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

by Lucy Jones

  "I don't know... You look lovely. Even prettier than six months ago, if that's possible," she observes with a smile.

  "Mum!"

  "All right, all right. But, I don't know... there's something different about you... Are you sure everything's fine?"

  "Yes, of course, mum," I reply, as I pull my face away. "I'm just tired, that's all."

  My father comes back with the champagne and we toast my homecoming. I describe in more detail my work, my room and my colleagues. I share my impressions of New York and talk about Tom.

  "He sounds like a charming young man," my mother declares, smiling with a glint in her eye.

  "Yes, Tom's great, I'm really lucky to have met him. He helped me a lot. At first, I struggled a bit with my English, with the paperwork and the hotel rules... And it turned out we shared the same interests. So we went out quite often together. But don't go imagining things, mum. Tom is a friend, a really good friend, the type you don't find easily. And I hope we don't lose touch."

  "Hmm, fine, whatever you say," my mum insists, convinced she's on to something.

  "Right, shall we eat? You must be hungry, my Julia."

  No, I'm not hungry, but I'll make myself eat, just like I'm making myself talk and be cheerful... Because I'm pleased to see you happy, because trying to hide my sorrow helps me to overcome it, to not break down.

  "Sure thing, dad. Let's."

  As usual, my mother has bought enough food to feed an army, and she's not eating. She's one of those women on a perpetual diet, whose frustrations can be seen in the way they deprive themselves of food. Nothing pleases her more than to say, 'I borrowed this dress from my daughter, we're the same size....' My father, on the other hand, is devouring everything in front of. I guess there wasn't much feasting while I was away, looks like he's trying to make up for it now....

  Is it because I've been away for over six months that everything seems exacerbated? My father's submission, my mother's dissatisfaction, the tension between them and their interactions with me....

  My father is a local government official. He could have risen up the ranks, but 'he blew it', as my mother says. And she's always held that against him. She dreamed of a more glamorous life and saw my father as a means to get it. He felt ashamed, unable to give the one he loved what she wanted. My father is a kind and gentle man, averse to conflict, quiet-loving and a little weak. Probably in order not to lose the one he loves, and maybe because he thinks he deserves it, he's kept a low profile and silently accepted his fate.

  What's kept them together for the last twenty years? Habit, and me, their only daughter, their little princess, their success. It's as though they poured out on me all the love they didn't allow one another. They didn't spoil me rotten, they didn't cater to my every whim, but they were (and still are) very protective and made me feel that they loved me more than anything else, that I gave their lives meaning. A childhood filled with love and encouragement is the best you can have, but as the years have gone by, their shows of affection have become too much, almost stifling.

  Now, to feel missed, to see in their eyes the joy my being there gives them, to be in a safe place again, to be pampered, is doing me good. And yet, despite all this, I can't help feeling slightly removed from them. It seems to me as though the distance that separated us before has only grown.

  The more the evening wears on, the more I struggle to conceal my unease. When dessert comes, I show signs of fatigue and gently let on that I want to go to bed; I throw in a few yawns, blink my eyes and rub my face.

  "Goodness... someone's going to sleep well tonight!"

  "Yes, sorry, it won't be long before I love you and leave you. I'm really worn out."

  "Don't worry, my princess. We understand. You need to rest. Go get some sleep. Can we get you anything?"

  "No thanks, dad."

  I get up and go round the table to kiss my parents good night.

  "Good night, mum."

  "Good night, dear. Will you sleep in tomorrow morning?"

  "I'd like to, yes."

  "Good night, dad."

  "Good night, my Julia."

  Fortunately, my room has been spared my mother's decorative crazes. It's just as I left it. I sit on my bed and gaze around my little world. On the wall still hang the poster of Woody Allen's 'Manhattan', a poem by Baudelaire, which I copied and framed, old colour photos from when I was little, a coat rack poking its head out from under a jumble of hats of all shapes and sizes, and long shelves filled with books and CDs. I put the drawing Tom gave me on the mantelpiece, next to my jewellery stand. I'll put my other things away later.

  13. The colour of Fire

  To think that only this morning, I woke up in Sterenn Park... Tonight, in my room, at my parent's place, I feel as though it was in another world, in another lifetime....

  I wasn't completely pretending to be tired, and I slip wearily between the sheets. But before going to sleep, I feel the need to confide in Sarah.

  * * *

  From Julia juliabelmont@gmail.com

  Date Friday 27 July 23:48

  To Sarah sarahzinelli@gmail.com

  Subject I saw D. W. in a new light

  Dearest Sarah,

  It feels like an eternity has passed since the plane brought me back from New York. There have been so many places, dramas and so many emotions since.

  Here's a summary of the last three days, I'll make it quick. Shortly before landing, I felt ill and was taken straight to hospital without going through Arrivals. When I switched my mobile phone back on the next day, there were dozens of messages from Daniel Wietermann, who had been waiting for me in vain at the airport. The texts ranged in tone from anger to sheer anxiety, even anguish at the thought that something serious had happened to me. As soon as he knew I was in the hospital, he rushed over. There, he came face to face with Vincent, a charming young man I'd met on the plane and who was kind enough to carry my bags (I happened to find out that Vincent has a bit of a thing for me, not that he's admitted it to me). After a few misguided words of jealousy, Daniel calmed down and took me to Brittany.

  We were finally able to be together again, and it was wonderful (and not just in the bedroom). On that note, I wonder my need to be submissive wasn't a sort of clumsy initiation, some kind of test.... Afterwards, we were able to reach another dimension. On that secluded patch of earth, Daniel was different. It so happened that, partly by accident, partly out of curiosity, I found out that a woman was staying in the castle. Well, when I asked Daniel about it, he got annoyed, but he wasn't as mean as he'd been on previous occasions, and he revealed to me that she was his ailing sister.

  Then, out of nowhere, his mother swooped in and tore my newfound happiness apart. She yelled abuse at me and threw me out, without Daniel so much as lifting a finger to stop her! So, having been chased out and not knowing what else to do, I left the estate. And here I am in Tours, at my parents', writing to you in bed... (by the way, Daniel knows where I am, because Ray, his chauffeur, drove me here). So much for the facts.

  Despite this latest blow, the horrible drama and our severance – which will prove final, no doubt – in spite of my sorrow and confusion, in my heart of hearts, those few hours in Brittany have left me with mixed feelings of rapture, purity and of truth.

  And besides, I must tell you about something that struck me....

  Sterenn Park is an extraordinary estate. I'm sure you'd absolutely love it. If at first sight the house seems austere, hard and cold, it's because its beauty is unadorned. It's utterly devoid of flashiness, ostentation, pretension and vulgar displays of gaudy money. It exudes a beguiling charm and mystery. It makes you feel good because it embodies something solid, something real, because it's in harmony with its natural surroundings. Physically and symbolically, Sterenn Park is far from all that is superficial and superfluous, and near to what is worthy and true.

  What immediately struck me as strange was the likeness between Daniel and this place. More than Daniel showing me S
terenn Park, I had the feeling that Sterenn Park was showing me Daniel in a new light. To behold and explore it was like discovering Daniel afresh. Did it unveil his true colours? I think so. Over there, I learned more about him than from reading press cuttings or asking him questions, more than anywhere else... Did he make it in his own image, or did it rub off on him? I'm convinced it's his own reflection.

  >This new light adds more depth and texture to Daniel's personality in my eyes. And so it sharpens my pain. Have I already lost this man, whom I barely knew and wanted to know so much better?

  What should I do now? I don't feel up to confronting and fighting against the mother without the support of the son. Anyway, he might not even try to get hold of me.

  I made a mistake. I thought that despite our differences in age, experience and social background, what we had could last because it was forged in our intimacy, burned into our bodies and branded into our souls. But I probably idealised things due to my ignorance of men, sex and the world. Appearances, social conventions and detractors are much stronger than us. I really thought he cared for me, but clearly not enough to stand up to his mother.

  Here in my single bed, in my room in Tours covered in floral wallpaper, I tell myself that the whole story could seem like a dream, like a cliché (ordinary, provincial middle-class girl meets gorgeous millionaire playboy); I tell myself that it all sounds ridiculous. But I know it's not a dream, my pleasure was as real as my pain. And I don't give a damn about clichés.

  For the next few days, I'm going to have to keep my feelings to myself – I obviously haven't told my parents anything – and I'm going to be mollycoddled: the perfect way to turn the page....

  Lots of love,

  Julia.

  * * *

  As soon as I switch off my laptop, the screen of my mobile phone lights up. Vibrations. New SMS. I grab the phone. When I see the name on the display, my heart begins to pound wildly. 'Daniel W.' I hesitate for a moment, my thumb wavers over the 'Messages' button. I'm scared his words will keep me up all night.

  Wait. Wait until tomorrow to read it with a fresh mind.

  This message can't change anything for the time being, other than upset you and ruin your sleep.

  Frankly, could you have said no? Me neither. My thumb slams down on the button.

  [Saturday 28 July 12:14 am

  Julia, I had no idea my mother was coming. You blamed me for being a control freak... perhaps you won't blame me any more....

  My mother was a bit rash. You mustn't hold it against her.

  Good night.

  I'll call you tomorrow.]

  Woah! What the... You've got to be kidding... My eyes are virtually popping out of their sockets. I must be dreaming. I can barely believe it. He's defending HER! 'A bit rash'?! Damn rude, more like it! And I should just grin and bear it? Turn the other cheek? Maybe apologise that I didn't stay for another tongue-lashing from the queen-mother? And instead of asking forgiveness for his cowardice, he turns it around and blames me! That takes the biscuit! What an apology!

  I'm so furious I'm going out of my mind, grasping at straws and jumping to conclusions... but I don't have the strength to fight against anything any more and I collapse from exhaustion.

  It's late when I wake up the next day, my parents having taken care not to make any noise while I slept. Before getting up, I lounge in bed for a while, half-dreaming, half-thinking.

  Has Sarah gotten back to me?

  I grab my laptop at the foot of my bed.

  * * *

  From Sarah sarahzinelli@gmail.com

  Date Saturday 28 July 10:36

  To Julia juliabelmont@gmail.com

  Subject Don't give up

  Julia!

  I was waiting for news from you... but I didn't expect so much action in so little time!

  Why were you ill? Tiredness? Homecoming butterflies? Nothing serious, I hope.

  And this Vincent? You'll have to tell me more!

  Now that we're in the same time zone, we'll be able to call each other more easily. I can't wait for you to give me all the details in person.

  It seems your Daniel's family is weighing heavily on him: an estranged father, an ailing sister, a lunatic mother... That might explain a few behavioural traits, though it's not an excuse. I understand why you left. Maybe he let you go to spare you? I don't quite get why he didn't stand up for you. That doesn't really match my picture of him from your descriptions. Maybe he was caught off-guard? Maybe he needed to sort matters out with his mother and he didn't want to drag you into the whole thing?

  I really love what you said about Daniel being like his Breton estate. Not only does it depict a fine and captivating man, but it also shows your sensitivity. Who else but you could have felt and expressed those things... I think that your sensitive soul and your loving heart were able to see Daniel's true colours. And so I doubt that your parting will be final. If he has the same qualities you ascribe to his residence, he'll definitely come back to you. Maybe he's already done so as I'm writing.

  You, an ordinary girl? You're far prettier, more intelligent and individual than all those superficial and self-seeking floozies strutting after your Daniel! And I can't imagine why you should worry about social backgrounds: a winner is a winner, no matter where she comes from!

  My dear Julia, my thoughts are with you. Listen to Alicia Keys when she sings, 'I'm a superwoman, yes I am, yes she is'. Believe in yourself and it'll all work out.

  And if you want a change of scenery, come join me in Sicily!

  With all my love. Don't forget to call!

  Sarah

  * * *

  My father is alone in the kitchen, busy preparing lunch.

  "Morning, dad."

  "Good morning, my princess! Did you sleep well?"

  "Very well. Thanks for letting me sleep late."

  "Do you want something to eat? Lunch will be ready soon, but you can have a quick bite in the meantime," he winks at me, holding out a basket full of fresh croissants and filling a cup with coffee.

  "Thanks, dad. I haven't eaten a croissant for ages!" I wink back. "Isn't mum home?"

  "No, you know her, she's at her Saturday gym class. She wasn't about to miss out on the pleasure of telling her friends that 'her American baby' is back!"

  Picturing my mother makes us laugh.

  Riiing… Riiing... I take my phone out of my pocket. It's Daniel. There's no way I'm answering. I haven't digested last night's SMS yet. Decline.

  "Aren't you going to answer?" my father asks, surprised.

  "No, I don't recognise it. Probably a wrong number."

  "I see...."

  My father looks doubtful.

  "You seem a bit strange since you came back," he inquires.

  "Strange?"

  "A little... absent-minded... worried... I don't know."

  "Don't worry, dad, everything's fine," I say, trying to muster my most natural and reassuring tone. "I'm just a little disconnected, I need some time to readjust, that's all. Don't stress, daddy," I say as I go to kiss him. "I'm going up to shower now. That smells delicious!" I call out as I climb up the stairs.

  During lunch, my phone, which I keep in my pant pocket, gets a message. I say I urgently need the bathroom so that I can read it in peace.

  [Saturday 28 July 1:10 pm

  Julia, I tried to call you. Why didn't you pick up? Don't be silly.]

  More sweet nothings... No danger of me replying!

  In the afternoon, while I'm sitting in the small garden behind our house, a new SMS interrupts me while I'm reading some magazines.

  [Saturday 28 July 4:06 pm

  Julia, I need to speak with you. Give me a sign.]

  That's better. But not good enough.

  A little later, I'm in my room putting my things away. Daniel sends me a new message.

  [Saturday 28 July 5:11 pm

  I know you're hurt, but please don't leave me hanging.]

  Finally, some recognition... But it's still a
bit flimsy! You'll have to do better than that, Mr Fire!

  And then another:

  [Saturday 28 July 5:54 pm

  Julia, don't you understand that I'm sorry about what happened, that I need to talk with you? If you insist on maintaining your silence, I will come to your parent's house myself and carry you off.]

  This time, I have to reply, he's quite capable of showing up at the front door...

  [Saturday 28 July 5:55 pm

  Don't! I'm all right. I need to be alone.]

  As soon as I hit the 'Send' button, I hear... someone ringing at the front door! My heart is thumping like a jack hammer and I begin to shake.

  No, it can't be? He didn't?!

  I admit I'd be more angry than stunned if he actually carried out his threat.

  "Julia? Dear? Someone for you. Are you coming down?"

  Oh my God! What a mess! The shit's about to hit the fan. I don't have a choice. I have to go.

  "Yes, coming, mum!"

  At the middle of the stairs, I see my mother standing in the passage, holding the door wide open, and in the doorway, I make out the tall figure of....

  "Tom!"

  "Hey, Julia!"

  I hurtle down the stairs and leap into his arms.

  "Tom! What you are doing here?"

  "I'm meeting some friends in the South of France, so I said to myself, why not pass through Tours to pay my Julia a visit?"

  "I'm so happy to see you, Tom!"

  "Don't you kids want to come inside?" my mum suggests, still holding the door open.

  "Of course, mum.Come in, Tom."

  Intrigued, my father has joined us in the passage.

  "Mum, dad, meet Tom, my friend from New York. Tom, this is my parents, Sylvie and Jacques."

  Tom comes forward to shake hands with my parents.

  ""Bonjour, madame. Bonjour, monsieur."

  "But you speak French!" my mum exclaims.

  "No, no, I'm sorry. I understand a little, speak very bad."

  "Not at all, not at all, you speak very well! Right, let's not stay out here all day. Come on in to the living room."