The Highest Price to Pay (10 page)

He thrust into her one last time, freezing above her as he found his own release, his shaft pulsing within her as he gave himself up to it, overtaken as she had been. She held him to her, her hands splayed across his sweat-slicked back, his heart pounding heavily against her chest. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the reality of what had happened between them.

She just wanted to revel in the moment. Revel in being connected to someone. Connected to Blaise.

He withdrew after a moment, rolling over and climbing out of bed. She stayed as she was, unable to move. He walked into the bathroom and returned a few moments later, climbing back in beside her.

Relief swept over her. He would stay with her.

Tonight, he was hers.

And she wasn’t afraid.

Blaise could only stare at Ella’s back as the morning light filtered in through the window, casting a harsh ray of sun over the affected skin. She was still asleep, her back to him, the sheet she was covered in riding low on her hips, exposing her entire upper body and the rounded curves of her butt. And the scars. His first instinct was to touch, but he held back. Not for fear of hurting her, just out of respect.

He had touched them last night, had felt the uneven skin beneath his fingertips. He had imagined, fantasized, about running hands over her smooth skin. There was so much of her skin that wasn’t smooth.

Uneven coloring, pockets and craters covered the landscape of her back. It spoke of trauma, it spoke of pain. Pain so deep, so real, it made his chest ache.

But even with the stark difference between Ella and every other woman he’d been with, she had lived up to every expectation. Sex with Ella had been pleasure beyond anything he’d ever known. She had stripped him of his control, of his ability to think straight.

He had lost control, for the second time in his life. He didn’t like the man it made him then, he liked the man he was now even less. To take Ella’s virginity when he had nothing for her. It was more than that. It was the fact that her facade was a lie. The fact that she truly didn’t wear her scars like trophies, as he had once thought she did.

What she showed the world was a shield. To keep people from looking too closely.

She hid the worst of them. The worst of her pain. And when she had revealed the fact that she’d never been with a man last night, she had revealed that her scars went well beneath the surface of her skin.

And he did not possess the power to heal them. All he had ever done for those in his life was cause pain. He had caused his mother pain by reminding her of his father, had caused his brother pain by taking the woman he loved for his own. He had even caused Marie pain in the end.

It would only continue with Ella. Like an infection, he spread the worst of himself to each person who touched his life. He had hurt his father by going with his mother, had hurt his mother in a way, by enabling her to come back to Malawi, where she had died because of their inability to get to a proper medical facility. And his brother…he had destroyed Luc.

It was why he had stopped trying. Why he had cut off his emotions, embraced his ability to be ruthless and single-minded in his pursuits, mixing it with control to keep himself distant from anyone who cared about him.

Not last night, though. There had been no control then. There wasn’t any more control now. He had stopped noticing guilt a long time ago. It was a constant companion and he had grown immune to the gnawing sensation of it.

But this morning, he felt it, so strong it was as if physical weight had been placed on his chest.

Still he didn’t move.

He reached out and ran his fingertips over her skin, memorizing the way it felt beneath his hands. The pain and suffering the marks represented were beyond what he could understand in a physical sense.

They were beyond what anyone should be expected to endure. Least of all a woman like Ella.

“Blaise?” She sat up suddenly, her back still to him, her head bent low as she tried to gather up the sheet around her shoulders.

“No, don’t.” He sat up, reached around her, captured her hands in his, lowering them slowly, and with them, the sheet.

If fell around her waist, and she sat there, her spine held rigid, her muscles trembling beneath his touch. He flattened his palms against her back, slid them down, back up again.

“They don’t hurt, do they?”

She shook her head. “No.” Her voice sounded strangled.

“Was anyone else injured in the fire?”

“No.” Just no. Nothing else. But that single word held a wealth of pain.

“How bad was it?”

“I was in the hospital for a few months. The same walls. Horrible food. And the pain. And then there were the skin grafts. So many surgeries. Recovery from burns is worse than getting the burns in the first place. At least, it was for me.”

Her head was still bent down, her shoulders bunched tight. He put his hands on her shoulders, slid them down her arms, repeating the motion until he felt her relax beneath his hands.

“I have extensive nerve damage,” she said, her voice soft. “I don’t have feeling on the left side of my back. The scar on my neck…it’s the same. I have no feeling there.”

He bent his head, his forehead resting against her back, between her shoulder blades. Pain lancing his chest.

“Then I will have to kiss you twice as much on the right side, to make up for it,” he said.

Ella’s heart felt like it would pound out of her chest, tears stinging her eyes as she bit her lip in hopes of keeping them from falling.

Last night with Blaise had gone so far beyond anything she’d ever imagined possible for her. And he was still here. In the full light of day he was still in bed with her, touching her. Saying the most romantic things she’d ever heard in her life.

“I would be a fool to turn down that offer,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I would be, too.” He paused for a moment, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ella.”

The admission seemed torn from him, as though it pained him to admit something good and decent about himself.

“You didn’t hurt me. You won’t. You…I never imagined any man would want me.” It hurt to admit that. To admit that she’d allowed her tormentors at school, her mother’s comments spawned from her own guilt, to poison her so much.

“I…this boy in school asked me on a date. I was eighteen. He took me parking, you know? And he put his hand under my shirt. And he felt my back. That was the end of the parking and he told…he told everyone that I was disfigured. Hideous.”

Blaise bit out a foul curse in his native language. “If I ever met the man, I would not be held responsible for what I did to him.”

There was more. But she couldn’t admit that. Couldn’t possibly let him know the extent of it. It was too humiliating. Being made to feel second-rate by classmates was one thing. It happened to so many people. But experiencing it at the hands of her own mother…that was what she carried closest to her heart.

“It doesn’t matter now.” She took a breath. “I didn’t want to be afraid anymore.” She turned to face him, not bothering to cover her breasts with the sheet. It had been much more intimate, much more difficult to show him her back. “And I’m not. I feel like I just won something, in fact.”

Blaise looked at Ella’s radiant smile, at her pink tinged cheeks. Such an odd choice of words she’d used. Like she’d won something. Because he felt like he was losing something. Something he was desperate to hold on to.

E
LLA
wasn’t happy about having to get out of bed. She wanted to stay there, wrapped in the sheets, tangled in Blaise.

But it was day two of the photo shoot and duty called.

She thought of Blaise, though, while she watched Carolina posing beneath the waterfall in full formalwear. When she was with Blaise, she felt real confidence. Real happiness. He made her feel beautiful.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat and the photo shoot director turned to give her a hard look. As though he thought she was laughing at him. The man was an
artiste.
He possessed no sense of humor and more than his fair share of narcissism. But the laughter had nothing to do with him.

Beautiful. She hadn’t felt beautiful in eleven years. There had been a time when she’d been a part of the in crowd, the golden girl from a golden family. Until the fire had burned it all away. No one had known what to do with the lasting effects of the blaze. No one had known how to react to her.

So they had made her an object of ridicule.

But today, she felt some of that melt away.

The warm breeze kissed her face, and she smiled. She was finally taking control. No, she hadn’t asked for the scars, and if she had the choice, she wouldn’t pick them, but she’d spent so many years being angry because of the fire. Shaking her fist at the sky because it wasn’t fair.

It still wasn’t. But it was the way things were. It was her life.

And last night she had taken the first step to making herself a life that had some balance, that wasn’t so controlled by an event that had happened so long ago. A step to finding freedom.

Control had been the name of the game for so long. But it was a tightly controlled prison. It didn’t allow anyone in, and it only allowed pieces of her out. Only allowed her to feel and experience certain things.

Since meeting Blaise her focus had started to expand, and after last night…it was as though a veil had been ripped from her eyes. It made her face, really face, how much she had held herself back.

It was more than that, though. Being with Blaise had changed something, something inside of her. She felt alive, excited about life. About more than just work. It was like waking up.

As long as it didn’t grow into more. It wouldn’t. Blaise had been…good to her. But he was a practiced seducer, and that’s what he was doing with her: seducing her. She didn’t mind it, because that was what she wanted.

But she would have to be an idiot to fall in love with a man who was such a bad bet. And while she’d been called a whole host of very insulting things, that wasn’t one of them.

“I’m back,” Ella called when she walked into the villa. It was late, the sun was sinking into the lake and she was starving.

Blaise didn’t answer.

She wandered around the sitting room, and then sat on the plush velvet couch. There was a folded piece of paper on the side table and she picked it up. It was a note, from Blaise, and written in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Dinner. On the lake.

Elegant handwriting, but a very masculine missive. No hearts or frills for Blaise Chevalier. She smiled.

She had gotten hot and sweaty during the photo shoot, but she was too hungry to change before eating. It was a desperate matter, in her mind. Some women might be able to skip a meal now and then, but she wasn’t one of them.

She had on a nice sundress anyway, the kind that showed her legs. Blaise seemed to like them. She smiled as she headed out the back door of the villa.

Blaise was there, his white shirt untucked and open at the collar, a single rose in his hand. It was a small thing, the rose, but it made her stomach tighten. The last time she’d gotten flowers she’d been in a hospital bed.

There was a large white boat moored on the dock. The place where their dinner awaited. A yacht and a rose.

“I wish I would have dressed up.”

“You always look beautiful,” he said, walking toward her, his hand outstretched.

She took the rose from him and lifted it to her face, brushing the velvet petals over her cheek lightly as she inhaled the delicate scent. “Thank you,” she said.

“Hold on to it, I have plans for that rose later.”

“That sounds…like it has the possibility of being a little bit naughty.”

A wicked grin parted his lips. “I never claimed to be nice.”

No, he hadn’t. But he certainly did a good impression of a nice man on occasion. And that was what confused her.

Because she was well acquainted with Blaise the corporate raider, and the media version of Blaise: the rabid womanizer and ruthless thief of his brother’s fiancée. And she had just met the man who had deep roots in his mother’s homeland, who did so much to make it a better place. Even more recently she’d met Blaise, the lover. The man who touched her scars without flinching, who invited her to dinner on a yacht.

And she had the terrible feeling that it was Blaise, her lover, who was in danger of evaporating one day.

But until then, she would make the most of every possible minute with him.

“How was the shoot?” he asked, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the dock.

“Great. Better today. It’s…it’s funny. I was so concerned about maintaining my control, and I’m now facing the reality that there are so many people involved in the making of a career. Models, directors, stylists, and I’m only a piece. I create the clothes, but it’s not all up to me.”

“You imagined it would be?”

“Yes, I think I did. I mean, I knew that all of those people would have roles, but I hadn’t considered how every person who touches the gown makes it slightly different than it was when I created it, either through the pose they choose or the way they style it.”

“And are you okay with that?”

“Yesterday, I didn’t think I would be. But today I saw why a collaboration works, and I was happy. I let go, and that’s not something I like to do, but it was rewarding.”

She took a deep breath of the heavy, fragrant air. “That’s one reason I was so put off by you.”

“But only one reason,” he said, lacing his fingers with hers as he led her up the gangplank and onto the yacht.

“Well, there were several reasons,” she said absently, her heart expanding as she looked at the surroundings.

There were candles placed near a plush, velvet blanket that was spread out on the deck, surrounded by large, jewel tone throw pillows. There was a classic, woven picnic basket set off to the side, and two wineglasses near an opened bottle of white.

“There were…there were reasons,” she said, smiling slightly.

“And what were they?”

“They’ve slipped my mind,” she said. “Because if you had brought this out the first night we met, I think I would have warmed to you more quickly.”

“Ah, so you can be bought.”

“With a picnic on a private yacht? Yeah.” She turned and smiled at him and her heart tightened when she saw him smiling back. A real smile. It was such a rare thing to see on his handsome face. Sometimes it seemed his face was chiseled into that set, impassive expression.

Not right now. Not with her.

“Shameless,” he said, drawing her to him, his fingers tangling in her hair.

“Maybe.” She felt breathless now, with him so close. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to lose herself in the sensual mastery of his touch. It had been too long. Way too long.

“I think you need food more than you need a kiss.”

Did she? She’d thought so a few minutes earlier, but now, now that she was with him, she was changing her mind. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. You were out in the heat all day, and you probably didn’t take an adequate lunch break.”

“I got too involved to stop and eat.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Don’t even accuse me of being a workaholic, Blaise Chevalier, because I would just turn that one right around back to you.”

“I wasn’t going to deny being a workaholic. Tonight, though, I think I will leave work where it belongs,
oui?
”

“I will, too.”

Blaise sat on the blanket and she joined him. It was getting dark now, the streaks of orange from the setting sun fading into a dusky gold, the air turning purple around them. There were no streetlights, nothing to interfere with the emerging moon and stars.

Blaise poured them each a half glass of wine and Ella opened the basket and pulled out a platter of meat, cheese and fruit.

“Lovely,” she said, picking up a piece of salami and taking a bite. She noticed Blaise looking at her and she narrowed her eyes. “What? I’m hungry, remember?”

“I’m glad. Eat.”

“Don’t stare then!” she said, laughing, unable to stop the bubble of joy from escaping her lips. She felt happy. She noticed because it wasn’t very often she felt completely content right where she was. She always looked to the future, to goals she had yet to achieve. Not now. Now she was just living in the moment.

He smiled, at her, making her feel like she was the only woman on the planet. “I am only staring because you’re so beautiful.”

She bit her lip, her stomach tightening a touch, dimming the joy she’d felt a moment earlier. “I don’t know how you can say that.”

His dark brows locked together. “You don’t know how I can think you’re beautiful?”

She shook her head, setting the meat down on the plate. “No. I don’t.”

“Then I will tell you,” he said, eyes intent on hers. “You have such beautiful eyes, expressive, deep. And your lips…a man could weave fantasies about your lips. I know I have.” He reached his hand out and stroked his thumb over her lower lip, slowly, gently. “What they would feel like against my skin, how they would taste, and I am not disappointed.”

He slid his hand down, fingers skimming her collarbone and down further, teasing her tightening nipples. “Your breasts fit in my hands so perfectly, your whole body is shaped just as a woman’s body should be. As though you were molded in my dreams.”

She could feel her face burning, her heart racing. The words, such perfect, sincere words, spoken in that deep, seductive voice, resonated through her. It was difficult to believe. Impossible in some ways. And yet, his eyes were on fire with the truth of it.

She blinked, tears assaulting her again. That seemed to happen with Blaise. She’d spent the past eleven years cultivating her defenses, ensuring no one ever knew they affected her, making absolutely certain that no one ever saw the weakness in her.

But Blaise had demolished her defenses, left her open and vulnerable. And for some reason, she didn’t feel weaker for it. In some ways she felt stronger.

He took his hand away, picked up his wine and turned his attention to dinner. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, it was companionable. Comfortable.

“Thank you,” she said softly, satisfied by the food, happy to be with him. His words echoed in her, reverberating through her.

She cleared her throat, still fighting not to cry. “This is so nice.”

“You need to relax more, Ella. Come here.” He patted the blanket in front of him and she moved so that she was sitting with her back to him, his powerful thighs bracketing her.

He moved his hands to her shoulders, kneaded away some of the tension. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that for her. She’d never paid anyone to give her a massage because that would require her showing the parts of herself she hadn’t come to terms with.

But Blaise had seen the worst now. He knew what was beneath her fashionable dresses and cool demeanor. And he was still here. He could still touch her.

She felt his hand on the zipper of her dress, felt it sliding down, exposing her skin to the warm evening air. Blaise kissed her neck, first her scar, then the other side, twice. “No one can see us here,” he whispered.

He pushed the thin straps of her dress down, baring her breasts, her back, entirely. “How much sensation have you lost?” he asked.

“Close to half of my back has nerve damage,” she said. “My arms aren’t as bad—they have feeling at least, even the left one.”

“I see.” He leaned sideways, picking up the rose from where she’d set in on the blanket. “Do you feel this?”

The sensation of soft, velvet petals skimmed over her neck, the top of her shoulder.

“Yes,” she said, “Blaise, what…”

“I want to know where you can feel my touch. How I can best pleasure you. I want to know your body.” She felt the rose, guided by Blaise’s hand, gliding softly over her skin. “Can you feel this?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

A breeze blew in off the surface of the water, the sharp cold and her near unbearable arousal tightening her nipples to painful peaks.

He moved the rose lower and her sense of it evaporated. “And here, Ella?”

“No,” she said, her throat tight. She wished she could feel him. All of him. Everywhere. The fact that her body denied that filled her with frustration.

Then his touch was there again, cool and featherlight at the base of her spine. “There. I can feel you there,” she whispered.

“Here?” She felt the petals skim across her lower back.

“Yes,
oh, yes,
” she sighed, her body aching for more of his touch, for a firmer touch. And yet, she was enjoying the tease, the sensual torture. There was no more frustration, only need. Only the desire to be with Blaise again. To be joined to him.

“And this?” he asked. She felt his lips, hot and firm against her shoulder blade. She felt the sensation down to her core, internal muscles clenching tight as her heart rate increased.

She could only nod, biting her lip to keep a moan of pleasure from escaping. Her entire body shuddered and she didn’t even try to hold back her sounds of approval when she felt the tip of his tongue trace the line of her spine.

“I felt all of that,” she said, her throat so constricted it was hard to force the words out.

“Here,” he said, his fingers drifting to a place she could no longer feel. “This is where the worst of the damage is.” He leaned in again and even though she couldn’t see, she knew he’d kissed her there.

A tear spilled down her cheek and she didn’t bother to brush it away.

“But here.” He kissed her on her shoulder. “Here you feel me?”