“I’ll talk to her again tomorrow,” I said.
17
But I didn’t get a chance to talk to Elodie the following day because she disappeared before I’d even gotten out of bed. She left her phone behind so I couldn’t call her. I stood in the spare room—Elodie’s clothing and make-up scattered all over the floor. I had no idea where she had gone. Out for breakfast? Would she be back any moment? I was contemplating contacting Sophie but my sister got there first. I answered my cell.
“What the fuck,” Sophie began, her voice a pack of ice.
I knew what she was referring to. I couldn’t resist an, I told you so. “Well, if you hadn’t been so gung-ho about having meetings with that shifty bastard in the first place—”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s all my fault. And now Elodie hates me because of Alessandra.”
“You should have talked to her a long time ago about all that. What did you expect? Elodie’s an adult now; she had a right to know. You betrayed her by not trusting her and keeping her in the dark. So yes, you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you to repair the damage.”
Sophie groaned into the receiver. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dear brother.”
“Sophie, you need to come out of the closet. It’s not fair on anybody, least of all Elodie. Not to mention your poor longsuffering husband.”
“ ‘Poor, longsuffering husband’ has been having affairs for years. Neither of us asks the other any questions; we lead separate lives.”
“Fine, but Elodie shouldn’t be piggy in the middle.”
“Where is she? She won’t answer her phone and I want to talk to her. She told me last night she’d be staying with you. I was thinking of coming over but thought I should call first.”
“She’s not here. She’s upset. Upset with you, upset with having got involved with Prokovich, upset with shit that went down in her past.”
“What shit?”
“That’s for her to tell. It’s not my place.”
“She’s been confiding in you and not me?” Sophie’s voice cracked—it sounded as if the floodgates were about to open.
“Not exactly. Look, I’m not going to discuss Elodie’s private affairs with you. Ask her yourself,” I said.
Sophie gave out a loud sigh. “She told me she didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“She’ll come around—just give it time. Look, I’ve got to go. I can hear the babies waking up.”
“Wow, you’re taking fatherhood so seriously.”
“You bet. I want to be the father I never had myself.”
“Talk to Elodie for me, will you. Please get her to call me.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Anyway,” I said later, in an angry rush, while Pearl and I were up on the roof terrace having lunch in the conservatory—my eyes fixed on Pearl as if it were all her fault. “What the fuck happened with your documentary on exposing arms dealers? You even had dinner with the bastard, why haven’t you told the world what an asshole he is already?”
“I wish it were that easy,” Pearl replied calmly, deflecting my rage with a flick of her wrist.
“Well what’s the fucking problem? His name is all over the news now. He and I are more notorious than ever. Grab him while you can!”
“He’s a slippery fish, Mikhail Prokovich—you know that. There’s no proof, as such. You can’t go around accusing someone of something that major until you have the guilty package all wrapped up with a nice big bow. The more famous they are, the more delicate the situation.”
“Well hurry up about it, baby; I’m losing patience.”
“Oh, we’re working on it, believe me. The research is complicated. He is complicated. Clever. It’s hard to link him directly to any shady dealings. If we attack at this point, we could lose everything—all our hard work up till now. We need to be patient. Plus, he’s connected to governments and big businesses. We’re in cahoots with 60 Minutes and the BBC’s Panorama, because we need clout. HookedUp Enterprises can’t do this alone. We could get our asses sued if we aren’t careful. And despite your little quip about Europeans not suing, I’m sure we’d have Prokovich’s lawyers jumping down our throats, crawling all over us, the second they could.”
My fists were clenched in tight balls while Pearl coolly sliced a piece of homemade quiche for us both and served us each a small portion of green salad. She carefully poured us each a glass of Pinot Grigio, the crisp white wine—as chilled as she was.
I had married a headstrong woman who complimented my character in every way. She wasn’t riled by things when it came to her career. It seemed she had everything managed, including me. Her presence calmed me.
I had certainly chosen the perfect woman to be my wife.
“Anyway,” I concluded, “that fuck has some heavy karma coming his way. By hook or by crook, he’ll pay for being such an asshole.”
Pearl started laughing.
“What’s so funny? Are you laughing at my accent, Mrs. Chevalier? The fact that I don’t pronounce the H?”
“Not your accent but I love it when you use expressions like ‘by hook or by crook.’ Do we even know where that comes from? Crook, as in crooked? Hook, as in a shepherd’s hook or something?”
“It’s probably derived from some obscure village in England called Crook or Hook. Anyway, right now, my focus is on Elodie. I’m worried about her. Obviously she left her cell phone behind on purpose so I can’t find her.”
Pearl frowned. “That means you can’t track her down with the GPS, right? The way you did with me.”
“Thanks for that, you make me sound like a real stalker.”
She winked at me. “Well you are, Alexandre Chevalier. You stalked me all the way to the alter.”
I ‘crooked’ my finger at her and patted my lap. “Come here, you sexy wife, sit on my knee. Where are the twins?”
“Having their nap. I’ve got the baby monitor on. Modern spyware. See?” She showed me her Smartphone. “Sleeping like angels.”
“Where’s Rex?”
“In the park with Sally.”
“Patricia and the staff?”
“It’s her day off. The rest of the staff left for the afternoon.”
“So we’re alone?”
Pearl looked at her Reverso watch—a gift from me. “Maybe for an hour or so more.”
“Fuck lunch—it’s you I want to eat,” I said, lust glittering in my eyes, not breaking my gaze from hers. “You looked so beautiful last night, chérie, in your elegant gown. And I can still smell whatever you put on. Or maybe it’s just your natural scent. Whatever your secret is, it has me intoxicated. Get your ass over here.”
Pearl smiled and swept her hand over her golden locks, pushing her hair away from her face. She got up and sat on my knee. I was instantly hard. Fuck, even after giving birth and all the intricacies that came with child rearing and a household to run, she had me on red alert. She nuzzled her butt into my groin subtly and I could hear a throaty growl which surprised me as my own. I burrowed my nose into her elegant neck and smelled the Pearl Elixir that had me permanently mesmerized.
I kissed the nape of her soft neck. “Do you remember when we had our first bath together? I read you poetry and you slipped in the oily lavender water and the book flipped out of my hands and sank?”
“I most certainly do,” she said. “I thought I’d spoiled the moment but you laughed—your first edition Baudelaire ruined.”
I nipped her lobe and she shuddered. I saw goose bumps rise on her flesh. “And then we discussed the power,” I whispered in her ear, “of smell and how two people can be attracted to each other for no other reason than pheromones?” I inhaled her sweet essence and a rush of desire surged through my torso, hammering in my groin.
“And I wondered if it was the lavender oil alone which had me hooked on you.”
“I’d never felt so at ease with a woman before. I’d never had that intimacy before,” I murmured.
Pearl sounded surprised. “
Really?”
“Really,” I said, my hand cupping her succulent ass. “You know when you’re listening to an old vinyl record and it jams? That was my life before. In a rut. And when you came along, the needle jumped forward into the right groove and forced me to move ahead. Finally I could hear the melody—it flowed beautifully, and I knew the way it was meant to sound.”
She turned her head and smiled. “I’m a melody? I’m music to your ears?”
I gripped her thigh. “The best melody ever. You have the perfect beat, Pearl, the perfect rhythm. You soothe me. You enliven me. You make me dance. You help me sleep. Yes, you’re my music, chérie.” I sneaked my fingers between her legs and felt her moistness through the thin fabric of her panties. The fact that I caused such an instant physical reaction in her body made my cock ache with need. We hadn’t fucked for nearly a week—that’s what having children did—and it felt like a lifetime. I lifted her sweater and snaked my other hand around her smooth waist. “How do you keep so fit? So trim?”
“Trade secret,” she answered, nestling her butt into my solid, pounding erection. I spun her around and moved her soft thighs either side of my legs so she was straddling me. I cupped her chin with my hand and pulled her beautiful face towards mine. I didn’t kiss her straight away. I wanted to look into her eyes and really see her. Those guileless, big blue eyes that could have belonged to a little girl. I breathed her in.
“You’re sniffing me again, aren’t you?” she teased, her arms closing tightly around my shoulders. “You’re worse than Rex.”
“Caught me,” I said with a laugh.
“What do I smell of?”
“Of Pearl.”
“What is Pearl?”
“It’s unique. The pure essence of love. A secret potion. There’s no smell like it in the world—it’s deep and nuanced and…fresh. With a hint of sunshine. It makes my head spin every time. If I could bottle it, it would earn me more money than all of my enterprises combined. But then again, I wouldn’t want to share your elixir with anybody.”
I rested my lips on her mouth, my breath a tease, and with the tip of my tongue explored her Cupid’s bow. Such a pretty mouth, that belonged to a woman of another era, like one of Rossetti’s Pre-Raphaelites. My hand, still on her jaw, slowly traced down her neck to her shoulder. And then to the curve of her breast. She gasped. I could feel her hardened nipple through the delicate cashmere of her sweater. I trailed more light kisses around her mouth, stroking my tongue across her bottom lip and she moaned, edging her crotch up against me, and her hands moved to unbutton my jeans—my rock-hard cock, pounding with desire, sprang up against my abdomen. Fuck I felt horny.
She couldn’t take my tormenting kisses any longer—her lips parted and her tongue flicked out to touch mine as she held my thick erection in her grip. Chills ran through my body at her carnal touch.
I licked into her mouth and, gripping her hair, tilted her head back. “You’re mine, baby,” I growled—my sound vibrating in her mouth as she played with the tip of my crown, smoothing the pre-cum around my swollen dick—as massive as a cobra. I felt like I was about to explode the kiss was so erotic, and I couldn’t wait to enter her. But this foreplay was too beautiful to rush. We were fucking each other with our mouths, our tongues in a wild, wet tango, nipping, biting, stroking, rimming. I kept hold of her hair, not letting her go; my possessive nature a fire, stoked by her love for me.
“Your kisses are my food,” Pearl whimpered into my mouth as I consumed her whole. And it was true; we were nourishment for each other. It was as if I were eating her with my lashing tongue—sucking her, tasting her essence. Feasting on the Pearl Elixir.
I needed her so much.
“Sit on my cock, baby,” I murmured. “Slide yourself onto me.” My hands moved down to her ass which I grasped voraciously—my emotions and desire in a frenzy. I heard a cry, timorous and panicked—for a second, I thought it was Pearl.
She shifted herself away from me and leaned down to grab her cell. “It’s Louis,” she told me, staring at the screen of her Smartphone. He never yelled that way—I could see why she jumped to attention. “I’d better go downstairs and see if he’s okay.”
“I’ll come with you.” I let out a sigh. Fatherhood. A full-time job.
Pearl took Louis to the pediatrician, and I stayed behind with Madeleine, just in case what he had was contagious—two sick babies wouldn’t be the greatest, although it was the first time they had ever been separated and I felt badly for them. I coddled her in my arms, rocking her gently. I put on a Vivaldi cello concerto and swayed with her about the apartment, which made her coo and smile—her toothless grin a joy to behold, which sent a rush of butterflies, circling my stomach. I nestled my face against her pearly, soft skin—she too exuded a secret elixir: the baby elixir that was almost as intoxicating as Pearl’s.
I kept my eye on my cell, hoping that Elodie would call any second. My instinct told me that she’d be alright. But there was nothing I could do for now. She’d told me she wouldn’t be going to her apartment in the Village, but I called her roommate anyway. Nothing.
Women always complain about how tough it is to be female but shit, in that moment, I was in turmoil. Worried about Elodie, my twins, my belle Pearl. Feeling an overwhelming urge to protect them all, but not knowing how.
A few hours later, Pearl and Louis were back home from the doctor—what he was ailing from was just a very bad cold. I felt a huge sense of gratitude. I realized that this was to be a constant feature in our lives as parents: nerves on the edge with worry. And I needed to develop a more laissez-faire attitude about my kids or I’d drive myself, and everyone around me, nuts.
But just as Louis had finally settled and was completely calm, and I was finally enjoying a beer, my cell went. It was Elodie. At last. It was well after midnight.
Elodie asked me to meet her. She told me that she was in a brownstone on the Upper East Side and gave me the address; but then we got cut off. I knew the building well because I’d thought about buying it once, when it was up for sale. Obviously someone outbid me. Outbid me! Whoever it was, had stupid money. Prokovich himself? Surely not. Elodie said she wanted to stay clear of him and he’d hardly be inviting me over to his house. I imagined it must belong to the parents of one of her friend’s, and that they were away for the weekend.
I exited the delivery door of my apartment building, just in case any paparazzi were waiting to take a snap at me out front. Fuck, I hated being newsworthy. As I waited for my driver a block away, I wondered what I was going to do about my niece. It dawned on me that, although I had always envisioned her as so innocent, she was a wild card. But still a damaged bird. Those bloody damaged birds—Pearl included—that had me running around after them, trying to fix their wings, when they were probably perfectly capable of looking after themselves.
I thought of Pearl and our unfinished business at lunch. I had her on top of me in my mind’s eye, or my cock in her luscious mouth—her big blue, childlike eyes looking up at me. Like a child with a tasty lollipop. Damn. Images of her sucking me off kept flitting through my one-track mind—it was on replay. I knew now what it must be like to be fat and on a diet, constantly craving treats you can’t have. I wanted Pearl at all times, but lately, something always intervened. Namely: kids.
And now, Elodie.
My cell buzzed. It was Elodie again. “Where are you?” I said urgently. “I mean I know where you are—I’m on my way—but whose place is it?”
“In someone’s house.”
“Obviously, but whose?”
“I’m in trouble. Bad. Really bad.”
“Stay where you are, I’m on my way, I won’t be long,” I promised.
“There’s blood everywhere,” she whispered.
“Blood? Jesus, what happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. It’s him. He’s hurt.”
“Okay, stay calm. Who’s ‘him’?” I knew who him was but I wanted to hear it from her lips.
> Silence.
“Elodie, who is him?”
“He’s lying in a pool of blood.”
“Is anyone trying to hurt you? Can he hurt you? Is anyone else there?” I whispered hoarsely into the line.
“I think he’s dead.” She sounded unfazed. Very matter-of-fact.
“How much blood?”
“He’s in the bathtub.”
“Did you bind the wound? Get a shirt, or something, and tie it tight about the wound. He might just be injured; did you check his pulse? Elodie, are you listening to me?”
“It’s too late for that now.”
“Jesus,” I said, my heart pounding with blood-soaked images in my head. What had she done? Attacked him with her killer heels? Although with Elodie being so tiny, I couldn’t imagine her getting very far. “Who knows you’re there?”
“Nobody. I’ve locked the front door. There’s no doorman here or anyone. Nobody. I didn’t do anything wrong but please don’t tell Mom.”
“Of that you have my word. Elodie, stay where you are. Do not open the door to anyone, is that clear? I’ll be there ASAP. Do not let anyone in that house.”
“I won’t.”
If I’d been an upright citizen I would have gotten Elodie to call 911, or call them myself. But who knew what mess she’d gotten into? I couldn’t risk it. Better Prokovich dead from bleeding than Elodie in some American women’s penitentiary with big butch dykes fighting over whose bunk she’d be sleeping in at night.
I called Suresh, my driver, and cancelled him, and hailed a cab instead. There was only one person I could trust with this. He was not dissimilar to the actor, Joe Pesci. Just as nuts as him—or at least the roles he plays. Small. Aggressive. Touchy. Chip on his shoulder type of guy. My man was a ‘cleaner,’ trained in forensics. He could make traces of blood, fingerprints, clothes fibers, et cetera…vanish. Make the body, itself, vanish, if need be, and if he wasn’t available, he had someone who was. I called. He answered on the second ring. He was obviously used to emergencies. Strike that. His work, his trade was emergencies and emergencies only. Death. Blood. Emergencies of every kind. Sophie had used him once. I needed him on standby, just in case Elodie had incriminated herself. I told him to wait for my call when I knew more.
Belle Pearl Page 13
