Paris Was The Place I Met My Billionaire Lover (My Sweet Billionaire Love Story Series) (9 page)

Caitlyn and Julien spent the next day apart.  He had a meeting with his clients at the
Louvre
, and she needed some time alone, to clear her head and get some perspective, and maybe see a bit of that art she came halfway across the globe to see.

Yeah, sure,
she chided herself. 
The art, that’s why I came. That’s why I’m here.  That’s why I haven’t gone back.

The art.

And getting some private, reflective time alone wasn’t as easy as she’d assumed it would be.  Caitlyn had become a local celebrity in the hours since the news broadcast, as the savvy networks had created a kind of Robin Hood/Maid Marian out of the two of them.  Groups of paparazzi followed her around, clicking pictures as she walked the streets, increasing aware of and disturbed by their presence.

Caitlyn ducked into the Rodin museum, a beautiful collection of the master’s best works, the most comprehensive collection of his work anywhere in the world.  The human shapes were so graceful, their curves so smooth and naturalistic that the hard stone seemed almost liquid. 

But even surrounded by all that man-made beauty, inspired by nature and gifted as if from God Himself, Caitlyn felt empty, confused, baffled.  So like the shapes and figures around her, she’d felt both rigid and unchanging but also fluid, liquid, changing shape and form with every contradictory influence of nature or man.

In just a few short weeks, she’d undertaken a journey to discover her true self, to define her future.  She’d passed over the idea of a musty museum job in favor of working for a dashing businessman.  Accepting his true past as a former world-class art thief, she went from being the object of his desire to the savior of his very life.  She’d gone from struggling to define a career for herself and wound up defining herself as a person ready to stand behind her decisions, with the courage of her convictions and the confidence of her personal power.  She’d gone from lying to her father to telling the world the truth; she’d gone from living her life to controlling it.

She’d gone from falling for a man to winning his heart, and was poised to spend the rest of her life with him if that were her choice.  He was everything she’d ever wanted; dashing and courageous, handsome and sophisticated, resourceful and charming.

But Caitlyn had grown from princess to woman, and her ideal from prince to man.  Now the woman had to decide if this was the man she wanted.

For loving him had already put her beyond her position in life.  Besides the lessons in life and lust, dedication and presupposition, he’d brought Paris to her feet, and brought her to the notice of all Paris; to a level of instant celebrity that she hadn’t ever anticipated and didn’t think she wanted.  She could parley this, she knew, into some kind of personal wealth and fame; a talk-show, a cable movie,
Playboy
.

But that’s not me, is it?
Caitlyn asked herself as she strolled among the statues. 
I’m not some reality show bimbo, riding someone else’s notoriety and my own passable good looks to some cheap, superficial insta-fame.

That’s not me.  That’s not the life I want, or the person I want to become.

Mrs. Julien Cherierre,
Caitlyn said to herself, just to get a feel for it.

Is that the person I want to become?  Can’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it.  I’ve never met a man like him and I doubt I ever will again.  I’ve only known him a few days and look at all that’s happened.  Life with him would be an adventure, a life really worth living.  Imagine the cities we’ll travel to, the museums he’ll work for.

Imagine the possibilities of such a life, the people I’ll meet, the things to see and do.  Who knows what kind of opportunities will arise, what kind of things I’ll wind up doing!  Julien was right: What greatness I may bring forth upon this world is unseen and unknown, but with Julien it seems certain.  One thing is for sure, there’s more for me here with Julien than back home with Dad and Jennifer and everybody else.

Home,
Caitlyn repeated to herself.

Something about all this didn’t feel right; actually, a lot about it didn’t feel right:  They boy’s death, the fight with her father, Julien’s criminal past.  It was happening so fast, Caitlyn felt like she could barely hold onto the events, much less make sense of them.  Things were spiraling out of her control, and she’d only just gained some type of control on them in the first place.

The world had indeed proven alive with possibilities; so alive that once disturbed it threatened to turn on her and attack.  She knew now the meaning of the old saying,
To have a tiger by the tail.
  Once you grab hold, you don’t dare let go, lest you be destroyed by the very thing you hoped to control.

Caitlyn had started off with so many questions about her life; the
who
and the
where,
the
when
and the
what
.  Now even the
why
seemed to plague her. 
What’s the point of all this running around anyway?
She had to wonder 
And where is all this going to lead me,?  And why am I so bothered by all this?

Maybe I just don’t know how to be happy
, Caitlyn began to consider. 
Maybe the fact that I wasn’t happy back home had more to do with me than it did home itself; my family or Los Angeles or whatever home means.  Now that I’m here, living the adventure of a lifetime, my mind can’t stay and enjoy it; instead it seeks out displeasure, dissatisfaction, discontent.  Will I ever find what I’m looking for, or will I ever even discover what that is, exactly?  Or will I spend the rest of my life just looking and wondering, lost.

Caitlyn had even then been wandering around the museum, finally looking up to find herself face-to-face with one of the most famous statues of all time, Rodin's
Thinker
.  This masculine figure sat crouched, chin resting on his fist, face staring out into an unending sea of questions.  The mysteries of life were impenetrable to him, a puzzle of intricate and unfathomable complexity.

If he can’t figure these things out,
Caitlyn had to wonder,
what chance have I got?

Because I’m not made of stone,
Caitlyn boldly reminded herself. 
I’m not some dead thing in museum; a statue or some dead artist or even a curator.  I’m Caitlyn Elizabeth Haliwell, a smart and capable woman, ready and willing to take on the challenges that an adult must face.  This is my life; I will figure out how I am going to live it.

I just hope that, by the time I do, it isn’t too late.

The next day, Julien took Caitlyn outside the confines of Paris to neighboring Versailles, just ten miles from the French capital.  The seat of French power until 1879 the hunting lodge-turned-palace has long been and remains a symbol of that nation’s aristocracy and the pinnacle of 18th century artistic and architectural achievement.

“The home of Marie-Antoinette,” Julien said, “another of history’s great young beauties.”

“Quite unhappy, as I recall learning; forced into a marriage of convenience with a flaccid, disinterested husband.”

“Such will never be your fate, Caitlyn,” Julien said with a wry grin.  “I will end my life the day my manhood fails you.”

Caitlyn chuckled, despite her own inner emptiness, growing by the inch to consume her entirely; like a cancer on her soul.

“Can you imagine her here, among all this fabulous wealth,” Caitlyn said, gazing at the gold trim on the marble walls, the fabulous paintings, furniture and fixtures.  “All the while, the French Revolution is brewing, preparing to consume her.  What must she have been thinking?  Let them eat cake indeed.”

“Something she never actually said,” Julien said.  “That particular line has been attributed to a certain Duchess of Tuscany in 1760, almost thirty years before Marie-Antoinette would have said it.  Marie-Antoinette did say
Le theme est quete
, which means
the theme is quest
.  Many suspect that an English speaker may have overheard this and spread the legend, because phonetically, the French phrase and the English phrase are very much alike.”

Caitlyn gave it some thought.  “The theme is quest,” she said, thinking about her own life, her own journey, her own theme and her own quest.  “Interesting.”

The rest of the day, young Marie-Antoinette filled Caitlyn’s imagination.  Not her infamous execution at such a young age, but rather the way she lived; brash and flip, spoiled and lost in a fantasy of riches, adventures, romances, intrigues and parties. 
That’s not me, Caitlyn
knew right away,
that’s nothing like the person I want to become.

Yet the striking similarities between herself and that bygone French queen were harder and harder to ignore. 
How am I any different from her?
Caitlyn had to ask herself. 
Here I am, lost in a world of romance and history, turning my back on the uglier facts of reality so that I can indulge myself in these pleasures, these adventures.  And where are they going to lead me?  Where did they lead Marie-Antoinette?

To the guillotine,
Caitlyn had to remind herself.

And even if an actual death sentence wasn’t looming in Caitlyn’s future as it had in Marie-Antoinette’s, she was still laboring under the hovering blade of uncertainty, never sure when it would finally drop.  Life with Julien would be life on the edge, but that edge could also let loose a quick and savage severing of Caitlyn from everything she’d ever been and everyone she’d ever known.

In her imagination, Caitlyn could almost look up and see the blade fall those first irreversible inches, nearly weightless and motionless before speed and gravity and fate played their part and all Caitlyn could do was brace herself and pray that, when all was said and done, she’d be forgiven.

“Julien,” she said, quiet and calm, the words lacking inflection but loaded with gravitas.  “I have to go home.”

“Caitlyn?”

“It’s not you, Julien, believe me; it’s not that I don’t trust you or that I don’t love you,  but this just feels... I dunno, wrong, too fast, I’m not sure.  I feel like I’m turning my back on my family, and that’s not something I’m ready to do; for you or for any man or anything.”

Julien simply stood there, listening, his expression unmoving, betraying no emotion, revealing nothing of what he was feeling.

“I know this sounds strange,” Caitlyn went on, “but if we’re going to have a life together, we have to start it off right.  That means me going back and resolving things.”

“Caitlyn, I understand.  If you feel this way, then I want you to go back.  You’re quite right; if we are to have the live together that we desire, we cannot leave behind such shambles.”

Relief flooded Caitlyn’s body within, blood warm in her veins, heart beating with slower, more regular readiness, strong and refreshed.
Thank God I’ve finally found a man with real compassion,
Caitlyn silently praised,
who can put my needs above his own, put away the childish posturing and macho grandstanding that men love and cling to so much.  How many wars were started from just such inspiration?  Well, one fewer now, that’s all that matters.

Julien said, “We will go at once.  In the States, your father and I will finally have the chance to -- ”

“No, Julien, no.  I have to go alone.  These problems, they’re between me and my dad.  After I get things sorted out, I’ll come back, join you.”

“He’ll want to meet me, of course,” Julien said.  “And I should very much like to meet him.”  With visions of that young Frenchman’s death at Julien’s lightning-quick hands, Caitlyn held her own hand out, a feeble but still powerful caution.

“Please, Julien.  You’ve asked me to trust you, and you’ve earned my trust.”

“And, in coming to my rescue, you have earned my trust, Caitlyn, more than anyone I have ever known.  With my history, you must know what it meant to me, not to be abandoned to my fate yet again.”

“Then trust me now; let me handle this.”

Julien took her in his arms and kissed her, his lips finding hers in a sweet reunion of tiny lost souls.  “Very well, my love.”

The first plane to the States left the next morning, which left Caitlyn and Julien one last night in Paris before a time apart that neither could estimate.

It was as if it was their last night together ever; the last night of life on Earth.

Caitlyn reached around Julien from behind, her face against his ear. his neck and his shoulder as she unbuttoned his shirt.  Her seductive fingers followed the buttons down his athletic, hairless torso.  She peeled off the silk shirt and slid it down his thick, muscled arms.  Caitlyn pressed her fingers into his thick, muscular flesh; kissing Julien down the length of his hairless back.

Julien turned to face Caitlyn, lips meeting in their passionate embrace.  Their eager tongues intermingled once more.  Their jutting chins bumped gently, noses rubbing.  They were kissing not only with their lips, but with their entire faces, with their entire bodies, with their entire selves and entire souls.

Caitlyn leaned Julien back, kissing his neck.  Her lips lazily found his broad chest. 

Julien put both his hands flat on Caitlyn’s head, fingers easily brushing through that thick blonde hair, stalks between his strong yet gentle fingers.  Caitlyn’s tongue filled Julien’s belly button, his flat stomach rising and quivering.

Caitlyn used her front teeth to pull Julien’s belt out of the buckle.  Once she pulled the belt open, she used the same technique on the slacks themselves.

Caitlyn’s fingers wrapped firmly around him, tugging and squeezing before sliding him into her warm, wet mouth.  Her tongue traced his every curve.  Caitlyn’s throat quivered, cheeks stretching.

She nuzzled him, kissed him, pressing him hard to her face, her little nose a playful nub.

“Oh yeah,” Julien hissed through quickened breath.  “So good, Caitlyn, sooo goood...”

Julien groaned as he returned to Caitlyn’s intimate opening.  He pressed himself in as she wrapped herself around him.  Caitlyn opened her mouth but made no sound to adjoin Julien’s introductory motion. 

Julien lowered himself with an easy circular pattern to activate Caitlyn’s nerves, restless and stirring beneath every inch of tender pink.

Julien pressed further, sliding into her precious treasure, measured thrusts delighting and arousing them both.  Subtle tilts and movements of Julien’s hips pressed him into the crown of Caitlyn’s womanhood, her pelvis rushing with seething pleasure.  Her pulse rose alongside her passion.

Julien let Caitlyn’s anticipation rise, flooding her taught body, nearly bursting in her veins, pushing her heart rate to near-impossible speeds, driving perspiration to collect and then recede down her face and along the crevice running lengthwise down the center of her back.

“C’mon, Julien, c’mon.”  Caitlyn forced a quicker rhythm with her own gyrating hips. 

“No,” Julien said in a low sexy growl, “no rush, Caitlyn, no rush...”

Julien smiled.   Caitlyn knew that he loved watching her writhe, her anticipation swelling, suspense heightening, muscles stretching, orgasm growing.  And the more time it had to grow, the more beautiful and the more wondrous the flower would ultimately be. 

Julien said, “No, pretty one...”

Caitlyn groaned louder as he met her unseen surfaces.  Tension strained within, fingers clawing into Julien’s broad, hairless back, teeth gritted, breath hissing.  Caitlyn clutched and clamped with every ounce of her frenzied strength, her slick liquid barrier only bringing them closer with each searing stroke.

“That’s it, Julien,” Caitlyn said as he pressed her tissues back even further.  Then Julien skipped a long beat and returned full-force. 

Caitlyn’s teeth pressed together so tight they nearly shattered from the pressure.

Julien’s mastery pushed Caitlyn’s body past the point of mere convulsion.  She jittered as if electrocuted from the inside, which is exactly how she felt; burning, crackling, shaking. 

Dying.

Living.

Juices were swirling and gathering within Caitlyn once more, every inch of her accepting Julien, devouring him, cradling him.  Their bodies pressed and pounded and ultimately froze in that crazed, chaotic aftermath which stumbled after the blinding rushes of their heated, simultaneous orgasms.

Caitlyn finally released a long, heaving sigh, pulling Julien into her dewy nape, fingers lazily strolling through his hair.  They lay there quietly, knowing that despite their mutual desires, there was every possibility that this would be their last such encounter and that, after her departure in the morning, the two may never set eyes on each other again. 

* * *

It was a long, miserable flight back to Los Angeles, Caitlyn haunted by memories of Julien at the airport, kissing her, hugging her, reassuring her that they’d see each other again, sooner than she realized.

And those sad visions were only punctuated by the even-more unpleasant imaginings of her father’s stern face, his angry bellowing baritone, his bone-chilling disappointment.

And she wasn’t too far off the mark.

“Just what has gotten into you, young lady?” he asked once they were sequestered in the den, only Sabrina along to share their ire.

“A lot, Dad.  It’s hard to explain but...”  Caitlyn trailed off as she searched for the right words and finally found them.  “I’m maturing, growing up.”

“Really?”  Harrison leaned forward, apparently ignoring Sabrina’s cautionary glances.  “Lying, stealing, running away from home, galavanting around Europe with some strange man who’s old enough to be your father; that ain’t what I’d call maturing.  That ain’t growing up, kiddo.”

“I came back here of my own volition,” Caitlyn said, faster than she meant to.  But when she heard the power of her words, the forcefulness of her tone, she didn’t back down.  In fact, she sounded more the way she felt than ever, and she felt more the way she sounded.  “I came back so we could resolve things between us.  You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum.”

“A temper -- ?”  Harrison was clearly astonished, not only that she would say such a thing to him, but that she was more accurate than he was willing to admit.  “Now you listen to me, young lady -- ”

Caitlyn stood, both a literal and figurative gesture.  “No, Father, you listen to me,” she said, stressing the word
father
for its formality and unfamiliarity.  She’d never used the word before, but was more than likely to rely upon it solely from this time forward, if she addressed him at all.  “I’m a woman now, and you’re just going to have to learn to live with that.  If you don’t want to pay for my education, that’s fine, but you don’t own me.  And we’re past the point of you telling me what I can or cannot do, whom I can or cannot see, where I can or cannot go.”

Sabrina looked from Caitlyn to Harrison and back, wisely staying mute and letting the clash occur in front of her instead of coming at her from opposite sides.

Harrison said, “Of course I want to pay for your education, I’ve never made any qualms about that.  And I want you to have your freedom, to travel -- ”

“But also to live under the yoke of your whimsy,” Caitlyn said, unwisely interrupting.  “To do your bidding and come when you call like some kind of trained dog.”

Harrison’s head shook slightly, propelled by confusion and what seemed like his daughter’s sheer, unmitigated gall.  “Caitlyn, where is this coming from?  What has that man been filling your head with?”

“That man?” Caitlyn repeated, stressing the words to demonstrate their contempt, their judgmental overtones.  “That man taught me that I can be more than you or even I ever dreamed.  That man showed me that there’s a whole world out there, waiting to welcome me. 
The theme is quest
, Father; that’s what he’s taught me.”