The Billionaire’s Desires Vol. 1 (2 page)

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I wake up suddenly, quickly closing my gaping mouth, checking out the corner of my eye to make sure no one’s looking and realize that I was dreaming. I'm almost embarrassed. The train pulls into the Angoulême station and everyone around me gets up to collect their bags, a world away from suspecting the inner turmoil boiling inside of me. I imitate them while cursing my gooey romanticism. No, really, a horse? What next? I try to erase the image of Diamonds as a modern-day Prince Charming from my memory, but I have only one motivation now. To get to the Bagnolet estate and meet him in person. And look at his mouth.

I think about Gabriel Diamonds non-stop for the duration of the car ride from the Angoulême train station to the château, wondering a thousand different things: is he as handsome in real life as he is in photos? Why can't I find much information about him on the Internet? Is he married? Why did I just have a teenybopper fantasy with him in the starring role?

My jaw drops and my eyes grow wide as I arrive at the Bagnolet estate in the late afternoon. The château is gorgeous, much more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. The central square pavilion, made from white stone, is flanked by two wings that stretch out to the East and the West. An old pergola transformed into a rose garden gives the place a poetic and slightly old-world atmosphere. The English garden covers over seven hectares and slopes sharply downwards to the Charente, flowing peacefully below. The journalists who've arrived before me stroll about lazily in little clusters, through the hundred-year-old trees. The whole place looks like a living pastoral tableau. Two, trimmed box hedges frame the door which the car pulls up to, gravel crunching underneath its tires. A man wearing a suit comes to open the car door for me, then takes my luggage from the trunk. All of this luxury makes me feel terribly awkward, but I smile as naturally as possible at the butler who leads me to my room. The longer I stay here, the less comfortable I feel. I take my cellphone out of my purse for a little reassurance. The man leads me into an immense and incredibly comfortable room, places my suitcase at the foot of a king-size bed, kindly wishes me a pleasant stay and leaves. As soon as he's out the door I unlock my phone and send a barrage of texts to Marion.

“Just got here! You need to see my room.”

“How is it?”

“Everything is perfect and gorgeous. It's just serene and exquisite luxury.”

“Obviously! Feeling a little more poetic now, aren't you? Show-off!"

“Come on, don't be jealous. If you're nice, I'll bring you back the best bottle I can get my hands on.”

“Deal! You know I'm full of nothing but love and kindness.”

I know her much too well and when all's said and done, she really is happy for me. She knows this trip will do me some good, but she can't help from being a little smart-ass. That's Emilie in a nutshell! I put my phone back in my purse, wishing she was here to share this insane experience with me.

The room is breathtakingly gorgeous. Really, it's not a room so much as a suite...I shouldn't really dwell about it too much, given that it's about the size of my apartment in Paris. It's round, tucked into one of the towers of the château. The walls are all lined with incredibly fine moulding which highlights how high the ceilings are. It makes me dizzy. A thick, immaculate cream-coloured carpet muffles my steps and gives the imposing room a soft aspect that I absolutely adore. I throw myself onto the bed, possessed by a sense of hysteria that makes me laugh: the room's so big that my laughter echoes around me.

Hopefully there are no cameras here.

The bed, twice as big as the one I have in Paris, is made up with linens that match the cream and taupe curtains framing the room's immense windows. The head of the upholstered bed is a pinkish beige colour, adding a designer's flair that's also rather romantic. The sheets are incredibly soft and the pillows, all six of them, are so artfully arranged that I don't dare touch them. Finally, I discover a last detail confirming the place is truly exceptional: the bed frame, made from a high-quality wood, bears the Diamonds coat of arms, embellished with touches of gold. I jump to my feet, dying to discover the rest of my “lodgings”. A small door leads to a bathroom worthy of the finest palace, with a transparent jacuzzi that looks like an enormous aquarium. It makes me want to dive right in. As it fills with hot water, I go to the window to take in the view over the gardens. The late-afternoon light gives a magical aura to the weeping willows in the distance, on the backs of the Charente.
In my hot, foamy bubble bath, I can only think of one thing: what am I going to wear to the concert tonight? I congratulate myself for remembering to bring both of the dresses I own, although I hadn't the slightest idea that I'd wind up in the court of King Diamonds the first. I need a really classy dress, but one that's not, too extravagant. I start thinking that maybe my shimmery red dress would work, although I've never worn it before.

I still wonder why I bought it in the first place.

The image of Gabriel Diamonds' face flashes through my mind, and a shiver of excitement travels through me. Will he be there tonight? Will we meet? Will I dare to approach him? I know that the answer to the last question is a pathetic little 'no', but I take pleasure in thinking that perhaps I will exchange a few words with the rich stranger. I get out of the bathtub and put on my simple yet stylish little black dress, which goes well with the black pair of Louboutins Emilie insisted on lending me. We'll see if I can manage to walk in them. I slide my favourite silver bracelet onto my wrist, and put two small shiny black pearl earrings into my ears. I debate whether to put my hair up or leave it down. I decide to sweep it up into a high chignon that gives a little shape to my boring layered cut. A little cherry red on my lips and I'm ready to go down to the ballroom for a classical concert. The programme, which someone kindly placed on the newly restored Louis XVI desk, announces we'll be hearing the Quintet for two cellos by Schubert. I'm no expert, nor particularly interested in classical music, but nonetheless I'm dying to go to this party.

Walking down the large staircase, I hear the musicians tuning and the buzz of voices from the guests who've already arrived. I'm slightly nervous, so I gladly accept the first glass of champagne a waiter offers me. I end up downing it in one gulp. Hmm, I must be a little stressed. As I look for a seat with a good view of the orchestra I feel someone staring at my neck. I spin around and find the handsome face of Gabriel Diamonds looking at me. He holds a flute of champagne as two women and one man talk to him. Agitated, I turn right back around, but I can't forget the glance exchanged with the billionaire. There was a strange glow in his eyes but I can't decipher it. The lights dim and, before the orchestra starts playing, I feel him looking at me again.

He's everywhere!

At the other end of the room, to my left, Gabriel Diamonds is leaning against the wall and staring right at me. I feel both annoyed, extremely annoyed when I think about it, but also flattered and, I have to admit it, a little excited. I feel echoes of the euphoria from my daydream on the train, but I'm still surprised to see how much he affects me. Even more handsome in real life, he seems taller than he did in the photos, tougher too, with that impenetrable gaze and a very square jaw. The fantastic quintet isn't able to get my mind off of him, and I try not to look too much over towards my left.

Resist, Amandine, resist!

Despite my best efforts, our eyes meet again and again, and I melt each time. Incredibly wound-up, I decide to go freshen up in the bathroom to hide my agitation, fearing that everyone will notice when the lights come back on. I weave through the guests and sneak out of the ballroom like a little mouse. There's nobody in the hall. I push open a door that looks like it might lead to the bathroom, but instead I'm surprised to find the backstage area. I brush past the heavy black curtain as I tiptoe around in the darkness, looking for the doorknob. The Schubert transports me, and I stop for a few minutes, frozen in the darkness, listening to the enchanting music. Suddenly I sense a presence nearby and, as I try to escape, someone grabs me by the wrist. I let out a cry of surprise, trying to understand what is going on. I feel a long and heavy breath very close, my wrist still caught in that iron hand and, strangely enough, I'm not afraid. My eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, are able to make out the face of Gabriel Diamonds right in front of me. I blubber out a few incoherent words but his free hand flies to my mouth to hush me up. “I've finally got my hands on you,” his warm voice murmurs in my ear.

Before completely succumbing to his suave voice and his clear eyes, which are looking me up and down, I break free from his spell. His reaction says a lot about his character. He stands as still as stone, his eyes boring into me. He's full of so much confidence, he seems so at ease, that I feel incredibly small next to him! There are just a few feet between us, which allows me to look at him closely. I don't think I've ever seen such a handsome man. His lips are even more marvellous than in my dream! When I realise that I've been gazing at him for a long time, I can't help but blush like a schoolgirl. My embarrassment seems to amuse him, he smiles at me mockingly, which gets to me even more. I try to put him back in his place but, for fear of disturbing the musicians, I'm forced to whisper, which makes me lose all credibility.

“Do you enjoy terrorising defenseless young women?”

No, but really, who does he think he is?

“Only when they're in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He speaks in a low voice, but his impeccable enunciation makes his words echo in my head.

“I didn't see the sign prohibiting me from going back stage. I don't think I'm breaking any law, am I?”

My voice isn't as calm and assured as I would like, I have a hard time taking control of my emotions. To top it all off, my eyes dart about and I can't stop myself from fidgeting.

I probably look like a little twit.

“That's absolutely true, and I must say that I'm delighted to have you all to myself.”

Am I dreaming or is he making a pass at me? That little smile is driving me nuts!

“You don't 'have me', sir. I don't belong to anyone.”

What am I saying? I need to get out of here before I make a complete fool of myself!

I start to turn around and leave with my dignity still intact, but he positions himself so that he's blocking my path.

“I haven't finished with you, this discussion's entertaining me greatly. And I'd like to inform you that, generally, my desires are fulfilled. I always get what I want.”

His lips are laughing, but his eyes are intractable.

Uh-oh, he's not joking!

I'm at a loss for words. How do I respond to this gorgeous and impressive man who is clearly playing with me and doing everything he can to provoke me?

“Don't go so far with your threats, sir. I'm young and yes, I may not be as wise as you, but I don't give in easily, May I go now?”

Don't give yourself away, Amandine! He won't get the last word. God, is he handsome. And that intoxicating cologne...

I see a little spark in his eyes as a smile spreads across his face. I surprised him!

Amandine, one point. Mr. Perfect, zero.

“You're treating me like a decrepit old man, young lady. That's not very polite.”

Normally I would be confused, perhaps embarrassed. My words could in fact be interpreted as insulting. But the vibrations he's giving off encourage me to go a little further. Without thinking about what I'm about to say, I let out the first sentence that comes to mind.

“Surprising a young woman in the dark and placing your hands on her, you'd call that proof of your good manners?”

This time, I'm the one who smiles. The situation is so funny, me giving a piece of my mind to this high society man, so much more charismatic and polite than myself.

Suddenly, the door to our right opens. A gorgeous, elegant woman turns to my sparring partner.

“Gabriel, I've been looking for you everywhere! You didn't say hello to the Mayor.”

She speaks rather loudly. Disturbing the musicians seems to be the last of her concerns. She glances over at me and doesn't seem at all impressed by what she sees. She turns around and Gabriel takes his leave.

“Excuse me, duty calls. But don't think I've finished with you or your lack of manners, not to mention your tongue. It's certainly exquisite but much too loose for my tastes.”

Full of his characteristic confidence, the billionaire exits the scene. As he passes through the door, I find myself admiring his muscular back, biting my bottom lip.

Bloody hell, my feet are killing me!

A little shook up by this interrogation, which was both thrilling and distressing, I head towards my room through the winding narrow corridors decorated with armoury and tapestries from past eras. The chateau is a work of art, an incredibly sumptuous building, but this evening I don't have the energy to be amazed. My priority, as I climb the last steps leading to my luxurious suite, is to take off these bloody awful heels that are literally ripping up my feet. I have to remember to thank Emilie for her poisonous gift.

Trading in my little black dress for an anthracite-grey cotton nightgown, I think again about his piercing gaze and his sensual, mocking lips. Gabriel Diamonds is a very handsome man, but it's his intensity, his charisma, his merciless comebacks that both blow me away and aggravate me. I don't have much experience at twenty-two years old, but a man has never impressed or stimulated me so much. Not to mention infuriated me. I could have stood up to him all night long, played cat and mouse with him for hours, just to put him back in his place and teach him that he can't get away with everything.

Your cover was blown miles ago, Amandine!

Yes, okay, and also to feel his blue eyes drilling into mine, to amuse myself with his fiery reactions and feel his heat radiating towards me. My phone's ringtone interrupts my daydreaming. My heart starts to beat faster. I grab my phone, hoping without admitting it, that the billionaire was able to get my number and that he wants to spend some more time with me. I can't stop myself from frowning when I see my sister's photo display on the touchscreen.