Boxed Set: Dominated by a Billionaire - Part 10-12: Irresistible Billionaire (16 page)

Hmm…

A contract out on me?

Hmm…

After spending the night in the air – snuggled up against each other, in the jet decked out in white for the occasion – Vadim and I land on the island of Mahé – the biggest in the whole Seychelles archipelago. A helicopter with huge propellers, awaiting us at the foot of the plane, takes us to a tiny protected, wild island, surrounded by the turquoise-blue water of the Indian Ocean. We are alone in the world. Paradise opens its arms to us. The butterflies go wild inside me. I thought I had lost the love of my life. In reality, he was trying to save mine. And he was preparing our dream wedding in utmost secrecy.

My hero…

The main thing is to own up to one’s silliness…

"Mr. King, Ms. Lancaster, welcome to paradise on earth. This is Tania and Ousmane, your witnesses."

The representative from the French Embassy and the young smiling couple greet us when we arrive at the gorgeous villa my King has reserved for us. We kiss each other warmly hello – without knowing each other, but that doesn’t matter – drink a heavenly cocktail, then Vadim pulls me into the house that is the size of a small medieval château. He's thought of everything: the administrative procedures, the witnesses and their non-disclosure agreement, the refined, intimate setting, the wedding bands… my gown. I see it hanging on the door of the walk-in closet, it brings tears to my eyes. Long, light, airy, perfect: my fiancé couldn’t have chosen any better.

Vera Wang wouldn’t be disappointed…

My heart pounds in my chest. One foot in front of the other. Don’t trip. Look up, out ahead to the horizon. Admire everything so you don't forget a thing.

A breeze caresses me gently as I go down the little path that leads me to the pier overlooking the lagoon. That is where the arbor has been set up – white like my dress and my King’s bewitching outfit: white linen pants and a light shirt. He awaits in his angelic suit, a touching smile on his lips. All the white contrasts with his amber skin, his hair with its slightly golden highlights and his gray eyes.

I’m about to marry a living god…

Our eyes melt into each other. My heart aches, from love, admiration and devotion. I reach him and face him, unable to hear a single word uttered by the master of ceremonies. I am struck by Vadim’s animal beauty, by the purity of his features, the gentleness of his expressions, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the little folds at the corners of his mouth. I practically forget the splendor of the setting that surrounds us. Uncertainty and turmoil have left me. The pain is forgotten. I don’t feel like laughing anymore, or crying. I feel a deep inner peace because the day has finally come. Finally, his vows transport me into a world populated with You + Me. Finally, the wedding band is slipped onto my finger. Finally, his lips come to rest on mine. Finally, I am his, he is mine.

I, Alma Lucie Margaret Lancaster, take Vadim James Volodia King as my lawfully wedded husband…

Until death do us part.

Back to business. To reality. To Paris.

When Adrian Forester rushes into our penthouse smack in the middle of the night, I wake up in a panic, convinced of the worst. I really and truly think the news has leaked. That our secret wedding is no longer secret. That some creep managed to surprise us on that island in the Seychelles – despite how deserted and protected it was – then greedily took a wad of bills in exchange for the scoop of the century. In exchange for a crucial event in my private life. In exchange for the most beautiful day of my life.

I have been married a week and I still can’t get used to the idea…

Sitting up against the bed’s headboard, I hear someone pacing on the other side of the door. I recognize the familiar voice that summons us to join him, but I can't pluck up the courage to wake my Russian, too overwhelmed by my gloomy ideas. I begin imagining that a group of thugs is after me, ready to cut off my head and make me Dimitri Monkov’s latest trophy.

And give him my head in a pretty cardboard box.

I'd rather not know. I'm not getting up. Forget about reality. Bu the ex-FBI agent knocks again – much louder this time – and Vadim opens his eyes. He hears his bodyguard’s voice and his whole body tenses up. He turns his catlike gaze on me to stare at me intensely. I imagine that he is thinking the same thing as me. That my days are probably numbered. I'm ready to take comfort in his arms, but my lover suddenly jumps out of bed. He turns around and holds out his hand to me, but I'm too petrified to budge. Vadim understands, comes back to get me, lifts me up energetically and hugs me tight against him before dragging us towards the double door.

Towards my death sentence, is more like it…

The coolness of the parquet floor under my bare feet gives me a little courage. Vadim – my husband… it’s about time it sunk in – leads us to the living room and Moussa – the hulk who watches over the comings and goings of our building – gives me a cup of coffee. Adrian finally puts down his phone and asks us to sit down on the U-shaped couch. The giant all dressed in black clears his throat before delving in:

"I’m just a few hours ahead of the news, it'll be all over the media soon," he sighs, glancing at his watch – as dark as the rest of his outfit.

"Adrian, don’t keep us stewing," Vadim grumbles, his head in his hands. "If Alma is in danger, I want to know."

"Alma is no longer in danger. Your marriage no longer needs to be a kept a secret. Dimitri Monkov died tonight."

Forester’s deep voice resonates from floor to ceiling, then bounces back and is engraved in my boiling brain. I let out a little shriek – of relief – while my King remains at a standstill, impassible, as if knocked out by the news. Or as if, just the opposite, he weren’t… surprised.

No. Vadim has nothing to do with it. He would never do that…

Never? Not even for me?

…

"Aren’t you going to ask me how it happened?" Adrian asks insistently, looking at his boss.

"I’m listening…"

"Hung in his cell. For the time being, we don’t know if it’s a murder or a suicide, the investigation is underway. My men over there will keep us posted."

"Fine. Can we go back to bed now?" Vadim smiles, holding out his hand to me.

"Your birth father has just died… That doesn’t affect you at all?" I ask shyly.

"He was nothing to me, other than a murderer who went after everything I loved. He is where he belongs, now. In hell."

And with that, the conversation is closed…

The night was short and the drive to the
King Building
silent. As we're about to go our separate ways, getting out of the elevator, Vadim gives me a kiss on the lips and whispers a delightful “I’m going to miss you, Mrs. King.” I never tire of hearing him say those words. Or seeing his smile and his tender, bright eyes, when he calls me by his name.

Officially, I am still Alma Lancaster. But it is definitely Alma King’s heart that beats for that 2-legged fantasy.

"I can’t wait to announce it to the whole world…" he whispers, squeezing me in his arms.

Whiffs of Paco Rabanne blend with my orange blossom. An explosive mix.

"Neither can I," I sigh, buried in his neck. "I know that I shouldn’t rejoice, but Dimitri’s death comes at the right time."

"Alma, forget it," Mr. Perfect scowls, suddenly grumpy.

"Easier said than done! Remember–"

His ravenous mouth presses against mine, his hands push me gently towards the wall and I already feel lightheaded. The way he has of making me shut up is both exquisite and horrifying, and extremely effective.

One point for him.

A bell rings a few feet away from us. The doors of the elevator open and a flow of employees comes out. Out of everyone's sight, my King nibbles my lower lip one last time, gives me a wink along with his sassy look (he knows perfectly well that I hate that combo) and vanishes.

"Let’s do an update in my office at 11:30," he says abruptly, without looking back. "Don't be late, Lancaster!"

You wanna play? Get ready to lose, King!

At our weekly meeting, Alistair tries to get information out of me – about the canceled wedding and my “situation” with Vadim. But I don’t give in. I’m not stupid – there's no question that the King Prod employees are wondering what's going on, but we’ve decided not to divulge anything. For the time being.

Then I meet up with Clarence in his office – for last-minute checks on three trailers about to be released. He gives me his version of the latest news: Clovis’ digestive problems, Sophie’s new life in St Tropez, the twins’ pranks, their mother’s screaming fits. To my greatest surprise, my coworker – alias the biggest gossip on the block – didn’t dare ask me about my love life. I at least had that going for me.

I hate lying to them…

To think that no one knows. Not even my family!

Holding two steaming
latte macchiato
, towering on my platform heels, I knock on my CEO’s door – my husband’s door, Alma, HUSBAND! – shortly before noon. Half an hour late: not a bad way to make someone long for you. Vadim tells me to come in. He's got a playful smile on his lips.

"I didn’t think you’d come," he says, sitting down nonchalantly on the corner of his desk, with his arms folded across his chest.

"I wanted to test your patience," I tease him, setting the cups down on the table. "Need caffeine?"

"Need, yes," he says, pressing on his tired eyelids. "But it's not what I feel like. I feel like something else…"

His hands settle on my hips and pull me suddenly against him. I giggle with surprise, then try to resist, in vain. When I yield, his soft, warm lips brush delicately across mine before venturing down my neck.

"You smell diabolically good, woman…" he sighs, in a husky voice.

I'm about to protest – just for the fun of it – when a thump makes both of us jump. Our eyes turn towards the door that has just opened, then slammed shut. Katarina Monkov. In flesh and blood. Or more like, quaking with rage and killer eyes. I glance at my lover worriedly. His gray eyes have never been so close to black…

"I know you killed him!" she shouts at Vadim. "It has to have been you!"

"Kate, calm down," his sworn enemy whispers, coming closer to her.

He’s crazy! She must be hiding a laser sword or an atomic bomb somewhere!

"My father was no saint, but he didn’t deserve to die like a good for nothing!" she screams at the top of her lungs again, but this time in tears.

"I had nothing to do with it, Kate," my King says. "Maybe he opened his eyes. Maybe he put an end to his own life, as some kind of compensation for the lives he took."

"You selfish bastard!" his half-sister sobs. "I’ve just lost my father… YOU have just lost your father… And that’s the only effect it has on you?"

"I haven't lost anything at all," he interrupts dryly. "I am really sorry for you – that you feel so sad, but I don’t feel any sadness whatsoever."

For several long seconds, the two opponents stare viciously at each other, full of pride and defiance. In the end, the tall beanpole gives in first…

"He wouldn’t have done that. He would never have committed suicide," she cries louder still, while her endless legs double up under her weight.

Kate collapses on the floor, in a heartrending sob and I struggle to hold back my tears. I don’t feel anything for the woman, other than spite, yet right then, her suffering is real, and it affects me. I take a step forward, to help her get up, but Vadim catches me off guard and kneels down beside her. For the first time, when I see them, I see a brother and sister. Vadim and Kate share the same blood; seeing them in each other’s arms shouldn’t shock me. And yet, I sneak inconspicuously out of the office, feeling like I am both spying and intruding.

I thought they were going to kill each other… Instead, they’ve just accepted each other.

Did Vadim have Dimitri executed?

I can’t ask him… If he knew I had doubts, he’d take that as some kind of betrayal…

After pulling the wool over my friends' and family’s eyes for over a week, and avoiding their insistent questions, it is high time to dot the
i
’s. Because now that we are out of harm's way, they deserve to know. And everyone's ideas about what's going on is driving me mental. Basile thinks that I'm just being weak and Vadim is taking advantage of it. Niels opts for the theory of a sect and calls my man a guru. Clem and Lily try not to judge, but judge anyway. My mother, seeing my fairytale crumble, has lost all hope. Pippa already seems ready to replace me in my Apollo’s arms… And my father must be gloating, from his distant planet.

How can I tell them that I got married in secret?

A group email? Voicemail? Postcards? Text messages?

No, Vadim has a “better” idea: a big, sumptuous dinner…

Wave of panic!

Intense uneasiness reigns over the gorgeous table set up on our rooftop terrace. The City of Lights stretches out at our feet. The Eiffel Tower is lit up like a Christmas tree although night has just fallen. Once again, Mr. King skimped on neither quality… nor quality. The feast could feed – and quench the thirst – of a small army. All our guests have arrived; no one can wait to find out the truth. Upon arrival, a few minutes earlier, Marie said hello to Vadim in the coldest most possible way. Basile just ignored him. Lily, Clémentine, Clarence, Niels, Pippa and Alistair made the effort to smile – albeit, in a forced way.

Since Kali is away on business, she couldn’t be with us tonight. What a pity…

A few glasses clink and whispers are exchanged here and there, but the silence that looms makes me wish I had sent text messages. Expedient, for sure, but efficient and painless.

The waiters move out of the way, once their work is done – champagne glasses filled to the rim, and Vadim takes the opportunity to stand up. He looks gigantic, all of a sudden. His perfect white shirt secretively takes me back a few days. To that heavenly day spent on a fine sandy beach, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. To the overwhelming words he said to me. To the promise he made me. To that ring that is hanging on the end of my white gold chain, that I can’t wait to show the whole world. That flashback brings tears to my eyes, and gives me the chills. Vadim and I give each other a long look. My heart is pounding a thousand miles an hour, but his loving smile comforts me… a little.