Page 32 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 2

Christophe wanted a houseful of little ones early in our marriage, but the Universe had other plans for us. We didn’t mourn the loss—how does one grieve what one has never had— but there was a pang of emptiness we both often felt. Which was why we made connections with Rhodes so many years ago and, recently, with some of my candidates. I think it has been our way of filling that void. So much so, we were having a ranch house built in Montana of all places. I honestly could not wait to meet the Goodall twins who were set to arrive soon.

Which reminded me, I should check on them. But not before letting Rhodes know we’d arrived safely in France with his daughter.

“Darling, I’m going to call Rhodes and check in,” I announced.

He and Emily were already ahead of me, faces close. They were likely plotting all the ways they were going to get our cook to relinquish whatever home-cooked meal she had planned, so they could fill their bellies full of sugary treats. Later they would complain of stomachaches and rue their poor decisions.

I left them to their tomfoolery and took up a seat on my favorite couch. It faced the fireplace that was already crackling and spreading its warmth throughout our home. I kicked off my stilettos and pulled my legs up onto the couch, then reached for a throw blanket and put it over them. I stared at the paintingabove the mantel. It was one of Christophe’s first paintings he’d painted for me. It was the Grand Canyon. The same view we’d seen on what I was referring to as our honeymoon, and Christophe refers to asthe start of us. We hung the painting above our bed, until he decided to paint nudes of me. I felt uncomfortable displaying those outside of our private space, so we moved this one into the common area.

This canvas showed the skyline over the Grand Canyon exactly as I remembered it thirty years ago. The canyon’s deep crevice in the landscape a swirling mixture of color as the sun’s rays shined over the craggy rocks. It had always been my favorite of his work, and I often sat and stared at it while pondering life’s challenges and successes.

Christophe appeared with a small plate in hand and a steaming cup of tea. “Before dinner nosh.” He smiled, handing me the plate with half a crepe and a dessert fork.

“You spoil her.” My lips twitched as I tried and failed to suppress a smile.

He chuckled. “Guilty. And I don’t care.” He set the plate and cup on the side table, then leaned over and took my mouth. He tasted of chocolate and tea, two delicious combinations.

I hummed and nibbled on his delectable bottom lip.

He swirled his tongue against mine as I sighed, then pulled away when Emily called out, “Uncle C! You have to try the chocolate and strawberry. It’s to die for!” Her teenaged high-pitched voice echoed through our home.

Christophe pecked my lips once more. “Wait for me!” He cupped my cheek then let his fingers glide along my jawline in a teasing caress before he turned and headed back to the kitchen.

I watched his broad shouldered, beautiful body walk away and hummed with joy at the blessings I’d been given when Christophe bought me in the auction all those years ago. My life would have been so different if we hadn’t found one another.

After taking a bite of the very rich treat and washing it down with a soothing sip of tea, I pulled my phone out of my purse that I’d set on the couch when we’d entered. I did some geographic math. France was nine hours ahead of Las Vegas. It was seven in the evening now, so it would be ten in the morning there.

I pulled up Rhodes Davenport and hitcall.

It rang four times before he answered with a sleepy, “Hello.”

“Je suis désolé,”I’m sorry, I said, surprised to have woken him up. I knew Rhodes to be an early riser and ten in the morning was very late for him.

“Alana?” he mumbled. “Everything okay? Emily good?” he asked instantly.

“Oui. I am sorry to have woken you. I didn’t expect you to still be sleeping.”

“Huh? Wait, where is she?” He suddenly sounded concerned.

“Who?” He knew his daughter was with me.

“Maia. She was in my bed when I fell asleep,” he answered and then groaned loudly. “Fuck, we drank too much last night.”

“Oh, I see. Things have progressed much quicker than I expected with our little pickpocket,” I teased. A smile spread across my face as I pressed the phone closer to my ear so I could hear every morsel.

“What? No. I mean, yeah, kinda,” he admitted. “But not the way you think, exactly. We just, uh, slept. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.” A pause, a groan, then, “Jesus, who allowed the tiny man with a hammer to take up work against my brain,” he griped.

“Sounds as if you and Maia had a good time last night.”

“Actually, no. Not even close.” He let out a tortured sigh.

“What do you mean? If she was in your bed, and you both imbibed…”

“Her place was ransacked last night. Whoever did it wrote some sketchy threat on the wall of her apartment after trashing everything she owned.”

I kicked off the blanket and stood up. “You’re kidding. Did you call the authorities?” My heart started to pound, and my palms began to sweat as the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

It was a coincidence…nothing more, I mentally chanted.

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