The Accidental Mistress

chapter Eight

Christophe arrived ten minutes late. What did he care? It was after all his plane. He walked the tarmac to the small ladder and then boarded the Cessna. His cousin had already polished off his second drink.

"Damn, man. I thought you had changed your mind. Glad to see you made it."

Christophe slapped hands with him and then dropped in a seat, while his luggage was boarded.

"We got a new girl for this flight. She's hot. A black one."

Christophe frowned. The flight attendant sashayed out. Tall, thick on the curves with medium brown skin, she batted large round eyes at him. His chest tightened. Instantly he was reminded of Zuri. Every time he saw a black woman with the same round soulful eyes and heavy bust line, Zuri surfaced in his mind.

"Mr. Montague, shall I fix you a drink before we taxi off."

"No, um, I'm fine," he mumbled.

"And you sir?" she asked Elliot.

His cousin licked his lips. "Maybe you can sit out here with me while we take off."

The attendant paused and turned Elliot down with a polite smile. She sashayed off to the pilot's cockpit, her heart shaped ass moving temptingly under her skirt. Christophe looked away. After the Zuri incident, he tried to rectify a wrong, but the alcohol had not only made him an idiot, it had diluted his memory. He remembered her first name clearly, but had only saw her last name on her ID briefly. He remembered her being French Caribbean, possibly Haitian. He checked with Northwestern University, and hit a wall. The administration offices weren't too keen on releasing student's information. He could have hired someone in his company to find her, but he considered that an invasion of her privacy. After all, he was such a bastard to her. He was certain an apology or flowers could never mend it.

"You here?"

Christophe closed his eyes and tried to relax.

"What's wrong?" Elliot asked.

The plane's momentum increased as it began to race along the runway.

"Nothing. I got a lot on my mind."

"Well let it go already. We’re on our way to paradise."

Christophe sighed. "Right, paradise."

***

"I'm not sure I understand how you could abandon him now?" Zuri said. She stood near an open window in his second floor office, watching an old woman push a vendor's cart with hand-sewn dolls in colorful fabric. Each dangled from hooks with broad grins

Detrick Chevalier smoked a hand rolled cigarillo under a slow moving cloud of smoke. The lazy whipping blades of the ceiling fan did little to clear the tobacco laced atmosphere. He was a very handsome man, even for his age. This was the trait of most Martinician men. Tall with skin a deep shade of burnished brown, he had piercing brown eyes and a goatee around lips that always carried a cynical smirk. Rumor on the island was he was once in love with her mother. But she had chosen Claude Baptiste instead. Zuri never trusted rumors, though on occasion she'd seen his eyes linger on her mother longer than appropriate.

"I've served Claude well, Zuri," said Detrick.

"Really? Allowing this to happen? Then backing out on counsel when we need you the most?" she shot back, arms folded to the front of her.

"You don't have all the facts."

"Then enlighten me. Tell me the truth."

"Claude has had financial troubles for years. Even before you left for the states, his debts were mounting. He's done well on the coffee bean trade, but he has over extended himself in trying to keep up appearances for your family. Expansion of the Lagoon was ill-advised and he did so anyway."

"à la fin! Don't speak of my father as if he's inept. He's a great businessman."

Detrick chuckled. "You sound like your mother."

"What did you say to me?"

Detrick flicked his cigarillo to the ashtray and sat forward. "Claude Baptiste is a good man, and yes he's savvy, but he has made mistakes. He's not infallible. It's all there, in the bank statements. Read them for yourself."

"How do we get out of this?"

"You can't."

"The bank has given us two weeks," Zuri protested.

"And your debts out weigh your assets. There is nothing left, Zuri. The best you could hope for is that Montague will consider a merger instead of an acquisition. Maybe they will allow you to retain some ownership."


"It's ours! That's our company."

"Not if Montague wants it, and if they don't, the bank will collect and shut you down."

The truth arrowed her heart and made her weak with dread. Zuri cast her eyes away to mask her fear and desperation. "Then I will have to convince Christophe that he wants to help me."

"Christophe? Qui est Christophe?"

"A merger is our only option, sixty percent in favor of my family. I want you to draw up the papers." She shot Detrick an even glare. "You owe my father that much."

"They will never agree to that type of merger, never," Detrick said.

Zuri tossed her chin up confidently. "Trust me. He will. Just draw up the papers."

***

Zuri's inspection was near complete. She nodded that everything had been in order, and well kept. She drew back the curtain to the windows and checked the panoramic view of the private end of the Oasis shores. It was the best view in the resort. The moon and sun had rendezvoused in the sky. With twilight now approaching, the island was cast in warm shades of red and purple. It’s the perfect setting for a seduction. Her stomach muscles tightened as her plan formed.

"Okay, we're ready." She turned on Joi and Jean-Paul. "How many guests do we have booked this week?"

Joi looked to Jean-Paul for the answer. He did a quick count and smiled. "We have thirty."

"Staff?"

"We have twenty, including the kitchen." Joi said sadly.

Zuri sighed. The resort on a good day would hold five hundred guests, and was usually staffed with at least a hundred and fifty. Zuri paced. "We need to cut back on spa services, and ramp up our hospitality. JP, can you manage your kitchen's or should I call in some of the women from the Lagoon?"

"I have it." he winked.

"What about the micarême? Should we continue with our evening events for the guests? The bands and dancers will need to be paid."

"Yes." Zuri walked a tight circle, chewing on her bottom lip. "I've checked the accounts. In the morning we will meet with the remaining staff. Tell them to come early. We are giving them all advances."

"What? Zuri, we don't have the money for that!"

Zuri waved the looks they gave her off. "I can't have one person walk out on you while he's here. We have to run a tight ship, and I... I will need their discretion."

"Discretion?" Joi frowned.

"We need this merger. How we pull it off doesn't need to be the talk of Forte de France."

"Is that what Montague wants, a merger?" Jean-Paul asked.

"No." Joi said crossing her arms. "They want to take over. How is this a good idea, Zuri?"

"Unless you have a hidden treasure buried on the island, it's the best idea we got," Zuri sighed. "We have to gamble here. Trust me. My plan is a partnership with Montague to pay off our debts then we turn this place around and buy our way out. They have to believe that it’s a worthy investment. More importantly, they have to believe that we... are the investment."

"That's not how those people work. They put their name on companies and then take over. It's what Montague does. That Elliot guy made it very clear when he met with père," Joi reminded her.

"Maybe, maybe not. We need to sweeten the deal."

"With what?" Jean-Paul asked.

Zuri shrugged, but she secretly knew. "Let me worry about that. What we must do is make them think that the Oasis is a class act, which it is. So call the staff and have them here in the morning. I'll take care of the accounts, move some money around. We can do it."

Joi and Jean-Paul exchanged worried looks.

"There's something else," Zuri said. "This you won't like. This is where complete discretion is needed."

"What?" they asked in unison.

"Me."

"You?" Jean-Paul asked.

"He doesn't need to know who I am. I work for the resort. I represent the family but I am not Claude Baptiste's daughter."

"Why?" Joi asked.

Zuri had pondered hard on the why's. She wouldn't let Christophe use her mistake against her father. She'd tell him that she was the hotel manager and working directly with the attorneys. And if he wanted to exploit her, well she was banking on this time making him pay big for it."

"Trust me."

"Fine," Joi said, but Jean-Paul remained unconvinced. Zuri forced a smile. She shared with him when she returned from the states, her heartbreak over Christophe's treatment. Not the details, a very watered down version. But she shared her pain. He was a comfort. They were friends, and she ruined it, took advantage of his feelings for comfort. She sucked at the mating game.

“Can I speak to you?”

“Sure,” she said casually. “Joi, I'll see you later this evening.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joi waved them both off and left.

Jean-Paul stepped to her the moment Joi left the room. "You know we haven't seen each other in a while."

“Since Christmas.”

“Yes. Christmas. How have you been? Really. I've thought of you so often.”

Zuri gave him her best smile. "Life has been good. I'm good. Now I need to um, focus, you know, on the Oasis. This is père's legacy we're talking about. I let him down before. He needs this place. I plan to do whatever it takes to make sure he has it."

“Zuri, you never let him down.” He cupped her face. His lips drew closer as if he wanted to kiss her. She braced her palms against his chest and pushed back. “JP, I can't. I just can't. Okay?”

“Will you ever lower your walls? Allow a man to love you?”

Her eyes drifted down.

Jean-Paul hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face. ? Je pense toujours à toi. I am always thinking of you.”

“I think of you too, JP. Just... just not like this. I'm sorry.”

Jean-Paul dropped his forehead to hers. “I'm a patient man.”

***

Zuri brushed her hair until it was shiny and flat to her head after the shower. Her bungalow location made it a short walk from where Christophe Montague would stay. This she did on purpose. She needed to have access to Christophe beyond the eyes of the others if she was to pull this off. Even now, she found her plan risky, and flawed. It had been four years since they met. What if he didn't remember her? What if he had married? Or worse, what if he had no interest in her beyond that one night.

Zuri threw the brush into the sink. The choice was simple. She'd negotiate and play to his business side. Hell, she had gotten through law school. She'd been hired by one of the top law firms in Chicago before passing the bar. She'd done that on her own. Not because she was Claude Baptiste daughter. No, she'd done it because she’s capable. Christophe would be in for a surprise as to the woman she was now.

Zuri stared at her reflection: the doubt, fear, panic had been replaced by her pride, and conviction. But the question of who Christophe was now, nagged her. All she really knew about him was he was a cold bastard.

Agitated, she left the bathroom, located her master key to all the rooms and exited her bungalow. She returned to the one she had prepared for him. She checked and then double-checked everything. She even made sure the bar had been stocked with Johnny Walker Blue. Tomorrow would be show time.

“Oh, père,” Zuri said sitting on the bed. She reached for the phone, dialing her parents despite the late hour.

"Hello, mère?"

"Zuri?"


"How's père?"

"Better. Today he sat up on his own. He's getting stronger. I feel it."

"And you, mère? How are you?"

"Bien. He asked about Montague, the meeting you plan to have tomorrow."

“Tell him that I met with Detrick. We have enough in our accounts for him to be on retainer. I'm handling it, mère.”

"I don't think Detrick will be much help."

Zuri frowned. “Why?”

“He's been here and I—” her mother's voice faltered. “I don't like others hovering around your father like he's dying. He's recovering. He needs positive energy.”

“You think Detrick betrayed dad?”

"No. No, Zuri, I just think that we should help ourselves, chérie. The best we can. Zuri, what about the bar exam? You were so worried about studying and passing your test."

"I can take the bar later. This is more important. Now tell père, that I will see him in a few days. I'll have news. Tell him to rest, and oh, tell him I love him okay."

"Oui, ma chérie. You and Joi call me if you need me."

"Take care of you too, mère."

"Love you."

"Moi aussi, je t'aime."

Zuri set the phone down. She fell over on the bed, and closed her eyes. Tears leaked and trekked down her cheeks. Zuri curled up and let go her pain. It would be the last time she cried. Soon she drifted to sleep.

***

“Bonjour, um, we weren't expecting you for two days.” A young beauty flashed a smile despite the late hour. Christophe yawned. Elliot announced once again how important they were. To hear him talk one would think he struck his fortune yesterday, instead of having been born with a golden pacifier. Christophe tired of the show. The flight with the ‘Zuri look alike’ fighting off his cousin's advances had taken its toll. He wanted sleep, and quiet.

"Can I have my room," Christophe grumbled.

"Ah, um, well... oui of course. I know that Mademoiselle Baptiste wanted to greet you personally. If you wait, I can ring her and have her come and meet you."

"Give me the key, I'll meet with your manager tomorrow." Christophe said.

"Oui. Bien s?r."

"What about you sweetie? You working all night? Maybe you can give me a private tour of my suite?" Elliot asked.

The woman's smile faded. She nervously fiddled with the keys handing it over with a map that would lead Christophe out to his bungalow. He nodded his thanks, picked up his luggage despite the offer from the flustered valet and headed for the doors. A glance back over his shoulder confirmed what he suspected. Elliot was on the prowl, managing to turn off every woman he met. His cousin reached across the counter and touched the braids cascading past the shoulders of the young woman, with a sly smile. The appraisal of the Oasis will be done on his own.

***

What the hell is going on?

A woman, whom he'd never met, lay in his bed. A thick white terrycloth robe covered her. He discovered her with her arms curled around her pillow and her bed tossed hair was spread over her face. Christophe stood mute in his confusion. Had the receptionist given him the wrong room key? Did he access the wrong room?

"Hello?" he said.

He only spoke once. The brown beauty sat up startled, and the sight of her cut off Christophe's breathing. It's not her, it can't be, this is some kind of cosmic joke, has to be! He had only been thinking of her hours earlier. Were his eyes deceiving him now? Was it delirium from the long flight, or possibly a fever?

"Zuri?"

"Hello." Zuri clutched the top lapel of the robe in one hand and fixed the split that had revealed more of her thighs than intended. "I'm surprised you remember my name."

"What the hell is going on? Why are you here?"

"Sorry, I fell asleep. I only came in here to make sure things were to your liking," she said dryly.

"I want an explanation." Christophe demanded.

"Do you?" There was an unmistakable frost in her tone. It came a close second to the contempt in her eyes. She was different. Still radiant, but minus the wide-eyed innocence and girlish purity he found in her before. Zuri rose, poised and confident despite the impropriety. She slipped her hands in her robe; her bare feet were flat to the hardwood floor.

"I'm the manager here at Oasis."

Christophe ran his hand back through his hair and scratched the bewilderment itching his scalp. "You? The manager?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" she snipped.

"No, I just, well I'm surprised."

"So am I, you weren't supposed to arrive until Friday. Guess you decided to catch us off guard. Is your wife with you?" she asked looking past him to the open door.

Christophe chuckled. "I'm not married, Zuri. Damn this is weird, a coincidence, but weird because I—" Christophe found it impossible to articulate his thoughts. He'd played this moment over in his head a hundred times. She in his bed, basking in afterglow after sharing the most remarkable night with her, he'd explain his actions and she'd giggle softly, sweetly, and then tell him she knew his fears and she forgave him his faults.

"Well, goodnight. We can discuss matters officially in the morning."

"Wait," he said matching her step, effectively positioning himself between her and the only door in the room. "This is some coincidence, huh?"

She didn't look amused.

"I never thought... I just never thought we'd meet again, like this."

"And so we have. Coincidence over. Now if you will excuse me."

"Zuri, wait. Are you from here? I noticed a bit of a Caribbean accent with you, French Caribbean, so it's Martinique?"

"Tomorrow morning I will introduce you to my staff. From there, I'd like to meet with you to go over the business plans for restoration of the Oasis. I represent the Baptiste family Mr. Montague—"

"Mr.? Don't call me—"

"And their wishes are for you to enjoy the pleasures of Oasis and their island home before you make any decisions on the acquisition. I will see to it. There is much to love about Martinique."

"Zuri, I want to talk to you, about that night. When we—"

"We had fun. I planned it, remember? Let that be the end of the discussion of that unfortunate incident. I rather discuss business, and business only."

"Fine. Have it your way. Business, let's discuss it. We do it now, not in the morning." He gave her a sly smirk. "Give me your pitch. You got ten minutes. I know you have a counter proposal. Let's hear it or else I make a call and stamp a big M on the front of the building."

Zuri's smug coolness chipped. He saw it first in those beautiful round brown eyes of hers. Had she thought of him at all? Had she let another man touch her since he had the pleasure? A heated surge of regret boiled his gut at the thought of it, which he struggled to cover under his expressionless mask. Emotions were a weakness. How was he to control his with her standing so close?

"Well, Zuri? I'm waiting."

"Here's my counter offer." She cut him off. "The Baptiste are smart business people. They only suffered misfortune because of the hurricane but so has all of Martinique. The republic is slow to rebuild, and as for business owners, well as you know we stand on our own. I want you to agree to a partnership. A very profitable deal for your company, if you consider the rich cosmopolitan appeal of this island—"

"Get to the point."


"The Baptiste will obtain financial backing through Montague with a 60, 40 split of ownership in favor of their interests of course."

"Really?" Christophe said amused, wiping his hand down his face. "Now why would I approve such a outlandish deal for a fledging hotel?"

"Because Montague needs us."

"This I have to hear." said Christophe.

"Although Montague is doing well in the States, the company has long ties to France. Think of the political climate with the Martinican's who believe they will never have any independence thanks to the sovereign rule. To make this deal will make you a champion of these people and a caring French businessman. It would soften your image."

"I'm an American businessman. I pay a staff of public relations people to handle our image."

"There's more. You get me. For two weeks, while we finalize the deal, and legitimize the funding. You will have all of me on your terms."

"Why do the Baptiste inspire such sacrifice from you, Zuri?"

"They're hardworking, honest, good people. They treat me with respect. Something you know nothing about. Think about it, or destroy them, and we part here, which is easy for a man like you."

"I will admit that I was a bastard then. I am sorry for it. But the business deals I make are never done in bed. You are making a mistake in thinking that you can play games with a man like me."

"I suggest you sleep on it, Mr. Montague."

"So you become my whore and I ultimately pay the tab to the Baptiste?"

"Don't call me a whore!"

"Don't act like one."

Zuri slapped him. The sound echoed like a firecracker in the room. Wild fury blazed in her eyes. He lost his head. He wanted to apologize, but the words didn't form.

"I hate you!" She stomped out of the room for the door but he caught her, turned her to face him. "Not so fast sparrow. Who are you really? Time for answers."

"Let me go!" she shouted. "I scream and they will come rushing in here!"

Zuri was several inches shorter. Up against him she had to remain on her toes. She pushed at his shoulders but his face descended for the kiss and she gave up her lips like a good girl. It was brief, but decadent. She shoved him off with more strength than he thought someone of her stature could summon.

He lost his head. He knew he should apologize. And then he didn't have too. She stepped to him again, captured the sides of his face and to his delight offered her lips by brushing them with his. There was no turning back.



Zuri hadn't thought what kissing this man would do. In one smooth move he trapped her arms behind her back, manacled them in one hand, and covered her mouth with his. Certainly she hadn't thought this one through. She struggled against his smooth invading tongue that swept over hers. She was crushed against his broad unyielding chest. He tasted of strength and frustration. He tasted like a dream, and she was once again hopelessly his. Her mouth accepted the dominance of his darting tongue and soon she chased it with her own. Her belly melted against the stiff ridge of his belt. She drifted on the promise of a satisfying seduction. Zuri’s eyes fluttered shut as her body became alive, vibrant, and pliant. Then reality snapped like an overstressed rubber band.

Zuri broke the kiss first. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, pretending disgust. "Times up. Ten minutes is all you asked for."

"The hell it is!" He bracketed her hips with his hands and lifted her so that her legs went around his waist, her back to the wall. He met her tongue with his own, slanting his mouth over hers so no further objection could be heard. She was naked under her robe; he assumed it would be so, probably thought she planned it that way. Had she? Nothing made sense to her anymore. Just raw heat and lust beyond anything she could conceive.

Zuri whimpered in frustration.

"I know," he breathed. "I need it too," he stammered, kissing her harder, snatching open the sash holding the front of her robe open. He let his hands roam over the sides of her thighs then under to cup both halves of her buttocks.

Christophe rolled his hips and ground in his erection. Zuri fought against her desire but not as hard as she could. The truth was hard to deny. He felt good. He felt too damn delicious. Zuri pushed at his shoulders to relieve the aching pressure. He shifted her higher and released her mouth to capture her left nipple. Arousal bloomed within her, radiating out to tingle through all her limbs. Her lips softened. Her eyelids went heavy. He licked, sucked, nibbled her areola until she was creaming.

I can't fight it anymore...

Zuri squeezed her eyes shut. Too much feeling and emotion came with her desire for this man. She remembered bliss in the form of his thick veined cock and the powerful ways he used it. Holding on, barely, she felt the muscles in the back of her legs strain as they locked in around his waist. He ran his tongue up from her breasts to her neck then began to suck against her racing pulse. He lowered his zipper. No! No! No! Not again! Her mind screamed.

Christophe chuckled, as if he heard her mental cries for release. His cock breached her opening and eased inside her, slower than she could bear. Instinctively she flexed her hips and clenched her walls, drawing him in as she slid up and down the wall on his upward turned cock. He set a rhythm and he had all the control. What could she do but follow it? A moan started low in her throat., It grew louder and more frantic until she screamed out his name. She came hard, so hard she was dizzy for a moment.

"You want to be my mistress? Shall I f*ck you like one?"

Zuri half heard, half understood, too much sensation and heat had come over her to be sure.

Christophe let her down, ripped the robe free, of her and then moved her to the dresser. There he forced her to face the mirror with her hands to the surface, him behind. "Is this what you wanted?"

Her throat closed. She couldn't answer. She didn't know how to respond, because her body was still quaking with the after shocks of her climax.

Christophe dropped to his knees. He knelt behind her and grabbed both halves of her ass cheeks, separating them. Now his face was directly in front of her dripping, aching p-ssy. He began to press tender kisses to the outer folds. Zuri dropped her head and moaned. Involuntarily she shook her ass and thrust it back to smash her p-ssy into his face for more. He had to give her more! His nose brushed against her damp slit. "You smell so f*cking good woman," he spoke, and she barely heard him.

Zuri gasped as he next devoured her p-ssy with his mouth. Not a single inch of her sex escaped his mouth as he slurped on her *. The action drained all her inhibitions away. He ate her p-ssy as if it would be his last supper on earth. Her ass and p-ssy bucked back and up against his face, and his wonderful tongue gave a full figure eight sweep of her p-ssy before piercing her cunt. Zuri cried out, tossing her head back and dipping her back. He then licked her from her quivering * to her anus. Her ass, thighs, knees all began to shake as she thought she'd break. However, just as swiftly as it began it stopped. He rose. Shaken and shocked, she managed to open her eyes and look at him behind her in the mirror.

Christophe gave her a wicked smirk and dropped a hand to her shoulder. He shot his hips forward and went in deep. Zuri lifted on her toes, but her feet were kicked apart. Spread for him she dipped her back and pushed back. They did so in unison, thrusting. His cock plunged into her. His balls hit her dripping cunt with a loud wet smack. She shook her ass and he slipped in even further. Christophe drilled into her repeatedly; the mirror began smacking back into the wall, her reflection and his shimmering before them. They never broke eye contact. Never. They breathed in sync, moved as one. He folded over her and reached his hand beneath to squeeze her *. She came. As her reward, he throttled her beaten sex, again and again and again....


Zuri shuddered. Her palms now sweaty, slid across the dresser. Christophe had to catch her under the waist to keep her from going flat the surface. His thickly veined cock stretched her deliciously. He worked his dick in and out in such a frenzy the friction sparked a tidal wave of emotion and she crashed gloriously.



Zuri shot up in bed. She looked around in a panic. Sweat covered her face and chest; her robe had come open to reveal droplets trickling down between her breasts. She looked down at herself. Her body was still aflame, her p-ssy mostly. She swallowed a deep breath and tried to regulate her breathing. Darkness engulfed her. It took several torturous minutes to realize it had been a dream. She scrambled out of bed dragging the bed sheets out of its neat folds and tucks and realized she had fallen asleep in his room. Even if it wasn't a dream, she needed to escape. As she turned for the bedroom door she heard the suite door open. Someone had entered. In her panic, Zuri bolted. She chose the closet, closing its double doors gently. The shutters gave her a view of the room. Her quick thinking saved her a world of embarrassment. It was Christophe Montague.

He walked inside with his luggage. He dropped his bag and stared at the bed. Was he frowning? She could barely see his face. Zuri covered her mouth. She had rumpled the sheets. Damn it! She wanted everything neat and tidy. Now he believed the room was un-kept.

Zuri grimaced when he went to the phone on the nightstand and called downstairs. He requested someone come up immediately and tend to his bed. His voice, sharp and heavy with frustration, wouldn't bode well for any plans she had to charm him. The dream still had her heart racing. In her dream, he saw through her plan and f*cked her anyway. He called her a whore, and then f*cked her like one. Her dream was a warning. She would need to play this smart.

Christophe stormed out of the room and Zuri stepped back into the wall of the closet. She slid down. It was only a dream, so why was she tingling with need for more?

***

Christophe poured a glass of scotch. The bar was stocked with Johnny Walker, blue and black label. It was an improvement to the state he found his bed in when he arrived. He sipped his scotch as the maid tidied up. He had read a little on the Oasis, and its sister hotel, The Lagoon, during his flight. He expected a little more polishing. But in fairness, he was early, and they may have been overbooked.

Either way, he decided not to judge them just yet.

"Monsieur, everything is in order," the maid announced, returning with her arms full of bed sheets. She pushed them in her cart. He walked over and gave her a tip then bade her goodnight.

Christophe was wiped. All he wanted was a shower and bed. He walked over to the drink he half finished and tossed back the final shot. It would lull him to sleep. Strolling into the bedroom, he shed his suit jacket.

***

Zuri heard movement. She crawled over to the closet door and peeked. On her hands and knees she pushed her eye to the slotted opening. Christophe peeled off his shirt. Zuri couldn't tear her eyes away. She didn't want to look anywhere else; the sight of his fabulous body transfixed her. With each discarded item his male perfection unveiled. Mon Dieu! He had taken well care of himself over the years. He was broad shouldered and athletically built. There were strong powerful cuts of muscles to his back. When he turned she found the same marvelous definition rippled along his torso and shoulder blades as well. She dug her nails into the carpet, remembering the dream, remembering the ways he felt when his cock was inside of her. His olive skin was unmarred. Dark silky hair narrowed down from his navel into the waistband of his trousers. When he undid the buckle, she tensed.

Zuri lowered her eyes and struggled with the most primal of desires. When she lifted her gaze, she froze. He stared directly at the closet. Had she spoken? Had she made a noise? Please! Please! Don't make him come to the closet. If he decided to unpack and put up his clothes she was dead. There would be no way to explain her hiding on her hands and knees. No way to claim the little dignity she needed to barter for her family.

She waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Christophe blinked and looked away. He grabbed the smaller bag of the two and headed for the bathroom. She knew it rather than saw it. And soon it was confirmed by the sound of the shower. Zuri rose carefully. She touched the handle on the closet and considered fleeing. She could throw it open and run for it. But what if he wasn't in the shower? What if the bathroom door stood open and he saw her? Maybe it was best to wait. Her wavering on the issue took longer than she intended. The water turned off and her heart sunk.

Zuri moved back from the closet door and closed her eyes. "Please don't let him come to the closet. Please God." she prayed.

She heard the squeak of the mattress and opened her eyes. Curious, she peered out at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his palms. He wore a towel around his waist, but his legs parted revealing a hint of his cock. His shoulders rose and fell as he heaved several deep sighs.

What was wrong with him?

Would he speak? Sometimes people talked to themselves. She often did. But he never said a word. Eventually he rose, cast the towel aside, to let his dick hang. It swung low against his thigh as he walked over and drew back the sheets and slipped in under the covers. Deep down, she wished she could be the one to join him. But that didn't surpass her urge to run out and take the pillow and smother him in his sleep.

The man was an a*shole, the worst kind. A wealthy powerfully sexy jerk. So what he had issues? Didn't they all? She rolled her eyes, deciding to hate Christophe Montague no matter what her weak heart proposed. The light clicked off and it was over. Now she would do nothing but wait.

***

Zuri opened her eyes. Her head lifted from her knees. She had fallen asleep with her back against the wall and her legs drawn up to her chest. Her bum, and her back both ached terribly. When she tried to rise, several of her strained muscles creaked. She carefully opened the closet. Christophe lay sprawled over the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist.

Zuri stared at him. The makings of sunrise had already added light to the room. She should hurry and go. What if he opened his eyes? But she couldn't move. She just looked on at the man who had become some enigma for her all these years. Why was he such a miserable bloke? What made him tick? If she could figure that out she could finally know her enemy. He sighed, and the spell broke. Quick and quiet she fled the room, raced out of the door and hurried into the night to her bungalow. Once inside her room, she caught her breath. Christophe Montague had arrived. He was in for quite a surprise.