Taking his Risk (Year of the Billionaire Part 2)

by Falls, K. C.

  I watched him stare off into the distance, knowing he had told me half a story. Of course he was talking about his 'friend' Elsa. Who else could it be? But the rules of the game were the rules of the game.

  "I don't know what they were after. All I know is that it wasn't a simple case of trying to steal my watch. I suspect they were planning to kidnap me, or perhaps my friend. There may have been someone waiting to take me away who disappeared when things went south." He put his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. The sound of him sucking a heavy breath through his nose filled the space around us.

  "I do know that by being stupid and casual about personal safety I lost one of the finest people I've ever known."

  "I'm so sorry, Tristan." I took his hand and squeezed it. "You've had a lot of loss for a young man. That's got to be tough."

  He pulled himself to his full tall height and shook his shoulders. "Well, I've survived," he said matter-of-factly. "The whole point of the story is that I learned the value of having someone like Kwan around." We came to a magnificent church. "Here's St. Nazarius' Basilica. It's one of the highlights. You'll want to give this your complete attention."

  No, I want to give you my complete attention. I want you to finish the story, dammit! I didn't want a lesson in the importance of personal security; I wanted some insight into you!

  How could the man tell me a story like that with the same emotion he was now investing in relating factoids about an ancient pile of stones? More importantly, how could this man be so utterly satisfying in some ways and so damn frustrating in others?

  I'm afraid Tristan's entire lecture on the fascinating history of the Basilica went in one ear and right out the other. It might be easy enough for him to switch gears and describe a church right after he'd given me the circumstances of his fiancé's death, but I was still somewhere out there in the snow looking for answers.

  ***

  True to his word, Tristan instructed Kwan to take a more leisurely route on the way back to the coast. The countryside was a mellow tapestry of vineyards, villages and farms all gilded with the late afternoon sun. Everything seemed ripe. September's early song was rich and sweet in the peaks and valleys of the gentle rolling countryside.

  We stopped in a village so that I could sample a wine that Tristan told me was one of his special favorites. "The Languedoc region produces a ton of outstanding wines. We'd have to stay a month just to begin to try them all. But I wanted you to taste a Blanquette de Limoux."

  I had gotten over the thousand things I'd never heard of, tasted or done and simply said, "Tell me."

  "The locals claim that their sparkling wine predates champagne. That's impossible to prove, but interesting anyway." He led me to a cool case and picked out a bottle . "You'll find it slightly sweet and a little cloudy. That's because the wine is left with the lees after the second fermentation--Methode Ancestrale."

  We paid for the wine and Tristan uncorked it in the car where, naturally, there were a couple of cut crystal flutes sparking in the little bar. It was different and delicious and I happily sipped on my glass as the miles rolled by.

  The stop and start of the car when we reached Agde traffic woke me up. I'd fallen asleep with the lull of sparkling wine and a luxury ride. Drool was dribbling out of the side of my mouth and I quickly wiped it away, horrified. I did a quick check of the white leather for more.

  Fortunately, Tristan himself was asleep as well only he wasn't drooling. Of course he wasn't drooling. He was lying back against the seat, mouth closed, breathing slowly and silently through his perfect patrician nose. I watched the rise and fall of his chest and resisted the urge to put my hand on it so that I could feel the gentle motion of his muscles. He had on a moss-green silk shirt that flowed over his skin in a way that seemed uncommonly sensual for just a shirt. I had noticed during the day how the color picked up one of the many shades I saw in his forest eyes and, along with the khaki pants he'd chosen for our outing, just seemed to blend him into the landscape as if he had joined a painting.

  By some happy coincidence, I had chosen a terra-cotta colored sundress from the assortment in 'my' closet and a pair of sensibly flat, but very pretty sandals that laced at the ankles. The wide straw hat I found on the top shelf of the closet was a perfect accent, its big scarf in shades of the same tawny clay, ochre and olive. We looked like we had purposely coordinated our outfits.

  It took me a while to get used to how people turned their heads when Tristan and I walked past. At first, I just figured it was because of his devastating good looks. But, after a while, I noticed that it wasn't just women who were looking at us. Men, women, old, young, singly or together, it seemed that something about us was worthy of a second glance. I understood a little bit more about that reaction as I pondered the lovely picture of us gliding through town in that cloud of a car.

  Tristan didn't wake until we pulled up to the dock where King's Risk gently swayed in her berth. Kwan handed the many packages we had accumulated during the day to the steward, Carlos. There was the gift basket for my mother all wrapped in yellow cellophane and adorned with a huge silk bow. I had made a futile effort to rein Tristan in on the shopping, but there was no reasoning with the man. The very truthful argument that Marjorie would be embarrassed by such extravagance met with a snort and "she'll just have to get used to it".

  Of course that hurled me right into a fantasy about what he really meant by that statement and effectively shut me up. Maybe he knew that's the effect it would have. It wasn't impossible that Tristan knew exactly how much I invested in any mention he made of the future or any indication that we were a 'couple'. Maybe he knew that forbidden expectations were as good as a guarantee a girl like me would be obsessed with them.

  Eight

  The sun was just sliding below the buildings to the west. We sat on deck and sipped the last of our bottle of Blanquette de Limoux.

  "Would you like to dine in or out tonight?"

  "Oh, that's a hard choice. Your chef is awfully good."

  "Yes, he is. But to tell you the truth, Kwan, Shane and even Carlos get involved in the kitchen. I have been blessed with a staff of men who love to outdo one another at the stove. Chef Todd's the boss, of course, but he welcomes company."

  "Well, we certainly brought back a cornucopia of produce for them. I can't believe the herbs!"

  "There's also half a dozen fabulous cheeses from that one place and the veal sausage. Could you be satisfied with an omelet and a salad?"

  "That sounds perfect. We seem to do nothing but eat. I'm going to go home as fat as one of those cute little pigs we saw today."

  "A few days in France isn't going to fatten you up like a hog."

  "Plump is cute on a pig, but pretty undesirable on a woman."

  "Trust me, it would take a lot more than a few pounds to render you undesirable."

  I smiled and puffed out my cheeks like a blowfish. "How's that?" I asked as they deflated.

  "Well, when you do that it only reminds me of how good it feels when you have my cock is poking inside one of those cheeks."

  "Ah, speaking of a tasty sausage…" I reached over and cupped him in my hand.

  Tristan groaned as I stroked him under his trousers. "Yours to devour, my sweet."

  I leaned down and blew through the fabric to heat his flesh. "Are we going for an appetizer?"

  His voice rasped a little when he said, "I'm afraid I have a few calls to make. In just a few minutes, in fact."

  I gave him an exaggerated little pout.

  "Not to worry, I will make sure that dessert is more than satisfying."

  "My King, satisfaction is something I know I don't have to worry about with you."

  He kissed me sweetly and asked, "So, would you like to visit the 'adult' section of the beach tomorrow?"

  "Okaaaayyy, so what goes on in the 'adult section'?"

  "Just what you'd imagine. Adult stuff. Mostly it's couples going there to size up other couples. Aside from the straight up naturist
part of Cap d'Agde, there's also a large libertine contingent."

  "Libertine?"

  "That's the French term for swingers. Couples who swap. And other stuff."

  Now I was getting a little freaked out. "And is that something you're also interested in?"

  Tristan tilted my chin up and focused my eyes on his. "I am not at all interested in sharing you with anyone. I'd accommodate you if you had any desire… any bi-sexual tendencies--"

  I cut him off. "I do not have any bi tendencies. If that's what floats your boat, I'm afraid I can't help you."

  "That's not what floats my boat. But if that was something you fantasize about, here would be the place to act on it." He kissed me softly on the lips and then on the forehead. "Raina, I want you to have whatever kind of sensual experience you can imagine enjoying. A lot of women like playing with other women, that's all. There's nothing wrong with girls having a little fun," he smiled. "The wise man indulges the woman whose sexuality he treasures. At least to a point."

  A sudden insight told me that Elsa was the woman he knew who had a taste for a little female company now and then. The thought that he found it cute to indulge her infuriated me. In fact, the whole trip started to sour. He was no stranger to this place, to naked fun in the sun, to what went on over on the 'adult side' of the beach.

  As I sipped the last drops of my wine in rather sullen silence I couldn't get the picture of Elsa, the pretty girl next door, cavorting around the white French sands with Tristan. Tristan helping her hunt a like-minded woman for a romp. Tristan and the prey's male counterpart watching the 'girls play' and having a great old time. It kind of made me sick to my stomach.

  For some irrational reason, I had no problem with the thought that Tristan had sailed the Med with any of a dozen women who'd been pictured with him over the years. If Tristan watched two Barbie dolls do one another and got a charge out of that--not an issue. It was the plain, sweet, utterly ordinary adoring face of Elsa Maynard buried in another woman's snatch while Tristan indulgently watched that attached to my heart like a ten pound lead sinker. Tristan 'indulging the woman whose sexuality he treasures'. What a statement.

  How did I allow myself to miss the whole point of this scenario? I was the new Elsa, minus the love and commitment. I was the replacement innocent. He was trying to make sure that I knew if I shared her tastes, it was okay! Maybe even what he hoped for. Fucking hell, Tristan, can't help you out there, buddy. Sorry about your luck but you got a pure, 100% hetero gal on your hands.

  "Is there something wrong, Raina?"

  Yes, there is something very wrong. "Maybe I've got a bit of a headache."

  "A bottle of wine in the afternoon can do that. Why don't you take a short rest in one of the staterooms? I need to make my calls and check some things."

  "Okay, that's not a bad idea."

  "Don't stay too long, though. Just rest your eyes. I want you refreshed . . . for dessert and tomorrow." He was bright and cheerful and I wanted to slap him.

  I didn't even notice the interior of the boat, I just walked through the living area and down a few steps, opened the door to the first stateroom I came and flopped on the bed. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to cry.

  It did occur to me that Tristan still didn't know I was even aware of Elsa. He didn't know that I had seen the wedding announcement on the internet. He wasn't aware of my conversation with Tom about her death. Maybe as far as Tristan was concerned, I didn't know anything about Elsa at all. Hard as it was for me to believe, it was entirely possible that those assumptions were true.

  Not everyone spends hours Googling someone they're interested in. Tristan's engagement announcement was buried several pages back, eclipsed in the great search engine's eye by far more important items. And, if I hadn't asked Tom, and I hadn't met Roger and seen the dark cloud he brought to that rehearsal, I wouldn't have known to Google Elsa Maynard at all.

  So, at least I had to dismiss the idea that he was deliberately torturing me with allusions to their sexual history. Once that was settled, I began to rethink the rest of my assumptions. What if he was simply talking in generalities? What if it was not his personal experience he was referring to? What if he genuinely wanted to discover what turned me on?

  But there was the whole nude beach thing. Obviously he had been here before. Okay, so what? If he'd come with Elsa, so what again? The man wasn't a virgin (thank God) and it was patently unfair for me to expect him never to have experienced . . . well, anything.

  I got out of bed and sort of tiptoed up onto the aft deck. I suspected Tristan was buried somewhere further in the bowels of the boat catching up on work. I needed some air. Hopefully the sea could blow some sense into me.

  It made me unreasonably happy to see Kwan standing at the transom with a fly rod. He was flipping the line back and forth in a graceful even motion. I crept up behind him, but I should have known better than to sneak up on him. Without turning around he said, "Miss Raina, if I didn't recognize your footsteps, I might have knocked you flat for that."

  "Sorry Kwan. I was testing you."

  "Be careful what you test."

  I stood beside him and watched him flick the line over and over again before allowing the end to land on a spot in the water.

  "What are you fishing for?"

  "I'm not trying to catch a fish. Nothing caught in this water would be edible at any rate."

  "Then what are you doing?"

  "Just practicing. Fly fishing is a very meditative sport. Handling the rod just so has a Zen quality to it."

  "I see." It was rather mesmerizing to see the brilliant orange line make fluid 'S's' against the backdrop of the blue and pink setting sun sky. "Can I ask you something?"

  "You can certainly ask. Whether I answer depends."

  "I know about Elsa Maynard."

  "That's not a question."

  "I mean I know he was engaged to her and I know that she died."

  "That much is public knowledge. And you still haven't asked me a question."

  "Did you know her?"

  "No."

  That surprised me. For some reason I figured Kwan had been with Tristan since time began. "How long have you worked for Tristan?"

  "Five years."

  "So you must have been hired right after she was killed."

  "The two events were related."

  "He hired you because she was killed?"

  "I like to think that was only part of the reason."

  "Do you know how she was killed?"

  "As much as anyone except Tristan, I suppose."

  "Will you tell me what you know?"

  "I would consider that a betrayal of trust."

  "Well, was it an accident or what?" Tristan had said as much but I wanted to know what the general thought was.

  "I think that's something you should ask Mr. Tristan. It's not my place."

  I decided to change tactics. "Did Tristan come here, to Cap d'Agde with Elsa?"

  "As far as I know, I brought him here for the first time."

  "You? Why ever would you bring him here?"

  Kwan put his rod down and turned toward me. "In the beginning, he rarely wanted me to be out of his sight. After a few months, I was really longing for a little male companionship other than my boss's. What better place to be able to leave someone alone for a few hours than a nude beach? How much harm can come to a person wandering among naked tourists? I obtained an accomplished and beautiful lady to keep him company and wandered down to my own section. It's at the far end of the 'adult beach'. Five years ago," he added wistfully, "there was a lot more action in the dunes."

  At this point, I was ready to hug Kwan. So, it wasn't Elsa who christened the place with him, it was good old Kwan. Kwan, the procurer of whores, Kwan the fashionista, Kwan the protector of mothers. What a great guy he was turning out to be. I couldn't stop grinning at how wrong I had been.

  "Miss Raina?"

  "Yes?"

  "Would you be offended if I gave you some adv
ice?"

  "Not at all, I could use all the help I can get. Your boss is a hard one to figure out."

  "Actually, no, you're wrong there. He is very simple to figure out."

  "Enlighten me."

  "In spite of his career, in spite of his success and all the planning and forecasting that goes into it, Tristan very much lives in the here and now. He seizes the day, as they say."

  "I can see that, yes."

  "He doesn't spend time dwelling on things that have passed and he doesn't spend energy on things yet to come. If you choose to remain with him, I suggest you aim to do likewise."

  "No analysis. No expectations," I mumbled. It was not the kind of advice I found easy to swallow. Not that Kwan's advice was any different than what I had already been told, in no uncertain words and more than once.

  "Those who know and enjoy Tristan the most, and we are few, do so because we allow ourselves to become part of his present."

  ***

  I went back to the master stateroom to freshen up for dinner and once again wrap my head around the situation I found myself in. Tristan was still working. I presumed he had an office on board somewhere, but that hadn't been part of my grand tour. I was glad to have a little time to think. Kwan was probably as close to Tristan as anyone. I knew I'd be stupid to ignore his advice.

  I had a great guy to spend time with. He was smart, affectionate, generous, funny, and most of the time he was easy going. Sexually speaking, he might as well have invented it as far as my life was concerned. No one had ever attracted me as suddenly and thoroughly as the man I saw for the first time on the Mahkeenac Little Theater stage. From the moment I saw him I wanted him. When I had him, it was the most erotic and satisfying thing I'd ever known. To say he exceeded my expectations would be ridiculous. No woman could have expected the kind of fucking this man delivered.