ROMANCE: The French Billionaire (A Dark New Adult Billionaire Romance) (Billionaire Romance,Contemporary Romance,Untamed Billionaire,Short Stories) (3 page)

He felt her hips flex toward him convulsively and penetrated her slowly and relentlessly until he was completely buried. She crossed her arms over her chest and burrowed into his arms. Almost immediately, she pushed away from him. She rubbed her hands over his massive chest and arms. “You’re so big and strong. I can depend on you.” She lunged into him and stayed there. He wrapped her up and held her tightly.

He began a simple in and out movement she seemed to like. She made a light, quiet whimper every time he penetrated. Alain didn’t change anything. Thirty minutes later, she arched her back and groaned. She beat his chest and arms with her hands and humped up against him with her hips. She gasped for air.

He felt her contract again and again inside her sheath. She gave a victorious cry and settled back into his arms.. She touched his cheek. “I am finished, mi amour. Now you. Inside me. I want a baby.”

“As you wish.”

Alain clasped her butt with both hands and brought her into his cock. He pumped her hips and his cock together ten more times. He pounded her body forcefully, slamming into her. All through the process, she looked calm and happy.

He clenched through his orgasm. She felt him pump his semen inside her hips.

He finished and all of the stiffening went out of him. She pulled him over on top of her. He covered her almost completely. Anyone looking down from above would see only her eyes over his shoulder and her legs below the knees.

He asked, “Am I too heavy?”

“No. I love your weight. It is perfect.” She caressed his back with her hands. “You’re here now, inside my arms. Stay. Be content. This is your home now.”

Emily called her sister, Lynette, when she got home. “Is there anyone involved in the drug traffic that drives a Lamborghini Sesto Elemento?”

“Yes. Ernesto Gomez. By the way, the car cost just three months of profits. He makes that much money.”

Emily said, “I have to know something. I want to have more of a relationship with Reynard. I need to know if he’s good or bad. I saw Ernesto outside Reynard’s house a month ago and again talking with Reynard today. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

The police, especially inside families, have a way of talking around the truth when there is something that must be conveyed and a reason not to tell everything. After a meaningful pause, Lynette said, “Does Reynard keep a number of paintings in his house?”

“Yes, he does. From what I understand, his security system isn’t up to standard as well.”

“Do you still have that small .380 pistol?”

“Yes.”

Lynette’s voice became firm, not concerned or worried, but firm. “I would move up to a .45. Choose one of the compact models. They’re easier to carry.” She paused. “Stop. I forgot about the two week waiting period. I’ll be right over.”

Lynette was two years younger than Emily. She was stocky because she had to be and blonde because she wanted to be. Ten minutes later, she knocked on the door.

When policemen and women are involved in something important and complicated, everything they say, how they say it and what they don’t say has meaning. Lynette walked in and got the important things out of the way. She hugged her sister and examined her figure. She said, “Fantastic. You look wonderful. How does it feel?”

Emily blushed. “Exciting and good. What can you tell me about Reynard?”

Lynette wouldn’t look at her. “I know him. He’s helped us with some art thefts in the past.”

“Is there something wrong with him?”

Lynette finally looked in Emily’s eyes. She held out a package. “I brought this. Carry it with you anytime you’re out of your apartment.” She handed the heavy bundle to Emily.

Emily’s voice shook a little. “Whenever I’m out of the apartment?”

“Yes. Are you still active in the LAPD reserves?”

“Yes.”

Lynette took a deep breath. “The job sounds nice. I’m glad you’ve got it.”

Emily frowned. “Enough talking around this. I want to fall in love with Reynard. Is he dirty?”

Lynette wouldn’t answer directly. “Keep working for him and take your weapon to work and everywhere else from now on.” She kissed Emily on the cheek. “I’ve got to leave. Come to dinner on Sunday.”

Emily recognized a refusal to answer and didn’t press it. “I will.”

Emily didn’t like carrying a weapon where it could be seen. To her, it was an article of clothing and a tool of her trade, not a symbol of violence. She didn’t need to show it off to bolster her image. Her blouses had strips of velcro along the opening in front. Emily used a holster that fit against her ribs above her waist and couldn’t be seen in ordinary circumstances. She wore the holster and pistol from that point forward.

The next day gave her a decision to make. She didn’t want to make it.

Reynard and she were studying a new acquisition, a minor canvas by Manet that had a good provenance. (‘Provenance’ means history. A work of art is authenticated by the substance of its known history as well as expert examination.).

They leaned over the painting. At some point Emily, leaned too far. She began to fall and grabbed Reynard for support. Reynard did what any man would do; he put his arms around her and brought her back to vertical.

He didn’t take his arms away. In fact, he brought her closer. They looked at each from very close together.

Emily went over all of it in a flash. She remembered Lynette’s hesitancy in her approval of Reynard. She also remembered that Lynette hadn’t suggested she leave the job and him.

Most importantly, she smelled Reynard and felt his muscles and steadiness. She felt the pistol against her ribs and thought, “What the heck. I’m armed” and looked at his lips. He took the hint and kissed her. She felt helpless and vulnerable in his arms, and she liked it.

Emily got her first hint of the seriousness of the situation. Reynard didn’t tell her about his emotions. He looked deep into her eyes and said, “I want you to take the afternoon off. Take Mignon and Alain with you and go to the beach.”

She said, “First, before we leave each other’s arms, kiss me again.”

He did.

The three of them drove to Malibu. Emily put on a nice one piece suit that dipped low on top. Mignon almost wore a scandalous bikini that showed virtually all of her.

She and Alain made an interesting couple. Mignon attracted attention that evaporated when it met Alain’s smoldering, glowering, six foot six inch frame. Mignon walked arm in arm with Alain and chattered happily.

They sat on the beach under an umbrella. Mignon in the middle.

It happened twenty minutes after they arrived. A series of loud bangs disturbed the sea air. Emily dove into her bag for her gun. Alain rolled over on top of Mignon who crawled underneath him. He whipped open a beach towel that had been wadded up by his side and produced a gun that made Emily’s look like a toy. They lay on the sand sweeping the beach with their eyes for the source of the sound.

Three kids threw more firecrackers on the beach and ran away. Both guns retreated back into their hiding places and Mignon came out from under Alain.

They looked at each other with significance. Alain went back to his book. Mignon snuggled against him and Emily studied her iPad.

Emily didn’t see anything on the screen. She needed to know what had transpired and why they handled it as they did. She thought, “Alain has a gun. Does he have it because he and Reynard are involved in something dangerous? How much does the art market provide for Reynard? He lives in a huge house. The taxes alone would break most fortunes. Lynette insisted that I carry a weapon all the time. That means I’m in danger. Am I supposed to be defending Reynard and the others or protecting myself from Reynard and Alain? Why did Alain and Mignon accept the danger that just happened without a comment? Reynard kissed me. Do we have a future?”

When they got back to the house, Reynard greeted them, and they went back to work.

At four in the afternoon, Emily needed a document that was attached to a painting in the cellar. She walked down the stairs into the room that had the painting. A door in the room led to another room Emily had never seen. It was always locked. Reynard said it was empty.

That afternoon, the door was open. Emily heard voices coming from inside the room. She crept over and stood next to the door against the wall. She heard Reynard said, “One million for the trip. I won’t do it for anything less.”

A voice that was born south of the border and sounded like every bordello and back alley in the world said, “Then you won’t do it. That’s too much money.” The voice paused. “Hombre, do you think I’m that rich? I don’t have money like that, and I can’t get it. This operation won’t produce it. Cut your price in half and we have a deal.”

“Three quarters of a million.”

“Bastardo. Hijo di Puta.” The words carried no anger or belligerence. In fact, they were good natured. “Bien. Done. But you bear all responsibility for delivery. If it fails, you must make good.”

“Done for me as well. Let’s go upstairs to the map room. I’ll show you how the deliveries will be made.”

Emily froze. She heard footsteps coming from the room. Her glance at the door on the other side of the room told her she couldn’t get to it without being caught. She stayed where she was.

The door next to her opened all the way. She was on the fortunate side of the door. It opened in front of her, hiding her from the two men.

Reynard and Ernesto walked through the room. She saw Reynard’s head twitch and a hesitation in his stride, but he kept going. She remembered her perfume.

After they went through the door, Emily took her shoes off. She knew another way upstairs and a means of getting close enough to the map room to hear.

She bound out of the room, turned to her right and ran up four flights of stairs. She slipped into a room next to the map room. She saw immediately that the walls were too thick to hear anything and there were no doors connecting to the other room.

She stepped to the window and opened it.

She looked down and the scene swirled before her eyes. She moaned, “Why did it have to be heights? I hate heights.”

The ledge along the side of the building was only a foot wide. She stepped out into thin air. The view was delightful. She could see all the way to the ocean. She could also see every foot of every floor directly below her. She inched along the ledge, being careful not to step in the bird droppings littering the ledge.

Inside the room, Reynard drew a faint line on a map from Los Angeles down the coast of Mexico to Columbia, out to the Caribbean then back . “We pick up the product in Colombia and make stops in the Bahamas, Bimini then back through the canal and up to these Mexican cities. This is the biggest cargo I have ever heard of. Seventeen tons of heroin. The danger is extreme.”

“Yet, you will do it, will you not?”

“Yes. For that amount of money, I will.”

Emily inched along the wall outside in the open air. The window in the map room was closed. She had to get right next to it to hear.

The wind came up suddenly and blew against her from the side. She leaned and tried to recover. Unfortunately, her flailing arm struck the side of the building and pushed her out into space.

She didn’t hear the window open. She felt a hand grab her arm and rescue her.

Reynard pulled her into the room. “What have we here?”

She looked at his face. It wasn’t the face of the man she loved. It was hard and cold.

He said, “A spy from the police.”

Ernesto said, “Who is she, my friend?”

“My curator.” He ran his hands over her body starting with her neck. “Are you hiding any listening devices or guns, my little girl?” He pressed his hands around and under her breasts then down her chest. She felt him touch the gun in its holster and move on. He was sliding his hands down her hips and legs when he stopped.

Emily had been looking out the window at freedom and safety. When his hands stopped, she looked down. Ernesto held his own gun at the back of Reynard’s neck.

Ernesto said, “My friend, I am not so easily fooled. You agreed to a price far too low to be of any value and agreed to replace the cargo if it were lost. You weren’t going to make that trip were you. You work for the police. Both of you.” He pulled a phone from his back pocket and pressed a number. He said into the phone, “It is as I feared, Raoul. It is a police trap. Bring the car up to the front. I will lead my two captives out to the curb. I may have to kill the others in the house. Don’t worry if you hear loud noises.” He closed the connection and gestured with his pistol. “Up. You will walk ahead of me.”

Reynard got to his feet. He looked at Emily with profound regret. “I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Ernesto’s voice interrupted them. “Stop. I am not an idiot. You searched the woman. I don’t trust you. Get on your knees.”

Reynard slowly dropped down again.

Emily heard a pistol slide into a holster then felt Ernesto’s hands on her chest. He felt along her ribs then moved around to her front. He immediately clamped on her breasts. Emily thought, “Thank heavens for horny men.” She wriggled as if she were trying to get him to let go. Her twisting and writhing brought her around so that the gun in her holster pointed at Ernesto. She slipped her hand inside her blouse. Without pulling the gun, she put her hand around the grip and pulled the trigger.

The noise in that small room was deafening. Emily wasn’t able to turn enough to hit him in the chest. Her bullet grazed his side and surprised him. She pushed him off his feet and watched him fall.

By the time he landed, she had her gun out and pointed at his head. His hand moved toward his gun. Emily said, “Don’t even think about it.”

Reynard ran around the side and took Ernesto’s gun. He ran to the window. The car that was going to take him and Emily to their death drove away.