His Pretty Toy by Shanna Handel

Chapter 11

Ashe

I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing in Paris. I mean it seemed like a good idea at the time. But what’s so important we had to fly across the world after he received one phone call?

Am I getting involved in something I shouldn’t be? Is ‘trade’ a code word for mafia, or something darker? It’s so much money that this man has—what secret is he hiding from me? Now he stands in the back of the hotel room, whispering with someone named Marcus. I’ve caught the words Nathan, spotted, and roasters.

I’m not one to eavesdrop. I take the time to explore the ridiculously opulent apartment we’re staying it. It’s not in the touristy part of France, though I did get a little excited when I laid eyes on the Eiffel Tower for the first time. We’re in a residential area of the city, and I assume the residents here are just as ridiculously wealthy as Trent.

We’re in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, our huge bay of spotless windows overlooking the city, the Arc de Triomphe and the massive plaza it stands in, the streets coming off the circular pavement like lines on a sundial, stretching further than I can see.

The rooms are decorated in white and gilded gold, the furniture stately and timeless, the quality an extreme contrast to the yard sale finds I’ve pieced together for my own apartment.

I run my hand over the crushed velvet of a chair that looks like it could be an exhibit in a museum. Its wood is carved with the faces of cherubs. A strong urge rises in me, one I won’t voice; I don’t want to be greedy.

But I feel the pull of the Louvre, one of the world’s most famous art museums housed in what used to be a palace. The Musée d’Orsay, the Paris Museum of Modern Art, the Rodin, these are all on my bucket list.

And they’re all just a short walk or cab ride away. I swallow down my desire, gazing out the window, telling myself to be content with what I’ve been given. Many live their lives never even getting to see this enchanting view that’s currently taking my breath away.

A hand runs along my lower back. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is.” My gaze flits to meet his, then I look away. Whatever transpired between us in the bathroom of the jet is still there; some invisible tension that’s bound us together with a taut cord.

One that could snap at any moment.

“Wine?” he asks, his eyes lingering on my lips.

I will the flush I feel creeping in my cheeks to leave. I nod. “Sure.”

He doesn’t call for a servant; he pours it himself, choosing a black bottle with a gold label. It looks expensive. Everything in his life does, everything but me. I’m so out of place in my jeans, the ones with the hole torn at the knee and my simple white V-neck tee.

What am I doing here?

What does he see in me?

As he hands me a cut crystal goblet, his fingers brush against mine, his eyes catching mine, and it reminds me—he wanted me the first moment he saw me.

And he wants me now.

But what do I want? I haven’t had time to think.

He watches as I sip my wine, seeming to be mesmerized by my lips touching the glass. I take a long pull, licking my lips afterwards. “Delicious.”

Desire smolders in his dark irises. “Have you seen the bedroom yet? The four-poster bed is from the fifteenth century. Kings and queens have slept in it. Heirs to the throne were produced in that bed.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughs, tipping his glass back.

When he pulls it away, his flawless lips draw me in. I want to kiss him again. Or have him kiss me. I don’t care how it happens, I just want our mouths back together like they were on that plane.

Sensing my need, he leans in toward me. Yes, kiss me. Please. Make my knees go weak. He’s just there, hovering inches from my face.

The ringing of my cell phone stops him.

The sound startles me and I almost drop my wineglass. “Damn.”

“Careful there.” He takes my glass from my hand. “I’d hate to have to punish you for damaging my upholstery.”

Would he? I sneak a glance at him. Jaw tense, eyes dark.

He would.

I grab my phone from my back pocket. It’s Mom. How could she call me? I look at Trent. Does he have something to do with this? I raise my brows. “I don’t have service.”

He shrugs. “I contacted your service provider and added international roaming while you slept on the plane.”

I don’t even ask how it was possible for him to hack into my phone. I don’t want to know. “Is there somewhere private I can take this?”

A look of annoyance flashes over his face. “Why?”

I feel no shame asking—we are nothing to each other right now other than some kind of dark, sexy thunderstorm brewing. I don’t owe him anything. “Because what I have to say to others is none of your business.”

He answers, his tone gruff, “Fair enough. Take the office in the back. It’s soundproof.”

“Thank you.” Feeling like I have the upper hand for once, I let my hips roll seductively as I move past him. I’m surprised by the stinging smack that lands on my ass. “Hey!”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Watch the attitude, little girl.”

Heat flushes through me, gathering between my thighs.

I hurry to the office, closing the door behind me. It’s small and beautiful. Over a large oak desk, white shelves run the length of the room, their edges draped in lush green plants and vines. There’s a window facing the Arc.

The ringing’s stopped so I call her back.

“Hello?” she says. It’s good to hear her voice.

I smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, I was just leaving you a voicemail. I wasn’t sure what time it was there.”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” We share a laugh. “Guess what I’m looking at right now, Mom?” I tell her everything I can see, how magical it all is.

Her voice is thick with awe. “I’m so glad you got to go on this trip.” Motherly worry quickly creeps in. “But who are you with?”

Do I tell her I’ve met someone? This thing could end as quickly as it began and there’d be too many questions to answers. Ones I won’t want to.

I tell her, “A friend.”

She doesn’t press. “Well, be careful.”

“I always am, Mom.” Well, I usually am. Hopping on a Europe-bound jet with a man who paid for a night with me… not exactly safe. “What’s going on there?”

“Everything is good. I was just calling to tell you our cable and internet mysteriously came on and Charlotte is beside herself that you added some of those fancy kids’ channels she loves.”

With the money Trent wired to my account I first paid off all my debt, accrued from formula for one, diapers for two, groceries for three, and my mother’s never-ending medical bills. Then I prepaid the bills for her house for the rest of the year, and ordered a few other surprises as well. “Just be sure to be home Tuesday at noon, Thursday at three, and Friday at six.”

“Why? What have you got up your sleeve?” She laughs and the sound makes me smile.

“Tuesday your first weekly grocery delivery will arrive.” No more carrying heavy bags to the car for Mom. “Thursday the cleaners will be there to do a monthly clean, and Friday? Your weekly nanny is coming to do an overnight so you can see your friends and get some rest. You have her till Saturday at five.”

“Oh, Ashe.” She’s quiet a moment. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. You deserve it.” God knows she does after what she’s been through with… my throat feels tight and I swallow tears back, pushing the dark memory from my mind. “You really do.”

Her tone pleads with me. “Tell me I don’t need to worry where this money came from, Ashe, and I’ll let it go and enjoy.”

“You don’t.” And she doesn’t. As Trent said, it was an exchange of services. I had what he wanted; he had what my family so desperately needed. I’ve accepted it. The money won’t last forever; with my prepayments, it’s nearly gone but if I keep working… we’ll be fine.

I always tell myself we’ll be fine. But the darker parts of my past are creeping up. Talking to my mother makes our shared pain come to the surface and I don’t want to feel that now. I want to drink wine and dance and see Paris. Things I’ve never done and I’ll never get to do again, not with all the responsibilities I have at home.

I swallow back more burning tears. “I’ve got to go, Mom. Give the baby a kiss for me.”

“Love you, Ashe.”

“Love you, too.”

Tonight, I want to be a twenty-one-year-old girl, free and light, not held down by the tragedy of my past, the burden of my future. I want to wear a pretty dress and dine under the stars. I no longer worry over being greedy. He’s brought me here and he seems more than happy to pay.

I take a moment to press the backs of my hands against my eyes, to gather my emotions.

When I return to the living room, he’s waiting for me by the window, my glass in his hand. “What shall we do tonight?”

“Everything.” I take the glass from him, swallowing down a huge gulp of the oaky wine. “I want to do it all.”