Mad Love 2

by Colet Abedi

  His gaze holds mine then settles on the arm Michael has around my shoulder. If looks could kill Michael would be toast. But he meets his brother’s gaze without fear. Clayton finally walks toward us.

  “Clayton,” Michael says warmly. “Sophie and I have spent the whole morning together.”

  I can feel my cheeks burning.

  Clayton’s face is perfectly composed but I can tell there is something savage brewing underneath. His hot stare finds mine and the look he gives me is one of pure ownership. Clearly the man still thinks he owns me.

  He might.

  “Having fun?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “Thank you for asking.”

  Clayton gently pulls me away from Michael’s hold.

  “If you don’t mind, Michael, I’d like to have a word with Sophie.”

  “Can’t it wait until after she eats?” Michael asks evenly. “She’s famished after our hike.”

  I don’t miss the use of the word “our.” Clayton’s jaw ticks.

  “It won’t take long.”

  Right. He always has to get his way and I don’t feel like arguing with him in front of his brother even though every encounter I’ve had with him in France starts with him leading me to a secluded room. I look apologetically at Michael and then we walk out of the dining room and down another hallway. Moving too quickly for me to react, he corners me against a wall. I have nowhere to go. Not that I want to. He leans in nice and close, his eyes intense.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” There’s a definite edge to his voice.

  “I prepped this morning, Clayton,” I say, irritated. “And besides, even hired help can go on walks.”

  His eyes widen at my words.

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Then what did you mean?” I glare at him.

  “My brother is a charmer,” Clayton says slowly as his eyes sweep over my face. I feel the heat from his proximity. I can’t help but stare at his lips. Why do I always have to be so obvious?

  “He’s nice,” I agree.

  Clayton is silent for a moment. Our faces are inches apart, and his scent, his closeness is driving me crazy.

  “Is he?” he whispers as he moves his hand up to the wall, essentially trapping me again. His mouth moves down close to mine. He’s literally a whisper away. I can almost taste his lips.

  I barely manage to nod.

  If possible, he moves in closer. “So did you think about what I said?”

  Huh? What is he talking about?

  “Last night, Sophie,” He sounds amused. “Us.”

  It takes me a moment to regain my bearings and remember what it is he’s referring to.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper back. “I want—”

  My voice trails off because I forget what it is I want as he seductively moves his body closer. He rubs his cheek against mine; his lips brush my skin, teasing me mercilessly.

  “What do you want?”

  You. I want you. Now. Upstairs. On your giant bed. Or in the rock crystal bathtub. Or in a hole. I’ll take it however I can get it.

  “Umm,” is the only word I can manage.

  “Tell me,” he commands.

  “I want more, Clayton,” I finally say. “I want to know everything about you.” And that is the truth. That is what I want right after he takes me to bed and has his way with me.

  He moves his lips against mine but doesn’t kiss me. No, he just whispers into my mouth. The man is a walking sex god.

  “You want to know me?” he says. “Then you need to know what you do to me first.”

  And with that he pulls me up against his body so I can feel exactly how I affect him.

  My traitorous body burns with desire. I’m overcome by him in every way. An ache begins to build inside. One that I know only he can satisfy. His translucent eyes sear into mine, begging me to let him in.

  And oh how I want to.

  “Clayton—”

  “Sophie.”

  I close my eyes against the intensity I see in his.

  “Don’t hide from me.”

  “I can’t help it,” I whisper back.

  “Please,” he says, surprising me, “open your eyes.”

  And I do.

  I look up at him and all the memories of our time together flood through my mind and body. I relive snippets of every moment in the Maldives. Everything. From the time on the private island to the time we spent alone in his bungalow. Everything.

  “I want to show you something today,” he says intensely.

  The logical thing to do is to say no. To stay far away from the possibility of being alone with him at any time. That would be the smart thing to do. Which is exactly why I’m going to do just the opposite.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “But I have some more prep work to do and I need to sit down with Abby and talk to her about what she has in mind.”

  He lifts his hand and looks at his silver Rolex and I can’t help but think how well it suits him. I never knew a watch could be so sexy on a man’s wrist.

  “Is three hours enough time? That’s just about when lunch will be prepared.”

  I can only nod.

  The smile he gives me is dangerous. “Shall I come to your bedroom to collect you?”

  Yes. I’ll be waiting in my bed. Naked.

  “Sure.”

  “Dress warm,” he commands, then brushes a kiss on my forehead and leaves me.

  So much for naked.

  After my run-in with Clayton I skipped breakfast and asked Clayton to give my apologies to Michael, then came straight upstairs to tell my friends about everything that just happened.

  “I sincerely hope you got a bikini wax in LA,” Erik said.

  “We’re not having sex, Erik. He’s taking me somewhere,” I tell him as I lounge on the sofa in the dressing room they’re using for Abby’s wardrobe. Erik and Orie are busy putting outfits, matching jewelry, and shoes together.

  “To pleasure island,” Orie says with a laugh.

  “At least have the decency to blush,” Erik admonishes me.

  “That’s not happening.”

  Yet.

  “You’re a bad liar, Sophie. I’m really disappointed in you,” Erik says as he holds up a crème Herve Leger dress. “This would look great on you. Fit your body like a glove.”

  “Can’t afford it but nice try,” I say automatically.

  “She’ll be eating ramen noodles in no time with that outlook,” Erik mutters to Orie as he puts the dress back on a rack.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “It means I’m sick of your depressing-as-shit attitude. It’s time for you to wake the fuck up and be happy and be goddamn grateful for what you have. I’ve got to be honest, lately I feel like when you walk into a room you need your own depressing soundtrack.”

  My mouth drops open in outrage.

  “Erik, that is the rudest thing you have ever said to me!”

  “Doubtful,” he thinks about it. “I’ve definitely said worse.”

  I cross my arms and try to remember all the quips I’ve heard from him over the years and then it hits me.

  “Freshman year in college,” I remember now.

  Erik nods. “When you had a muffin top.”

  “That was a blip in time—” I argue as I remember the freshman fifteen that I almost put on.

  “Only a blip because I prevented you from becoming a blimp,” Erik says pointedly. “I deserve a thank you. I’m only trying to protect you from yourself. Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy.”

  I look at Orie,,“Is it true? Do you think I need my own soundtrack?”

  “Like a James Blunt song maybe,” Orie admits.

  “Oooh, that’s a good one.” Erik clearly agrees.

  “You know, I really resent your comments. I was a twenty-three-year-old virgin who gave it up on a vacation to the world’s most perfect guy
who turned out not to be so perfect, or so I thought,” I start to rant. “And I was and maybe still am in love with him. And all of it happened in eleven days! Eleven days! So forgive me if I haven’t been the picture of happiness. I think all things being said and done, I’m doing pretty damn well.”

  Erik and Orie stare at me.

  “Finally!” Erik shouts out after a minute. “You’ve grown some balls! Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this day to come?”

  I get up and make my way to the door.

  “I’m going to leave now.”

  “Use some of that fire in the bedroom. Clayton will love it,” Erik calls out after me as I slam the door shut.

  I quickly walk toward my workroom determined to be happy and jovial just to spite Erik and find Abby waiting there.

  “Oh, hi, Abby,” I say with a bright smile.

  “Hi, Sophie,” Abby replies politely. “I’m actually surprised that you’re greeting me so kindly.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask as I step into the room and face her.

  “My little part in Clayton’s plan,” Abby says. “He told me you know the truth. I plan on going to see Erik right after I sit with you.”

  “Abby,” I begin, hoping to put her at ease, “I know how convincing Clayton can be. I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

  “Yes, well, my cousin always gets what he wants,” Abby says. “I didn’t realize that it was all about you until I saw you.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask confused.

  “I was asked to hire Erik as a favor to Clayton and he told me he’d foot the bill, which was very generous of him. And Dimitri and his family didn’t mind.”

  The Russian oligarchs.

  “Clayton is letting us use his chateau for the wedding and has been beyond giving,” Abby continues in an apologetic voice, “so I agreed. Dimitri had his people book Erik for me so it wouldn’t be so obvious. And after seeing Erik’s portfolio and meeting him in person, I’m so happy that I did go along with the plan. His demeanor, as I’m sure you know, is extremely fun to be around.”

  “Very,” I agree.

  Except when he compares your energy to a depressing song.

  “Then Erik sent pictures of your paintings and the rest is history,” she says. “I just want you to know that I did hire you because I genuinely love your work. When I told Clayton about it, he was so pleased. At the time I couldn’t understand why, but then I saw you in person and it all clicked in my head.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her.

  “You’re beautiful,” Abby says with a smile. “I don’t know. I’m a woman. I just had a feeling.”

  I can’t believe Abby is revealing all this to me. She must really be feeling guilty. But Lord, do I appreciate it.

  “So please don’t be mad at me,” Abby says gently.

  “I’m not mad at you at all,” I tell her honestly. “I swear. But I have to admit that I am thankful you’ve shared this with me. It definitely makes everything feel a bit better.”

  I can see that Abby is relieved.

  And then in a flash she’s back to being extraordinarily polite. It’s a trait I noticed in Elizabeth and Jane, even Clayton. One second you could completely read a face, whether it showed disdain or friendliness, and the next there was an aloofness, like all the posh training that occurred in childhood was back in full force.

  “Well, then, if you’ll excuse me I’d like to go and speak to Erik. I was hoping I could sit for you tomorrow around noon and we could go over everything then? I don’t think there’s much we have to discuss in terms of what Dimitri wants. I think you’ll get the idea when you see me tomorrow in my costume.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Abby walks to the door but pauses when her hand is on the doorknob. She turns to face me and asks, “Can I tell you something, Sophie? Woman to woman?”

  “Anything.”

  “I’ve never seen my cousin like this before. And I mean ever. There have been many women in his life, but he’s never gone to this extreme. I don’t know what’s going on between you or what transpired in the past,” Abby says, “but don’t give up on him. He’s not easy, I know. And he’s a bit intimidating. But he’s a good man. And the Sinclair men had an unusual childhood,” Her voice trails off.

  I wonder if she’s referring to the shuttling back and forth between their parents. Something inside says no. There’s a nagging feeling in my gut that tells me there’s more to it than what little Clayton has shared with me of his childhood.

  “I’ve said too much.” Abby looks horrified by her words. “I’m sorry.”

  “I won’t say anything, Abby,” I reassure her. “I won’t betray your confidence.”

  “Thank you, Sophie.” She smiles at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  5

  There’s a knock on my door at exactly noon.

  I take a quick look in the mirror and am happy with what I see. I’ve left my hair down and I’m wearing dark blue skinny jeans with knee length brown suede boots. I have a brown turtleneck on and a short brown coat. Lucky for me, I’m pretty well prepared for any situation that’s thrown my way.

  I take a deep breath and open the door.

  Clayton hasn’t changed. He’s just added a long navy wool jacket and scarf, which he looks divine in. Gorgeous. The best part? He’s holding a long-stemmed red rose in his hand.

  My heart is beating a mile a minute. I wonder if he can sense my excitement or how incredibly happy I am to see him.

  “Hi,” I say.

  I see a flash of pleasure in his eyes as he takes in my appearance.

  “You look beautiful,” he says.

  That single look makes it so worth me changing three times. I take the rose from him and our fingers brush against each other, causing fire to burn through my body.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  “Shall we?” he asks, and extends his hand. I hesitate for a brief moment before I let him lead the way.

  We’re both quiet as we make our way through the home. Sergei is outside to greet us.

  “Miss Walker,” Sergei says formally as he opens the door to a black Range Rover for me.

  “Hello,” I reply nervously. I’m really not used to this in-your-face wealth. It’s kind of crazy.

  I step inside and Clayton follows. Sergei gets into the front seat and drives us away. I look at Clayton’s profile and know there’s a good chance I’m probably drooling.

  “Sergei picked us up in a different car before,” I comment lamely, trying to fill the silence and distract myself from his incredible looks.

  “The Maybach is Dimitri’s car. He had it shipped over,” Clayton says. “This one is mine.”

  I think the Range Rover suits him more. There’s definitely a cool factor to it.

  “So where are we going?” I ask.

  “It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile.

  Beautiful memories wash over me from the last time he surprised me with a trip. I stare out the window to avoid his knowing gaze even though I don’t really need to look at him to feel the energy that’s always pulsating between us.

  Clayton’s hand covers mine. He entwines our fingers and gently rubs my skin. The contact is all I need to get me hot and bothered in no time.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not kidnapping you again,” he tells me.

  I wonder if he’s a mind reader, too.

  “Yet.”

  Holy shit.

  His confidence only adds to his appeal. He’s good, I’ll give him that. He sure as hell knows how to knock any reservation I might have.

  “Your brother is really nice.” I change the topic to something not sexual. I turn to look at his handsome profile again.

  “He’s a heartbreaker,” Clayton agrees as he pins me with his gaze.

  “Like you?” I ask softly as I arch a brow.

  In two point five
seconds his demeanor changes from playful to aloof and I silently curse myself.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. The last thing I want to do is start some type of weirdness and ruin what could potentially be a nice day.

  He nods ever so slightly and looks straight ahead.

  “We’ve arrived,” he tells me as Sergei pulls into the parking lot of a huge medieval building.

  “Where are we?” I ask curiously.

  “Le Musée du Petit Palais,” he tells me in the most perfect and sexy French accent. Clearly, he’s a master of the language.

  Let’s be real, Sophie, I’m pretty sure he’s the master of the universe.

  “They have an incredible collection of Renaissance paintings that I thought you’d enjoy,” Clayton tells me almost hesitantly, his eyes guarded.

  “This is amazing, Clayton. Thank you. What a wonderful surprise,” I say quickly because it’s true. I’m taken aback and touched. So touched that he would bring me to a museum to show me an art collection.

  Clayton smiles with pleasure. “I thought you would like it.”

  Sergei opens the door for me and I get out and make my way to Clayton. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he takes my hand in his and kisses me lightly on the forehead. It’s almost like we’re a real couple.

  Except we’re not. We’re in this weird limbo-land trying to figure everything out. But I tell myself there’s nothing wrong with holding hands. It’s safe. Okay, maybe not the way he holds hands, always rubbing my skin, drawing circles and caressing me, but I just want to be close to him.

  “I know I shouldn’t admit it but I do have a soft spot for Renaissance art,” he says breaking my chain of thought as we begin to walk to the museum entrance.

  “Why shouldn’t you admit that?” I ask.

  “I don’t know if it’s very masculine,” he says with a wolfish smile.

  Ummm, hello? He’s like the most masculine man I’ve ever encountered in my life. What is he talking about?

  “I think it’s hot,” I tell him instantly then look away in embarrassment.

  Nice one, Sophie.

  Talk about desperado.

  “Well, in that case, I’m happy to show you around the collection,” he says as he squeezes my hand. “I’ll show you my favorite piece.”