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CHAPTER 5

“J'ai rencontré une femme à Londres.”

“Ah oui?”

For a few moments they sat in silence in front of the crackling fireplace in the château of their jointly owned vineyard sipping on the fruit of their own labour. His business partner and old friend from university smiled slowly as he watched the annoyed look on Saint's face grow more pronounced.

She had missed the flight on purpose. Saint had called her several times in the morning to make sure that she was okay and set to depart that evening, but she hadn't picked up his calls – all fifteen of them. He'd been rushing to get to the airport on the assumption that she was on the flight and planned to drop her off at the hotel before coming to meet Youseff at the château but of course on the way to the airport he received a call from Naomi saying that she couldn't make the flight because she had an assignment she had to urgently finish. Saint had called total bullshit on her excuse and they'd had an argument. Eventually Naomi resolved it by saying she would take the first flight out the following day and he could take out the cost of the ticket out of the monthly allowance he'd agreed to give her in their prenuptial agreements.

“Vas-tu me parler d'elle?”

(TRANSLATION: So are you going to tell me about her?)

“No.”

A short chuckle broke out from Youseff's mouth not surprised at all by his response. Even the closest of his circle weren't privy to all that was Saint-Luc and they'd come to accept and respect him the way he was.

“Rappelle-toi l'univ, quand tu dormais pendant les cours et que je devais te réveiller quand c'était fini?”

(TRANSLATION: Remember back in uni when you would basically sleep through lecture and I'd have to wake you up when it was done?)

Saint said nothing but managed to have a grin back on his face as he sipped more of his white wine, reminiscing on simpler times. Times when financial success was all that stormed through his mind. Every night without fail, the brick manufacturing and distributing company he now proudly owned was what he'd been working towards. When all his friends would wonder why he was always falling asleep in class that he'd have to use their notes, he never shared with anyone even Youseff his closest of friends.

“Je suppose que cette fille que tu as rencontré à Londres dont tu ne veux pas me parler est un de tes projets secrets.''

(TRANSLATION: I'm guessing that this girl you met in London that you don't want to tell me about is one of your secret projects.)

“Peut être.''

(TRANSLATION: Maybe.)

At that, he put matters of his heart to the side and swiftly changed the conversation.

 

 

She was getting married. That fact had not solidly planted itself in her brain. She was getting married and no one knew of it – not her parents, not her friends, not anybody and conversation between her soon-to-be husband was rather tense.

He was still pissed at her for missing her flight and she knew he knew that the real reason had been because she'd grown cold feet. How could she have not, at nineteen years old she still watched cartoons and ate cereal for dinner, so how could she without question, without doubt, without a head full of insecurities walk the rite of passage into adulthood and be a married woman?

Trying to spare her mind from a total mental breakdown, Naomi gazed outside the window of the car at the sights of Bordeaux as Saint drove them to the council office.

“Are you still sure that you want to do this?”

“I'm here aren't I?”

Naomi removed her eyes from the window, glancing back at Saint in his custom-made black suit, making her feel under dressed with her maxi skirt and sweater, but in her defence she thought she'd have time to change into something more suitable for her wedding day, but when Saint had picked her up from the airport he'd said there was no time to do so.

“It's a no or yes answer Naomi.”

Folding her hands stubbornly, she didn't say anything because she believed her presence to be proof enough. Her conscience bit at her- proof enough of how desperate she was. She was marrying a man for his money, if there was ever a worse gold-digger than her, she'd be amazed. But for some reason, which she knew, she couldn't fully title herself that, because she had an undeniable connection with the guy.

Even when they'd argued about her missing her flight and his voice was all stiff and aggressive, Naomi could still hear a certain gentle undertone, which made her heart vulnerable to him.

And so for that reason, she wanted to believe that if there never was genuine interest in Saint, there would be no marriage.

All of sudden the car skidded to a stop, as Saint pressed hard on the brakes and parked on the side of the road. “Do you still want to get married to me? Yes or no?”

Naomi's heart still felt like it'd lurched out of her chest at the impromptu stop and so without further hesitation she answered with a yes.

“Good. Now we can drive,” he said smiling at her before putting the car back into gear.

 

 

It was official – for ten thousand euros a month, she was Naomi Folake Adebayo-Roux. The money had been deposited into her account, but as they both now walked into the presidential suite of their hotel room, Saint knew that his wife was shaking with nerves to fulfill her end of the promise.

"I'm going to take a shower.”

Saint smiled to himself as he watched her speed walk out of the lounge and take a turn in to the bathroom. He settled on the king sized bed, zipping open his kit bag and brought out the blood sugar monitor. With the sharp probe he pricked his skin, making him feel a small sting which quickly passed.

He breathed a sigh of relief seeing that his glucose levels were okay, but for extra measure he drank out of the bottled fruit juice he always carried with him to top up on his glucose. He needed the energy.

 

She thought a shower would help relieve her of all the anxieties but it only proved to be a useless exercise. Her mind raced and raced.

Oh God what am I doing? I've barely known the guy for a month and I'm now married.

She thought she was going to have a panic attack. Having no choice but to eventually come out of the shower she grabbed on to the complimentary towel, wrapped it around herself and walked in to the room to see her husband taking a business call.

Husband. That word sounded foreign to her she found it so hard to claim it to be true. For the last hour she had been a wife to a man.

Seeing him occupied and ignorant to her presence in the room, she quickly took out her home clothes out of her carry on bag, remembering how Celine and Miriam had looked at her when they'd seen her in the hallway of their flat as she was about to go out with her bag and suitcase and she'd lied to their face telling them she was going home to do laundry to save money. Their faces were full of suspicion but they hadn't said anything and just hugged her bye.

Snapping back to her married reality, she put on a fresh pair of panties and didn't bother with a bra as she wasn't planning to go out. Of all the dirty talks she'd had with her friends about how they would seduce a guy, their fantasies, when it actually came down to it, she was a total prude.

 

She'd barely taken two steps into the bedroom when she hears Saint's voice from the lounge. “I want to see you with your legs spread wide open on the bed when I'm done with this call.”

His words cut deeper than she let on, on her face but because he was in the other room he didn't see. And because the marriage was just a business transaction she did as she was told.

In an instant she'd cleared herself off of any emotion. In her mind, she was not present, in her mind she pictured her haute couture on the runway of the fashion capitals of the world.

Everyone has to sacrifice to make their dreams come true.

The bed dipped.

 

As instructed, he'd found her with her legs spread when he'd ended the call. For a moment he watched her, her chest rising with every breath she took. He didn't know why but he felt like a monster wanting to take her virginity and he wasn't a monster. He was her husband and she his wife.

He'd always appreciated the figure of a thicker woman, and he could only guess that was because of his Turkish roots. There was more to love on such a woman and Naomi though tense, her body was all types of lovely.

He climbed on top of her and started caressing her – body part by body part.

"J'adore tu yeux. J'adore tu nez. J'adore tu lèvres. J'adore tu cou. J'adore tu seins. J'adore tu ventre. J'adore tu cul. J'adore tu jambes. Merde, tu cuisses sont si parfaites. Et le dernier mais certainement pas moins, j'adore tu douces, douces chatte.”

In a move so sudden, he grabbed by the back of her foot, pulling her forward to him. He wanted to have her legs hanging off his shoulder so he could pleasure her at a better angle but just as he pulled her legs off of the bed, she let out a loud fart out of her vagina.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry,” she shouted out covering her mouth in extreme embarrassment, but felt hopeless as she was held like a ragdoll her head upside down.

In an attempt to savour some dignity, Naomi tried to take her legs off him so she could close her legs but Saint held them still in place, chuckling. “It's okay. It's only air. It's my fault anyway for having you open your legs so long.”

And at that he took a long swipe of her sweet spot, making Naomi scream out in pleasure.

 

Thirty minutes later, their marriage had been consummated and Naomi felt like utter shit. She didn't understand why because the attention and efficiency of Saint and intimacy between them, even though she wanted to deny it, it was all there. But something wasn't right. She hadn't orgasmed but that wasn't the reason why, she was close, but she'd had to stop because she knew Saint wasn't feeling okay.

Naomi could tell it wounded his ego that he hadn't fully satisfied his wife but he didn't voice it. In the week that they'd spent apart she'd researched everything she needed to know about diabetics, and the warning signs of Saint's glucose levels dropping on his face were clear as they sexed.

So gently tapping him on his arm, she made him roll over as she with an ache between her thighs went to grab the sandwich and chocolate bar she'd bought at the airport whilst waiting for Saint to pick her up, but hadn't bothered to eat because of all the anxiety she was feeling.

As she walked back onto the bed to pass the food to a nearly passed out Saint, she saw crimson dots stain the bed sheet and looked down at her thighs to see blood lines stopping short of her knees.

Holding onto tears that were forcing themselves out of her eyes, she handed the food to her husband, but when he tried to kiss her she quickly moved away, mumbling she was going to have a shower, before walking away.






Chapter End Notes:

A.N: And there we have it, another chapter I hope you enjoyed. I really do think everything sounds better in French it's such a romantic language.

 

I hope you're all having a fantastic day and I wish for all my readers in this new month blessings upon blessings upon blessings.

 

Thank you once again for reading.

 

Have a great day and God bless :-).







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.