Page 34 of Jake

Francois turned out to be the son of a wealthy French mafia boss—Pierre Dumonteri Oriole. I was the daughter of Lord Gareth Hume, a man who dabbled in not so legal activities in England and who had a great many enemies. The two men had crossed paths on a couple of occasions and held a powerful hatred for each other.

Pierre had ‘stolen’ my mother from beneath Daddy’s nose a short while after his wife had passed giving birth to their son. My father vowed he would never forgive either for their betrayal. I’d been two years old at the time, and from what I’d been told, Daddy had threatened Mama that if she attempted to come anywhere near me, he would have me killed.

I had always been puzzled why Pierre hadn’t arranged for me to be snatched and taken to France to be with my mother, who had been unable to have any more children. Having illegal dealings throughout Europe, I’d believed he was much more powerful than Daddy, but in my twenties, I was to find out that I’d been wrong. With Daddy being so powerful, I then puzzled why had he not had my mother killed. They were questions I had never dared ask.

On learning Francois’ identity, I should have turned and run, he would still be alive if I had, but being the rebellious woman I was, I sashayed to the table, kissed his cheek, and joined him.

Francois stood. “We need to leave, Eleanor, before we are recognised, and word gets back to our fathers.”

“Fuck them.”

Francois shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous.”

Conceding he was right and not wanting harm to befall him, I allowed him to leave the premises before waiting a while and making my way home. I felt an overwhelming sense of loss and wished friendship between us could have been permitted.

***

As dusk descended

I was moping in my room and jumped when the phone on my dresser, one Daddy had permitted to be installed with a different number to the rest in the house, broke my musings and the silence. I crossed the room and lifted the handset.

“Eleanor.”

The voice was barely a whisper, but there was no doubt in my mind who it was.

“Francois?”

“Yes. I have to meet with you.”

“Why?”

“I must see you before my father and I return to France. Please, Eleanor.”

I knew there was no point, and we could never become involved. A relationship was out of the question, and living in two different countries had nothing to do with the reason.

“Francois, you know there is no point in our meeting. There could never be friendship, much less a relationship.”

“Please, Eleanor.”

Unable to resist his pleading, I agreed, and I would never forgive myself for what I’d caused to happen next.

***

I’d given my guard dogs the slip on leaving the house but wasn’t sure for how long. I glanced around the park as I hurried towards the gazebo, but the structure was not my destination. A small, well-hidden alcove, off to one side and protected from sight thanks to the overgrown foliage, was where the man would be waiting.

I took another quick look around, ensuring I wasn’t being followed or watched, before ducking behind the branches of the overgrown jasmine vine that was in flower and smelled divine.

To my left, behind a rather unruly box hedge, was a baren patch that was about four metres square. It was all as he’d described on the telephone. In the centre of the alcove stood Francois.

The sight of the man caused my breath to hitch. He wasn’t tall, two or three centimetres shorter than my own one hundred and eighty. His hair was short, styled in an old-fashioned way with a part on the left side. He was slightly built, and lean, but it was his eyes that drew me to him. Those same eyes had first attracted me to him when we’d met the previous evening. Even the wolf mask he wore couldn’t disguise their uniqueness. They were grey, almost white, with flickers of gold.

I rushed towards his open arms and he gathered me in a hug before I stepped back.

“Thank you for coming.”

“How did you find this place?” I’d crossed through the park too many times to count and had never known about the well-hidden spot, so how did a Frenchman?

Francois dropped his head. “A woman brought me here on my last visit to England. We, um…”