We were in the middle of dressing when our phones rang at the same time. When I saw who was calling, I was glad Gavin was distracted by whoever had called him. Mine was from the front desk. I pulled on my shoes and quickly left the room, hoping I could get down and back before Gavin noticed I was gone.
As I rode the elevator, I glanced down to make sure my dress was staying in place. The hickey Gavin had put on the side of my breast was indeed visible and I knew it should've embarrassed me. Instead, the heat that spread through me was one of arousal. I had no reason to be ashamed that the man I loved had marked my body.
When I reached the lobby, I kept my head up as I walked from the elevators to the front desk. I could feel eyes on me as I went, but refused to look. I knew some of those gazes would be ones of admiration, but there could be some condemnation too. I didn't care about any of that.
“Here you are, Miss Summers.” The young woman behind the desk handed me my package after I scribbled my signature on the delivery form.
I thanked her and headed back to the elevator. While Gavin had been at his meeting earlier today, I'd decided I wanted to give him something. Forty-five minutes online and a big chunk of money later, I had my gift being delivered to the hotel. I peeked in the little box. The cufflinks were perfect. One had my initials, the other had his daughter's. I'd even had the script matched to the tattoo of his daughter's initials on his back. I couldn't wait to see him open them.
When I entered our suite, Gavin was still on the phone. I could hear him in the bedroom, his voice hushed and hurried, as if he wanted to get off the call right away. I glanced at the clock. We were running late.
“I'll have to figure out how to get away, but I'll be there.”
A moment later, he appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, but looking rushed. “Babe, where'd you go?”
I smiled at him, enjoying the way his eyes were drawn to my body as I walked toward him. “I had to run down to the front desk and pick something up.” I held out the box and it took him a moment to refocus his gaze on it. “I wanted to get you a little something.”
“You didn't have to do that,” he said as he took the box from me.
“I know,” I said. “But you got me this gorgeous dress and I wanted to get you a present too.”
“Trust me,” he said, his voice low. “That dress is as much for me as it is for you.”
A moment of heated silence passed between us.
“Open it.” I was afraid if I didn't break the moment, we'd never make it to the party.
He opened the box and his face lit up. “Wow, where did you get these? They're amazing!” His mouth came down hard on mine, his tongue pushing its way between my lips. Desire went straight to my core, heating my entire body. And then he was stepping back, the expression on his face saying he'd rather stay in the rest of the night.
“Here, let me.” I fastened on each one and then admired how they looked. “Perfect.”
“Thank you.” He ran his fingers over the one with his daughter's initials and then reached for me. His hand cupped my chin, tilting my head so that he could brush his lips against mine. As he straightened, his eyes dropped to the mark he'd made on my breast. He lowered his hand from my chin and gently touched the darkened flesh.
I made a sound in the back of my throat and his hand covered my breast, squeezing it. My eyelids fluttered and the pressure spiraled into pleasure. I moved closer, ready to say to hell with the party, then jumped.
Someone knocked on the door.
I swore silently as Gavin dropped his hand and moved to answer it. I looked down and made sure my dress was in place, then turned just in time to see a gorgeous, petite brunette walk into the room. My eyes widened when I saw what she was wearing and suddenly my daring dress didn't seem so daring. Even Krissy wouldn't have worn something like that.
The top half of the young woman's body was wrapped in a scarf. Literally. She had a filmy scarf tied over her breasts, the material so thin that I was pretty sure I could see the outline of her nipples. If she'd been any bigger, the material wouldn't have covered everything. And then there was her skirt. If it could be called that. The waist of it rested so low on her hips that if it dipped the tiniest bit, I'd be able to confirm that her pussy was bare. The skirt was so short that she almost risked flashing everyone just by walking, and I was positive she wasn't wearing panties.
“Carrie, this is Felice.”
“I escort.”
I glanced at Gavin, hoping there was a language barrier issue here.
“She's a singer so she knows her way around the Cannes music scene,” he jumped in quickly to explain. “Vincent's her manager. He must've asked her to escort us to the party.”
I forced a smile and held out my hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”
She smiled back but it didn't reach her eyes. As soon as she turned back to Gavin, it was obvious her reaction was limited to me. “We go now?”
Gavin gave her a warm smile and looked over at me, he eyebrow raised in question. “Ready?”
I nodded and followed them out of the room. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she was going to get cold, but I didn't want to sound catty. Gavin always had women hitting on him. That was one of the things that came with dating a man like him. Not all of the girls looked like they were barely legal and would drop to their knees in a second if he asked though.
Felice rattled something off in French and Gavin laughed. I suddenly wished I'd taken French in high school. Maybe I could look up how to say, “keep your damn hands off my boyfriend” in case I needed it.
When we walked outside, I hooked my arm through Gavin's and he smiled down at me. I started to return the smile when I saw Felice link her arm through his on the other side. She shot me a glare that disappeared as soon as he looked at her. I waited for him to tell her to let him go, or at least politely remove her arm from his. Instead, he began to walk and we fell in step beside him.
He was just being polite, I told myself. He didn't want to make Felice feel like a third wheel. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. She could have her hand on his arm all she wanted, but I knew whose bed he'd been in when the night was done. And I wasn't planning on us getting much sleep.
I kept my peace as they chatted in French, distracting myself by taking in the sights of Cannes in the evening. It wasn't difficult to see where we were heading once we rounded the corner. What looked like a few thousand people were making their way toward the Grand Hotel. We didn't need Felice to show us the way after all.
“The guests here are from all over Europe and North America.” Gavin's voice drew my attention away from the beautiful sunset. “These are the people we want spreading the word about the club. And some of them might even want to perform there.” He glanced at Felice. “Vincent's already said he wants Felice as an entertainer.”
I had a pretty good idea that her brand of entertainment wouldn't always involve singing, but I decided I’d better keep that to myself. I'd promised Gavin that if things at the club happened between consenting adults, I was fine with it. Instead, I changed the subject by pointing toward a large, dark-skinned man with several tattoos. “Mimi handled his divorce case.”
“That's great!” Gavin exclaimed. “You should talk to him.”
Shit. That hadn't been what I wanted. I didn't want to remind one of the East Coast's most thug-like rappers about his divorce from some reality star. Fortunately, by the time I looked back, he'd been swallowed up by the crowd. Maybe I'd be lucky and I wouldn't see him again tonight.
We were walking through a press of bodies now, down to almost a shuffle as we made our way to the front of the line. Felice flashed a smile at the massive man at the door and he stepped aside, motioning the three of us through. We walked into the lobby, following the people in front of us, and then found ourselves outside again. The hotel had a massive garden that had been turned into a dance party.
The music pulsed around us, a rhythm that was familiar even though th
e lyrics weren't. I glanced toward the place where guests were dancing and was half-tempted to ask Gavin if he wanted to go.
“We dance,” Felice said, pulling at Gavin's arm.
He shot me an apologetic look as he allowed her to drag him away. I watched them dance, though what Felice was doing looked a lot more like writhing than dancing. I thought back to how Gavin and I had danced the first night we'd met and a pang of jealousy went through me. I told myself that he wasn't interested in Felice, that he was just humoring her, but it was hard to keep thinking that way when she was rubbing her body on him like a cat in heat.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and drank half of it in one gulp. I tore my gaze away from Felice and Gavin and started looking around. I recognized a few other big name stars, but most of the people around me were indie artists or local ones. I liked music, but I wasn't exactly up on the latest hits. Still, there had to be someone here I could talk to about the club. If I wasn't going to enjoy this as a date, I'd at least prove my worth to my boyfriend’s business. Besides, I told myself, if I found a hot guy who wanted to dance with me while we talked, it would be a nice bonus. After all, why should it only be Gavin having fun on the dance floor tonight?
No hot guys were asking though and three more songs played before Gavin returned, a laughing Felice clinging to his arm. Oh yeah, this was going to be a fun night, alright.
I tried not to let Gavin see how annoyed I was as the night progressed, but it wasn't easy. Felice demanded all of his attention and every time he wasn't looking, she'd shoot me a smug grin that clearly said she knew exactly what she was doing. She dragged him around like he was some prize for her to show off, leaving me to follow if I wanted. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't. I nursed a second glass of champagne and reminded myself that I didn't want to make things awkward for Gavin by bitch-slapping the singer who'd be working in the club.
I was gratified to see him checking his watch every so often, but I would've felt a lot better if he'd made a point of making sure I was with him, of letting people know that we were together.
“There are a lot of great possibilities for talent here,” Gavin said as he and Felice found me at the edge of the party.
I was working on formulating an appropriately supportive response when a beautiful auburn-haired woman approached. A glance at Gavin told me he knew her too.
“Carrie, this is Marguerite, Felice's best friend and assistant.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said. She got a warmer smile than Felice since she didn't start clinging to my boyfriend.
“Likewise.” Her handshake was firm and her face gave away nothing.
“Where’s Vincent? I haven’t seen him here yet?” Gavin said looking around.
Marguerite nodded. “He had some business to attend to. He hopes he can make it later tonight. Knowing Vincent I doubt he will show.” She turned to Felice and said something in French. Judging by the confused expression on Gavin's face, he hadn't gotten most of it. “We must be going,” she said in accented, but flawless English.
“It was good seeing you both again,” Gavin said as Felice released his arm. “We should get together before I leave and do something. Drinks maybe.”
“I would like that.” Felice gave him a predatory smile before her friend took her arm and the pair walked off.
Gavin picked up a glass of champagne and drank in all in one long draught. I smiled. Maybe he hadn't been having as much fun as it had appeared.
“Excuse me.” A woman's voice came from my right and I turned, my eyes widening.
A pretty blonde was standing less than two feet away, flanked by a pair of men with arms the size of my thighs. “Kelsey Larson.”
“I know who you are, Miss Larson.” I shook her outstretched hand. “I'm a huge fan. You do great work drawing attention to human trafficking.”
“As do you, I hear. And, please, call me Kelsey.”
I didn't try to hide my surprise. “You've heard of me?”
Kelsey's smile widened. “I have, Miss Summers.”
“Carrie, please.” I couldn't believe it.
One of the foremost entertainers working to promote awareness of the sex trade and human trafficking, Kelsey Larson was the poster child for the movement. Born to a Russian prostitute, Kelsey had been abused since birth. Sold to an American businessman when she was eight, she endured four more years of horrific abuse before escaping and taking three more sex slaves with her, all under the ages of ten. Now in her late twenties, she was a best-selling author, a chart-topping country star, producer and director of the documentary My Rapist's American Dream, a re-telling of her life. Rumor had it, she'd be nominated for an Academy Award for her work.
“I've heard that you're working on a proposal for Congressman Joshua White. I'd love to hear about it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gavin check his watch again. Maybe it hadn't been Felice boring him. Whatever it was, it could wait. I began to explain how the proposal was designed to fill in loopholes in sex trafficking laws, as well as address the statute of limitations. Kelsey was amazing. She asked all the right questions, giving advice on some points I hadn't thought of, as well as how certain things should be worded. We were right in the middle of a discussion on international policy when Gavin put his hand on my shoulder.
“Babe, I need to go do something.” He sounded distracted. “I know you're busy here, so I'll see you later?”
I nodded, slightly annoyed that he hadn't lasted more than twenty minutes without being the center of attention. I'd stayed in the background while he and Felice had gone all over the place together arm in arm. Everyone probably thought she was his girlfriend, and I hadn't complained to him once. Now, he was going to bail just because I was talking to someone about something important? I suppressed a scowl because I didn't want Kelsey to know something was wrong, but all of the excitement of talking to her was muted by Gavin's exit.
A quarter of an hour later, Kelsey and I exchanged contact information and promised to connect once we both returned to the States. With her support of my proposal, I could really gain some traction while I was waiting for Congressman White. Maybe even give him a bit of push to move ahead before the elections.
As Kelsey walked away, I looked at my watch and then around at the crowd. It was only eleven o'clock and I knew that meant the party was just starting. I just wasn't interested in mingling, not by myself.
I sent a text to Gavin saying I was heading back to the hotel and then started to walk back the way I'd come. I wasn't sure what he'd planned when he told me he'd see me later, but at the moment, I didn't care. He'd left and I was going to do the same. If he wanted to be off doing whatever, that was his business.
I tried not to feel abandoned as I walked back to the hotel alone, but it wasn't easy. I'd gotten this beautiful dress because I knew Gavin would like me in it. We'd had what I thought had been great sex, and he'd loved the gift I'd given him. I really thought we had been on our way to getting things back on track. Instead, I spent most of the night watching my boyfriend with another woman and now he was off somewhere, leaving me in a strange place where I didn't speak the language. I looked at my phone and nearly growled… he couldn't even bother to text me back. What could he be doing that was so important he couldn't just acknowledge my message?
I was good and annoyed by the time I reached our room, so distracted that I was halfway through the main area before I heard noises coming from the bedroom. My stomach twisted and my heart told me to turn around and leave, but I didn't listen. I forced my feet to go toward the unmistakable noises of passion.
When I pushed open the door, it took my brain a moment to register what I was seeing, and then the picture became clear.
Felice and her friend, Marguerite, were lying in our bed, naked, and in a position that left absolutely no doubt as to what they'd been doing just moments before.
“What the hell?” The question came out flat.
Felice smirked
at me from where she was laying on her back, legs spread wide. Despite her thick accent, her words were perfectly clear. “Gavin invite us to join him.”
To be continued in Club Privé – French Connection Vol. 2, coming December 2014
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Acknowledgement
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big “thanks” goes out to all my Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of my series.
I have to thank my PA, Shannon Hunt. Without you my life would be a complete and utter mess. Also a big thank you goes out to my editor Lynette. You make my ideas and writing look so good.
About The Author
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privé and Chasing Perfection.
Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing. ☺
M. S. Parker, French Connection Vol. 1