“But work—”
“The guys are under strict orders to get cracking on the project scope and to have as much of it sorted before you return. We’ll hit the ground running when we get home, if that’s what you want. Just give me this, Sage—a few lazy days in the city of love, a few days with you.”
I touched his face almost hesitantly, part of me still unable to believe I could, but as his eyes fell closed, his thick lashes settling against his cheeks, I saw that this was exactly what he needed, we needed. I rubbed my fingers through his stubble, aware a whole city, a whole world, a whole other culture thrummed outside our window, but right now? I was content to spend some time with him. I stroked his face, his forehead, until I heard the slow whistle of his breath, all of the lines on his face fading as he slept.
Paris was stunning and unreal,all at the same time. In Australia, we saw so many monuments of European splendour in books, taught that this was our heritage, not that of our First Nations people, but it was a heritage we grew up utterly independent of. It took a whole day of travelling by plane to get here, so it wasn’t just something we were divorced from mentally, but physically as well. So seeing theArc di Triompheor Rodin’sThe Thinkerwas weird, familiar but unfamiliar, smaller or bigger than I’d expected, with details no camera could capture, and in Rodin’s case, the shape of his hands as he turned clay or wax into art, then cast it in bronze.
I was reluctant to talk to the locals, hearing horror stories about French responses to tourists’ attempts to speak their language, but I found people lovely in reality. We went to this little bakery every morning for breakfast, sitting out on the patio in the thin sun, eating pastries and drinking down exquisite coffee as Lucien updated me on what everyone had gotten done, but he got his wish, I think.
The world seemed so far away because right now, I was caught up in him. His ability to speak bloody French and quite well, it appeared. The way he navigated the streets with ease. His knowledge of all of the cool places, every day filled with new discoveries, until finally, we had to say goodbye to Paris.
“Beautiful,”Henri declared as he stared at the prototype gown in the mirror, currently pinned perilously around my body. It was all sea greens, the diaphanous layers doing just as he’d said, making me look like I had a damn hourglass shape. “I have you in my mind now. I will be in contact if needed, but I do not think so. You’ll need to come back for a final fitting, but that will be some weeks away.”
“Beau will bring Sage back for the fittings,” Lucien informed me, smiling when my eyes sharpened.
“You lot had this all planned,” I said as we stepped out of the atelier.
“What can I say?” Lucien replied, opening the door of the hire car, because we would be driving our way out to the winery. “We weren’t working together before, but we are now. Speaking of which, you’ll need to ring Max when we arrive. He’s been trying to keep a lid on it, but he needs to hear your voice.”
“Shit, I—”
He waited for me to get in and then silenced me with a kiss.
“It’s only been a couple of days. He’ll survive, even if he thinks he won’t. He also needs to learn to share. We’ll be back home soon, and you need to split your time between the four of us. We have to work out how to coordinate that too.”
So for the eight-hour car drive, I got to consider how that might work. I tossed around ideas of schedules or tick boxes, until Lucien snorted.
“What?”
“You think so loud sometimes, I can just about hear your thoughts. Just be here, be present. That’s all anyone can really do. Give us that, and we’ll be happy, I promise.”
So when we drove up the gravel driveway of a sprawling villa, rows and rows of grapevines covering the hills behind us, that was what I tried to do. I felt the cool air play across my skin, smelled the scent of lemon trees and lavender as we walked inside, felt the stillness of the house as we entered, enlivened by the breezes that came rushing in when he opened some windows. Mostly, though, I felt the heavy weight of his hand in mine as he drew me upstairs and into the main bedroom.
It was huge, with a bed big enough for all five of us, the room furnished in simple but well-made wooden furniture. The exposed beams on the ceiling, the white washed walls, made it seem like a farmhouse, even if it was no doubt an eye-wateringly expensive one. He set our bags down on the floor and then turned to me.
We hadn’t had sex since we’d gotten here. Lucien had kissed me, stroked me, held me close like I was a precious thing, and all the while, I’d felt how responsive his body was to me, but it had never gone beyond that. He’d distracted me with the whole of Paris, dragging me out to see one sight after another, but there was more to it. His gaze met mine, endless and with a curious warmth there, something that had his lips twisting as I got closer.
“There’s no museums out here,” I said, placing a hand on his chest.
“No.”
“And no cute bistros or amazing bookshops.”
“No.”
“No art galleries, no shops.”
He reached down and tipped my chin back, staring into my eyes.
“Just you and me, omega. Just you and me. I had this whole thing planned, as you know, because of this. I wanted you to have some time, some experiences, some fucking fun after what you went through. I just wanted some pleasure for you before…”
“Before?” I asked the question much more tentatively now, because this time, I knew he would answer me.
“Before I make you mine. If I were a good man, I would’ve asked you if you wanted that before we drove out here. I can make up a bed in one of the other rooms if you’re not ready, if you don’t want…”
“Don’t want you?” My voice was sharp now, and his pupils flared in response. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I pushed you into every damn thing. This, you and me, the job, mating… Sage, I wish I could say otherwise, but I’m a fucking pushy cunt… What?”