The Finer Things (A Vincent De Gramont Story)

Menteur Menteur - Part 6

Vincent De Gramont looked at Ines Dawson with big eyes when she crawled up and straddled his lap. She couldn't really read his face and even if she was eager to continue, she felt forced to ask him if it was okay.

"Of course," he said with a smirk but she could still see that insecurity in his eyes. She chose to believe his words and kissed him again while he had his hands on her thighs. She could feel his body stiffen when she dragged her hands over his bare chest but she continued to believe his words. To ask a grown man if he was okay every other minute felt like a no no, especially for a man like Vincent.

"Should I take off my t-shirt?" She asked him carefully, still so close that she could just see his cheek if she opened her eyes. Vincent pulled back and dragged a hand through his hair. It was the first time she saw him with messy hair and she smiled at how much it softened his features.

Vincent cleared his throat and looked for a moment at Dr. Dre's face on her chest.
"I shouldn't do this..." he said with a low voice, pulling in his lower lip.
"I get you can't because of your injury but we can just make out? We can just-"
Vincent interrupted her by gently pushing her off his lap. She looked at him, disappointed and sat down next to him on the couch. He tried to fix his hair but it didn't lay as he wanted. He cleared his throat and gave Ines a fast look. She looked disappointedly at her hands and sighed. He cleared his throat.
"Maybe you want to meet one of the speculators with me tomorrow?"
Ines looked up at him, shocked.
"Really? But... Will you kill them?" She said it bluntly and it made him smile.
"We will see... He gets to see the painting and I want some information..."
She swallowed hard but she was excited. It was scary to realize how much his dark world intrigued her.
"You can decide tomorrow," he said, pulling on his shirt and standing up from the couch. Ines looked up when he was towering over her and thought again about his taste, his scent, his big hands on her thighs.
"Can't I... sleep in your bed? Please, we don't need to do anything. I just want to be close to you..."
She sounded desperate and nervous and made Vincent look down at her with soft eyes. That the man of iron suddenly looked at her like that must be a good sign.

"Okay... But you must follow my rules," he said strictly. Ines just nodded eagerly, then stood up and hugged him close. After a while, he laid one of his arms around her too.

×××

She needed to shower before going to bed. She needed to sleep in pants. She needed to have her hair up so he wouldn't get it in his face and she needed to sleep on the right side of the bed.
Ines followed everything he said, she didn't even complain because the reward was to lay next to him and sleep. When she came into his bedroom, he sat in bed in a baby blue silk pajama, and his hair was messy and fresh. He was still a bit pink in the cheeks after the shower and looked through some papers. It felt a bit staged, and when Ines saw that it was just information from the hotel, she smiled to herself.

Vincent cleared his throat and put the paper away and looked at her body discreetly. She wore a tank top and cotton shorts. Because of the lack of a bra, he could now see the shape of her breasts for the first time, as well as most of her naked legs.
"Is this okay?" She asked carefully and looked down at her outfit. Vincent cleared his throat again and nodded. He pretended like he didn't care but she could see through his act. Ines gave the tall man a long look while he sat and stared in front of him. It was obvious all his energy went to be that hard character he tried to be but he didn't succeed any longer. His eyes drifted to her chest and he couldn't stop fidgeting with his fingers.

Ines crawled down next to him and he laid down on his back. Neither of them lay silent and looked up at the roof. He made a humming sound, drummed his fingers at the sheet then made a deep exhalation. Ines could feel something would happen but still got surprised when he suddenly spooned her. He didn't say anything, like he didn't want her to acknowledge it as something special. Then he kissed her neck tenderly. When he noticed that she leaned into it, he continued and dragged his hand over her waist harshly. Ines could stop herself from moaning and push her ass against his crotch. And there it was-something that was poking her. It was just a semi erection but it was on its way. She believed he couldn't get it up after his injury but it was clearly not what he meant.
Ines pushed her ass harder against him and when she moved her hips she could feel him getting harder and harder. He breathed faster, sometimes with a deep moan. His hands crept up from her waist to her chest and he hugged her breasts so hard that she felt pain.
"Oh fuck, Ines... God, I wanted this so long..." he said with a low, deep voice, but there was also something else that stood out. His accent was gone. He spoke perfect American english.

Ines didn't notice at first, just turned around a bit to be able to kiss his plump lips. It wasn't until he spoke again that she noticed.
"Take your top off..."
She took a hold of the hem to the top but then frozen and looked at him. He looked at her, confused, he was unaware that he had dropped the French accent.
"Say something again," she said, looking at him skeptically. Vincent looked at her confused at first but then seemed to realize what it was about.
"Hm? What do you want me to say?" He said it with a French accent again and moved away from her. Ines made a sound of offense and sat up.
"Aren't you French?? Are you a 'silly American' just like me?"
Vincent sat up with an irritated groan.
"I'm French," he said harshly, crossing his arms like an upset child.
"You spoke with an American accent!"
"I did not!"
Ines laughed, unamused.
"God, I jumped in bed with a guy I don't know..." She stopped herself when she realized she had jumped in bed with many men she didn't know anything about.
"Are you American?" She asked again instead of thinking about her many one night stands. Vincent sighed and threw his hands back.
"Just let us continue, lay down again," he said, annoyed. Ines stood up in protest but didn't leave, she really just wanted him to tell her and hoped he would soon, he would probably not do that if she ran away and made a scene. She stood with crossed arms, looked at him, and finally Vincent lied down with a sigh.
"I'm not American, I just lived there for a while," he said, but he still masked the American scent with his French accent.
"When?" Ines asked and sat down on the edge of the bed. Vincent looked up at the cieling and scratched his eyebrow.
"Three years old to twelve..."
Ines sat in silence and looked at him, scratching his brow. It became more obvious every second that The Marquis was an insecure man and with trauma in his baggage. She looked at him with empathy and then crawled down next to him. He had told her enough for today. It was a lot and now he probably needed the rest.

Vincent looked at her with big eyes and turned his body towards her.
"Let's just sleep now..." she whispered, patting lightly on the back of his hand. It was Vincent who turned his hand so he could hold her smaller hand in his.

×××

Ines woke up to the blinding sunlight from the big window on the opposite side of the bed. First, she didn't remember where she was but then she saw Vincent's Rolex watch and platinum cufflinks on the nightstand. She stuffed her nose into the pillow and was met by the floral scent of his perfume. She giggled to herself while thinking back on the night before, both of the physical closeness and the mental one. He had really opened up, talked about his injury but he also dared to tell her he has an American background. It was a lot to think about, especially since he had pushed his hard cock against her ass. Ines screamed in the pillow and kicked with her legs before she gained the courage to walk out of the room. She heard a rustling sound when she walked out and saw a waiter with a trolley come in through the entrance door. It was breakfast. Ines looked towards the kitchen when the waiter dropped a spoon because there stood Vincent, and he sighed deeply at the waiter. He was already perfect in lavender colored pants and a waistcoat with a crisp white shirt. She looked down at the floor with a smile. He was a snob, but he could be her snob.

The waiter said something in French when he had parked the trolley, which made Vincent say something low, then he left them alone.
"What was that all about?" Ines said it with a smirk.
"He must just learn his job..." Vincent said, shaking his head as he walked to the trolley. "He didn't even put the food on the table."
Ines smiled and started to put the silver cups and platters on the table. She didn't think it was a problem but obviously it was for The Marquis. He looked at her while she placed it on the table but he didn't do a thing to help. He looked like a kid, waiting on Mommy to fix it.

When Ines had fixed everything, she turned to him with a smile.
"Is that okay?"
He nodded a little without looking at her and sat down by the table. He took one of the napkins and laid it out on his lap, even if it was just the two of them there. Ines couldn't stop herself from feeling warm feelings, all those snobby behaviors felt sweet now when she knew he wasn't that confident for real. She walked up to him and laid her hand on his shoulder, feeling the small silver embroidery on the waistcoat under her hand. Vincent looked up at her with big eyes. She thought it was puppy eyes, sweet and innocent but in reality, he looked at her with skeptical confusion.
"Should we eat?" He asked and furrowed his brows. Ines giggled, walked to her seat, and sat down. She had that soft gaze you have when you look at someone who has touched your heart, while Vincent just looked at the food with disappointment.
"Couldn't they present it a bit fancier?" He said as he looked at the Nutella jar. She knew Nutella was one of his favorites but he wanted it in white china and soft like caramel sauce. Ines giggled again.
"You're so cute." It jumped out of her mouth without her having given it much thought. Vincent looked up at her with furrowed brows and then shook his head to himself. She wondered if it was that he just couldn't see how cute he was or if he just thought it was weird. She said it to him. Ines looked embarrassed at the food and then took a toast and laid down on her plate.
"Do you want to meet the speculator today?" Vincent asked and licked away some Nutella from his fingertips. He really had a tendency to do such things erotically, thought Ines and then continued thinking about his question. She knew what that meant. She would be around violence she had never seen before. It wouldn't be like a bar fight or Faith's cat fights in school. This would be bloody and calculated.
"What exactly would I do?" She asked.
"Just be there. Watch. Maybe understand." Vincent shrugged his shoulders like he didn't care and took a bite of his Nutella toast.
"Understand what?"
"Why I do it."
Now Vincent looked at her seriously. Ines felt like her eyes became locked in his, and for a few seconds they watched each other intensely. "Why you want to do it, too," he continued with the same deep eye contact.
Ines shifted uncomfortably in the chair and looked away.
"I don't want to-"
"You want to. I can see it in you. You want to come closer to a world without all these rules. Where you can be who you really are."
Ines scoffed but felt the blood in her cheeks by hearing him say the things she knew but never wanted to accept. She had it in her.
"I know everything about you, the truth, and if you play your cards right, maybe I will share my truth with you..." Vincent had dropped the french accent but also his voice. He spoke deeply and seductively with his perfect American accent.
Ines smiled excitedly. Earlier, she had thought his French accent was the sexiest thing she could imagine but now that she knew the truth, Vincent's American accent was like a dark sexy secret. It made him more naked and exposed. It was endearing. He was a French snob in everyone's eyes but she knew he was a violent, insecure American who had taken a place in the French aristocratic rooms.
"Okay, I will give it a chance... Open the door to your wonderland," she said playfully and to her surprise she got a smirk from Vincent.

×××

"Can't I get some sort of information?"
Ines stood and looked at Vincent, who was drinking his eleven o'clock tea on the couch. She wore a blouse in the same lavender shade as Vincent's suit and a pencil skirt in a darker purple color and a pair of boots with a low chunky heel. She tried to learn to walk in heels. She had seen how Vincent had looked at her approvingly and she guessed he liked that they would match. Mr. And Mrs. Plum or something and now it was time to kill someone in the library, or in their case in the conference hall at the end of the hallway.
"His name is Richard Roux, you met him at the party at the Louvre. You found him, good girl."
He spoke with his French accent again but he had worn a small smile the whole day. Ines wondered if he knew that he had dropped his intimidating mask.
"So that party was just so I could collect people you want to kill?"
Vincent lifted his brows, she understood he didn't like how bluntly she talked about it. He wasn't a barbarian, he executed classily.
"They have information. Information I need."
Ines nodded a little. Something told her she shouldn't ask more than that. He wanted to give her information in bits and pieces.
"Take some tea before, you will need it," Vincent said motioning to the tea pot on the table.
"I think I need something stronger than tea... Maybe some Jim Beam?"

×××

Ines walked next to Mylan through the hotel hallway. There weren't many doors, probably because there were just big suites on that floor. Their own suite was as big as a luxury apartment and she guessed many of the others were just as big.

They met the other guard, Pierre by the door at the end of the corridor and he looked confused at Ines. The men spoke French with each other and Ines shifted to look at Mylan, Pierre and also their suite's door. They had left Vincent there. He didn't say why, just told her to keep quiet and that Mylan knew what to do. Mylan was just as smartly dressed as usual but had also a big expensive watch on his right wrist. She didn't know why but the watch had caught her attention and she guessed it might be important in some way.

Pierre moved past them and then walked down the hallway to the elevators. Ines furrowed her brows but trusted Vincent and kept quiet by Mylan's side. He opened the conference door with a key card and held up the door for her. Ines said thanks, even if she wasn't sure Mylan understood. The conference room wasn't at all the modest sort of conference room she had been in. This was big and roomy. The windows from floor to ceiling. It didn't have any furniture, more than two armchairs and a small table between them. By one of the walls stood her painting. The Pivoine, her grandmother. That beautiful but horrible woman.

"Ehh... Roux soon," stuttered Mylan in wobbly English to her and Ines looked up.
"He will be here soon?"
"Yes."
Ines nodded with nerves and laughed.
"When will The Marquis be here?"
"Not now. Later."
She nodded and turned her eyes to the painting again.
"You. No speaking," continued Mylan motioning to his mouth. Ines nodded. She needed to remind herself she was the rookie here, Mylan's wobbly English made her automatically feel she needed to guide him but it was stupid, he just didn't know English that well and to be honest she could just talk her own language, just like Vincent had said.

They stood quiet in the conference room a few minutes before Pierre and a short man with a well trimmed beard came in through the door. They spoke in French, so as usual, Ines didn't understand anything. She had started to get used to standing dumbfounded to the side. Mylan shook the man's hand. He seemed to introduce himself but she didn't hear his name so he must have used a fake one. He turned to Ines and probably explained she didn't know the language but the man gave her a strained smile and shook her hand. Ines gave him a friendly smile but felt she lost his attention immediately. Behind her was the painting and the man took a longer look at Ines but then looked at the painting excitedly. Ines felt some sort of power when she realized how amazing he thought the painting was. It was obvious he was rich and was probably so rich she wouldn't be able to understand it, still she could affect him. It looked like he was weak in the knees. Maybe he was just happy he had found something to use his money for.

While he stood and looked at the painting, the door opened behind them. Ines looked towards the door and saw The Marquis sneak in, stretching out to his full 6'4 height. His eyes were dark and his chin was low. He looked like a man up to no good, the antagonist you shouldn't root for but still did.

"Ah, Richard!" He suddenly exclaimed and made the man jump. Richard Roux looked at The Marquis with big, terrified eyes but tried to fix his face after a second and smirked at the tall man.
"Marquis, comme d'habitude tu joues de sales tours."
Vincent smirked and walked in a circle around Roux, like a hungry wolf. Roux tried to look indifferent to The Marquis' game but it was obvious he was scared. There were four people around him while he was alone.
"Comment va le petit ami?" Continued Roux and made The Marquis laugh unamused and suddenly he jumped towards him and took a grip around the man's throat. He looked like a big wolf attacking a small kitten. The size difference made him look like a wild animal. Ines watched with a beating heart but felt a pull at the corner of her mouth. It sounded like the man begged for his life and tears started to run down his cheeks. The Marquis made a sound between a moan and laughed and bent his head back before dragging his thumb over the man's cheek and tasting his tear with a deeper moan.
"Fuck, c'est bien! Mais je suppose que tu aurais aimé que ce soit ton sperme que je léchais, sale vieil homme!"

Ines smiled now but wondered what he said. She pictured him explaining to the man how he would take his life. A bloody story, written by a mad man.

"Dis la vérité et peut-être que tu échapperas au sac mortuaire," continues The Marquis before throwing the man down on the floor.


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