Killing Time (Ties That Bond Trilogy #1)

by SE Chardou

  I leaned over and kissed his lips softly. His fingers circled around my long slender neck and brought me closer to him as he deepened our kiss which just a flicker of tongue. My whole body felt alight and if we weren’t less than twenty minutes from leaving for the airport, I would have allowed him to take me regardless whether Severin waited patiently for us in the sitting room or not.

  I broke our kiss and he clutched me to him in a grip that had me spellbound. This man was more than attractive and sexy, he made me feel human in a way no one had done in a very long time. He recognized the spirit inside me that wasn’t much different from his own and somehow, we managed to work. I loved him indescribably and he moved me in so many different ways, I couldn’t list them all.

  Yes, he had his flaws but underneath, he was a decent human being and I thanked whatever deity was responsible for bringing us together. Surely we needed each other—now more than ever.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, we better say goodbye to your brother before we leave. It’s the least we can do, right? We have plenty of time to explore one another’s bodies one hundred different ways when we get to Paris, don’t you think?”

  His slender right index finger traced my jaw. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

  RORY AND I ARRIVED IN Paris on a cold, December day and a blanket of snow.

  The driver packed our carryon into the trunk while we waited in the backseat, clinging to one another, feeling jetlagged and a bit worse for wear. It was an exhilarating emotion to be back in the land of my birth and on home soil. My parents had invited us over for dinner and since it was late morning, we had more than enough time to get settled and rest a bit before that occasion.

  We lay back in the private car Rory had hired while he stroked my hair lovingly. “Liebling, if I tell you something, will you promise not to get angry?”

  “Why would I be upset? If it’s a . . . secret of some kind then we’ll just deal with it together, won’t we?”

  “Yes, we will but it’s not that kind of a secret.” He continued to lazily stroke my hair and as I leaned into his body, I couldn’t see his eyes but his body language told me everything I needed to know. He was slightly tense and a bit on edge but nothing earth shatteringly different was wrong with him.

  “I’m waiting,” I teased in a low voice.

  “I had another autopsy done on Trésor’s body. Now, before you start screaming at me, I didn’t feel like the NYPD did all that great of a job and as the County is overworked, facing budget cuts, and what ever else is happening in the city, I wanted your sister to be checked from head to toe,” he explained in soft, cultured French.

  “Pourquoi serais-je fâché?” I inquired, slipping right back into my second native language. “You’re just making sure the Medical Examiner’s Office in the States did a decent job—that is hardly any reason for me to be angry or displeased with you.”

  “Yeah but . . . they’ve already found things we innately knew. For instance, neither one of us fell for the whole story Trésor killed herself. It turned out she didn’t, not unless she was right-handed and she wasn’t. Based upon the knife wound, the killer was right handed. That comes from a hand expert I attended school with who is consulting on the case.”

  I finally sat up and turned toward him to see the worry on his face, etched in strained lines across his forehead and his usually sensual mouth turned down in a look that conveyed worry and concern for me.

  “Are they sure? She couldn’t have possibly . . ?”

  “No. My expert is ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent sure the scalpel wound was not self-inflicted.” He paused and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s also something else.”

  “What is it?” I wondered out loud.

  “She was . . . pregnant,” he whispered though his eyes didn’t meet mine.

  My hands went to his and grabbed them before I squeezed tightly. “My God, Rory, I am so sorry.”

  My lover stared at me as a lone tear trailed down his left eye. “What are you sorry over? The baby wasn’t mine. It was Severin’s.”

  I clutched my heart as it thundered inside my chest. “What does this mean for us? Do you no longer trust me? Do you think I would do something like that to you too?”

  Rory slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “Don’t be silly. Nothing changes between us. I don’t even know what the circumstances were behind the pregnancy or what happened. They’re scientists and doctors but they can’t tell us the complete story from tests and DNA samples. To be honest, there are only two people who know what happened and one of them is dead. Severin might be willing to tell but I’m so angry at him right now, I don’t want to know enough to contact him and ask about it.”

  I clung to him and inhaled his seductive masculine scent. This could destroy us if we let it but I was determined to hold on just as steadfast as him. How could he have held it together knowing what he knew? It couldn’t have been easy for him and although I wanted to bury any thoughts of the investigation in the back of my mind, it came to the forefront yet again. It widened the net for those who could have been responsible for my sister’s death and Astrid was no longer the lone suspect.

  There were so many questions bombarding my brain, and it became crystal clear there was so much more to Trésor’s story than met the eye. In fact, I had a feeling I had barely scratched the surface on my sister’s lifestyle. However, I had a feeling all the answers to my questions were buried right under my nose and within her journals.

  Chapter Twenty

  ALTHOUGH THE RIDE FROM CHARLES De Gaulle airport should have been awkward after Rory released his bombshell, it wasn’t.

  There were more questions than answers after he disclosed the results about all the tests conducted on Trésor’s body. The situation only made me curious as to what kind of relationship my sister really had with both Rory and Severin.

  I was tempted to ask if there had been some kind of shared arrangement but my sister’s funeral was scheduled in a couple of days and it just didn’t seem like the right time to make such inquiries. Regardless what I managed to find out, she was still dead and the killer, free as a bird. He or she might even have the gall to show up at her funeral and I would be none the wiser.

  Once the driver reached Rory’s home in Vaucresson—a very wealthy western suburb outside of Paris—the actual residence took my breath away. It was three stories and built of off-white, sand-washed brick. It was an older piece of property he’d bought and upgraded on his own.

  We walked inside and I was greeted with a large foyer followed by an open-house plan which included a gorgeous dining room and sitting room, an unbelievable kitchen, and a terrace perfect for entertaining or watching others as they frolicked in the outdoors heated swimming pool.

  It had begun to snow several days before we arrived therefore Rory had the pool covered but the house itself was still a beautiful and unique piece of architecture never the less. As if the backyard wasn’t a revelation enough, there was also an in-built movie theater, a comfortable den filled with a library full of books, and a two car garage which housed a black Porsche Cayenne and a silver Range Rover.

  Upstairs, there were five bedrooms, including a master suite which came with its own bathroom that included a deep sunken bathtub, a separate shower which could fit two people quite easily, his and her dressing areas and an enclosed toilet. The place had recently been cleaned from top to bottom and there wasn’t a speck of dust or an item out of order.

  Rory took me on a tour and informed me one of the bedrooms was a mini-gym, filled with a treadmill, an elliptical machine, one state-of-the-art stationary bike and a few pieces of weight lifting equipment I would probably never learn how to use. He saved the last bedroom to show me as the pièce de résistance. The whole room was made completely of glass and would be my new office.

  He’d recently purchased a whole new bureau and desk set, Persian carpets were laid throughout and there was a comfy cream sofa in the corner fo
r when I just wanted to rest and observe the view.

  “Do you like it?” he inquired expectantly with aquamarine eyes that danced like an excited child’s.

  I could never get sick of looking at all that male perfection. Though he was dressed in completely black, his body was still something to behold. It suited his healthy alabaster skin, dark brown hair with its natural black cherry highlights, blue-green eyes and model features.

  I embraced him and held on tight. “I love it. I can admit to suffering from envy since this is Nicole’s world and she grew up surrounded by all of this luxury. However, never in my wildest dreams did I ever believe a home like this would belong to me . . . here in Vaucresson.”

  My words caught in my throat before I cleared my air passage and breathed deeply. The smell of freshly cut flowers assailed my senses. Although the “glass room”—as I liked to refer to the room that had become my office—was perpetually colder than the rest of the house, I knew it would be the perfect place to do my research.

  We walked back downstairs and a tray of mini-baguette sandwiches along with two mugs filled with mulled wine greeted us in the sitting room. I sat down next to him and he handed me my mug which I immediately managed a tentative sip only to find out it was the perfect temperature for drinking.

  “Listen, I know you are jet-lagged and very tired. Perhaps I should not have taken the liberty but I know it has been a while since you have seen Nicole. I invited both her and Renaud over to dinner tonight. I expect we will spend tomorrow with your parents since we need to discuss the details of the funeral arrangements. Your mother would like her to be buried next weekend. Do you think I was out of line for making the appointment?”

  I shook my head. “No. I thank you for doing this. It makes this whole situation that much easier on me. I thought just being here would allow everything to set in. The whole issue of my sister being dead and the funeral but being back here makes everything so much worse. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

  I began to sob and Rory held me until my tears abated and felt like myself again. I had so much to look forward to. I hadn’t seen Nicole or Renaud in years and it would be nice to spend time with my French friends. Surely everything wouldn’t be horrible? I had to keep telling myself that lest I go crazy in the process.

  AFTER A LONG SOAK IN the tub, I dressed in a gorgeous cerulean blue cap-sleeved bandage dress Rory had recently bought me and a pair of black Tribute Mary-Jane stilettos. I brushed my damp hair out and after fiddling with it for about five minutes I finally decided to arrange it in a French Twist.

  Rory walked into the bedroom and knelt behind me before he kissed my cheek softly. “Our guests should be here shortly but before you go downstairs, I wanted to let you know something unpleasant. Please know it displeases me greatly but unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about it.”

  I turned around to face him. “What is it?”

  “Well, you’re not going to like it any more than I do.”

  I began to panic. Had he heard from my parents? Were they okay? Did they not agree to the cremation? Had Trésor’s body been lost in transit to the Alsace-Lorraine region?

  I stood to my feet. Since I wore six-inch heels, we were almost at eye level. “I don’t understand.”

  “Apparently Severin believes everything in New York is taken care of. Claudette is safely ensconced with Jason, Grayson is back on the market and all is well with Club X-Tasy. He isn’t needed there so he has decided to come back to Europe . . . indefinitely,” Rory explained as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

  “I thought we would be free of him for a while but it just seems like the more I want to put some distance between us—and form a life with you—the more that seems impossible. People from my past keep popping up at the most inopportune moments.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and embraced Rory. “Is that all? This isn’t your fault, chéri. He is a free man and he can do what he likes. I mean, did you really believe your brother would stay in Manhattan indefinitely? Regardless whether everything is settled or not—you can’t trust him to be truthful. To be honest, it isn’t any of our concern.”

  “That’s not really the point. I have always needed my brother for support. In a way, you could almost say he’s always been my Dom if you like. For the first time in my life, I am perfectly happy and sated with you. I do not wish to have any outside interference. Believe me, if that is what I craved, we would be living in Munich right now near my parents’ instead of here in France.

  “All I want is you. I want us to be a self-contained unit and happy with each other. When I crave action at the club, we can visit together and what goes on between us stays between us. I do not wish to share you and I will never make you do anything you don’t want to but for the time being, that itch has been scratched. I don’t want to visit the clubs because we can play here at home. I have all the toys and devices needed for us to be quite happy when we’re in the mood for a little extra.”

  “So how does this change if Severin is here?” I wondered out of genuine curiosity.

  Rory had a habit of going off on a tangent but never really saying what he wanted to and I needed him to be clear and concise with me on this issue.

  “Everything changes, liebling. All the sudden, we will be going to Club X-Tasy and my brother will insinuate himself into our lives. His home is in St. Cloud and that is only miles away from here. He’ll expect us to visit him and that new slave-whore he’s decided to bring along for kicks.

  “I didn’t like Ingrid when I met her in New York and I sure as hell don’t like her now. She’s even worse than Kaysa and if she ever feels she will be in a position of power, believe me she’ll use it. You can’t trust women like that. They play out the role of the victim but underneath they’re like a goddamn viper snake. They’re all ice, and money is the only god those bitches pray to.”

  The doorbell rang and we both knew what that meant. “I suppose we will finish this conversation later.”

  “Yes, that would probably be best.”

  Rory smiled and when he did, he turned on the charm. My heart beat a little bit faster and that made me wish for the dinner to pass all the more quicker so I could finally enjoy him and he could have me any way he wanted.

  “CHÉRIE, YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL. I am so happy to see you again, you have no idea.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You look gorgeous and happy as well,” I responded before I embraced my best friend.

  Nicole had never been a slouch in the fashion department and black was the major color of her wardrobe. That night, she wore a fashionable black sheath dress, which barely skimmed slim alabaster thighs. Knee-high, leather stiletto boots—that from the trademark red shoe soles—were obviously Christian Louboutin. A slave to French fashion, her dress was no doubt Christian Dior, Chanel or Yves Saint Laurent.

  Her honey blonde hair was worn in a high ponytail and the severe hairstyle made her ivory skin glow, her cerulean eyes that much deeper in color and her delicate yet eye-catching features that much more ethereal.

  Renaud helped her slip out of a long black and luxuriously elegant fur coat. I almost gasped when I read the label: it was Jil Sander from her ready-to-wear collection.

  “What? I have broadened my horizons in the fashion department,” she replied casually. “It’s goat and it was only several thousand euro. Most people assume it is faux-fur. I wouldn’t dare wear my chinchilla. I would just die if one of those crazy PETA people splashed it with paint.”

  I smiled and realize although the years had passed and neither one of us were naïve young women in our twenties, my friend had barely changed. She still thought the world revolved around her and had little to do with people who weren’t as offensively wealthy as she was. It always surprised me when she’d married Renaud. Yes, he was good looking but her family had not liked his financial situation at all.

  Though he worked for her father’s corporation, he commanded twice as much as anyone el
se would have received for the job he did. This was mostly to keep him from trying to get a hold of any of her money. Her parents were shrewd individuals, and they would protect their only daughter at all costs. Even if this meant employing her husband, and him doing a job he was seriously under qualified to do.

  We all sat at the dining room table, which sat six, for a formal dinner prepared by Rory’s chef though he did not reside in-house. None of his help were live-in and they all worked part-time though he paid them for full time work so they would be eligible for their full pensions once they reached retirement age.

  It was small details like this that made me love him all the more. He truly cared about people and despite his harsh exterior, once you reached his heart, he was pure emotion. It made it understandable why he let so few people into his life in the first place.

  We made small talk, mostly about the French economy and avoided personal subjects at all costs. The death of Trésor loomed over dinner like a black cloak none of us could shake but not one of us brought up her impending funeral either.

  “I hope you plan to be around for a while. You two aren’t thinking of going back to the States any time soon?” Renaud inquired in polite French.

  The king of double-talk, I knew exactly what he meant. He would have made an excellent politician had he been intelligent enough to apply to one of France’s elite universities. Unfortunately, he’d gone to a mid-level university and had a degree in general business but he was far from the sharpest tool in the shed. His looks had always helped him through life and he’d thoroughly used them to his advantage.