Page 14 of Madam Alana

“Yes, here we are. Two strangers coming together for entirelydifferent reasons. How will it ever work?” I wondered out loud. Mentally Ichastised myself, worrying he might think me ungrateful.

“It is already working,” he blurted emphatically. “I’meating fine Italian food and sipping champagne while gazing at my gorgeouswife. I have the desire in my bones to create when we return home. I’d saythings have played out quite well.”

“Are you always this positive?”

“Life is filled with an endless number of highs, lows,challenges, and obstacles. It’s how you maneuver those things and who you takethat path with that make it worthwhile,non?” His lips twitched, and Iboldly reached out and cupped his jaw, tracing his mouth with my thumb, needingto feel that positivity firsthand.

“Are you real? Am I dreaming?” I whispered.

“No,moncoeur, you are falling. Falling into the life you weremeant to have. Tumbling headfirst into the unknown with me by your side to keepyou from ever hitting bottom. Trust me to keep you safe. Together we’ll fly,letting each new day take us where it wants to go.”

“You’re very poetic, but none of this seems possible. Menlike you don’t carry women like me off into the sunset. It’s just not done.”

“Then I will prove it to you.” He interlaced our hands, palmto palm. That electric connection swirled at the place our skin pressedtogether. “All I ask is that you give us a chance. Welcome me into your heart,as I have already given you mine for safe keeping. Let the seed of ourconnection grow into something magnificent.”

I was scared to commit, but I was more frightened of neverhaving this chance again.

Could it be fate that had brought us together? Divineintervention? I didn’t know. All I could do was…try.

“I will try. For you, Christophe, I will try.”

Chapter 6

TheValue of a Heart

Dinner continued with an ease I couldn’t have expected. Mynew husband was charming, quick to laugh, and complimentary of everything: thefood, me, the restaurant. Christophe Toussaint was proving to be exactly whathe presented to the world. A dashing, intelligent, free-spirited man whoindulged in life’s pleasures to their fullest. He plowed straight intoeverything with gusto—like trying new foods his friend presented to us withouteven asking what they were. He trusted those around him implicitly to not harmor abuse his positive nature.

It was enlightening to say the least, but a treacherousapproach for someone who’d seen the worst of humanity and lived totellabout it as I had.

When we’d finished two bottles of champagne and filled ourbellies to bursting, ending the dinner with Bobby’ssecret recipechocolatecannoli, which were, in fact, “to die for” as he’d promised, Christophe led mequietly through the restaurant and into the limo. He said goodbye to hisfriend, confirming that the two of us would return soon. That comment bodedwell for myfuture, sincehe was including me in hisplans down the road.

All of this lulled me into a sense of relaxation andcomfort, like a cozy sleeping bag fresh out of the dryer back at the women’sshelter in New York. Those felt like the only times I could truly get warm.

Christophe entered the limo and slid all the way across thebench seat to the center where he could press to my side. Always touching. Myhusband seemed to be a very tactile person, or perhaps he just enjoyed touchingme. That lavish thought fluttered through my body with a hint ofcaution around the edges, reminding me I shouldn’t be so quick to delve intocomplacency. I’d had only a single evening with the man. His true nature wouldpresent itself as the days carried on. I would be wise to be leery, but not somuch so that I couldn’t enjoy his overtures.

I sighed when he curled an arm around my shoulders andbrought me against his chest.

“Rest,moncoeur.We will be at the hotel soon.” He kissed the crown of my head.

I closed my eyes, letting the entire evening pleasantly raceacross my mind. “This was the best night I’ve ever had.Merci, Christophe,”I mumbled, falling into a light doze.

I awoke to a warm press of lips to my cheek. “Wake,cheri. We are here,” Christophe murmured gently.

I allowed him to help me out of the limo and tuck me to hisside. I wrapped my arm around his waist, and pinched my toes, holding the looseshoes in place as we trudged through another obnoxiously bright casino. Theelevator was a welcome reprieve, cutting off the annoying trilling of slots andcheers from patrons watching others gamble. The food and champagne had zappedall the adrenaline I’d had when we’d gotten married. Now I was exhausted enoughto sleep for a week if I was allowed.

I was so tired I didn’t even take a single moment to fretover what our sleeping arrangements would be or whether my new husband wouldexpect to consummate the marriage upon our return.

“An individual from the auction team gave my driver yoursuitcase and bag. They are there.” He pointed to my meager belongings that hadbeen set in the corner of the bedroom.

I’d slept on the streets or in a shelter back in New York,so I didn’t own anything appropriate for sleeping in. However, when Iapproached my things, I noticed the red nightgown I’d been given for theauction sitting on top of my shoulder bag. I reached for it, thankful to havesomething to wear this evening that wouldn’t embarrass me. When I had my own money,I’d purchase appropriate clothing for bed and a new wardrobe that looked thepartin order tostand by the side of a man such asChristophe. He deserved the best, and if I was to be his muse, I’d need to looklike one. Whatever that entailed…I’d figure it out.

“You can change in there.” Christophe pointed in thedirection of the bathroom, offering me privacy for which I was silentlygrateful.

I pilfered through my things and brought out the smallplastic zippered container where I kept my toiletries and shuffled into therestroom.

On autopilot, I removed my dress, hanging it delicately on atowel hook behind the door. I slipped the nightgown on and frowned, wishing I hadsomething special to wear for Christophe. If he wanted to have sex with me, I wouldn’tdeny him. For one, it was against the rules of the marriage contract. Two, sexwas easier than letting my husband in emotionally. With sex, I could just closemy eyes, open my legs, and pretend I was somewhere else until it was over. Ilearned very early on that it wasn’t good to fight the process. Submitting keptme from being hurt.

Though with the arousal I’d experienced earlier, perhaps I’denjoy the act. Celine did. She said she loved the control sex gave her over menand over her life in a way we didn’t have in our day-to-day lives. I certainly wouldn’tmind seeing what was under the bespoke suit my husband had worn today. And hiskisses… I felt myself blush from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. Iglanced at my image in the mirror and was surprised to find I looked prettywith a little rosy hue to my skin, especially in contrast to the red nightgownand my olive skin tone.

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