AllFreeNovel
Share Us
14
Aria walkedout onto the balcony and looked over the rooftops of Paris. The Eiffel Tower beckoned in the distance, the city every bit as magical as she’d dreamed. She sighed and leaned against the iron railing, not at all concerned about the fact that she wasnaked.
She feltinvincible.
Invisible even, in the bestofways.
Here in Paris, she and Damian were just like everyone else. For now, atleast.
The last two days had been a dream. They’d christened the suite’s plush bedroom the first afternoon by making love — twice. She would have been more than happy to remain there for the duration of their stay, but Damian had insisted on making good on his promise to take her shopping. They’d spent half of the first day at small, specialty boutiques on the Rue du Rivoli, walking arm in arm, going into stores onawhim.
She’d resisted at first. She’d never needed luxury. Primo had insisted on their expensive apartment in New York, and she’d only ever bought what she needed in spite of the credit cards that were freely given to her and paid for by Primo’sbusiness.
She’d spent her free time at the community garden, had been more than happy to stop at the market on the way home and cook for her and Primo in the apartment’skitchen.
But Damian wouldn’t take no for an answer, and after the first few stores she slowly relented. It was obvious he was enjoying himself, his customarily dark expression traded for an occasional smile or lascivious grin when she emerged wearing something see-through or skimpy — or better yet, when she pulled him into the dressing room with her to make sure the item in question could be easily worked around should the mood to make lovestrikethem.
Italwaysdid.
They’d had dinner on the lower level of a tiny bistro hidden away from the world just like them. Candles flickered on the table, and the wait staff had been hushed and reverent as they’d served creamy foie gras with triangles of toast, lobster bisque, an array of fresh cheeses, moist duck withcrispyskin.
They’d walked back to the hotel arm in arm and made love in the claw foot tub. By the time Aria had nestled into Damian’s arms her body had been loose and tired. She’d slept like the dead and woken to crispy waffles and fresh strawberries in thesuite.
Damian had upped the ante, leading her away from the small but expensive boutiques of the day before in favor of the designers on Rue St. Honore. He’d passed his credit card to the staff again and again in stores like Chanel and Prada, Hermes and Collette. Eventually she’d forgotten to be embarrassed. It was overwhelming, but there was a kind of freedom in giving herself over to it, to letting Damian lead the way. After her long weeks of solitude and squalor in Greece, she had to admit it was comforting to be surrounded by silk and satin, by clean, crisp cotton and smoothcashmere.
She’d thought they were done for the day when Damian led her to a salon called David Mallett. She knew it was expensive the moment they stepped into the space, a luxe, minimalistic space that looked more like a high fashion designer showroom than asalon.
Damian had settled happily into one of the antique chairs with a glass of champagne while Aria was led away for a deep wash and condition, a cut and color. She’d considered changing it — going blond, or evenplatinum.
Somethingdifferent.
But she’d already lost two months of her life. She wanted to recognize herself when she looked in the mirror, and she’d opted for the same burgundy rinse she had before she’d been kidnapped inCapri.
They’d completed her treatment with a wax and she’d left the salon feeling a bit like heroldself.
Damian had wanted to take her out again, but she’d been too tired, and they’d spent the night eating room service in the suite’s giant bed, pausing old movies to explore each other’s bodies, relearning every angle and curve with a zeal that bordered onreligious.
She was still trying to forget, still trying to banish the nightmares that haunted her when she let go of consciousness each night. But there was no place her kidnapping seemed further away than when she was in Damian’s arms, lost to the sensation he provoked inherbody.
She walked back into the suite, slipped on a robe, and poured a cup of coffee, then picked up the note Damian had left on the tray when he’d gone to Christophe’s cyber lab thatmorning.
Already counting the minutes until we’re togetheragain…
She smiled to herself and lifted the piece of paper to her nose, hoping to catch his scent, but it only smelled of thick hotel paper, and she set it down on the tray and walked back into the bedroom to choose something from her new wardrobe. She didn’t know how long Damian would be gone, but he’d promised her a boat ride on the Seine, plus a trip to the top of the EiffelTower.
She was flipping through the silky underthings when she saw the phone on top of the bureau. It was the same one Damian had given her before they’d leftTuscany.
The one she wasn’t supposed to use to contactPrimo.
No one had the number but Damian. Who else did she have inherlife?
She picked it up, sat on the bed and turned it over in her hand. She’d agreed when Damian asked her not to contact Primo, but it hadn’t been easy. Primo was her brother. They’d been looking out for each other since the death of their parents. She’d never gone more than a few hours without being in contactwithhim.
Without making sure hewasokay.
She thought about Malcolm’s visits in Greece. What if they pointed to more than the fact that Malcolm had been behind her kidnapping? Damian had said her brother was underground. What if he was worse than underground — what if he was being controlled byMalcolm?
Or worse — what if Malcolm had done something tohurthim?
