“Thirteen minutes,” I said. I laughed inwardly at the look of chagrin on her face. “But worth every second of it. You look spectacular.”
Though I preferred her as a redhead, the midnight blue floor length gown suited her. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail and her makeup was light. Her lips were red and for an instant, the only thing I could think of was those lips wrapped around my cock.
Don’t be a dick, Alexander, I chided myself. I walked towards her. “Are you ready to get punished in the playroom?”
“I thought we were going to the symphony,” she shot back cheekily.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out aloud. “We are,” I replied. My gaze dropped to her bare neck. “You aren’t wearing any jewelry,” I pointed out.
She made a face. “Do I have to?”
She didn’t like feeling owned. More than once, she’d made her feelings clear on that and I understood. Had we been going to a neighbourhood bar to drink some wine and listen to a band play, I wouldn’t have insisted. She had every right to wear what she wanted.
But I was insanely rich and the symphony would be crawling with women who wanted me and would make no secret of it. Her couture gown, my bespoke suit, the jewelry – all of this was armour. “Please? It would please me very much.”
Her expression became deliberately neutral. “Of course,” she acquiesced. “What should I wear?”
The necklace I pulled out from a box at the side table was immensely old. When the newly formed French republic had decreed a sale of the Crown Jewels in an attempt to ensure that there would never again be a king in France, the gems were removed from their settings and sold piecemeal. One of those stones was the large yellow diamond I held in my hand, now dangling from a delicate filigree of gold.
I had bid for it in an auction a few weeks after I’d made my first hundred million dollars, though it hadn’t been an act of celebration. It had been an act of defiance. I knew I wasn’t allowed real relationships and there was never going to be a woman I could permit myself to get involved with. But that day, I’d bought the diamond in a symbolic protest against those constraints.
It had sat in a bank locker ever since then. Today, in an act of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, I’d retrieved it and brought it home, because I wanted to see it around her neck. This woman who’d been in my thoughts for two years.
“Come here,” I said. I moved her hair away and fastened the clasp around her neck, dropping a kiss on that bared spot before I pulled away. “Before you start protesting, it’s just a loan,” I told her. “Also, I’m supposed to warn you by the insurers that it’s quite valuable and you should try not to lose it.”
“How valuable?” Her tone was wary.
“Valuable enough.” It had cost as much as the fucking jet and was far less useful, though I didn’t see the point in telling her that. It would only freak her out. “Shall we?”
She took my outstretched hand. “Why do I have a feeling you aren’t telling me everything, Alexander?” she asked dryly.
Probably because it was true. “The symphony is being patriotic tonight,” I said, sidestepping that conversation. “They are playing Debussy and Ravel. It promises to be quite good.”
“Hey, I’ve heard Bolero before,” she responded with sudden enthusiasm. “Isn’t that Ravel?”
I smiled at her glee. “You know more about classical music than you think then, cherie.”
She shook her head. “My memory is just really good,” she replied. I had a feeling she was telling me something important about herself, but before I could focus on it, she smiled a bright smile. “Let’s go? We don’t want to be late.”
***
We weren’t late. We got there with plenty of time to spare. I saw her eyes widen as she took in the unparalleled opulence of the Palais Garnier. “I’ve never been here before,” she whispered.
She’d make a terrible deep-cover operative. Of course she’d never been to the Palais Garnier. According to her cover story, this was only her third day in Paris. She was good at working in her imaginary sister into conversation, but beyond that, she’d do tiny things that didn’t quite add up.
I could understand. Deep cover was exhausting. I’d maintained a cover of my own for so many years that I’d forgotten how hard it had been at the beginning. So many times, I’d wanted to look at people in the eye and shout out – I know who you are. I know your secrets.
She didn’t seem to realize her slip-up and I didn’t pounce. I wanted her walls down. I wanted to know who she was working for and what she really wanted.
Really? My conscience prodded at me. Is that the only reason? Is that why she’s wearing the diamond around her neck?
“The Palais Garnier was used as the setting for Phantom of the Opera,” I told her. “Would you like something to eat or drink? There’s a restaurant upstairs.”