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Authors: Arabella Kingsley

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BOOK: The Art of Retaliation
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Stephane
gave a
small triumphant smile against her lips as he felt her body grow languid and
pliant in his hands and her lips part obediently.
 
He made love to her mouth leisurely with
a decadence that made her whimper pausing to suck gently on her swollen bottom
lip.
 
He looked down at her and
smiled, she had opened like a ripe fruit, soft and succulent with a sweet
flavor.
 
He had removed the stone and
now he was able to devour.

 

The billionaire trailed a hand along the flesh of her cheek over her
chin to cup and lift so that he might examine the softness of her neck and then
continued the kiss guiding her head back over his arm to enable the easy progress
of his hand to the tops of her breasts then to the hardening peaks.
 
He moved his hand back to her shoulder
and began to undo the halter neck to bare her breasts.
 
Mara felt weak and was sure if he let go
of her she would crumple to the floor with exhaustion from his ardor.
 
She moaned and slipped her arms around
his neck reaching up to his powerful frame.

 

Stephane
grew
confident he was winning.
 
He wanted
the woman with a passion.
 
She
challenged him and he dearly wanted to tame her in his bed and over his knee
with a spanking.
 
But that
irritating voice of conscience he had fought so hard to ignore crept into his
mind and began to repeat the lecture he had already given himself twice.
 
He was taking advantage of a woman who
was helpless under his protection and authority not to mention Ryan may not
come through if he was aware of an affair.
 
Without warning he let her go as though he had been given a heavy
reprimand.
 
The movement was sharp
and determined causing her to fall back against the door.

 

“I’m sorry, Mara,” he said brusquely running a hand through his
hair.
 
“ I shouldn’t have done
that.
 
It won’t happen again.”

 

He turned from her dismissing the scene fighting the strong urge to
return pick her up in his arms and carry her to bed.
 
He cursed under his breath aware of her
watching him retrace his footsteps back down the corridor towards the stairs
half hoping, half expecting he would return, unable to believe how abruptly it
had all ended.

Mara could still taste the wine from his lips.
 
But he didn’t come back, and on
reflection it was just as well.
 
She
retired to her room quickly fastening her dress back in place and flopped on
the bed covering her face with her hands.
 
What had she been doing?
 
He
had been toying with her, flexing those powerful muscles to see how far she
would go and she had nearly given him the gratification of getting what he
wanted, more control.

 

So he thought he was acting out some kind of romantic fairytale
illusion in which he gets the captured princess whether she wants it or
not.
 
Her teeth clamped shut.
 
He was in for a big shock.
 
This princess was about to drag him into
the 21st century and wake him with a kiss that would jolt him to his
senses.
 
She would be calling the
shots.

 

If only she could get back to work and put all of this behind her
and forget
Stephane
.
 
She had forgotten about Matisse.
 

 

Work.
 
Yes that is the answer.

 

The meeting with Raymond Matisse had been arranged for
tomorrow.
 
Mara sat up excited.
 
She had to convince
Stephane
to take her there, tell him that if she didn’t turn up they would be bound to
think something was up.
 
It had to
work, she would tell him in the morning first thing when he had to think on the
spot.
 
He wouldn’t have any choice
but to take her there and she would get her chance to escape and raise the
alarm.

 
Chapter
Three
 

Mara woke early the following morning eager to put her plan into
action.
 
After dressing, she took a
moment to gaze at the view from her window, casting her eyes over to the
grounds were she was sure she could hear the gush of a fountain nearby.
 
The day was bright and guaranteed to be
another hot one.
 
She was falling in
love with the place and wished she could have a proper look around.

 

Footsteps padded quickly along the path that made its way around the
moat on the other side breaking her thoughts.
 
They belonged to
Stephane
.
 
His bronzed physique was glistening with
moisture in black shorts and a grey vest top from a demanding run.
 
Her eyes ran appreciatively over his
form, drinking in its sleek power.

 

Her thoughts made her blood pump a little faster as she remembered
the ease with which he had pinned her to the door the night before.
 
She moved closer to the window sure he
was oblivious to being observed until he stopped his run suddenly.
 
Giggling like a schoolgirl she pulled
back from the window hiding behind the curtain, sneaking another peek.
 
He was bending down looking at a shiny
object that was casting a rainbow of dazzling colors across his eyes in the
sunlight.
 
Mara felt her mouth open
and a startled cry escape her parted lips.
 
Immediately his attention sprang to the open window where the noise had
emanated.
 
He held up the engagement
ring and studied it intently before looking up to the window.

 

“I take it this belongs to you?” he shouted holding up the object
straining to see her behind the curtain.

 

There was an indignant tut and the window slammed shut.
 
He knew fine well the ring belonged to
her.
 
As she turned back into the
room she could hear his laughter and to her surprise found herself gritting her
teeth in anger.
 
She flopped down on
the bed and opened her laptop
bag which
she had been
given back minus her laptop and distracted herself with work, reading over the
documents once more.
 
Forty five
minutes later the phone in her room rang.

 

“Mara, I want you to come down for breakfast,”
Stephane
commanded.
 
“I am concerned that you
are not eating anything.”

 

“I don’t need any food.”

 

“If you do not come down now I will fetch you myself and carry you
down over my shoulder.
 
Do I make
myself clear?”

 

Mara gritted her teeth together.
 
She had been waiting for him coming to
her room so she could talk to him in private but it looked like she was going
to have to play the game his way for a while.
 
Besides after the other day she knew
fine well he would carry out his threat and she couldn’t bear the humiliation.

 

“Crystal.
 
I am coming.”

 

The door was open when she tried it confirming that he was now
allowing them free access to the house.
 
Maxine wasn’t in her room and Mara didn’t want to think too much about
her whereabouts.
 
Alone she went
down to breakfast.
 
The only people
present were
Stephane
and his mother.

 

“Good morning, Mara. I trust you slept well?
he
asked in a low deep voice that caressed over her body once again reminding her
of the night before.
 
She looked
away.

 

“Yes, thank you,” she mumbled taking a seat.

 

Mara helped herself to a croissant aware that
Stephane
was watching her eating habits with concern.
 
She couldn’t afford a row it may ruin
everything she would just have to force it down.
 
Her eyes opened wide with appealing
innocence and she smiled mustering all the feminine charm she had available.

 


Mr
Garreau
,
there is something important I forgot to mention.”

 


Stephane
, please.”

 

My office is expecting me there today for an important appointment
with Raymond Matisse.
 
If I don’t
turn up . . .”

 

“Raymond Matisse?
 
I have
not seen him in a while.
 
You will
cancel the appointment,” his tone was flat leaving her in no doubt of its
authority.

 

Mara finished pouring herself a cup of tea, tensing against the
disappointed shudder she felt rack her body.
 
What had she expected?
 
She had to persuade him he wouldn’t just
succumb to her wishes.

 

“I can’t,” she said firmly.
 
“They are expecting me.
 
I am
in the middle of drawing up a contract between one of my major clients and
Matisse’s software company.
 
You can
guess the importance of this meeting.
 
Raymond Matisse is dealing with the matter personally.
 
If I wasn’t to turn up or just cancel .
. .”

 

The billionaire held up his hand.

 

“I get the picture.”

 

Mara grew confident he was about to give in.

 

“Don’t trust her,
Stephane
,” his mother
interrupted their conversation.
 
“It
will be part of her plan to escape.
 
She’s not to go,” his mother snapped.

 

Mara glared at the woman.

 

“Do you always take orders from your mother?
 
I thought you were in charge here.”

 

“No I don’t.
 
Mara is
right.
 
We can’t afford to have
anyone looking for her.
 
But don’t
even think for one moment I am going to allow you to get away with anything,”
he said turning back to face Mara with a dark look.

 

Mara shook her head innocently and picked up her
tea
cup
to hide the smile covering her mouth.
 
Chantal
Valoire
threw her napkin down defeated and retreated from the room.
 

 

Stephane
broke the
silence between them.

 

“I want to apologize for last night once more.
 
It was wrong.
 
I can only assure you it won’t happen
again,” he said quickly meeting her gaze.

 

Pity.

 

 
Mara jerked, startled by
her inner voice.

 

“Good I hope it won’t,” she replied without emotion.

 

Stephane
pulled
Ryan’s engagement ring from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of
her.

 

“I thought you might want this back,” he said carefully.

 

She moved her hand to the object to give it further inspection and
then withdrew as though its stones were coated with a fatal poison.

 

“You were wrong,” she said frostily.
 
“It means nothing to me.
 
Give it back to Ryan when you see
him.
 
I will be ready to leave in
half an hour.”

 

Stephane
watched
her leave the room and pocketed the ring bringing his coffee cup to his lips to
hide the satisfaction at her words on his face.

 
 
 
 

Mara dressed in a black trouser suit complimented by a white
shirt.
 
She clutched the briefcase
she was holding tightly as though it contained the crown jewels and descended
the stairs.
 
Stephane’s
eyes travelled the length of her body as he waited for her at the bottom.
 
She pretended not to notice maintaining
an air of aloofness always her best defense she had found in such
situations.
 
He took her arm before
she took the last step and led her out into the courtyard where a black
Mercedes was waiting.
 
She pulled
her arm into the air trying in vain to shake off his hold.

 

“Must you always be touching me,
Stephane
.
 
Where the hell do you think I am going
to go.

 

“I don’t know, Mara.
 
But
you have a way of surprising me and I need to keep you close because of it,” he
grinned.

 

An hour later they ripped through heavy Paris traffic.
 
The car drew up outside the office in
the Rue de
Paix
.
 
Mara grew nervous this might be her only chance and she had to get it
right.
 
Somehow she had to let them
in the office know what was going on so they could help.
 
She quickly opened the door before
someone else did it for her but felt a restraining hand on her shoulder drawing
her back against the seat.
 
Stephane
leaned over her and cupped the side of her face
lifting it up to him.

 

“Remember, Mara don’t try anything.
 
I still have Maxine and you wouldn’t
want anything to happen to her would you?’ he spoke huskily making her catch
her breath.
 
“Besides,” he continued
trailing his thumb over her lips.
 
“Even if you did succeed in letting someone know, who are the police
going to believe?
 
The Count of
Albain
or an Englishwoman?
 
Anyway if you did escape I would track
you down and when I found you I would cage you so you could not escape me
again.
 
Don’t doubt me.
 
I always carry out my threats.”

 

Her lips parted, her mouth too paralyzed by the caress to retaliate
with words, waiting eagerly for penetration despite his intriguing threat.
 
She could feel his masculine power
radiating out from him overwhelming her, melting her resistance.
 
How could she feel this way when he had
threatened to cage her?
 
Yet it
excited every sense she had.
 
What
was happening?

 

He brushed her lips with a kiss and then pulled away.

 

“Yes, I understand.”

 

Mara clenched her teeth wishing she could wipe the aristocratic smug
smile from his lips and stop the ache that was now throbbing hot and wet
between her thighs feeling played as he sat back.

 

“I won’t try anything.
 
Let me out now,’ she snapped.

 

Mara got out of the car attempting to regain some form of
semblance.
 
In an instant he was at
her side holding her arm and leading her towards the entrance.

 

“What do I tell them about you?” she asked suddenly stopping.

 

“Just say who I am and tell them that you are here to discuss a
business transaction and proposal that I have to make to Matisse.
 
I will make it up as we go along.”

 

He gently pushed her forward clearly impatient for the charade to
begin.

Mara breathed a sigh of relief when the young receptionist bought
the story she was hardly listening to, her eyes locked in a tight seductive
embrace with
Stephane’s
.
 
They were taken to the boardroom on the
ground floor and a senior English secretary entered the room carrying a tray of
fine china and a steaming coffee pot rich with the aroma of strong French
coffee.

 

“I am sorry Miss Logan but Raymond Matisse had to cancel.
 
He rang yesterday but I couldn’t get a
hold of you on your mobile or at the address the London office gave me to
inform you.
 
You are to ring him at
the end of the week and arrange another one.’

 

The woman pushed horn rimmed glasses further up her nose and awaited
an angry response.

 

“Oh well never mind we will just have to arrange another one,” Mara
smiled trying to hide her disappointment.

 

Before she could say anymore Marcus Read the English managing
partner of the Paris branch of the firm entered the room cooing and bowing at
the billionaire Count.
 
Why hadn’t
he been informed of his attendance? Then he apologized for the cancellation on
Matisse’s behalf but it couldn’t be avoided.

BOOK: The Art of Retaliation
12.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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