His To Shatter Page 13

  Still, I couldn’t convince myself to get back out of bed. I wanted to lose myself in Tolstoy’s story, to try and remind myself that suffering and disillusionment were not my cross to bear alone. Girard hadn’t created the sensation of heartache, though it certainly felt like he had that day. It was hard to imagine anyone being so torn about a man as I was.

  My thoughts swirled uncontrollably, and I was confused to find that the pages of War and Peace were blurring before my eyes. Only when I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek did I realize that I was crying. I tossed the book onto the floor and rolled onto my back, letting all the conflicting emotions battling within me come to a head. It was useless trying to distract myself—my mind was full of Girard.

  I cast back through the strange, wonderful coincidence of our coming to know each other again. When the man who’d saved my life on the New York City subway came to my aid again in Paris, it had seemed like fate was intervening to bring us together. And when that man turned out to be a caring, intelligent, brave man; instead of the towering, untouchable god I had imagined, how could I have kept myself from falling for him? Girard was everything that I could ever want in a man, and he had so much to teach me. So much to offer.

  My breath quickened when I thought of the lesson he had given me the night before. He’d taken my body in his arms and opened me to him, showed me a whole new realm of pleasure and ecstasy that I never knew existed. The way I had been able to submit to him, to trust myself in his control, was more thrilling than I could ever have imagined. And he had wanted me, too. He’d wanted me just as I was, without any caveat, without any qualifications. It had been the most incredible night of my life.

  But then the morning came. For a brief, shining moment I let myself believe that I was home. That Girard and I would continue life together as an inseparable pair, bound by our affection and our need for one another. I really thought that I could stay in that beautiful town house with him, drinking coffee and reading the paper, playing the kept woman, the house wife. We would cook fantastic meals and make love on every surface of the house and have the most beautiful children. We’d live out our lives together in joined bliss, savoring every ounce of delight we had to give each other.

  That’s where my thoughts had escaped to that morning, just hours before. Then the whole fantasy had come crashing down around my ears. Girard’s atrocious assistant Monica had crashed into my delicate imagined bliss, shattering my hopes by simply walking into the room. She arrived bright and early, used her own key to Girard’s apartment, and reminded him of an important meeting that day.

  The look she gave me had left nothing to be interpreted—she thought that I was scum. And worse than that, it didn’t seem to be the first time she had come upon Girard with a hot young thing perched in his kitchen. Monica had dismissed me as just another one of Girard’s conquests, of which there were apparently many.

  And Girard, for his part, hadn’t helped one bit. The instant that something work-related came up, he abandoned me to my own devices. He had gone from planning a day with me to seeing me out the door in no time flat. It didn’t bother me that he had work commitments, of course. He was an incredibly successful businessman and a self-made millionaire. What bothered me was the casual way he had cast me aside. His prompt dismissal made his priorities perfectly clear. I let myself get lost in the fantasy of us sharing a life together. I believed for a few glorious days that we were destined to be together, but who was I kidding?

  How could we ever possibly stay together, Girard and I? It was beyond foolish to even imagine it. He was one of the most successful and innovative men in France, quite possibly the world. What would he ever want with an average American girl like me? I came from worse than nothing, I was more than ten years his junior, and I had nothing to offer him in terms of social advancement. How could I have let myself think that he wanted me as anything more than a casual fuck?

  And who was I kidding, thinking that I could be happy giving up on my dreams and ambitions for the sake of any man? I had been working toward my professional goals my entire life, and I was damn good at what I did. Was I seriously going to consider giving all that up to play house with some guy I’d met only a couple of times? My dreams were too important to cast aside for a sharp jaw line and a fat wallet.

  But if Girard and I were never going to be together, and if that was best for both of us, then why couldn’t I stop weeping?

  A sudden shriek rang out from the front door buzzer across the room. I sat up sharply, heart pounding. Had Girard come to apologize? Or even explain? I padded over the buzzer and let my visitor in. Footsteps pattered up the stairs and my heart sunk. There were four feet approaching instead of two. But at least those four feet were attached to people who might be able to help me through my misery. I opened my apartment door to find Ashlee and Dara, as I knew that I would. For a second, their faces were masks of excitement and mischief. But one look at my smeared eye makeup and rumpled clothing and their expressions crumbled into outrage and concern.

  “Maddie, what happened?” Ashlee said, flying to me.

  “What did he do?” Dara demanded, closing the door behind us.

  I let out a bitter laugh. “He showed me the best day I’ve ever had,” I said.

  Ashlee and Dara exchanged confused looks and sat me down on the bed. They stood before me, my trusted advisors, my best friends. Even in this moment of pain, I was happy to see them. They were far more schooled in romance than I was. Dara was pretty accustomed to one night affairs, and I’d never seen Ashlee let a guy get to her the way Girard had gotten to me.

  “OK, you’re going to have to walk us through this,” Dara said. “Start from the beginning.”

  I sighed, already weary from replaying the whole thing in my head. “We had the most amazing day together, you guys. He took me all over Paris, and not the touristy parts, you know? It’s like he could tell exactly what I wanted, the places I would go crazy for. There was this little book shop...and he didn’t even think I was crazy when I took a good whiff of War and Peace—”

  “You told him about your old book smell addiction?” Ashlee said, ribbing me gently.

  “He seemed to think it was cute,” I said. “We picnicked by the Eiffel Tower, he knew all the right things to buy. I tried caviar, for Christ’s sake. It was a big day.”

  “And then?” Dara prompted.

  “And then...we went back to his place,” I said slowly.

  “And what did you do at his place?” Ashlee asked.

  I blushed furiously, unsure of how I could possibly describe what had transpired between me and Girard. While Ashlee and Dara were very open about their sex lives, I never talked to them about what went on in my bedroom. Usually, that was because the only thing going on in my bedroom was a lot of studying and a little moping. We didn’t really have a precedent in our friendship for talking about my sex life. But it was worth a try, if it might make me feel better. I swallowed my lingering shame at having been discarded as best I could, and began.

  “Well,” I said, “We made love. I can’t say that I wasn’t expecting it, or that I hadn’t thought about it. Really, I have been thinking about it ever since he found me at the club. Maybe even when he saved me on the subway. He does something to me, to my body, that no man ever has. And when we were alone together in his house...it was like nothing could keep us apart. But it didn’t feel wrong, or dirty, like it always has in the past. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. He was so present. I just gave myself over to him, completely. And he took care of me. He was forceful, very forceful...but even when he was, I knew that he would never really hurt me. I knew that he would listen, that we would decide together what happened. And he actually cared about what I was feeling. He...tended to me. My wants. My needs. It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  I looked up and saw that Ashlee and Dara were staring at me, slack-jawed. “What?” I said.

  “That...is fucking hot,” Ashlee blurted
. Dara elbowed her in the ribs, but I felt a half-smile creep onto my face.

  “It was hot,” I allowed, “It was unbelievable.”

  “How is it that you have better sex right off the bat than either of us?” Dara asked quizzically, “We’ve been at it for years!”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “But if it makes you feel any better, it probably won’t be happening again.”

  “Why not?” Ashlee said. “What happened this morning?”

  “The rest of the world,” I said bitterly.

  “But what specifically,” Dara insisted.

  “Monica, for a start,” I said.

  My friends cringed. “That awful woman from the club?” Ashlee hissed.

  “The very same,” I said.

  “She was a royal bitch after you left,” Dara said, “She told me that I needed to wear less eye makeup and that my sequins were tacky.”

  “Well, she was right about that,” Ashlee said, “But she didn’t need to say it out loud.”

  Dara scowled at Ashlee and continued, “What happened with her?”

  “She showed up at Girard’s house, with a freakin’ key of her own, and pulled him away for some meeting,” I said, “He dropped everything. Me included. It’s pretty clear that he has priorities other than romancing a little girl.”

  “Well,” Ashlee said slowly, “That totally sucks, don’t get me wrong. But maybe you’re reading too much into it.”

  “What?” I said.

  “I mean...if he had a meeting, he had a meeting,” Ashlee went on, “And it makes sense that his assistant would have a key for errands or whatever. I don’t think you should write him off so quickly.”

  “But don’t you see,” I insisted, “He’s always going to put his job first. I could tell from the way he switched gears on me. And I have this horrible feeling that something has gone on between him and Monica. He’s incredible, but I just don’t see how our lives could possibly fit together.”

  “You don’t have to figure out the rest of your lives today,” Dara said, sitting next to me on the bed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not meant to be together forever, but you’re crazy about this guy. We can see it clear as day. You’ve never felt this way about anyone, you said so yourself. I don’t think you should ice this guy out just because things aren’t as perfect as you thought they would be. Things between any two people will never be perfect, you know? But if you’re worth it to each other, you’ll figure out a way. And if you both decide to leave it be, at least you’ll have decided together. Don’t write this whole thing off from the start, Maddie. You’ll always wonder what you could have had with him, if you do. At least see it through.”

  “Wow,” Ashlee said, “If you’ve got all that romantic advice tucked away in that pretty little head, how come you can’t keep a man around for more than a night?”

  “I haven’t met anyone worth keeping around yet,” Dara sniffed, “But Madison has. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. I had to admit that much, at least. Girard had hurt my feelings that morning, but I couldn’t just turn my back on him. I had to at least know for sure if there was any way we could make things work between us. As unlikely a couple as we were, and whatever might happen down the line, I had to make sure that I wasn’t shying away from love.

  I had spent my entire life up to that point keeping men from knowing me. My father had been a disgusting drunk, who exploited every insecurity that I had in order to keep me down. It wasn’t his physical abuse that had hurt my mother and I the most, in the end. It was the way that he had made us doubt ourselves, made us think that we needed him when really we were both far better off without him in our lives. My mother had never realized that truth, but I had. I’d left home as soon as I could and cut my father out completely. I didn’t need his money, or his approval, or his love. I learned to live without all of that when I was a child.

  The idea of needing a man, of being in a man’s control, was terrifying to me. And yet, here I was, wanting nothing more than to submit to Girard. Suddenly, I understood. I wanted to be Girard’s because I knew, deep down, that he cared about me. I could trust him with my whole being. And that was too special a bond to cast aside over a rough morning.

  “OK,” I said, “You’re right. But what am I supposed to do?”

  “Go see him,” Ashlee said.

  “What if he’s busy?” I asked, “What if he was expecting me to go back to my own life and leave him alone after we slept together?”

  Before Ashlee or Dara could speak, a low vibrating sound came from my purse. My phone. I flew to it and felt my heart do a somersault as I spotted Girard’s number on the caller ID. For a long moment, I started dumbly at the device.

  “Maddie,” Dara said, “Answer the damn phone.”

  I fumbled to take the call and struggled to keep my breathing steady. “Hello,” I said, hoping that my voice wouldn’t begin to tremble.

  “Madison,” Girard said from across the line.

  “How’s it going?” I sputtered, instantly cursing myself for my lack of eloquence.

  “Can you come back to my house?” Girard said directly.

  “Um...Yeah. Yeah, of course. I can do that.”

  “Good. I’ll send a driver. See you soon.”

  And with that, the line went dead. I stared at the phone blankly. Dara and Ashlee looked at me intently, waiting to hear what Girard had said.

  “He wants me to come to his house,” I said, still having trouble believing that he’d actually called.

  “That’s great!” Ashlee said. “He probably wants to explain himself.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “Or maybe he just wants to end it in person.”

  “Do you think a man like that would take the time to let every one-night-stand down easily?” Dara said. “Just take this as an indication that he cares about you.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said. “God, I hope you’re right.”

  “We’ll get out of your hair,” Ashlee said, giving me a quick, strong hug, “You call us the second you get home, OK?”

  “I will,” I promised, giving Dara a squeeze as well.

  “Everything will be OK,” she whispered in my ear. “One way or another.”

  “One way or another,” I agreed.

  Alone once more, I tried to wrestle with my conflicting thoughts. One the one hand, I was thrilled that Girard had called. But I had no idea what it was he wanted to talk to me about. Whatever it was, this was a whole other level of commitment for me. I didn’t know if I was capable of talking to a man about a relationship, any kind of relationship. I certainly didn’t have much experience. But maybe it was better that way. We wouldn’t play any games with each other, or try to be coy about our feelings. At least, I wouldn’t. And I got the sense that Girard wouldn’t waste his time toying around with a girl for no reason.

  As I rolled possible outcomes around in my head, I heard a car approach my apartment building. One peek down at the street confirmed that my town car had arrived. I gathered my things and headed out to the car. The driver opened the door for me and took off toward Girard’s house. It wasn’t until we were speeding through the city that I realized that I hadn’t changed clothes since I saw him last. I let out a little groan and smacked my head against the window. Typical me.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * * * *

  We arrived at Girard’s home in no time at all, and I found myself wishing that we could take another lap around the city before we went inside. My entire body was trembling with nerves as I made my way up the front steps and knocked tentatively on the door. It swung open the minute my hand fell away, revealing Girard once more. His beautiful face was knotted with anxiety and concern, and it broke my heart to see him in any kind of distress.

  “Come inside,” he said, ushering me through the door. The house was dark, save for the kitchen. I made my way forward; it was so hard to believe that I had been there only t
hat morning. As I stepped onto the tiles, a crunching sound made me look down. A wine bottle lay shattered at my feet, the red puddle spreading out across the floor. I looked at Girard, confused. “I was just cleaning up,” he said apologetically. “I had to destroy my stock completely.”

  “But...why?” I asked.

  “Because, Madison, when I arrived home from the office and realized the bind we’ve gotten ourselves into, I wanted nothing more than to drink myself into oblivion.”

  “Girard,” I said, taking a step toward him, “I don’t understand...”

  “I know that I hurt you this morning,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “I knew that I was hurting you as I did it. And there was nothing I could do to stop myself. I’m a monster when it comes to women, Madison.”

  His words weren’t making any sense to me. Was this really what he thought? “Girard, last night was the most amazing night of my life,” I insisted.

  “What?” he said, genuinely surprised.

  “I’ve never been able to trust somebody like that,” I said.

  “And I repaid you by dismissing you the next morning,” he said bitterly. “I’m not meant to be in a relationship, Madison. And I can tell that a relationship is what you want. Every woman I’ve ever loved has been irreparably hurt. How could I ever put you through that?”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “You can’t hurt me.”

  “Oh, Madison,” he said sadly, “I wish that were true.”

  “Listen to me” I said, anger boiling beneath my desperation, “You haven’t known me for very long, Girard, but let me tell you something about myself. I am a survivor. I am stronger than you can possibly imagine. I’m not some precious flower that you need to protect or defend. I am an independent, autonomous woman. You might hurt me, that’s fair. But I’ll always bounce back. You won’t break me. You can’t break me.”