BILLIONAIRE (Part 5) by Jones Juliette

Author:Jones, Juliette [Jones, Juliette]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-06-19T23:00:00+00:00

We sat at a cozy but very expensive restaurant on the Champs d’Elysee, in a corner table by the front window. The restaurant was busy but our little enclave felt secluded. We were early for our appointment, so Alexander ordered a bottle of champagne and some hors d’oevres. His command of French, like so many things about him, was impressive. He must have taught himself a couple of languages, somewhere between working those odd jobs, raising Jake, and clawing his way onto the honor roll. It felt different now that we knew each other’s secrets. Connective. Our pasts were both riddled with deprivation; we had that in common. That we now knew this about each other seemed to hinge us in a more profound way. Like the broken pieces of us somehow fit together.

Our bond had begun with a rampant sexual attraction that had seen us forsake every consequence. And now it was blooming into something else altogether. Something equally as powerful and just as urgent.

Studded now with the effect of our confessions, our sexual attraction was more relentless than ever. By this point, it had been many hours since we’d left the plush haven of our bed in Alexander’s hotel suite. In our ten days together – and this seemed astounding to me, that we’d only known each other for just under two weeks – we’d made love so frequently that our bodies had become accustomed to a certain timetable. Our need for each other was so ridiculously intense that this long stretch of hours of constant contact had driven us to a sort of fever pitch of foreplay and anticipation.

I was wearing a black plunging V-neck silk-knit top, a short, flouncy black skirt, my new pink scarf and my Balenciaga boots. And nothing else.

As we were waiting for our food to arrive, I got up to go and check my face after my gushing tell-all in the Louvre. I probably looked like a train wreck. Oddly, when I went to check my reflection in the mirror, I found I didn’t look stricken or shattered. My face was flushed along my cheekbones. My eyes were barely bloodshot, but the slight, fading redness gave my green irises an almost neon brilliance. The platinum streaks of my hair were artfully unruly.

This newfound cocktail of love, lust, leisure and the Louvre was having an unexpected effect on my both my appearance and my outlook. I felt like I’d just lost ten pounds of existential weight. And the effect of my emotional purge apparently had left me more empowered and more courageous than ever. Like I’d just eaten a big meal of genius and it was still not only churning around in my psyche but manifesting itself into my look.

I reapplied my mascara and lipstick, the way Eva had taught me only weeks ago. And I decided to make the most of my night.

On my way back to the table, a gang of loud men were entering the restaurant. They were tall and

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