Chapter 5
1453 Words
Juliette's alarm went off at 5:30 AM.
She'd barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Théodore's blank face. Heard her mother's voice cracking when she'd called last night to ask if there was any progress.
"Nothing yet, Maman," she'd said. "But I'm working on it."
The lie had tasted like ash.
Now, sitting in her car outside Théodore Roosevelt's penthouse at seven in the morning, Juliette had one mission.
Seduce him.
The words felt ridiculous even in her head. But what choice did she have? Money wouldn't work, he had more than enough to buy her entire generation. Guilt wouldn't work, he clearly has no memory of her. Pride wouldn't work, hers was already in pieces anyway.
That left one thing.
Her body.
The body he'd once worshipped. The body he'd begged for. The curves she'd wielded like a weapon and then taken away just to watch him break.
She could do it again. Only this time, she'd give him what he wanted. One night. Maybe two. Whatever it took to get that money and save Tristan.
Her stomach turned at the thought, but she pushed it down.
The penthouse gates loomed in front of her. Massive. Black iron. No intercom. No security booth. Nothing.
Just a scanner embedded in the concrete pillar.
She'd tried pulling up to it earlier. The gates hadn't budged.
Of course they hadn't. This was Théodore's fortress. Only cars he'd approved would get through. Anyone else could rot outside for all he cared.
So she'd parked her Lamborghini right in front of the gates and waited.
Seven fifteen. Seven twenty. Seven twenty-five.
What if he wasn't even here? What if he'd stayed at some hotel or flew to another country overnight? She'd just Googled his address and driven over like some kind of stalker. She had no plan. No backup. Nothing.
Her hands were shaking. She gripped the steering wheel tighter.
At seven thirty, the gates started to open.
Juliette's heart jumped into her throat.
A convoy emerged. Four black SUVs flanking a sleek Mercedes in the center. Tinted windows. Moving in perfect formation like a military operation.
She threw open her car door and ran into the middle of the driveway. Planted herself right in front of the lead SUV. Spread her arms wide.
The vehicles screeched to a halt.
For one insane second, she thought they might just plow through her. That Théodore would look at her body on the pavement and feel nothing.
But the lead SUV's door opened.
A man stepped out. Huge. Built like a tank. Suit stretched tight over muscles that looked like they could snap her in half.
"Out of the way, miss." His voice was hard. Flat. No room for negotiation.
"No." Juliette's voice came out steadier than she felt. "I need to speak to Théodore…I mean, Mr. Roosevelt. It's urgent."
The security guard stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
Maybe she had and she didn't care.
He tapped his earbud. Listened to something she couldn't hear. Nodded twice. Then he climbed back into the SUV.
The entire convoy reversed.
Back through the gates.
Juliette sprinted after them, her heels clicking against the pavement, her breath coming in gasps. The gates were already starting to close but she made it through just before they clanged shut behind her.
The Mercedes door opened. And Théodore stepped out.
Juliette's lungs forgot how to work.
He was wearing all black. Black pants. Black shirt with three buttons undone, revealing a sliver of tattooed chest. Black watch that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. His hair was perfect. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass.
He looked like sin wrapped in expensive fabric.
She started toward him but a hand clamped around her arm, yanking her back.
"Let her be, Remo."
Théodore's voice was utterly bored. Like she was a minor inconvenience. A fly buzzing around his head.
But his eyes.
God, his eyes.
They locked onto hers and the intensity made her weak in the knees. Dark. Unreadable. Consuming.
The guard released her.
"Thank you for…"
"You have one minute." Théodore cut her off.
"Huh?" Juliette blinked. "A minute. Right. Yeah."
She cleared her throat. Tried to organize the chaos in her head into something coherent.
Théodore didn't move. He didn't blink, he just stared at her with those eyes that saw everything and gave away nothing.
"I'm in need of your help," she said quickly. "No…my family is in big trouble and I don't know who else to meet for help."
"And why should I help you?"
The question was so calm it was almost cruel.
Juliette swallowed. "Um. No reason at all, but I could offer you something in return."
"And what do you think I lack, Ms. Valmont?"
Her stomach twisted at the formality. Ms. Valmont. Like they were strangers. Like he hadn't once whispered her name against her skin in his dark room.
"I could give you me," she said, surprised at the confidence in her own voice.
Théodore's expression didn't change. "What do I do with you, Juliette Valmont? Be specific. You have thirty seconds left."
Thirty seconds.
Her mind raced.
"I'll spend the night with you!" The words burst out before she could stop them.
She could have sworn she saw his eyes darken. His jaw shifted almost imperceptibly.
His gaze swept over her. Slow. Deliberate. Starting at her face and dragging down her body like a physical touch. Taking in the dress she'd chosen this morning, tight, expensive, designed to make men look. The heels that made her legs look longer. The body he'd once known better than his own.
"And you think I lack s*x?" Théodore's laugh was low. Mocking. "If I wanted s*x, you think you're capable of giving me what I want?"
Heat flooded Juliette's cheeks. Anger and shame and something else she didn't want to name.
"Yes." Her voice came out stronger than she felt. "I know what you want and how you like it, Théodore."
The second his name left her lips, his entire demeanor changed.
"Mr. Roosevelt."
Juliette froze. "I beg your pardon?"
"You call me Mr. Roosevelt." His voice dropped lower. Dangerous. "Not Théodore."
The air between them crackled.
Juliette's pulse hammered in her throat. "Alright. Mr. Roosevelt. What do you say?"
Théodore studied her for a long moment. His eyes roamed her face like he was looking for something. A crack. A weakness. Something to exploit.
Then his mouth curved into a smirk that made her stomach flip.
"How about we go inside and see what you have to offer?"
Juliette blinked. "What? Now?"
"Yes, Juliette." His French accent wrapped around her name like silk and razors. "Now."
Her heart stopped.
This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She'd thought she'd invite to an hotel, seduce or drug him, get the money and be gone.
Not this.
Not him inviting her inside his penthouse at seven thirty in the morning with that look in his eyes that promised very bad things.
"I…" Her voice caught. "I have to be somewhere later."
"Cancel it."
"I didn't bring…I mean, I'm not prepared…"
"You just offered to spend the night with me." Théodore stepped closer. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Expensive. Dark. Intoxicating. "Are you backing out already? Or you don't need my help again, Ms. Valmont?"
The challenge in his voice made something hot and uncomfortable twist in her gut.
She lifted her chin. Met his eyes. Refused to let him see her panic.
"No. I'm not backing out."
"Good." He turned and walked toward the entrance of the penthouse. "Then stop wasting my time and follow me."
Juliette's legs moved before her brain caught up.
She followed him through the massive double doors. Into the marble foyer that looked like it belonged in a palace. Past artwork that was probably worth millions. Up a sweeping staircase that seemed to go on forever.
Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest.
What was she doing? What the hell was she doing?
But Tristan's face flashed in her mind. Twelve years in prison.
She kept walking.
Théodore led her down a hallway. Opened a door and stepped aside.
"After you," he said, his voice low and commanding.
Juliette walked past him into what looked like a sitting room. Plush couches. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Paris. A bar in the corner stocked with expensive wines.
The door clicked shut behind her.
She turned.
Théodore was leaning against it. His arms crossed and his eyes locked on her like a predator watching his prey.
“So,” he said softly. “Show me what you have to offer.”
- Writer
