Maison Plaisir

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  She bit back the urge to yell when Hervé pounded her with short, rapid strokes. Shards of pleasure exploded in her depths. Scalded her. Burned. Until they engulfed her in one fiery blast of pure ecstasy. She came. Her body quaked, pussy squeezing him in a throat-crushing grip.

  “Fuck.” Hervé couldn’t move. A laugh followed. He licked the side of her jaw and breathed out on her ear. “This is why I don’t want to lose you to Armand. But you aren’t just one hot fuck, Belle. I love the way you make me feel. Like no one ever has before.”

  Her brain went to mush hearing his declaration.

  “I love you, Belle. I really do.”

  She yelped when all of a sudden, Hervé lifted her and pushed her to the side of the table, flat on her back. Her head hit the floor cushion as the ceiling of the nook filled her line of sight. Then, Hervé loomed, eyes burning with pure lust. He wrenched her thighs open and thrust inside her.

  “Want you.” He pulled and thrust. “So fucking bad.”

  Thrust.

  “Not going to lose you to him.”

  Pull.

  “Going to make you mine. Whatever it takes.”

  He growled and rained her with a series of rough, vicious fucks that made her mind scatter to oblivion. She gasped. Hervé plastered her mouth with his, kissing her as hard as his cock ravaged her pussy. Pleasure gathered fast. Her muscles tensed. The air thinned.

  She tore her mouth from his and screamed. Her orgasm hit her hard, tearing her sanity to pieces. Hervé didn’t stop while she was climaxing. He kept slamming into her, fucking her over and over until another orgasm tore her world from the seams. For a moment, she was oblivious of her surroundings. Then, she felt Hervé stiffening, jerking while his cock flooded her channel with his hot seed.

  They lay immobile amidst the afterglow. Hervé finally withdrew from her and pulled her into his arms, cocooning her in a tight embrace as if he was afraid of losing her. Belle rested her head against his chest, listening to his beating heart.

  It was…heaven.

  “Belle…” he croaked.

  She looked up.

  “Love you.”

  Belle kissed him without thinking. She didn’t wish him to see her cry. His declaration made her want to shed a tear. When Armand confessed his true feelings, she did the same thing too. She didn’t know why. Maybe because Hervé and Armand were sincere. Unlike Trent.

  Hervé caressed her lips with the tip of fingers when she parted. “Love me back, and I’ll give you everything your heart desires.”

  Her throat tightened. She liked him and Armand equally. How was she supposed to choose? Belle dove into his chest and clutched the edge of his denim jacket. Her voice was hoarse when she answered, “I need more time…”

  The following day, Belle had just got home from work when someone knocked on her front door. Belle fished her keys from her purse and padded back to the living room. She didn’t think Hervé or Armand would come to see her at this hour. She’d been buried in an avalanche of work that made her stay late to catch up. Armand had called her at the office. Somehow, he and his cousin had made some kind of arrangement that they would take turns taking her out every day. Courting her, to borrow their term. And since she was up to her neck with work today, Armand had promised to take her to dinner tomorrow evening. Belle wondered if he’d changed his mind.

  When she opened the door, she saw Trent instead. Her internal alarm blared in an instant. How did he know she lived here? Her sisters or her mother must have given her address to this jerk.

  “Hello, Belle.” Trent leant on the doorframe and flashed a smile that used to make her heart stop beating. But his charm no longer worked. He brought a bouquet of flowers for her.

  She didn’t make any attempt to take it. “It’s late.” She tried to close the door but Trent put his foot in the way.

  “Can we talk?” Trent pleaded. He smelt like a brewery.

  God, he’s drunk. “No. Leave now or I’ll call the cops.”

  “It’ll only take a minute.”

  “Go away, Trent.” Belle pushed the door.

  Trent halted her. “It’s important, Belle.”

  “I don’t care!” Full panic engulfed her. She looked over her shoulder, noticing she had put her cordless phone on the living room coffee table. She made a decision to run for it and call 911. Trent was inebriated and she knew better than trying to reason with a drunken man.

  Belle made a dash and snatched the phone. With a trembling hand, she dialled the emergency phone number. She’d barely talked to the operator when a strong hand grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. Trent shook her violently so the phone fell off her hand. She heaved. “Hel—”

  Trent’s palm clamped her mouth before she could scream for help. He tightened his grip to the point of hurting her. “Listen, you uppity cunt. Do you think I want to do this?” he growled near her ear.

  The strong smell of alcohol made her stomach roil. Belle elbowed him in self-defence. Trent retaliated by backhanding her in one murderous sweep. Pain exploded in her left cheek. He hit her so hard it knocked the air out of her lungs. Belle fell flat on the carpet. She wheezed, unable to breathe. Trent pounced at her and planted a hand on her throat, choking her. Her eyes widened, realising Trent had gone off his rocker. His face turned purple with rage. His eyes were bloodshot-red. The alcohol had turned him into a monster. A pang of fear shimmered in her mind. Did he even realise what he was doing?

  “All you need to do is obey Auntie Maggie and we’ll all be happy. I’m tired of being your bitch–sisters’ puppet.” Trent gave a loud laugh. “And the worst part is they aren’t your real sisters. It’s all been a sham.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  Trent choked her harder. Belle started seeing stars. His eyes narrowed as he studied her body, glinting with maliciousness.

  “Though, I’d never have guessed you cleaned up pretty nice after all these years.” Trent groped her and yanked open her blouse. “It should’ve been an easy job for me. If you would’ve listened.”

  God, no, he certainly doesn’t think he’s…

  Belle clutched his arms, trying to pry them from her throat. But Trent was so strong. She had trouble breathing, let alone defending herself. “Help!” she croaked. But the sound that came out of her mouth was nothing but a hoarse whisper. She grew more lightheaded by the second.

  He’s going to kill me. Help me. Help…

  A man shouted. Before anything registered in her mind, Trent’s body flew and hit the bookshelf. Belle gulped a lungful of air and doubled over, coughing her guts up. She barely paid attention to the commotion. When she finally recollected herself, she found Armand kneeling by her side. His face was darkened with rage. His fists were bloodied. Belle whipped her head in Trent’s direction and saw him slumped by the wall. His face was covered in blood. “What did you do…to him?” Her voice cracked.

  “Are you okay?” Armand helped her sit up.

  Belle coughed. “Tell me you didn’t kill him.”

  “I was going to.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “He deserves it.”

  “He said something strange.”

  “Like what?”

  “He said Clara and Sarah aren’t actually my sisters. I need to ask him.”

  Armand rose. His expression was grim.

  “Where are you going?” Belle asked him.

  “I need to call Hervé. He has the connections we need.”

  Chapter Seven

  Armand paced around in the cramped office, waiting for Detective Del Rio to come out of the interrogation room. Del Rio had been questioning Trent Curtis for more than three hours. After Armand let Hervé know Belle had been attacked, his cousin arrived with his friend Edgar Del Rio, a half-human and half-fae who worked as a detective in the Chicago Police Department. Hervé was furious to find Belle had been assaulted. He had had a grievance. He and Hervé hadn’t guessed Trent would be stupid enough to try and force his will on Belle. Arm
and had cast a spying spell on Belle ever since he and his cousin openly fought over her. He had done it because he wanted to know if Hervé planned to do something devious behind his back again. Armand was surprised when the spell had warned him that Belle was in distress. The sight of Trent hurting her had almost blindsided him into committing a cold-blooded killing.

  Hervé returned to the cramped office with two foam cups of coffee. Belle murmured her thanks and sipped one. She looked rattled from the ordeal, but she collected herself quickly.

  After waiting in silence for another fifteen minutes, Detective Edgar Del Rio returned. He closed the door behind him with the sole of his shoe and sank into his chair, looking troubled. “Well, we’ve had some interesting developments.”

  “Can I talk to him?” Belle asked.

  “Won’t be a good idea.” Del Rio shook his head. “You’ve just filled charges against him. The DA won’t be happy if I allow you any kind of contact with Mr Curtis.”

  “But I need to ask him something,” Belle insisted.

  “Let me guess, about your twin sisters?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I drew some conclusions based on what you told me.” Del Rio leafed through his legal pad before he continued. “You won’t like what you’re going to hear, Ms Beaumont. It appears Trent Curtis has been blackmailed by your sisters.” Del Rio paused and looked at his notes. “And your mother.”

  Armand and Hervé traded gazes. Belle looked utterly shocked.

  “My mother?” she echoed.

  “According to Curtis, Maggie Beaumont isn’t your biological mother. And Clara and Sarah Beaumont aren’t your biological siblings, either.”

  Belle gaped. “What?”

  “You were adopted into the Beaumont family when you were three years old. Do you know Vivienne Beaumont?”

  “Aunty Viv?” Belle shook her head. “Just from the photographs. I didn’t know her personally. She died when I was just a baby.”

  “Do you know you’re the sole heir of Vivienne Beaumont’s estate?”

  Armand crossed his arms over his chest. He started to get a good idea of what was going on here. Belle, however, remained oblivious.

  “I…I don’t understand,” Belle said.

  “Well, your family fortune didn’t belong to your father. The mansion and the summer home in Florida were actually deeded to your biological mother, Joan Clement.”

  “Joan Clement?”

  “She was Vivienne Beaumont’s caretaker. Do you remember her?”

  Belle shook her head weakly. “I’ve seen some photos.”

  “When Vivienne Beaumont died, Joan Clement inherited your aunt’s wealth. And not even your father had a little slice of the family fortune. Your aunt’s decision, of course, angered the family. Especially Maggie Beaumont, who strongly felt her husband, your father, should be the sole heir of Vivienne’s estate.”

  “Why would Aunt Viv do that?”

  Del Rio smiled wanly. “Isn’t it obvious? Vivienne Beaumont disliked Maggie so much she would rather give her estate to a person who took care of her during her difficult illness. When Vivienne found out your father had an affair with Joan Clement, which resulted in you, your aunt changed her will and named Joan as the sole heir of her estate.”

  Belle gulped. “I find this hard to believe…”

  “It’s the truth, Ms Beaumont,” Del Rio confirmed. “Shortly after Vivienne Beaumont’s death, Maggie contested the will in the courts and practically bullied Joan Clement to her early death. Do you know your biological mother committed suicide?”

  “No.” Her answer was barely a husk of a whisper.

  “With your mother’s death, naturally, the Beaumont estate became yours. Maggie then schemed to have you legally adopted into the family so they all could stay in the mansion and continue to receive allowance from Vivienne Beaumont’s trust fund. However, it seems your father couldn’t take the guilt and committed suicide in the same manner as your mother, which I find highly suspicious.”

  “Do you think Mother…Maggie had something to do with it?” Belle asked.

  “This is another matter I’d like to pursue after this. Now, about Trent…” Del Rio tapped his pen on the legal pad. “As is my understanding, he was your boyfriend?”

  “We dated briefly.”

  “According to Vivienne Beaumont’s will, should anything happen to Joan Clement, you will fully receive the inheritance when you reach the age of twenty-seven. Which is next year, yes?”

  Belle nodded.

  “And when that time comes, your father, if he were still alive, along with Maggie Beaumont and her daughters, would lose their privilege to live in the Beaumont mansion and no longer receive their allowance. And according to Trent, Maggie and the twins blackmailed him into marrying you, so that when the time comes, he’d be able to persuade you to amend Vivienne Beaumont’s will.”

  Belle slowly covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. It’s all about money…”

  Armand couldn’t contain his curiosity. “What did the twins blackmail Trent Curtis with?”

  A grin flashed across Del Rio’s face. “Curtis has an infantile fetish. Clara Beaumont videotaped him while he was engaged in a session with a professional domme. Curtis said Clara threatened to send the tape to his family and his employer, Senator Burke. Imagine the embarrassment on his part.”

  Armand wanted to laugh but he suppressed it. It wouldn’t be polite. Hervé didn’t seem to care. He roared heartily and had to excuse himself from the room so he wouldn’t disrupt the meeting.

  “Infantile fetish?” Belle asked innocently.

  Armand placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll explain it later, babe.” He turned to Del Rio. “Are you going to open an investigation about Arthur and Joan Clement’s deaths?”

  Del Rio nodded. “As soon as I hand my report to my boss. And, Ms Beaumont, may I suggest you obtain a lawyer to look into your inheritance.”

  “Lawyer?”

  “I’ll get that covered,” Armand said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Good.” Del Rio pocketed his pen. “I’ll start my report right away, and I’ll contact you tomorrow with the latest developments.”

  “Do you want wine?” Hervé asked her. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t drink.”

  “Just water for me, please.” Belle put down her fork and held up her glass as Hervé’s servant poured some water from a crystal decanter. “Thank you.”

  Hervé’s servant inclined his head and silently withdrew.

  “Tired?” Armand noticed she was a bit worn out.

  “A little. All of this is a bit overwhelming,” she confessed. The three of them were having dinner at Hervé’s place. After the incident with Trent, Armand and Hervé insisted she shouldn’t return to her apartment until everything was sorted out. Besides, it was easier to commute to work if she stayed at Hervé’s for a while.

  Belle found dealing with lawyers, the police, and the hysterical Maggie and the twins, the people she thought were her flesh and blood, was utterly exhausting. Maggie, Clara and Sarah had threatened, cursed, and pleaded for her to change her mind about allowing them to stay in the Beaumont’s mansion like nothing had happened. Originally, Belle had thought of letting Maggie and the twins stay and continue their life as if nothing had happened until she knew what to do about them. But when the police exhumed her father and her biological mother’s bodies for autopsies, and the medical examiner changed their deaths from suicide to homicide, Belle simply couldn’t forgive Maggie that easily. Because of that woman’s greed, Belle had been deprived of her parents when she grew up, and was forced to endure Maggie and the twins’ verbal and mental abuse to the point of it affecting her emotionally and crushing her self-confidence.

  With the help of Armand’s lawyer explaining her rights and the terms of her inheritance, Belle decided to cut off Maggie and the twins’ allowances and give them thirty days to clear out from the Beaumont mansion.
And when the time came, she had also decided to give everything to several charity organisations. On her twenty-seventh birthday, she stood to inherit a ridiculous amount of money that she personally didn’t know what to do with. She’d thought long before she made her decision. A jet-set lifestyle wasn’t her thing. In fact, she kind of hated it, being a pretentious rich girl like the twins. Belle liked her simple life. And she thought it would be a grand punishment for the three of them when they knew the inheritance would be given away to those in need, the wealth that compelled them to conspire and murder her father and her mother in the first place.

  “Don’t worry, everything should be over soon and we can all go back to normal,” Armand said.

  But that was what she was dreading. As much as she hated to admit it, she was enjoying this arrangement. The three of them living together under one roof, and Hervé and Armand weren’t trying to kill each other. When they weren’t thinking about their competition, Hervé and Armand were actually getting along really well. Belle enjoyed their company and their undivided attention. Hervé drove her to work every morning and Armand popped out at lunchtimes to take her to get something to eat. When she had an appointment with the lawyers or the police matters, the two men were there for her. She’d always been independent her whole life, but she found having people she could depend on was actually nice. Armand and Hervé hadn’t tried to touch her since that incident. They seemed to want to give her some space. Belle was grateful for that, but mourned it in secret at the same time. Ever since she’d visited Maison Plaisir that night, she’d been getting her cookies almost on a regular basis. Now, she’d been cut off it from it for more than three weeks and her body was now demanding its due.

  Belle bit the inside of her lip, feeling ashamed of herself. Damn, I’m turning into a pervert. She shook away any lingering thoughts, hoping neither man had noticed what she was thinking. She knew both of them had a knack for reading people. “Yeah,” she said, forcing the words out. “I can’t wait for all of this to be over.”

  The air around them changed after she spoke. Hervé stiffened. Armand tensed. She drained her glass of water, thinking of an excuse so they wouldn’t have to have the conversation she was dreading.