By lunch, I paced back and forth in front of Jean-Pierre’s office, worried out of my mind. While it wasn’t my place to get in everyone’s business, someone had to tell me everything was okay. I’d heard a Russian screaming before. Was that related to why he was gone? Did they get him? Are they making him pay? What about this top Russian guy being killed? Did any of this have anything to do with Jean-Pierre?
My hands shook at my side.
I wasn’t supposed to care. My job was fucking and making him happy. Nothing else. Still, I trailed through the house, jumping up at any possible sound of a door opening. When the butler brought dinner, I politely declined.
Again, I went to bed alone.
I was close to yanking my hair out and screaming his name. Instead, I masturbated to his image and fell asleep.
The next morning a package sat on my bed in the spot where he should’ve been.
I don’t want your presents, Jean-Pierre. I want to know you’re okay, and I want you next to me.
It was a huge box, about three feet high. Crimson red paper covered it. A silver bow lay on top. I tore through the wrapping off and slung the bow on the floor.
A phone sat on a massive white gown.
What?
The phone rang.
Must you be so dramatic?
Excited, I picked it up. “Hello?”
His sexy voice came on the line. “I’m sorry. I was in a situation where I could not get a message to you.”
While the tone held that same lush sound, there was pain and disappointment lingering in the statement.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I held the phone, left the bed, and walked over to the window. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. The staff said you played Eros all day yesterday.”
“Yes.” I gazed out of the window. “Eros and I had a wild passionate affair.”
“Hmmm. Eros is lucky that he’s only a violin.”
I grinned and then lost the humor of the moment. There was a reason he didn’t stand in front of me. Something bigger was going on. He’d changed the phone too. Was someone listening to his conversations on the other one?
I leaned my head against the window, letting my forehead touch the cold glass. “Jean-Pierre, is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, mon amour, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready to oblige me.”
“Try me.”
He replied with a weak chuckle.
“What do you need, Jean-Pierre?”
He sighed. “I’m in Europe.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You are?”
“Yes. . .and at the moment,” His voice sounded strained. “At the moment. . .I should not fly.”
He’s hurt. How did he get hurt? And where in Europe? Why is everyone flying to Europe?! It’s this Russian stuff.
Jean-Pierre grabbed my attention. “Eden. . .I was hoping you. . .”
“Yes?”
“I want you to come here. Everything is in place, if you say yes. Shalimar has been made aware of the possibility and has delivered your passport to my staff.”
I opened my mouth but had nothing to say.
“Eden?”
“Uh…yes…I can go. It’s just. Well, where am I going? For how long? And are you okay? Is it safe?”
He laughed. “We will meet in Paris and you will stay for as long as you want. As far as safety, it will always be safe with me. I would never put you in any danger.”
I let out a long breath, noting that he didn’t answer the question about him being okay.
“Will you come to me, Eden?”
“Of course I will.” I bit my lip.
“I’ll have my staff pack your bags, make the arrangements, and bring you here. Everything will be taken care of.”
“Thank you.”
“That gown in the package.”
“Yes?” I smiled.
“I want you to wear that for me on the first night I see you.”
“And what do you want me to wear under it?”
“Nothing. Not anything at all.”
I swallowed. “As you wish.”
The rest of the day, I rushed with packing and coordinating with the staff. It was almost like I was pretending to be the lady of the manor. They came to me for choices on this or that.
“Would Jean-Pierre like… ?”
“Should we also include…?”
“What wines would Jean-Pierre want with his meals?”
By the evening, I rode in the limo to the airport with my passport in my purse. My nerves flared on edge. It was the first time I would be leaving the country. While I’d always dreamed of traveling to France, I had no idea it would be this week.
And what about earlier?
I’d dialed Shalimar to discuss the trip and tell her thanks for my passport.
A message came up that her phone had been disconnected. Thinking that I’d called the wrong number, I tried again and again, getting the same message.
What’s going on?
My gut said that the trip might not be a good idea. Something had happened in their world where people were flying to Europe and being more careful with their communication. Aunt Celina had rushed off to Prague due to her friend losing his dangerous nephew. Jean-Pierre and his men had gone missing, only to get back in touch with me today from France.