Surrender Page 4

  I was slow to nod.

  “Fuck.” His eyes darkened.

  I felt my nipples harden. The tingles raced along my spine.

  “There’s time,” he whispered, drawing my lips to his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  My tongue twined with his. Our lips melted together. Vaughn moved on top of me, rolling me on my back.

  “I’m not done tonight, you know that?”

  I nodded eagerly. “I hope not.”

  Chapter Four

  I woke up, stretching my hand to the ceiling. I had slept with the wedding band set on my finger. It felt strange, but I hadn’t wanted to take it off last night. Not with the toe-curling sex in front of the window.

  “Good morning.” Vaughn walked in the room with a room service tray. “Coffee?”

  I sat forward. “Is it that jet fuel or regular coffee?” I asked. I had learned the difference. I was practically Parisian.

  He laughed. “I have both. I like the jet fuel.”

  I scrunched my nose. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff.”

  I made room for him to sit across from me on the bed. He had a tray of croissants and raspberries.

  “I do love the croissants.” I tore off the corner and dropped it in my mouth. “Any French bread really. It’s all delicious.”

  “What do you think about a kitchen and a pantry we could fill with bread?” he teased.

  I picked up a cup of coffee. “Tell me more.”

  “We’re going to meet our realtor to apartment hunt.”

  I nodded, inhaling the steaming cup of caffeine. “What is it we’re going for? Can you tell me anything about your assignment? It might help me when we’re looking.” I was going to try whenever I had a chance to get answers. In some strange way, it made me feel better about the assignment. The more I knew, the less I worried. It was the opposite of how Vaughn wanted it to work.

  “Ok. I can give you a few details. I thought about it and we need to make sure our facts match.”

  I smiled satisfied.

  “We’re a married couple. Two years. Both from the States. We’re in Paris for my work. You’re here with me, of course. You’re trying to acclimate to the city and then you’ll decide if you want to work or not. In the meantime, you take in the sites and run the flat.”

  My eyes widened. “I’m a domestic goddess, basically?”

  “Basically.” He swiped a croissant from the tray.

  “What if I want to get a job?” I asked.

  “Emily, we aren’t going to be here long enough for you to get involved in a career. You can’t practice law. You know that.”

  I wasn’t going to revisit last night’s argument. Asserting my independence in this situation wouldn’t be helpful. I had to let this go for now. What I could do, was help Vaughn with his job.

  “Fine. But I want more details about us. Our relationship somehow plays a role in the information you received yesterday? How is it important to this mark that you’re a married man?”

  “Ok. That’s fair. Think of it this way. I need to be considered stable. Reliable. A devoted wife who travels across the ocean to be with her husband is evidence that I’m someone who can be trusted. It shows dependability. It’s certainly an asset that you’re gorgeous as hell.”

  “Now I’m devoted? Wow. Are we in France or did we take a trip to 1950?”

  He smirked. “It’s the cover. I don’t make the decisions.”

  I sighed. “Is there more to our story? Do we need to come up with how we met? How you proposed? Where did we get married? What if someone asks questions? What if I screw it up and blather on about our honeymoon in Venice and you say we went to the Poconos?”

  He laughed. “First, I would never take you to the Poconos for our honeymoon. Second, it’s not going to be like that. We won’t interact together with the mark. I won’t bring you in any further. I need a wife for my cover. And I want that wife to be you.”

  I swallowed. “Does that mean there would have been a backup wife if I didn’t go along with this?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re in.”

  I stared at him. “Tell me. I want to know. If I didn’t agree to wear the rings, would you have had to go undercover with a different woman?”

  “Em.”

  My eyes hardened. “I deserve to know.”

  “Not exactly.” He rose from the bed and pulled the drapes back. The sunlight streamed in the room.

  “Then what exactly? How does it work? Would you have lost the job?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and faced me. “You’re the reason we’re in Paris. I received this mark because you’re considered an asset. For now.”

  “For now?” The coffee mug rattle to the saucer when I tried to set it down.

  “I told you I would take care of everything. I also promised you no more women. So no. There wouldn’t have been a fill-in wife. I promised them we could both handle Paris. And we can. I know you can’t help but ask questions, but you have to trust me. The less you know, the better it is. The safer it is.”

  “But I need to know why you aren’t safe,” I pressed. “What makes this job dangerous? How is it different from what you did in DC?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to quit, are you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s a lot to take in. The separate identity. I can help you. Why don’t you give me something to do? Research maybe? I’m an excellent case researcher. I can run profiles or something. I know international case law. Maybe I can find a legal way for you to obtain information. Something that you haven’t thought of.”

  “Fuck no. You aren’t going near Blackwing’s database or near the files. You have to stay out of it.”

  “Vaughn,” I groaned.

  “If you want to help me, get dressed so we can buy an apartment. Today we become Parisians. Very respectable, married Parisians. That’s what I need from you. I’ve asked you to trust me, but can I trust you to do this? If not, I can meet the realtor without you, babe.”

  I pushed off the lavish bed and strolled toward him. The silk robe fell open as I pressed my naked body against him. “Yes. You can trust me.” My hands roamed his chest. “You want me to stay home and bake and be a good little wife?” My hand slid between his pajama pants and his stomach until it curled around his widening cock.

  He inhaled sharply. “I didn’t say that.” He gripped the back of my hair, jerking my head to the side.

  I bit my lip. “So I should be a bad little wife?” I fisted his shaft up and down, while I worked the pants over his hips, letting them drop to the floor.

  “That sounds better. Very bad,” he growled, kissing my throat, gathering the silk in his hand as his lips moved to my shoulder. “I could go for a naughty dirty wife.”

  I took steps backward until the back of my legs hit the bed. My eyes lit with desire. My thighs hooked around his waist. My heels dug into his skin, drawing him toward me.

  Vaughn leaned forward. His palms flattened on either side of me.

  My eyes closed when he pressed his cock to my swollen entrance. I was still sore from rough sex last night. But I wanted him.

  “I’ll cook dinner every night,” I promised.

  He hovered over me. “If?”

  I smiled wickedly. “If you promise to fuck me like last night.”

  He sliced into me and I cried out from the blinding fullness. The white-hot pain of how thick and hard he was.

  “Oh I promise,” he grunted, thrusting inside me.

  My head rolled to the side as he took me with primal need. I tried to ball the silky comforter in my hands, but with every pump my body was climbing higher to the orgasmic peak Vaughn always promised.

  A ragged breath escaped my lips as I begged for it harder and faster. I wondered who I had become in Paris. I didn’t know which way was up or down. I didn’t know whether to escape or lock myself in the suite with Vaughn for days. As he filled me with his massiv
e cock, I only wanted this. The kind of magical sex that made all the nightmares end. Sex that made me feel like I glittered and sparkled when I came. Sex that sealed our souls together. Forever.

  “Ohh,” I cried as his finger flicked at my clit. It was the final push that torched a blaze under my skin.

  Vaughn’s mouth covered mine in a frenzied kiss. Our tongues collided. The sweat dripped from his chest onto my breasts. We had lost our damn minds. We were lost in each other.

  With another grunt he hilted himself inside me. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned.

  I smiled sleepily.

  “That was unexpected.” He kissed my neck.

  “Shower?” I suggested.

  “Probably best.” He looked at his watch. It was the only thing he was still wearing. “Shit. We have thirty minutes before we have to meet Eloise.”

  I pouted. It was Sunday. Part of me wanted to stay in bed and read while Vaughn conquered crossword puzzles. But I knew we couldn’t live in a hotel suite forever.

  “All right. All right. Quick shower and I’ll get dressed.”

  He helped me from the bed. He smacked my bare ass as I walked in front of him. I ran and squealed.

  “There’s a reason we have a walk-in shower in this suite.” He chased me into the bathroom.

  The first two apartments Eloise, our realtor, showed us were like something out of a magazine. There was no resemblance to the third floor two-bedroom apartment I shared with Greer when I moved to DC. I had loved that space, but these places didn’t seem real.

  Eloise turned the key in the third flat, smiling over her shoulder. She had wisps of cinnamon curls around her face. It was a tight no-nonsense haircut. There was something stylish, yet serious about her. The shimmer of her bright red lipstick hadn’t faded over the hours we had spent together.

  “This one came on the market last night.” Her English was laced with a thick French accent. I could listen to her speak all day. “If you are interested, monsieur, you must make an offer immediately. It won’t last ‘til sunset. I’m sure of it.” She spun one of her large pearl earrings while she talked.

  Vaughn cast an eye at her, but let me walk inside first.

  “It’s 175 square meters,” she announced, walking past me.

  I turned to Vaughn. “And that’s how many square feet?” I asked. I wasn’t used to converting everything to metric. Maybe it was something else I could add to my self-studies while we were in Paris.

  “About 1,800,” he answered.

  “It’s huge. I’ve never seen an apartment like this before.” I walked into the living room. The windows opened on to a balcony. There were flowers spilling over the side into a garden courtyard. I looked below at the fountain bubbling in the center.

  There was an illusion of privacy on this side of the flat even though it shared the interior courtyard with its neighbors.

  Eloise pointed to the kitchen. “As you can see, there are all new appliances. Complete renovation with historic accents. The previous owners made sure to restore it with only the best of everything. It is a stunning property.”

  My fingertips trailed over the stone countertops.

  “What a beautiful ring.” Eloise’s eyes landed on my new rock.

  “Thank you.” I blushed. I couldn’t stop the impulse to twist it with my right hand. She was the first person who had seen it.

  “Your husband has excellent taste.”

  “He does,” I agreed.

  “Let me show you the pantry.” She hustled me to the end of the kitchen, opening a wooden door that creaked as it swung toward us.

  “There’s so much space.”

  “Yes. Do you and Mr. Birch have a lot of furniture?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Actually, we’ll be buying new things now that we’re in France.”

  “Maybe I could recommend a few furniture stores for you?”

  I smiled. “That would be great, actually. I don’t really know where to start. I think I’ll be handling the decorating while Leo is at work during the day. This is a huge apartment to fill.”

  “Of course. I’ll jot a few of the stores down for you.” She looked around at the open ceilings. “Imagine decorating this flat from the ground up. It should be a work of art when you’re finished, Mrs. Birch.”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t the artsy type. But I was also certain I wasn’t supposed to launch into diatribes with strangers about what kind of person I was. Eloise didn’t need to know I loved law and classic literature. Or that this was my first trip to Europe.

  “But you didn’t bring anything with you from the States?” she pressed. “Nothing?”

  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This was exactly why I wanted a story. Why I wanted to drink a bottle of wine with Vaughn and go over our entire contrived two-year marriage. Of course we should have something. What bride moved to another country without her wedding album? Shit. We didn’t have wedding photos.

  I opened the top oven door and twisted the knob, pretending I cared whether it worked. “Leo and I decided until we knew how long we were going to stay in France, it wouldn’t be worth shipping everything. It’s so inexpensive to keep our things in storage back home,” I lied.

  “I see. I’m sure it’s hard to be in a new place with no one. And nothing.” She smiled politely.

  I looked at Vaughn at the other end of the room. “I have Leo.” I turned to her. “I don’t need anything else.”

  “Oui.” She nodded.

  Vaughn joined us. “Do you have any questions we should ask Eloise?” he prompted.

  “Actually, I do have one.”

  “What’s that?”

  I turned to the realtor. “Does the building allow dogs?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  I frowned. “Ok.”

  Vaughn’s eyes followed me. I passed the realtor off to my husband while I inspected one of the many bathrooms. I couldn’t get over the tile work. Everything was intricate and delicate.

  Vaughn and Eloise moved to a corner in the dining room to talk. I assumed it was to discuss numbers.

  I floated from room to room. I stepped into the master suite. All the notions I had of European apartments were that they were tiny and cramped. I had pictured a dorm-sized refrigerator and a few burners on a countertop, not a gourmet stove and separate wine fridge. The master suite was breathtaking.

  “What do you think?” Vaughn walked up behind me. “Is this the one?”

  I spun in the center of the hardwood floor. “I love it. They have all been beautiful. But I really love this one.”

  “This is the one?”

  I still couldn’t believe we were doing this. We were going to buy an apartment and live together. I nodded. “How much is it?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s covered. You know this is considered a work expense.”

  “But how much?” I wondered what Paris real estate translated into in American dollars. “I can’t imagine it’s inexpensive, not with this kind of space and these upgrades.”

  “Almost two million.” He turned to find Eloise. She had given us a moment to discuss the unit.

  “Two million dollars?” My jaw hung open.

  “Completely worth it. As long as you love living here, this is it.” He winked. “I’ll be right back. I need to let her know before someone else puts their name in for it.”

  He waltzed away from me. I stared at the bedroom. Did we need this much space? It was only the two of us. We certainly could downsize. But I knew that Vaughn was going for a certain image. He needed this apartment. I was along to give him my stamp of approval. He wasn’t going to show me something that was a typical newlywed starter home. We weren’t exactly in the market for a fixer upper.

  We weren’t the kind of couple who spent their weekends repainting rooms and sanding floors. I doubted that was something we would ever do. Vaughn liked expensive beautiful things. But two million dollars? I shook my head. I couldn’t worry about the mo
ney. I trusted Vaughn. Nothing we saw this morning was anything but luxurious. One thing was certain. No matter where we lived, I wouldn’t have to take the stairs—they all had elevators.

  I heard Vaughn’s voice carry along the hallway. It sounded as if one of them must have disagreed with the offer. I wandered out, but they stopped talking abruptly.

  I saw the scowl on his face. “I’ll be right back in, Kate.”

  I bristled every time he used my alias. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oui.” Eloise smiled.

  I pivoted and retraced my steps. A few minutes later he returned. “All set. Eloise is confirming the offer now.”

  “Did things get heated about the price or something?”

  “No. Just lost in translation, perhaps.” He squeezed my shoulders. “She is headed back to her office now.”

  “Don’t we have to wait for a counter offer or something? Isn’t there tons of paperwork we need to fill out?”

  “It’s slightly different. But an offer is a contract. We were the first ones to get one in. The apartment is ours.”

  I looked around his shoulder to make sure we truly were alone. “Aren’t you worried that this can be traced to you?” I lowered my voice just in case.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not when I’m paying cash.”

  “You what?”

  He smirked. It was something calm and devilish. “It’s taken care of.”

  “You make it sound so simple. As if you bought a new pair of running shoes.” I stared at him in amazement. “You just bought a two million dollar flat in Paris.”

  I didn’t know what the feeling was rushing through my veins. It wasn’t fear. Was it adrenaline? Did this somehow excite me? Did I like being pulled into the game with him?

  He snaked a hand around my waist before I exited the bedroom. “Wait.”

  I searched his eyes. He gently nudged me against the wall. I smiled when he descended toward me, catching my mouth with his. I wrapped my hands around his neck.

  “There are so many things I’m going to do to you in this bedroom.”