Chasing Heartbreak by Kat T. Masen
KATE
The last remnants of my double-shot espresso go down too smoothly.
“Mr. Auvray,” I assert, sliding the thick document across the table to him. “You’ll see in our proposal the capital we’ll allocate and our forecasted financial return. Jacque, our business manager, had many questions upon his visit last month. Of course, I’d personally like to tour the property and see how Auvray Le Champagne operates.”
Reaching out, Mr. Auvray opens the proposal, scanning the papers behind his tortoiseshell glasses. I try my best to ignore his interesting choice in fashion, noting his jacket has leather patches in the elbows.
“Eh, uh, Mr. Edwards,” he mentions in his thick French accent. “He will be visiting Paris, Oui?”
“Oui.” I smile reassuringly. “He’ll be arriving on Friday and will be visiting for four days. He will be attending the Versailles Masquerade Ball along with his wife.”
“Ah, yes,” he offers with a grin. “Et vous?”
“Yes, I’ll be there, too.”
We talk more about the proposal, but judging by his body language, it’s a done deal. Mr. Auvray owns several wineries and needs an investor, or else he can say goodbye to his family’s treasure. A few months back when I discussed this with Lex during one of our conference calls, he was keen to expand our business in the winery division. There’ll always be a demand for French champagne, and the market trends have proven just that over the last few years.
“Perhaps yourself, along with Mr. Edwards and his wife, will come to stay in my chateau and experience what we have to offer?”
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Auvray. I’ll speak to Mr. Edwards and confirm tomorrow?”
Knowing Charlie, anything not involving kids, and she’s there in a heartbeat. Though not wanting to assume Lex will be free, I take the cautious side and make a note to ask him later tonight.
We say goodbye with plans to discuss further when Lex arrives.
It’s Saturday night in Paris, and the streets are buzzing with people everywhere. Many are walking in groups, quite possibly on the way to attend the ever-so-entertaining Parisian nightlife. Restaurants are crowded, several people dining with laughter escaping the circle they sit amongst.
I smile to myself, yet beneath the smile, exhaustion creeps in like a thief in the night. With every step I take, the ache of my joints comes to fruition, a reminder of the earlier rendezvous with Dominic.
My eyes fall lazily upon the local market on the corner of my street. Entering the store, I pick up a few essentials, including some fresh fruit and a bunch of yellow roses for home. The store attendant tries to flirt with me in French again, something he does on every visit. I grin and nod, not wanting to offend him yet acknowledging that he’s young enough to be my son.
With each step closer to my apartment, my feet seem to drag. The royal blue door with the golden doorknob in front of me brings relief, my arms almost turning to jelly from balancing the items purchased at the store.
The familiar scent instantly greets me—strawberry and watermelon from a wax melt I purchased at a market stall a few months back. The silence is welcoming, clearing my scattered thoughts, if only for a short time.
The moment I laid eyes on this apartment, I knew I had to have it. It was during a casual stroll one Sunday when the building caught my attention. The apartment is located on the upper floor in a mid-1920’s building with an exceptional open view of the Eiffel Tower, the Seine, and Pont d’Alma—the very reason it became an emotional purchase.
Living in a rental, my plan has always been to acquire real estate since I love Paris so much. The apartment is spacious with south-facing living and reception rooms opening onto a balcony with a spectacular view. The kitchen is fully functional, not that I’m one to spend hours in there since I eat out most of the time.
Then, there’s the master suite, generously proportioned with a large walk-in closet and bathroom fit for a queen.
The apartment was a blank canvas, making it all the more appealing. I’d sold one of my units in London, yet still holding onto one in case I ever decide to go back. Between stocks I sold at a hefty profit and my generous executive salary, including bonuses Lex awards me based on company performance, money is something I don’t have to worry about, and this apartment soon became all mine.
I finished furnishing it all plus decorating it to my taste. All in all, it has become my sanctuary and a beautiful one at that.
After putting away the items bought, I draw a bath with candles surrounding me and hit shuffle on my music. Sliding into the tub, the hot water is heaven-sent against my aching muscles. I sprinkle some salts and add a luxurious bath product given to me as a Christmas gift last year from a client of ours.
As my body relaxes, my eyelids begin to close—the thoughts consuming me earlier become a distant memory. The sounds of John Legend play softly in the confined space. There’s always something about his voice that evokes emotion or teleports me to a time in my life when my heart conquered, and parts of me were caught up in the tidal wave of being infatuated with a man.
I see Dominic lying on the bed beside me, his weighted gaze etched with desire. The caress of his hands against my skin ignites passion only he can awake within me. When we’re alone, nothing is off-limits.
And I’d be a fool to ignore that his words do not affect me.
Long ago, I fantasized about us being more than what we are, but fantasies are just that. Sometimes, we’re fortunate, and they come to life. Other times, they bring heartache and more pain than we’d ever care to admit.
I allow myself a moment to wonder, imagining Dominic as more than just a lover. Yet something blocks the daydream, something unknown which doesn’t make sense to me.
My eyes spring open, steam clouding my vision. Taking a deep breath, I immerse myself in the water and rid myself of the guilt. How dare he make me feel anything but what I should feel.
I climb out of the bath in a huff, annoyed at myself for overthinking this. Grabbing my silk pajamas, I place them on and plop myself on the sofa with my laptop open.
The familiar ping is continuous, email after email, all needing my attention. Work has always been my solace, and this time will be no different. Time begins to pass, my head starts to clear, and when I begin to feel somewhat better with my thoughts, I switch on the television and start binge-watching Ghost Hunters—the perfect distraction on this lazy Saturday night.
Somewhere during an episode of a haunted place in Scotland, my phone begins to ring, causing me to jump with fear. Taking a deep breath, my heart rate runs a million miles as I lift the phone to see Dominic flashing on the screen.
“Hello,” I answer relatively short. “Bored in Paris already?”
“Can we talk now?”
Squeezing my eyes shut momentarily, I release them with a sigh. “If we must.”
“It’s not working out.”
“I know, I heard you.”
“Well, you must have thoughts?”
“Of course, I have thoughts. But it doesn’t matter what I think,” I tell him, my voice slightly raised. “This is your marriage. Make your decision based on what you want.”
Silence falls between us, forcing me to check my phone to see if the call is still connected.
“I want what we have,” he murmurs. “I don’t want that to change.”
“Things will have to change one day whether you like it or not, Dominic,” I remind him, frustrated.
“Why… why would they have to change?”
“Well, for starters, affairs like ours never work long term. Sooner or later, Allegra will catch on.” The truth is finally out, and perhaps this may be the straw to finally break the camel’s back. “And, what if I meet someone and want a relationship? It wouldn’t be fair for us to continue with another man involved.”
“Is there another man involved?” he questions rudely, raising his tone.
“There isn’t. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It is my business,” he grates.
“Um… how so?” I sit up, straightening my posture while crossing my arms in frustration. “We agreed to keep our lives separate. We agreed to have sex when you visited Paris. That’s all. Don’t expect anything more than what we agreed to.”
“This isn’t a business deal, Kate.”
Anger ripples through me as I bite my lip, trying to restrain my thoughts. The sheer nerve of him to throw careless words around and cloud our agreement.
“We had an agreement,” I repeat, more so for me than him. “This is what we both wanted.”
“Kate…” He gasps, his tone is raspy and barely in control. “I think about us, just so you know.”
My breathing stills, while I stare directly at the wall in a catatonic state. His words can be interpreted in so many ways, and being a woman, I know we have the habit of spinning things bigger in our head than what we really think it is. I didn’t know how to answer him, not wanting to get my heart involved since I purposely left it out of this equation.
But why now, I want to ask.
Why, after four years, has he finally posed the question I so desperately wanted back then?
“I think about you visiting Paris, too,” is all I can say in return, praying he means the same.
“No, Kate,” he whispers down the line. “I think about us. You and me… together. A life together, just us.”
It was the admission I never expected to come from Dominic Kennedy. I’m left confused and angry, wondering why I’m forced to have to endure this again. Dominic has no understanding of what it’s like to be in a committed relationship. He takes from people what he needs. He’s made himself into a successful entrepreneur by promoting the exact opposite of commitment. I’m not stupid, knowing all along that this will have to end one day. I just didn’t expect it to end like this.
And I refuse to let him change the rules of our game.
“I can’t discuss this any longer,” I rush, shaking my head. “I think it’s best that we don’t see each other in Paris anymore.”
Drawing a deep breath, I expect him to agree. After all, he can get pussy anywhere he wants. I wouldn’t put it past him if he has other women besides myself and Allegra.
“You can run, Kate. But I know you’ll be back,” he assures, a sadistic edge in his voice. “I’ll be traveling to Milan for the week, then back next Monday. Same place, same time.”
With his assumption lingering in my thoughts and delaying any response from me, the call ends, and suddenly—he’s gone.
Pulling my knees toward my chest, I stare blankly at the television screen while trying to process what happened. The more it plays inside my head, the larger the vicious cycle swirls, and the only thing transpiring is his expectation of me being back in that room.
The sound of a text message comes through with his name. It’s a video file. I hit play and watch the small clip of me being on my knees while I take him all in, sucking every inch of his cock as he films me. I remember the moment, consenting to him doing so.
Another text message follows.
Dominic:It’s in your eyes. You can never escape how I make you feel.
I hate his observation, the way he makes me believe I have no control whatsoever. My finger swipes away from the message, refusing to respond to him and encourage his behavior. If I have a weakness, he knows exactly what it is before I even can admit it.
My phone rings again, but this time, Charlie’s name flashes on the screen.
“Charlie,” I greet, trying to sound upbeat before she picks up on my negativity and questions me. Charlie is intuitive, and given she’s a lawyer, it’s hard to hide anything from her since she has tactics to extract information when she needs it.
“We’re all set for arriving on Friday. I’m so excited,” she screeches over the phone. “Mainly because I’m kid-free for four days.”
“I’m sure you’ll miss them.”
“Yeah, until I’m asleep in business class on expensive champagne and decadent food, which doesn’t involve animal crackers.”
“I’ll let you guys get settled on Friday, then we’ll get ready in your suite before driving to Versailles.”
“Lex, um… he won’t be driving over with us. He has something he has to do.”
“Meeting?” I question, knowing his itinerary and when he plans to visit the office.
“I don’t believe so. Drinks with someone,” she answers vaguely. “But how much fun is this weekend going to be? Marie Antoinette costumes. Such a fairy tale!”
Charlie’s love of romance is rather sickening at times. She’s a hopeless romantic, and I’m sure she’ll spend all weekend trying to convert me.
“Lucky you’re bringing your prince.” I laugh.
“Speak of princes—”
I cut her off. “No, no, and no. I’ll not go on another one of your dates. I’m going to this alone. There’s nothing wrong with that. Embrace singlehood.”
“But how about just a date? Nothing serious?”
“No,” I state firmly. “This isn’t entirely a social event. There’s some business I need to tie up.”
“I knew it,” Charlie almost shouts. “Lex swore I’d have his full attention and no work involved. I swear that man is lucky he’s so damn good-looking.”
My laughter ripples through the room. “I miss you. It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever, but let me tell you about the fabulous chateau we’re visiting on Sunday.”
“Oh… do tell me more about this chateau,” Charlie ooh’s over the speaker. “Je suis prêt à tomber amoureux.”
“You’re ready to fall in love?” I repeat with a smile. “Me, too, Charlie… me, too.”