| Subject: À la Vie! - Chapter 52 |
Author:
Diane
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Date Posted: Tuesday, November 16, 09:29:03am
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie! - Chapter 41+" on Friday, November 05, 11:09:31pm
Even with his “unofficial” Interpol guards, Michael felt like a sitting duck as he walked through the doors of Samuelle’s. He was greeted effusively by his staff, Perry Bauer in particular. Meetings stretched on for hours. All he wanted to do was go home to his loft, crawl in bed with his arms around Nikita, and fall into a dreamless sleep. It never occurred to him that Nikita might have other plans.
“What do you mean you’re rooming with one of the other models? Are you upset with me?” Michael was plainly hurt.
“No, of course not,” she assured him. “I just think it would be better if we spent some time apart after all the time we spent together. Maybe we could use a little break from each other.” Nikita was thinking primarily of Michael’s libido and, to some degree, her own. She honestly thought her suggestion would be well received.
Michael’s feelings were not the only thing hurt—his ego had suffered a crushing blow as well. He thought he meant the world to Nikita, as she did to him. He couldn’t imagine why she wanted to live apart from him, especially now.
“Of course, it’s up to you,” he said magnanimously, “but the offer is always open.” Clearly the sparkle had gone out of his eyes.
Nikita’s inner voice was screaming at him. Elena is dead. We can be together for always. We can be married. We can be a family. All you have to do is ask. Just say the words and I am yours forever. But Michael didn’t hear her.
“Let me make a call to Volker to make sure you have adequate security,” he said quietly. Nikita chewed her lip, but said nothing.
Once the arrangements were made, Michael had Luc drive Nikita to her new flat. He brooded for another hour in his office instead of reading his paperwork, then had Luc take him to his loft. His cleaning woman had done an excellent job. It was as if he had never been away. There was just one problem. Nikita’s toiletries were all over the bathroom. He thought about packing them up and having them sent to her, but decided to put it off. She might change her mind, he thought hopefully.
* * *
Nikita lay in her single bed, looking at the ceiling. It was strange. You would think after sleeping most of her adult life alone she would be used to it, but she could not get comfortable without her nightly “companion.” Michael had been like her security blanket over the last year or so, much like his T-shirt had been during her childhood. She liked watching him sleep, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest with each deeply measured breath. Not that she didn’t enjoy Celine’s company—she even had the same accent as Michael--but it just wasn’t the same.
After a while, and feeling like a complete idiot, she rummaged through her bureau drawer until she found Michael’s À la Vie! T-shirt and spread it over her pillowcase, laying her head upon it. It was as if she felt Michael’s arms around her, his breath lightly in her ear, and she fell immediately into a deep and peaceful sleep.
* * *
Salla Vacek was livid when he learned that Michael had returned to Marseilles, and that he had brought his two-bit whore with him. Turn-about was fair play, no? Michael had murdered his daughter—he would eliminate the whore!
Estrella checked on Salla in his study. He was reviewing some paperwork and chuckling. She was relieved to see him happier than he had been in a long time. If she had known that his happiness stemmed from madness, she would have felt anything but relieved.
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