
“Don’t try to get up again, that was a nasty fall,” Damien said as she tried to push herself up off the ground.
“I’m fine really, just a little dizzy,” she said. “And embarrassed.” She gazed at Is, looking so scared. “I’m fine, mon petit souris,” she said as she caressed Is’s cheek.
Julien finally hopped off his pony too, and joined the others on the ground. “Now that we’re all here, perhaps we should have lunch,” Ari joked.
The Executioner 2: Love, Lies, and Revenge (The Executioner Series) Page 15
