S.E.C.R.E.T. Revealed (Secret 3)

Sickening.

I looked through the windows at the Eiffel Tower, trying not to seem like I was scanning the grounds for any other living soul. My inner voice told me to open the patio door and just start walking. But when I reached for the handle, Pierre placed his hand directly over mine. Shit.

“I’d be thrilled to take you on a tour of the grounds … after. Now once more: do you accept the Step, Solange?”

I pulled my hand away and faced him. Be brave. I met his gaze, speaking as evenly as I could without letting the fear bleed into my voice.

“Thank you for asking, Pierre. I’m flattered. But in the end, I don’t believe I can accept the Step. My apologies for taking things this far and for pressing you for an interview that you still seem quite reluctant to give.”

My heart was pounding so loudly I could feel it beating through the soles of my shoes.

“So … if you don’t mind, please call your man. Tell him to bring me my blazer. I think it’s best if he shows me out.”

He looked at his watch, disappointment on his face. “Ah well, I’m afraid Charles has gone home for the evening. We’ll have to fend for ourselves. I get to ask one final time: do you accept the Step?”

“As I said, I didn’t really come here for this.”

“Here’s the thing, Solange,” he whispered, placing his hands on my upper arms and slowly walking me backwards. I inhaled sharply. “You did come here for this. You, a high-profile member of the media in our beloved city of New Orleans, are also, don’t forget, a member of a group that arranges discreet sexual encounters for a few lucky ladies. And the nature of these encounters can vary, can’t they? Some are soft and lovely and gentle. Still others take on a darker hue; they’re risky, dangerous. They can get a little rough. They can take odd, interesting turns. These ones, I think, satisfy very deep urges that we all have, but few are brave enough to give in to. In fact, these are the kinds of urges that can lead some women to cross an ocean to satisfy. You came for this, Solange. You came to play dirty.”

He had me pressed firmly against the cool glass of the casement windows, his eyes liquid menace, his hands tight around my upper arms. I felt his groin against my thigh, his arousal unmistakable. I’d always wondered what I’d do in a situation like this. Would I take flight? Would I freeze and crumble? Never in my life had I been threatened or cornered. So how would I know that beneath my terror-stricken surface was a bloody-minded warrior? Calm washed over me, my adrenaline forming armor over my body. I waited a beat to reply, articulating the only word I needed, using my whole body.

“No,” I said, with a spray of spit and a lightning-fast thrust of my knee to his groin.

His face flashed before me as he buckled over, his expression that of sheer astonishment, because he knew in that moment that I would fight like a crazed animal if he pressed me any further. He groaned dramatically before bolting back upright, his hands still covering my target.

Then he started laughing. Laughing.

“Oh, Solange, that was … I’m just trying to think … which TV station should I give the scoop to, yours or your competition’s, when I tell them all about S.E.C.R.E.T. and its star candidate?”

That’s when I laughed, the warrior in me speaking now very carefully. “Is that a threat? Because if that’s a threat, Pierre, this will not go well for you either, on any level: personally, professionally, legally or physically. Don’t forget, I’m a journalist.”

His eyes were suddenly dead in their sockets. “You think I would hesitate for one second in making a big goddamn deal about what you just did because of some threat that you’d reveal my involvement in S.E.C.R.E.T.? Unlike you, I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, it’s a great story and I can’t wait to tell it.”

Could he tell I was bluffing?

“So here’s the thing,” I said. “I suggest you let me leave before this goes any further. And I suggest you do it now; otherwise I will hurt you in several more surprising ways.”

His reasoning brain seemed to kick in, replacing the reptilian one that had formerly been in charge. He dropped his hands to his sides like surrendered weapons.

“Of course. My apologies. You are free to leave, Solange. I won’t stop you.”

I kept a wary eye on him as I headed towards the exit, snatching my purse off the desk as I passed. Without looking back, without retrieving my blazer, I kept walking down the gallery, punching through two sets of high, white doors, out the front gate and onto the street where my limo still waited. I climbed in. Several blocks later, my heart rate slowed to normal; several more and my knees stopped knocking.

Back at the hotel I immediately called Matilda, who picked up on the first ring. I explained what had happened with Pierre, without getting into the gory details. I was happy not to hear an “I told you so” in her voice, only concern.

“Are you safe now?”

“I am.”

“This will probably inflame Pierre even further, so get to the airport. We’ll fly you home as soon as possible. And brace yourself, Solange. We have no way of knowing how he’ll retaliate for this, but he will. He’ll have the last word if it kills him.”

I packed and got on the next available flight home, to my city, my boy—and my man.

CASSIE

Every woman’s sexual awakening is different, Matilda always said. Some are quick to occur, some slow, and a few, sadly, never really happen. S.E.C.R.E.T.’s mandate was simply to create the circumstances for an awakening, using fantasies to achieve it. That’s why for Solange’s Step Nine, it was decided that Will would learn how to let her dominate him. She was ready for that, Matilda said. That’s where all her previous steps seemed to be leading.

“I think when she returns from Paris, she’ll be feeling pretty assertive, more in command of her destiny. She’ll be ready to … take charge.”