Paris: Waltzing with the Devil

“What the hell are you doing here Julien” Elisa seethes as Julien steps into her room from the mirror that also serves as a door.

Julien appearing unfazed by her reaction lets out a humorless chuckle.

“You seem to forget I own this mansion,” Julien says wryly.

“Besides, I’m not beneath placing you in a room that gives me direct access to you, we can’t have you too far off after all you are my wife,” he says nonchalantly but the scathing look he offers her begs to differ.

“Elsida, are you still there? What happened, are you okay?” her father blurts out from the phone.

Elsida jerks, as if just remembering her father was still on the line.

“I'm fine Dad it’s just Julien I'll call you tomorrow okay?” Elsida says ending the call immediately, not allowing him to respond.

All the while, Julien’s hardened gaze rested on her.

“You said I couldn't see my father for a year, not that I couldn't talk to him” Elsida snaps as she notices his gaze.

“Here I was thinking you had no regard for the contract,” Julien says, his malicious smirk playing across his lips.

As if just noticing the sheerness of her nightgown, Julien's gaze settles on it, languidly, his eyes roam the expanse of skin the nightgown leaves exposed.

Without another word, he struts towards the mirror.

“You have an appointment with a stylist tomorrow morning, and our flight to Paris leaves by two pm, be ready before nine,” he says, sliding the mirror closed.

Elsida releases a breath once he leaves the room, settling underneath the plush duvet.

Stepping into the hallway of Luton Prep, Elsida nervously trudged toward her assigned locker. It was her first day at Luton prep and to say she was nervous was an understatement, her gaze was rooted to the floor, not in a haste to make eye contact with anyone.

“That's the slut’s daughter,” a girly voice said followed by a mocking giggle.

Shocked, Elsida looked up to find the owner of the voice but was met with mocking stares and fingers pointed at her.

She hurriedly walked to her locker shame settling deep in her core at the realization that she wouldn't be getting the clean start she hoped for.

As she arrives in front of her locker she lets out a horrid gasp as she yanks the incriminating photo that was taped to her locker.

The students in the hallway erupt in taunting fits of laughter.

She wipes at her tears furiously and scurries in an attempt to escape the mortification.

Her footsteps falter as she bumps into a tall figure, looking up her gaze zeros in on the one familiar face in Luton Prep as the realization of his betrayal dawns on her.

“Good morning Madam”, a voice says awakening Elsida, followed by a knock on the door.

Elsida groggily sits up, grateful for the interruption of the event that haunts her dreams so often she has lost count.

“Come in,” Elsida mutters.

On cue, the maids that welcomed her rushed into her room one carrying a tray of breakfast.

“Mr. Benoit has informed us of your appointment and he said we need to get you ready,” one of the maids says, dropping the bed tray containing a variety of assortments.

“Alright,” Elsida says, biting into a bagel, and she almost groans in delight.

She had merely eaten anything decent in the last two days. Starved was an understatement to describe how she felt she thought.

“Are you perhaps with my luggage?” she asks, suddenly remembering the luggage she came in with.”

“Ahh madam Mr Benoit directed us to dispose of it, he has already provided you with much more fitting clothing,” one of the maids says encouragingly.

Elsida sighs in disbelief as she walks to the bathroom.

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Stepping out of her room, Elsida is led to the driveway where a black Porsche awaits her.

As she approaches the car, the driver she assumes opens the door motioning her towards it.

“Good morning Madam,” he says.

“Good morning,” she says, smiling at him. The smile is wiped off as she notices Julien lazily sprawled across the backseat.

“I don't like to wait,” Julien mutters, not taking his eyes off his phone.

“What are you doing here Julien? I thought this was my appointment” she asks, taken aback by his presence.

“It certainly is El but you see I cannot risk you tarnishing my image” he drawls.

Without allowing Elsida to retort, he continues. “You are free to disrespect me in the confines of the mansion but once we step out we must show a united front,” He says, his gaze turning stern.

“Bastard” Elsida mutters and Julien lets out an amused chuckle.

“That's the El I know to loathe,” he says as he slides a red velvet box to her.

“Put this ring on before we leave this car” he commands, diverting his attention back to his phone.

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Tired was an understatement to describe how Elsida felt, she spent the last two hours trying on dozens of dresses with Julien sprawled outside the changing room, belittling almost every dress she tried on.

This time, she was clad in a blue body con dress with a modest cleavage and a slit spanning from her mid-thigh to her toe.

Not bothering to stare at her reflection, she walked out of the changing room, she couldn't care less about what the dress looked like as far as pairing it with Julien was concerned.

As she stopped at the center of the room, Julien’s eyes moved from his phone, his gaze following the slit till it stopped at the dip of her cleavage.

“This will do,” he said snapping his gaze back to his phone, he started to type furiously.

“Enough with the gowns, get dressed, we leave for France in two hours,” he said, standing up abruptly.

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After a seven-hour flight, Elsida wanted nothing more than to retire for the day but Julien had other plans.

Once they landed in Paris, they were driven to a luxurious penthouse located in Saint-Germain - Des Près.

As they stepped into the apartment, she was whisked away by maids babbling in French, and in little to no time, she was dolled up in the blue body con dress and her hair in a bun, styled to perfection.

She felt like a puppet as she stood next to Julien who was engaged in a conversation in French.

Her gaze roamed the large ballroom from the archaic paintings adorning the walls to the chandeliers on the ceiling.

“Let’s dance,” Julien says as he finishes his conversation.

“What makes you think I would possibly want to dance with you?”

His scathing glare leaves no room for argument as he guides her towards the center of the room.

His hands find her waist and she reluctantly puts her hands around him.

“Bastard” She mutters.

Julien cups her chin with his right hand, his grip punishing.

“You will not disrespect me in public, Julien commands” Elsida's eyes fume with rage.

“You- “ she begins but is cut off by the blare of Julien’s phone.

“Wait at the table he says,” he says abruptly leaving her fuming on the dance floor.

JULIEN

“ Hello Father,” Julien says.

“The girl, when do you plan to ruin her?”