Ménage Material [La Belle sans la Bete Ménages] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (12 page)

He didn’t even care that someone was trying to blackmail him. He was walking on air, because the journey had begun.

That being said, he’d have to deal with the blackmailer sooner or later. There had been vague threats over the years. Exposés he’d quashed by revealing all to the press, and cutting the blackmailer off without a cent. He was as honest as a businessman could be, and where his company was concerned, he had nothing to be ashamed of. He made certain of that.

Being an ethical producer of cosmetics was hard for many businesses, but not for him. He’d started in the industry thanks to family. In his case, his great-great-grandmother. She’d had a book loaded with ancient and old-fashioned remedies.

When he’d gone through a punk phase, he’d nearly destroyed his hair by over-bleaching it. Not one of his proudest teenage memories. Especially as his grandmother had made him douse his hair in her grandmother’s special shampoo. Regardless of his adolescent horror of smelling like a
bouquet garni
,
it had worked. The rosemary, basil, and mint shampoo had done what expensive hair repair masks hadn’t. She’d sorted out a pimple cream for him too, and when he’d started his job at a frozen foods factory, her honey and lemon balm had stopped his skin from becoming chapped.

When she’d died at the grand old age of ninety-nine and left him her book of magic potions, he’d decided to get out of the frozen food industry—packing up revolting excuses for chicken goujons had not been his career of choice—and had started a little market stall selling her recipes to the public. His products had been popular, because they’d all worked. Organic, locally sourced, and doing what they said on the label, he’d soon been earning enough to start classes at night school. Business classes.

Soon after, he’d hired a helper, one who had sold his produce at the local markets while he kept up with the demand on the products. Then he’d hired another assistant, this one to help him in the kitchen as he produced the remedies. Over the next few years, there had been the rental of a shop and then another, and another. He’d had to outsource to a local laboratory that could make his preparations
en masse
. A laboratory he’d eventually purchased.

It had been a long and hard road to success, but five or so years in, when ethical beauty had hit the masses as the ultimate in importance, his little Lyonnais brand had suddenly gone national thanks to Julia Angel, one of France’s highest paying actresses, who had mentioned
La Belle sans la Bête
on a chat show one Friday night, declaring it a miracle brand, and the major reason for her clear skin and natural beauty.

Combine that with the internet, and sales had boomed. So much so, his brand had gone international. He was no longer a company, but a conglomerate with many fingers in many pies. But through it all, he stayed true to his grandmother and the family recipes.

In this instance, the blackmailer wasn’t interested in exposing the source of his basil for the hair-repair shampoo, but in the fact he was a married man with a male lover.

Having to reveal all to Devvy couldn’t have come at a better time. If the blackmailer were to get impatient or renege on his so-called promises, she wouldn’t have to learn about Alex thanks to some gossip column or two-bit rag.

Not that he wanted the truth about Alex to come to light. Not yet, at any rate.

He hadn’t lied when he’d told Devvy he didn’t give a damn about society, and their views on the kind of relationship he wanted with her and Alex. He’d made it to the top and with a hell of a lot of millions to cushion him from life’s blows. If the news were revealed about their ménage, well, he’d ride it with ease. Alex would hardly be disturbed, because he never left his bloody apartment! But it was Devvy who would be most affected, and at the moment, she was too uncertain, too insecure in his love for her to cope with a revelation of that nature. She needed Alex’s reciprocal love to further cement her place in their world.

She didn’t know what she meant to him and there was nothing Bastien could do to rectify that but hold out, remain strong, and know that eventually, she’d know who and what she was to him. What she meant to him.

Which was nothing less than the world.

“Don’t go there! Don’t do it! You stupid bitch, get out of the way!” Devvy’s shrieks had Alex laughing.

“She can’t hear you.”

“Even if she could, she wouldn’t listen. Why would you do that?” she asked him, deadly serious. “Why, when you know there’s a serial killer outside your door,
why
would you open it and try to run for safety? For God’s sake, that’s like rule number one in the ‘how to deal with mass murderers’ handbook! How can anyone watch this crap?”

“We’re watching it,
ma petite
.”

She sniffed and with great aplomb, grabbed the remote and pressed the OFF button. “We’re not anymore,” she said, her words oozing with satisfaction. “What a load of shit.”

“You won’t hear me disagreeing,” he retorted, eying her from his position on the bed.

Sitting up against the bedhead, legs flat out and crossed at the ankle, hands together and resting on his belly, he looked cool, relaxed, and sexy as hell. An inch away from his hands, his cock butted against the fly. He had an erection. In fact, every time they were together, he seemed to have a hard-on.

For the most part, she ignored it. Well, she
looked
at it but never commented or acted on the silent promise of his arousal.

After two weeks of dating Alex, she had to ask herself why she was holding back, and also, if she was insane. The man was perfect for her. So perfect she knew she’d be hard-pressed to choose between Bastien and Alex.
If
she ever had to.

A month ago, the very idea of wanting another man more than Bastien would have made her snort with amusement at the impossibility of that ever happening.

Two weeks ago, she’d have doubted it or felt guilty at the very notion.

But today, she knew it was a step in the right direction.

The very basis of this relationship was the fact that she didn’t have to choose. She could have them both, and that her feelings for Alex could, with time, level with those she had for Bastien meant a great deal. It was a promise of the things to come.

And she loved it.

She was flourishing under their care.

For the first time in her life, she was secure in herself as a sexual creature. She no longer felt immature, incapable of handling Sebastien, never mind Alex, too. She was ready for this. She was ready for the next level.

Bastien had had to fly to Napa this evening. There had been a crisis on one of the vineyards he owned, and even though he could have delegated, the situation had merited his attention because this year’s harvest rested on his decision. Rather than have the details shuffled over the internet or via phone, he’d decided to go out there himself and deal with it personally.

His mind had been focused on the bug currently eating through a quarter of his crop, when she’d packed up some clothes for him. He’d absently told her the details as he prepared his briefcase. In fact, the only time he’d given her his full attention had been with the goodbye kiss.

Hours later, and she was still horny because of that tongue-on-tongue action.

The driver had honked the horn before he could say anything more than, “Be good.” And he’d left her to it.

She could have stayed at their house. A month ago, there would have been no question about it. But tonight, she hadn’t wanted to. She’d waited for the driver to return from dropping Sebastien off at the private airfield where his jet was housed, and she’d asked him to take her to Alex’s.

He’d been shocked to see her, but pleased. They’d only parted a few hours earlier, when they’d dined on bo luc lac, a Vietnamese beef dish, and bitched about an article they’d both read in
Science, NOW
on a group of scientists who refused to believe in global warming.

The pair of them had enjoyed yelling at each other and arguing as they ate, and she’d returned home to go back to work on her anti-acne soap. A project that had definitely gone on the backburner of late.

The prospect of a night alone when she could be with Alex had seemed churlish, so off she’d gone, driving through the effervescent sparkle of Paris on a Friday night. Promise burning through her veins of what the night could hold alongside the thrill of being with him again. Only as she stood in front of the console, ready to press his buzzer, had the doubts come. Maybe he wouldn’t want to see her without Bastien, maybe she should have called first, maybe, maybe…. She’d eventually screwed up the nerve, thanks to her nose feeling like it could drop off in the sharp, chilly wind, and, thank God, Alex had greeted her with open arms.

This was the first time she’d been in his apartment at night, and there was a definite difference in the atmosphere.

Tonight, things would change.

She’d instinctively known the minute she’d made the decision to come here that their relationship would step up a notch. How high a notch—as the last two weeks had shown—depended entirely on her.

She
was in control here, and it was pretty damned awesome.

From her position at the foot of the bed, she rolled over onto her back, as she’d been watching the TV on her belly, and sat upright. When Alex had informed her that his TV was in his bedroom, she hadn’t realized he had a seventy-inch monster on his wall.

Alex was certainly a fan of minimalism and statement pieces. His bedroom consisted of a bed which, to her untrained eyes, looked like three single beds strapped together. It was huge. But comfortable. The mahogany headrest was cushioned and covered in a dark forest green fabric. The sleigh style bed sat comfortably in the large space. Covered in a huge down quilt with bedcovers the same shade as the headrest and tons of squashy pillows, it looked directly onto the behemoth TV set.

On either side of the bed were two tables. Round, about the size of a dinner plate, with inlaid mother-of-pearl and ebony. Two round orbs were the only lights. They were like translucent versions of crystal balls.

Aside from that, there was a door that led onto a narrow but wide Juliet balcony. She’d looked over onto the still-busy streets, when he’d guided her in here two or so hours ago to watch a movie together.

There was something about his extreme method of interior decoration that pricked her curiosity. She was no psychologist, had no leanings toward the dissection of human emotions or the actions they instigated, but this extreme minimalism said something. It spoke to her. Devvy just couldn’t understand the gobbledygook, even though she knew it was important.

“Do you want to watch something else?” he asked easily, breaking into her thoughts and forcing her to stop thinking about the
real
Alex.

In reply to his question, she sighed and shook her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m antsy.”

“Antsy?” he asked, cocking his brow.

“Yeah. It means I’m on edge, I guess.”

“Nervous?” he stated, asking for clarification. The guys spoke English fluently, but sometimes, she’d throw in words that had the pair of them looking at each other in confusion.

To be honest, she’d started saying slang words just to confuse them. They did look adorable with their matching frowns.

She nodded.

“Why? There’s no need to be.”

“I know there’s no need to be, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No.” She made a bridge with her fingers and stretched her arms over her head. “I don’t.”

“Are you worried I’ll jump on you?”

She snorted. “Of course not!”

“Then what?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“My mind is saying one thing, and my body is asking for another.”

That had his frustrated scowl turning into a smile. “Ah.”

Just that one sound and he managed to load it with way too much meaning. It was her turn to scowl.

“Yes. Ah,” she grumbled.

He shrugged. “I am here. At your disposal,
mon ange
.”

“That doesn’t make the decision easier, Alex,” she mumbled, only just managing not to groan.

He grinned. “I know.”

“Pussy tease.” She couldn’t fault him. He was always honest.

“Yes,” he admitted with a wink. “I’d like to say that you think too much, but you would not be the woman I know you to be if that weren’t the case. And if I’m a pussy tease, then you’re a cock tease,
ma petite.
You’re not the one who has had more cold showers than coffee this past two weeks.”

“Been horny, have you?”

He grunted and corrected her, “I have needed you.”

“Good answer,” she retorted.

“It wasn’t a line.”

“I know. That’s why it was so good.” She tapped her fingers against her knee, drumming them as she hovered between the right and the wrong path.

She’d been lucky with these two. They never pressured her. Always made her feel at ease. And they’d been more than generous. Every time the three of them were together, they made her climax. While they always walked off. With a boner.