Boxed Set: At the Billionaire’s Command – Vol. 1-3

by Lucy Jones

  I don’t know which one of us ran into the water first but we quickly plunged back into the sea, driven by an incredible life force. Then the small white boat carried us somewhere else…

  Julia, I wanted to share a bit of my happiness with you. Perhaps make you smile and make you think about something else for a while. Try and ease the pain you seem to be feeling.

  Did you find out who that Camille was? Do you have any hope of seeing this Daniel again? Would it not be better if you forgot him? I've never seen you like this. And I am a bit worried…

  Write to me soon.

  lots of love,

  Sarah

  * * *

  * * *

  From Julia juliabelmont@gmail.com

  Date Monday 23 July 2012 10:40

  To Sarah sarahzinelli@gmail.com

  Subject Uncertainty

  My dear Sarah,

  Thank you for your email. I was quite moved when I read it, and a bit of your happiness and cheerfulness has rubbed off on me. That’s just what I need at the moment.

  Yesterday, just after I wrote to you, dejected at Daniel’s departure, I found an envelope. Daniel had put a plane ticket to Paris in it for me, for July twenty-fifth. There was also a hand-written note telling me that everything had been taken care of with my boss. My mind has been in turmoil since I found it. I feel both happy and disappointed, fragile and strong, confused and resolved, excited and scared. Undecided.

  What should I do? Should I get on that plane or not?

  My knowledge of love affairs is limited to the books I’ve read, the films I’ve seen and the women I’ve heard. What I know about them comes from other people, through listening and understanding. But I know nothing through experience, because I've lived through it and experienced the emotions. I've been able to figure out a general framework and paint an idealised picture, but the reality is different to what I imagined, the reality is beyond me.

  It's not only because of my ignorance, but also because of the specific nature of Daniel Wietermann, because of this particular, magnetic yet unattainable, fascinating person. What would a man like that want with a girl like me? I am nothing like those models in glossy magazines, or those sophisticated, haughty, calculating heroines, those femmes fatales who have lots of money and experience and know how to manipulate men. On the surface it's a woman like that, who Daniel Wietermann needs…

  However, I did sometimes believe that he really liked me and I don’t think there is anything deceitful about him, he seems honest and straightforward. Tortured (and torturer), cold, distant and authoritarian, unable to tolerate either contradiction or opposition, but honest.

  I would like to hear him say something loving and verbalise his loving feelings – if he has any for me. Pride? Sentimentality? No, the need to be reassured, the need to be loved and to be told I am loved. If he wants me to join him, why not ask me outright, using affectionate words?

  He became talkative during our most intimate moments, but he never opened his heart to me. He gave orders, complimented my skills, described his desires and talked about his pleasure. “Fuck”, “take”, yes; but never “make love”. Was his attraction purely sexual?

  Daniel is a man of action, not a man of words. He prefers to act rather than linger over conversation. Fair enough. He gives orders, controls and dismisses, he has that power. And, whether in private or not, it changes nothing, he makes the decisions and his power applies to me too.

  Getting on that plane means setting off on an adventure that I know will not be easy. Taking that flight means giving my consent and agreeing to submit to his rules. Is that what I want? Am I ready for that?

  What do you think, my dear Sarah? Help me.

  love,

  Julia

  P.S. Contrary to all our hypotheses, Camille is Daniel’s father

  * * *

  When I got back to the reception desk, Tom asked what I'd been worrying about all morning.

  "Is everything ok, Julia?"

  I thought it was time to tell him everything. His friendly support and male perspective would surely be beneficial.

  "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

  "No…"

  "Do you want to take me out for dinner?"

  "Of course!"

  "I’ll tell you everything…"

  After our shift, Tom took me for dinner in a small, unpretentious restaurant which made some of the the best hamburgers in the city. I told him everything (apart from a few, major, details). He listened attentively, without interrupting me. And then after I had finished, he said calmly,

  "Julia, thank you for trusting me and for your deep friendship. I’m very fond of you and I don’t want to see you sad. I hate predators, powerful men. But I can see that you’re addicted to this guy. I have no advice. You are the only one who can decide whether or not to see him again. Please don’t agree to anything that you don’t truly desire deep in your heart. Take care of yourself. Whatever happens, whatever you do, I’ll be there for you if you need me."

  The storm rumbling in my head calmed while I was in Tom’s comforting presence, surrounded by the warmth of his friendship. Tomorrow, I would have to make my decision.

  7. The girl who dreamed of being devoured

  Tuesday, July twenty-fourth. A beep, which I initially took to be my alarm, disturbed my woozy, morning half-sleep. With my eyes half-closed I grabbed my phone, which was on the floor, at the foot of my bed. New text message. In a small box on the screen I saw the name Daniel. I woke up with a start. My heart began to beat, giving me the strange impression that it had previously stopped. Unlock. Click! Messages.

  [Did you find the envelope? D. W.]

  [Yes.]

  [That’s rather brief, young lady. I was expecting more enthusiasm. Were you not taught that it’s rude not to reply?]

  [I didn’t realise I'd been asked a question.]

  [Don’t play around with semantics. You could've let me know you'd received it. That would have been polite.]

  Was that all he had to say? To reprimand me? To teach me manners?

  I preferred not to reply.

  I had time to have a shower, get dressed and go down to the lobby before I received another message.

  [Are you ready for your departure tomorrow?]

  Had I sown doubt in the confident mind of Daniel Wietermann?

  [I’m thinking about it.]

  This time it was he who didn’t reply.

  Was he annoyed? Did he not want me to come any more?

  So he’d managed to turn the situation around and make my stomach tighten. I started to twitch and couldn’t stand still. I was constantly checking my telephone and pressing the buttons, as if that could make messages appear. Daniel had a hold on me.

  Now, to my relief, I could tell Tom how I was feeling. My behaviour amused but upset him. Beep! I jumped. It was Daniel. At last.

  [Still just as insolent, Miss Belmont. Have you developed a liking for punishments?]

  Leaving me at the roadside afraid that he wouldn't do a U-turn, making me wait for what seemed like forever, letting the threat of abandonment hover over me and then returning victorious, making me cave-in and agree to everything. These were Daniel’s usual tricks. And I folded, I accepted everything, I was happy that he had come back.

  One pirouette and Mr Fire resurfaces!

  [If it’s you giving them…]

  [And who else would it be? I am the only one allowed to run his hands over your body].

  [I miss your hands. I can still feel them on me. I quiver just thinking about them.]

  [It’s entirely up to you, Julia, whether or not my hands touch you again.]

  "Julia! You’re as red as beetroot! Go into the back office, you’ll be more comfortable", said Tom, smiling.

  It was true, I would be more comfortable in the office.

  [Daniel, you make me feel and say strange things.]

  [Julia, I want to make you feel these strange things…]

  [That would be wond
erful…]

  [And to hear you say them…]

  [It’s terrible how I wait feverishly for your texts and jump at every beep.]

  [I can imagine you all feverish, holding your phone in your damp hands, getting wetter every time you see one of my messages. It arouses me imagining it. My penis is so swollen with desire that it’s getting painful…]

  [I’m in a daze just reading your messages. My whole body is inflamed and my crotch is tingling…]

  [I want you, Julia.]

  “I want you.” I spoke this sentence aloud. I heard, I love you. Did I hear what I wanted to hear? Did I want you become I love you through the prism of my desire? Was it my interpretation? I want you. Was that his way of saying I love you? After all, there are different ways of saying it. In the film Port of Shadows, when Gabin says to Morgan, “You have beautiful eyes, you know”, he’s simply saying “I love you”. When she replies, “Kiss me”, she’s saying “Me too”.

  I was taking my time replying, then a new message arrived from Daniel.

  [Julia, I’m sorry but I have to leave you.]

  That sentence affected me like a cold shower. That “leave” was unfair, violent and unbearable. I doubted that there was any desire to hurt me in it, I even suppose that the exchange would have continued if Daniel had been able to. And I cursed the annoying individual, man or machine, which had put an end to our messages.

  Can our hearts not cling onto anything else but words? Maybe Daniel was right to prefer actions instead.

  I barely had time to send:

  [Already…]

  When I received:

  [Until tomorrow.]

  Presumably Daniel had contacted me to reprimand me, confirm that he wanted me to go home and make me want to go. All that at the same time, but I couldn’t give the exact percentages. It didn’t matter, the result was the same: I wanted to, I had to see him again.

  Tom saw me come out of the office, my cheeks flushed and my eyes wild. We burst out laughing. This wonderful complicity took the heat out of my feelings (and my body) and made me feel free and relieved.

  "If tonight is your last night in NYC – and I guess it is – I’m taking you out to celebrate!" said Tom.

  "With pleasure, my dear!"

  Tom chose a restaurant famous for its cheesecakes; he knew that I loved them. I enjoyed my dessert as if it were my last and then he took me to a trendy bar, where some friends of his joined us. After a few cosmopolitans, I hit the dance floor…

  Tom accompanied me back to the hotel around two thirty am. We couldn’t stop saying good-bye, have a good trip, take care, we’ll call each other, we’ll keep in touch, come and see me when you can. There were laughs, a few tears and embraces.

  I eventually went up to my room. There, I took off my short cotton dress, which was soaked with sweat from dancing and the hot New York night and went to freshen up in the shower. It was only when I came out of the bathroom that I noticed that a small box had been placed on my bed.

  I was convinced that it was a gift from Tom and opened the box smiling in anticipation of a joke or a nice little souvenir. What a surprise to discover a superb watch (Tercari, of course!) showing Paris time!

  Was Daniel in New York? Why not see me if he was here? Don’t panic. Stay calm. Let’s think about this. Ray. Yes, of course. Ray must have stayed in the area. For Daniel’s business? Or to watch me? Let’s move on.

  A piece of paper had been rolled up and placed in the watch strap:

  “I just wanted to let you know and promise you,

  before you get on the plane in a little while,

  that I am really looking forward to having you

  by my side again and kissing your soft cheek.

  And rest assured that I will

  meet you at the airport,

  I promise you.

  D. W.”

  There was something odd about these lines. The tone? The statement? I could not tell. Perhaps for a moment, Daniel had been afraid I would stay in NY, perhaps when I had said “I’m thinking about it”?

  Three am already. I still had to pack if I wanted to get two or three hours sleep, but before that, I was curious to see what advice Sarah had for me.

  * * *

  From Sarah sarahzinelli@gmail.com

  Date Tuesday 24 July 2012 12:00

  To Julia juliabelmont@gmail.com

  Subject Evidence

  My dear Julia,

  You’re asking me if you should get on the plane?

  The question is, which decision would you regret most? Leaving without being certain that this man loves you, with the risk of disappointment, rejection and suffering? Staying and missing out on a great love, or at least a thrilling adventure and definitely some sensual pleasures?

  It’s not about putting yourself in his place and trying to work out what he wants, what he’s thinking and what he’s feeling so you can adapt and conform to that. You only have to think about yourself and about what you feel.

  Whatever choice you make, it’s a gamble. But that’s what gives it its spice and makes things exciting.

  And you’ve already given me the answer. I can read between the lines. It’s obvious.

  You say that your Daniel is a man of action, who’s only capable of issuing orders when he wants something. The note with the plane ticket was no doubt a clumsy attempt to tell you that he wants you by his side.

  You say that your relationship with him is chaotic and unsettling and switches from one extreme to another. But do you really want a quiet, orderly, unexciting life, with hardly any excitement? In short a boring life? We cannot avoid suffering, so why miss out on pleasure…

  You say that you’re attracted, overwhelmed and sexually bewitched by this man. A sexual adventure cannot be completely devoid of love. I mean, we say “make love”? We assign a material term to a poetic abstraction, an action (the action par excellence!) to a feeling (the ultimate feeling!) The expression conveys the link between the act and the feeling; it says what we feel when we express it through the concrete forms of our bodies.

  My dear Julia, I know you’ll get on this plane. And you know it too. So... have a good flight! And let me know what happens.

  love,

  Sarah

  * * *

  * * *

  From Julia juliabelmont@gmail.com

  Date Wednesday 25 July 2012 3:12

  To Sarah sarahzinelli@gmail.com

  Subject Re: Evidence

  Sarah,

  How clear-headed you are…

  Yes, because Daniel’s heart is unfathomable, I can only listen to mine.

  Yes, what appals me and disturbs me about him is also what attracts me to him. He is macho, prone to being controlling and giving orders, but on the other hand there’s his romantic, grandiose acts, his initiative and his admirable power. He’s strict and secretive, but he’s decent, he doesn’t go in for soppiness, flattery or banalities. He can appear incredibly cold yet, conversely, he can exude a delightful warmth.

  Yes, because I find Daniel’s body irresistibly, madly and inescapably attractive. I want to feel his body against mine.

  Because, in his hands, on his erection, I love feeling as if I am both losing and finding myself, being someone else and yet overwhelmingly myself.

  Because what our conscience doesn’t notice at first, our body knows immediately. A body in love invites the heart to follow it.

  Yes, I’ll get on that plane.

  Because going to Daniel is like making my way up a molten volcano. I know it’s dangerous, but I continue to climb, I can’t help climbing, because it’s beautiful, hot, radiant and exceptional.

  Yes, I will get on that plane.

  love,

  Julia.

  * * *

  It was not yet seven am when I had a last look around my room, at my leather armchair, my old friend. It was time to walk away. When I raised my hand to hail a taxi on the pavement in front of the hotel, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

&nbs
p; "Miss Belmont!"

  I turned round. Ray was there, in a black suit, leaning against the open door of a dark car. He smiled and gestured for me to get into the car.

  "Ray!" I said, returning his smile and walking towards him.

  "Hello, Miss Belmont. I’m pleased to see you again. Mr Wietermann asked me to take you to the airport", he explained, putting my bags into the boot.

  Daniel really wants me to arrive safely…

  "And do you also have to chaperone me during the flight?" I asked with a hint of irony, making hin laugh.

  "No, Miss, I’ll take a different flight. Mr Wietermann will collect you in person in Paris."

  What an honour! I thought, but I stopped myself saying it. I didn’t want to make Ray feel uncomfortable by mocking his boss.

  "The packet in my room, that was you, wasn’t it?"

  "Yes, Miss."

  "Have you been watching me since Mr Wietermann left?" There was no aggressiveness in my question, just curiosity.

  "Well… Mr Wietermann asked me to look out for you without disturbing you."

  "Bravo Ray. You are a master of discretion. I would never have suspected if there hadn’t been that packet on my bed."

  We arrived at JFK International Airport in under forty-five minutes. Ray took care of the formalities and luggage check-in and escorted me to boarding. A few steps after the last check point, I stopped to wave to him. He waved back, while tapping on the keys of his telephone. I was sure he was writing to Daniel…

  Nine forty-five am by the clock on the plane, three forty-five pm on my watch. Turn off telephones. Bye bye New York. I was comfortably settled in business class at a window seat (thank you, Daniel!) and my eyes were already closed before take-off. I noticed noises around me, but identified them less and less, as I drifted into sleep, into dreams…