Once Upon A Time in Paris

“Aren’t they just so… full of themselves,” Penny Draper leaned back against the balcony sipping Millésime 1995 Rare straight from the bottle. She handed the gold-green bottle to Adrian Cross. She smiled as he gave her a look then put it to his lips. The rich, butter-biscuit-and-lemon flavor of the champagne expressed itself fully on his pallet. He smiled and nodded to Penny, she scripted down ten cases for the cellar and left him with the bottle. They turned back to watch the expensive line of cars that stretched around the block disgorge the rich and famous in droves.

“They’re full of shit, Penny. That’s what they’re full of. Shit.”

“They” were the Clarendon-Astors and their throng of hangers-on, glittering as they stepped from the cadre of range rovers that had pulled up to L’Hotel Beauvais drive way;  Matriarch, Marissa Mila Clarendon draped in diamonds and elegant Chanel; the Eldest Son Benedict Roland Clarendon-Astor clad in H. Huntsman and looking damn fine in it; Little Princess Elise in runway couture, feathers and bone, all natural in direct rebellion to her mother’s mineral glitter; and the man himself, unfolding from the last Range Rover all skinny in  Anderson-and-Sheppard, black and silver clad limbs and a smooth smile on his face for the rattle and snap of the paparazzi -  Leonides Cavendish Astor.

Adrian leaned away, he wasn’t particularly interested in gaining the Devil’s attention a moment before it was due. He downed another steadying gulp of champagne then placed the bottle on an ornate grated table and strolled into the grand mansion to greet the throng of glittering guests. He drew up a charming smile, carefully hiding the cold gray stillness of his eyes in convincing sparkle. It was time to make the acquaintance of the tools of his revenge.

-Two decades earlier –

“It’s just a week, Lev. Just to stretch our legs. My aunts place on the Stein needs an airing. Breathe the Paris air. Get a bit of sun. Eat a fucking baguette without Marissa trying to force herself on me. Again. Freedom, Lev!” Ashes from the cigar dropped into the tray in a curl of smoke. Long limbs tangled with each other under white sheets as the bed’s two occupants leaned back against the headboard the smaller figure’s back to the longer man’s front.

“You know I can’t, Lee. I can’t disappear for a week. Rian’s teething. He’s screaming the house down. Just asking Molly for tonight, I thought she’d go for my throat,” Lev’s boneless afterglow faded. Telling Lee “no” was one of those things a person just… didn’t do. Lee hadn’t just been born with a silver spoon wedged firmly between his perfect pearly teeth, his blood ran platinum with wealth and generations of power. Just as Lee was beautiful and aristocratic, he was spoiled.  Lev sighed, mentally preparing for the whining and the throwing around of guilt, money and consequence in order to get his way.

 

Lee made a disgusted sound about as close to a snort as the blue blood could stomach.

 

“I pay you plenty of money. Hire an au pair. Marissa has had one picked out forever-a little black haired  French creature, speaks four languages including Latin. Hell, I’ll lend you hers. Send them all off to separate corners;  Polly -”

“- Molly -” Lev interrupted rolling his eyes.

 

“and the banshee-cephalopod to the spa, the spawn to schoolroom and you and I fancy free in Paris - leg shacks kicked, and bachelor-glorious once again.”

 

“Why do you talk like a regency rogue when you’re plotting?”

 

“Because I’m fabulous. What? You want me to speak your language?”

 

“It would be nice.”

 

“HAH I don’t speak speccy boffin. Never have, never will.” The British accent just got more hilarious when Lee was being ridiculous.

 

Lev brought the pillow down on his head.

 

“Asshole. I can’t leave anyway. The magnesium power balancer specifications are due in a couple of weeks. We’ll be prototyping over Christmas,” Lee listened with a pout as Lev prosed on and on about that damn stealth plane. Lee folded his arms around Lev’s broad chest and snuggled in determined to turn back the attentions of the creature that frustrated and enthralled him most in life to where it belonged- fixed to him.

Lee brushed his nose against Lev’s cheek as his voice purred along against his chest.

 

“I just want you. Please, Lev?”

 

-Present Day-

The party was in full swing, Amy Winehouse’s sultry painful voice and seventies soul beats kept the crowd moving as smiling celebrity bartender’s poured the finest of everything. Silver tipbuckets were set out with the name of a favored charity etched on the front. The soiree would fund whatever charity Penny had found that was near and dear to Benedict’s heart. Penny had been put in charge of figuring the particulars of catching the younger Clarendon-Astor’s attention while Adrian coaxed another hundred million dollars from the last vestiges of his father’s staggering brilliance.

 

Tonight however both their plans were to commence and for that Adrian would have to put aside his natural affinity for the shadows. He needed to be noticed, he would be outed in the most public fashion. Penny reported that Benedict was a hard case to crack. Simply throwing money at him wasn’t going to impress him. Benedict would have to be seduced by someone charismatic enough to turn him against the head of the Astor clan.

Adrian took a breath checking his hair, dark chestnut curls with burnished brass strands curled about his collar.  He licked his bottom lip then bit it to redden it.  He was as ready as he would ever be.

 

Adrian opened his jacket and strolled over to the quietest of the three charity bars.

 

“Take a break Anderson,” said Adrian, slinging a dry bar towel over his shoulder and peering in the almost empty tip bucket.

 

“Let me show you how this is done,” he smirked scanning the burgeoning crowd. It seemed like Penny’s intel was correct. Benedict had gravitated to the quietest corner of the party. Flipping a metal mixing cup, Adrian let fly with a wild charm, pulling money and laughs from the crowd with cheerful banter and a wide playful smile.  

 

Magnetism turned up to eleven, Adrian flirted and mixed like an alchemist, amused and amusing. The bucket filled, bills worked from wallets and purses like a magician, his tools, a constant flash of white smile and low masculine laughter.  Then without provocation, Adrian crawled onto  the bar, dark blue lawn shirt sleeves rolled up and stretched over his muscular frame. He wrapped his wide eyed victim’s tie twice across his fist and pulled him forward. He bit the young man’s bottom lip gently until the boy’s jaw fell opened and plundered the man’s mouth with a piratical ruthlessness, all to the applause, laughter and wolf whistles of the crowd gathered at the bar.  Adrian took his time releasing his victim who tossed a thick wad of cash into the bucket with a dazed grin before staggering off in the direction of the bathroom.

 

Adrian returned to his place behind the bar and leaned on is with a low lit flirting smile as he scanned the crowd. He let his gaze stop a moment on Benedict where he stood before asking,

“Whose next?”