Paris Was The Place I Met My Billionaire Lover (My Sweet Billionaire Love Story Series) (7 page)

Julien kicked out the bar stool from under Caitlyn, catching her as she fell onto him, riding him, her body jostling with his upward thrusts.  Caitlyn sank all the way down.  With each upward thrust Caitlyn rose and then fell back again.  Julien changed his rhythm; as Caitlyn was coming down onto him, Julien was pushing upward, their two bodies literally smashing against one other, gravity lending humble assistance.

Julien said, “Come on, Caitlyn, you can do it.  You want to, you need to, and
mon Dieu
you are going to.”

Caitlyn nodded, her body was convulsing with that power that raged within. 

Julien hissed into her ear, “Say that you’re going to... say it!”  But words continued to elude Caitlyn’s frantic mind, her tongue numb in her dry mouth, lips sticking even as sweat poured down from her temples.  Caitlyn nodded, which was as much as she physically could manage.  But Julien insisted, “Say it!”

Caitlyn whimpered, “Yes, yes, right now, I’m gonna... I’m gonna...”

“Don’t you do it, not yet.”

“But... but...”

Julien pressed his face to her ear.  “Hold back, Caitlyn, until I tell you.”  Julien thrust with even greater force, bouncing Caitlyn on his strong and stalwart self.  “Not yet, Caitlyn.”   Caitlyn’s fingers clenched around that brass bar rail, her strained knuckles white.

Caitlyn screamed, her teeth clenched tight to hold back her writhing demand for satisfaction.  It had been so long; too long.  Too many years of the same boys, slow to mature; the same people, same places, same everything.

Now, finally, nothing was the same.  Nothing would ever be the same.

Caitlyn’s reddened face was beaming, a twisted and glistening mask of heated pleasure and the gleeful eruption of prolonged suspense.  Not their first time together, it still felt like it.  Every time she looked at this man, every word she heard him speak, made her want to feel this way for the first time again; the first time every time.

Time collapsing upon itself.

Caitlyn felt like she was going to start sobbing, her twisted frown a lusty smile in disguise, clenched and waiting with all the rest of her taught, braced body for sweet, relaxing relief.

Even beyond her own numbing sensation, system flooded with liquid glee, Caitlyn felt Julien’s wave cresting along with her own, welling up inside him.

“Okay, Caitlyn, now,” Julien shouted, an undeniable command, “do it for me now!”

Caitlyn opened her eyes, and so did her mouth as she released a full-throated, earth-shattering howl.  They both quivered, their bodies pinned together, inseparable.

The crest of their mutual release seemed to go on beyond the physical limitations of their own bodies as merely human vessels and not otherworldly chariots for the pleasures of the gods themselves.  Nearly blinded, ears drowning in a muffled hum, Caitlyn was most aware of her own heartbeat pounding in her throat, her tongue’s new and frightening paralysis, the garbled grunts in a voice she barely recognized as her own.

Their hot breath slowed, hearts calming.  Caitlyn’s skin shivered from the rush of the cool spring air over her body.  Caitlyn collapsed into Julien’s arms.  He kissed her forehead.

They decided to get some rest before packing her things and vacating the condo, which they finally got around to doing the next morning; eighteen hours and three orgasms later.

* * *

Caitlyn and Julien strolled through the
Place de la Concorde
, its statues and fountains bowing in grandeur to the Obelisk of Luxor, a foreign wonder to humble even the most spectacular domestic creations.  The trickling of the water danced in the faint background, Caitlyn’s ear turned specifically away from it and the traffic and other distractions.

She wanted to hear what Julien had to say about this.

“You will be employed, of course, gainfully as well.  And you’ll learn so much about the ways of the business world -- ”

“Julien, I know it’s a great opportunity, I’m just... concerned.  I can’t just be your servant, it has to be a real job, and I’m glad that it is.  But... our relationship is going to stay on its... current course?”

“
Oui,
but of course.  Caitlyn, do you not wish to continue our relationship as lovers?”

No no, don’t get me wrong!
Caitlyn wanted to say.

“No no, don’t get me wrong,” Caitlyn said.  “I do, I... I really do.  And this all sounds great.  But, I mean... you’re paying me... we’re sleeping together... you’re paying me...”

Julien shrugged, nearing exasperation.  “What is this American fixation with prostitution?”

“I am
not
a prostitute!”

“No, of course not!  It is you who makes this connection.  Here in France, all over Europe, and the rest of the free world, who else shares this definition of prostitution as anybody who either has sex or earns money?  In America you can make money, not have sex and still be considered a prostitute in some circles.”

“People whore themselves out in all kinds of ways,” Caitlyn said.

“So you’re in a position where you cannot win.  Caitlyn, you came here to discover a new way, a life you couldn’t have at home.  But aren’t you letting the same things that limited you there limit you here in the very same ways?”

Could he be right?
Caitlyn had to wonder.
Maybe our way of looking at things isn’t the right way.  Everybody’s a lot freer and more progressive in the European Union, everyone in America knows that. Who am I to say what’s right, who’s wrong, what’s what for everyone everywhere all the time?  Isn’t that just what Patrick tried to do with me at the end of our time together?  I swore I’d never do that myself, and yet, here I am...

“
Puits bien, regard qui il est! Le vieil homme et sa enfant-jeune mariée!
”

Caitlyn and Julien turned to see the familiar figures of the two rude French boys from the
Mona Lisa
line in the
Louvre
.  They stalked up to them, each on one side, their postures stooped as the poked and gawked like a pair of rabid roosters.

One of the two pulled out a switchblade, a flick of his wrist and a click of the metal mechanism launching the eight-inch metal blade into position, ready to cut and slice and stab and kill.  “
Aucun gardes de sécurité à sortir à votre aide ici, grand-père ! Faites tourner la fille et vous laisserons-nous vivre, hein?
”

“Julien?” Caitlyn managed to say, forgoing the rest: 
What’s going on?  What are they saying?  What do they want?

She knew what was going on.  She knew what they were saying.  She knew what they wanted.

The taller of the two young Frenchmen waved the knife in front of Caitlyn and Julien, who stood calmly, aware of the presence of the man’s friend behind them.

Julien said, “
Je te donnerai des garçons au compte de trois.
”

Caitlyn recognized a few of the words:
garçons means boys,
she silently translated,
compte de trois means something like count of three.

One of the young French punks asked Julien with a snarling chuckle, “
Et après trois, puis ce qui?
”

Caitlyn again did some rudimentary translating for herself. 
Et après trois means after three ... and after three...

Julien said to him, “
Après trois, vous mourez
.”

That one was easy:
After three, you die.

The punk was already lunging at Julien as Caitlyn gasped and lurched backward.  She fell right into the other punk’s grip, his fingers craning around her arms from behind, pulling her close.

Too close.

But she didn’t have any more time to be repulsed than her attacker did to be titillated by their struggle.  The fight between Julien and the knife-wielding punk was passing in a hideous flash.  The attacker’s lunge missed the mark, Julien deftly stepping out of the way.  Julien grabbed the young man’s head and, with a quick and violent motion, twisted it early 180 degrees.  With a hideous crack and the gurgle of his collapsing windpipe, the young man dropped the knife and went limp, hitting the ground almost before his weapon did.

Julien turned to look upon Caitlyn and her attacker, both of whom stood in shock. 

“
Merde! Merde sainte!
” The remaining young man released Caitlyn and turned, running across the square.  A
Gendarme
ran up to Julien, spitting some hurried questions in French, which Julien calmly answered.  The
Gendarme
offered him a quick, “
Merci, M. Cherierre,
” before blowing into his whistle and running off after the other young Frenchman.

Caitlyn looked at him, in shock and in awe, and in horror.  She looked down at the dead man at their feet, just moments ago threatening to take their lives.  It could have been her corpse lying there, Caitlyn knew well.

Dad was right
, Caitlyn said to herself,
I am in way over my head here
.

Julien took her arm and gently pulled her away.  “Where are we going?” Caitlyn spat out, “where are you taking me?”

“No reason for us to remain, it’s over now.”

“Over?” Caitlyn pulled her arm free, but kept walking, Julien alongside her hurried pace.  “You killed a man.”

“In self-defense.”

“With a single blow.”

“It’s an old technique.  I spent time in the armed forces, it’s part of the training.”

Caitlyn stopped and turned, starring Julien down.  “You’re lying.”

Julien held his arms out slightly, empty palms up.  “What makes you say such a thing?  I just saved your life!”

“That cop knew your last name.  You’re going to tell me you served in Iraq together?”

Julien turned and kept walking, leaving Caitlyn to keep up with his own rugged pace. “You got us to the top of the Eiffel Tower way past the closing time.  You just walked away from a murder scene -- ”

“Self-defense.”

“Tell me, Julien, be honest with me; who are you, really?”

Julien stopped walking, the two of them still in the fog of doubt as it was cleared away by the breeze of revelation.  Julien’s voice was low, his accent thick around his deliberate English.

“I never lied to you.  Everything I have told you is the truth.  My name is Julien Cherierre.  I raised myself on the streets of Paris and became a business consultant.  All of it true.”

Caitlyn nodded, her mind quickly shuffling through the images to find the glaring holes in his story.  Suddenly, she felt like her father, peeling back the layers of misdirection to finally get at the truth.

“What about the rest of it?  The armed forces?”

“True, but I was not there long.  I’m afraid my discharge was not considered honorable.  You can hardly blame me for not bragging about it.”

“What happened?”

“I was caught steeling.”  Julien thought about it, then had to correct himself.  “Well, I was set up, truth be told, but the end result was much the same.”

“Stealing?”

“
Oui,
Caitlyn.  It was a crate of penicillin, which had been looted from a children’s hospital, to be sold on the armed forces black market.  My friend, so I thought, asked me in on the deal.  Instead, I double-crossed him, stole the medicine, and gave it back to the hospital.  My so-called friends turned me in as the original thief.”

Caitlyn began to imagine the scenes; an unjust dishonorable discharge, a modern-day Robin Hood being drummed out of the service by scoundrels. 

Yeah, right
, Caitlyn had to say to herself. 
Let’s see how this really adds up
:

“So that’s how you raised yourself on the streets of Paris, as a thief.”

“
Oui
.”

“And you’re still a thief.”

“
Non
, Caitlyn, not for many years now.  But I was, an art thief to be precise.  And I was one of the best in the world.  I stole ... well, I’m not at liberty to say.  But when I say that I have a savings built up, I don’t strictly mean that I have it in stocks and bonds.”

Caitlyn twitched, not sure what to make of this.  She knew it wasn’t good.  “You’re sitting on stolen artwork, living off it, and you tell me you’re not a thief.”

“Some of what you say is true,” Julien said, raising his hands to Caitlyn’s arms.  She eased them away and stepped back.  “I am not a thief.  I hold no illegal artwork.  But I have had much of it in my possession in the past.  It has all been returned.”

“Then where does all your money come from, this business consulting bull crap?”

“But this is true as well!  My clients are museums, like the
Louvre
, where I am currently employed.  Museums hire me to make sure their security systems are in good order, that they cannot be violated.  Using my unique expertise in this field, I offer my consultations on how measures can be improved.”

Caitlyn had heard of this kind of thing before; computer hackers where usually offered top-dollar jobs by the biggest companies to make them hack-proof.

Still, one or two things more to check out...

Caitlyn asked Julien, “And how is it that you know all the cops in town, and in the Tower...?”

Julien couldn’t help but drop a little chuckle.  “I don’t know every cop in Paris, obviously.  But I am known to them.  Of course, a high-profile former thief will be known to the local police, no?  And I am known by others because I frequent those places, and I tip well; because I am paid well and I remember what it’s like to have to scramble just to survive, to go to bed hungry, without blankets or medication.”

“I ... I guess...”

Oh crap,
Caitlyn had to admit,
I had him all wrong.  I was suspicious and accusatory and he’s this brave, generous, heroic man, yes I said it; heroic!  What’s more, he just saved my life, literally saved me from being killed with his own bare hands.  And I’m pissing all over him like a jackass.

“Julien, I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn managed to say.  “I... y’know, I don’t see people getting killed every day, and I... all this... you could see how -- ”

“Relax, Caitlyn, of course I understand.  Any intelligent, reasonable person would have the same doubts, the same questions.”  Julien pulled Caitlyn close, and she allowed him to.  “You are right to ask and I am happy to explain.” 

“Everything, Julien,” she said, a stern reminder.

“
Oui,
but of course.  I suppose I should have told you all this earlier, but, well, it is not an easy thing to introduce into the conversation.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Hey, wait a minute!

“What about what happened back there,” Caitlyn went on, “with those punks?  You killed that young man, and then we just walked away from it?”

“I told the
Gendarme
that the other young man was responsible.  If they catch him, they’ll contact me for a statement.”

“You ... you framed him for murder?”

“Not really.  They probably won’t catch him.  And if they do, as the only witness, I won’t be of much value, with my past.  He’ll walk.”

Caitlyn’s head shook slightly, confusion rattling with such vigor that it was actually palpable, visible.  “Why not just tell the truth?”

A dark silence passed.  Julien scratched his chin.  “Things would have been a lot more complicated.”

“Because of your past.”

“
Oui.
  Complicated for you, as well as for me.”

“I see.  You were protecting me.”

“
Oui,
Caitlyn.  The boy will not be unjustly persecuted, you must know I’d never allow that.” 

“If those fable you told me about your past were true.  Can you really be Oliver Twist, Robin Hood and Danny Ocean all in the same man?  Come on.”  Julien’s head sank slightly, but a knowing half-smile kept his disposition from being completely forlorn.  Caitlyn asked, “What if somebody else comes forward, to say they saw you kill that boy?”

“Like who?”

Caitlyn hadn’t given it any thought, but the conversation, like the turn of events, was moving faster than she could dictate.  At this point. Caitlyn was just trying to keep up, while still struggling not to get ahead of herself; not an easy balance to strike under the best of circumstances.

And these were
not
the best of circumstances.

Like who?
Caitlyn repeated rhetorically.

“Like me?” Caitlyn said, instantly regretting it but unable or unwilling to back out, perhaps both.  “What if I come forward with the truth?  Are you going to kill me?  Are you going to reach out and snap my neck, or smother me with a pillow, or strangle me in the shower?”

“Caitlyn, calm down -- ”

Caitlyn backed away from Julien, her voice rising as her body retreated.  Her own words sprang back at her, pushing her away from him, opening her eyes, revealing as much to herself as she was revealing to him, and
of
him.  “Just leave me alone, Julien.”

“If you like, we can go the police right now -- ”

“I said leave me alone!”  With that, Caitlyn turned and stomped off into the bustle of central Paris.  Cars streamed by, pedestrians walked and chatted and smoked, everyone smoking those awful cigarettes; none of them caring at all about themselves or anyone else. 

Caitlyn looked around, the centuries-old apartment buildings rising up around her, winding streets disorienting.  Recalling that she’d already moved everything she had into Julien’s townhouse, Caitlyn dug into her purse to find the only resources available to her; her passport, wallet, and the cell phone.

More than enough to get home.

Caitlyn picked up the phone and dialed the first few digits, but her hands paused, fingers rubbery and slow to react to her brain’s reticent commands.

Hold on a minute,
Caitlyn cautioned herself. 
I can make the call now, or in an hour from now.  There’s cash, credit cards; I can stay at a hotel, buy a few necessities, plan my next move.  Things with Julien have gotten weird, yeah, really weird.  But that doesn’t mean I have to go running to Daddy, crying like some little girl.  That’s not me.  That’s not the person I want to become.  I’m a grown woman and I’ll handle this like an adult.

But, am I really safe out here in the street?  I just stormed away from a man I barely know, and what I now know of him isn’t good, not good at all; supposedly former thief, a liar, capable of lethal violence.  I threatened him and then trotted off, probably the easiest target in the world standing out here on the street, clutching my cell phone.  At the very least I’m the perfect pigeon for some fleet-footed purse snatcher.

Caitlyn looked around, stuffed the cell phone back into her purse, and moved on with purposeful steps, carrying her with grave determination toward nowhere in particular.

Caitlyn did take a small hotel room, on the top floor of what felt like an old flophouse.  The room was small but clean, the tiny wooden cupboards and table giving the place the feel of another era, of every other era; the times of Van Gogh and Hemingway and Moliere, of Victor Hugo and Edmund Rostand.

But the little room began to feel confining. 

Paris is a huge city,
Caitlyn reasoned,
what are the odds that he’s still out there hunting me, or that he ever even gave chase at all?  Easier for him just to get on with his life, right?  I’m sure he’s clever enough to refute me even if I did come forward, which he has to know I probably won’t.