Daddy's Rules Two: Conquered (Series Book 2) Read online

  Daddy’s Rules Two

  Conquered

  By

  Arabella Kingsley

  Text copyright  2019 Arabella Kingsley

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  The money had gone, my child had left for university, I was estranged from my family, the divorce was dead and buried and I was about to do the most reckless thing I had ever done in my whole life. Today I was leaving town to start a new life in a different country without anywhere to stay or any plans.

  I had never felt this free in my whole life. Is that not what I had wanted all along? So, why did it not feel right? All this freedom from my oppressive marriage had brought me was a sense of abandonment, unworthiness and loneliness. I was unloveable and unwanted. It was a pitiful, pathetic way to feel nearly two years on after a divorce but there it was.

  My ex-husband’s life appeared to be on track after the investment he had made in to a younger woman before the divorce when our relationship had completely broken down and mine was going from bad to worse. All of my investments both financially and emotionally had gone wrong and I could not see a future. Sometimes I did not even want to hope for one.

  All I wanted to do was to run as fast as I could so I could escape my stifling claustrophobic past I was reminded of every day and the rage that trapped me in it. With no one to stop me and make a disapproving comment, I decided to do just that. Today I was getting out of Dodge, running from London to Paris on the Eurostar to see if I could find a reason to live again.

  To my relief the 20.01 train that would reach Gare Du Nord in Paris at 23.17 was quiet when I walked through first class. There were only a few people dotted in different seats across the carriage. I had originally been told it was going to be busy because of some trains being taken off due to signal problems. I was lucky to get the last seat when I booked the single Business Premier class ticket that afternoon with the last of the money I had left from the divorce and the sale of my family home. I had no plans to ever return.

  My seat was next to the window. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of four but of two, the other positioned across the table from me. Another saving grace was that I was facing the right way for travelling. If I sat in the opposite direction I was bound to feel queasy. I wondered if anyone would sit opposite me. I hoped not. I wanted to be left alone with my own thoughts.

  I took off my coat and folded it up placing it above my head on the rack and sat back down with my book. The novel was another one of those erotic books I had recently been reading when lonely. So far, the story had been good but it was frustrating reading about another woman being dominated by a handsome rich man and taken on a journey of sexual experience. I wanted to live it not just read it anymore. Clearly, I wasn’t in the mood for reading. I wanted everything to start, to change and for me to be happy. For that to happen I needed the damn train to move.

  Sitting back in the seat I turned to look out to the cold dark platform in late October watching other people being guided to the right coach feeling impatient until I saw him. His tall form walked along the platform dressed in a dark grey suit made visible by the way the wind blew open his long black overcoat as the wind whipped across the platform. He was carrying a small overnight bag and a laptop carrier. In his other hand, he had a newspaper and he lifted it to glance at the Vacheron Constantin on his wrist. I have to confess my breath was taken away at the sight of him.

  His hair was short, dark brown, his eyes coal black, his skin lightly tanned and complimented by a neatly groomed line of facial hair around his mouth and jawline. At least ten years younger than me he was gorgeous and undeniably French. There was no other suitable word to describe him. I wonder if he could feel my scrutiny because his eyes suddenly drifted towards me and captured my gaze outside the window. For a moment, my breath stuck in my throat and I felt warmth in my cheeks like a schoolgirl. I was just about to turn away when he flashed me a knowing even white smile. Embarrassed I lowered my eyes and turned my attention back to my book. Imagine my surprise when I glanced up to see him standing next to me removing his coat to prepare to sit in the seat opposite me.

  “Hello,” he said with a light French accent sitting down.

  “Hello,” I replied softly feeling shy and unable to make eye contact with the handsome stranger.

  I hadn’t expected him to speak to me or even look in my direction. The two women in the train coach were turning to give him admiring glances. He appeared aware of it but he ignored them settling his eyes on me. Of course, I was flattered but believed he was just being polite because he had to sit across from me for the next couple of hours. But my involuntary eyelash flutter gave my attraction to him away and I noticed a small triumphant smile curl his lips with satisfaction. Damn men. They thought they could get any woman hooked around their finger.

  Frustrated with men I picked up my book again believing the man would want some peace and privacy to read his newspaper. But privacy appeared to be the last thing on his mind.

  “Have you travelled on the Eurostar before?” he enquired.

  I looked up from my book, my blue eyes locking with his seductive black ones. Inwardly I gasped as they drew me in and held me prisoner. He was assessing me. There was no mistake and he was making damn sure I was aware of it. The man was confident and direct. Power swirled around him and it was a potent aphrodisiac. It stole inside me, captivating every sense until I bowed to his will, conversed with him and closed my book in submission.

  “No. I’ve been on it a couple of times before. Is this your first time?”

  His eyes danced across my hands and rested on my bare wedding finger. The train manager announced our impending departure.

  “Yes. My jet is indisposed shall we say so I decided to take the train home.”

  “Oh.” He was obviously bloody rich.

  “Are you going to Paris on business or for pleasure?”

  His soft tones settled across my skin making the tension in my body dispel. The train began to move.

  “No. More like an escape.”

  I shut down not wanting to say more shocked I had gone some way to revealing the truth but the man was persistent.

  “Sounds interesting. What would a beautiful woman like you want to escape from?”

  I widened my eyes and chose to ignore his observation, dismissing it as that reckless charm men used to deceive women so often with.

  “My old life. I was previously married and now my child has left for University I am going to start a new one somewhere else.”

  It was out before I had time to refine my answer and keep it vague.

  So, what? He’s a stranger you won’t ever see again. He won’t care.

  “Oh. Do you have somewhere to go in Paris to begin this new life? Where will you be staying?’

  His tone was fatherly with his concern and rather forward for my taste.

  “I don’t have anywhere booked. I will find somewhere to stay when I get there. This trip was booked on a whim early this afternoon. I will figure out the rest when I am there.”

  I had to see what I would be able to afford when I got there. It wouldn’t be like old times when I stayed with my husband in expensive hotels.

  His handsome face frowned as the train began to move out of St. Pancras at a steady pace.

  “That is taking a bit of a risk at night, don’t you think? We will reach Paris after 11pm. That isn’t a good time for a woman to be alone on the streets of Paris without anywhere to go.”

  It was my turn to frown. He was talking to me like a little girl.

  “I will be fine,” I answered curtly.

  He gave me a smile th
at told me he had picked up disapproval at his tone and comment and it obviously had amused him. He glanced out of the window as the train gathered up speed and sped through the dark and towards the outskirts of London. He changed the subject.

  “Do you have a job to go to?”

  Why was this man giving me the tenth degree? And why was I answering him and giving away all of my secrets so easily?

  “No. I am an author. I can write anywhere.”

  “That is very interesting. What kind of stories do you write?”

  “Nothing you would read, some romances. I’m working on increasing my popularity. Sometimes I think I should give it up and try something else. I just might do that. What do you do?” I returned the enquiry intrigued by his private jet comment, determined to deflect some of the heat from me before I blabbed about my failed businesses I had tried to start after the divorce.

  “I am the CEO of Delon Medicare Industries.”

  “The global Billion Dollar Medical Equipment and Supplies Company? You are Lucien Delon?” I asked astounded.

  “Yes, Doctor Lucien Delon at your service,” he smiled.

  “Wow,” I gushed like an awestruck sixteen-year-old.

  “And you are?”

  “Scarlett Davenport.”

  He held out his hand and grinned. I shook it.

  “Pleased to meet you, Scarlett. May I call you Scarlett?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Chapter Two

  The train moved out of London and a stewardess served everyone in the coach champagne.

  “I left a failed marriage a few years ago. Why did yours end?” Lucien asked suddenly taking a sip of champagne.

  I gave him an indignant look.

  “That’s a bit of a personal question.”

  “You look like you need to talk to someone. You look distressed. Think of me as your knight in shining Armour ready to listen to all your troubles,” he grinned undeterred. “Trust me, Scarlett. You really do give the impression of a woman who needs to unburden all those cares I can see pressing down on your shoulders.”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “I will never trust a man again,” It was a warning. “My ex-husband was a control freak just like my mother and I picked the wrong man when I was a teenager. It is as simple as that,” I heard myself snap unable to help myself. Every time I thought of that bastard and what he had gotten away with made my blood boil and no matter how hard I tried I could no longer hide my feelings. They were eating me alive and now this handsome stranger on a train would know.

  “Really? I think there is much more than that to tell. Use me as a sound board”

  “No. You don’t want to know about all of my problems. Trust me.”

  I was feeling hot and a little breathless by the way his eyes kept resting on my face and lowering to view my lips trembling with anger as I fought down my temper that rose every time I reminisced about my miserable past.

  “Take another sip of champagne,” he urged softly, that gentle melodic French lilt to his words playing soothingly across my senses. “It will help calm you and remember you are free from him now. Tell me what happened and why you are still so angry about it?”

  “No. Really you don’t want to know,” I said taking another sip feeling like a fool.

  “I do. I find you interesting and intriguing. Please continue.”

  “You don’t like to hear no for an answer, do you?”

  He smiled but said nothing. I sighed knowing he would not give up and the rest of the journey would prove awkward so I relented and poured out my heartache for him to see and dissect.

  “For me the marriage had been over years before it ended. He didn’t want it to end and he used every blackmail trick in the book to keep me with him until I couldn’t take it anymore. I wished I hadn’t played the loyalty game. I stayed for the sake of my child, for his well-being and education and if I am being honest for Martin as well. I thought he couldn’t stand it if I left at the time by the way he acted. It may have broken him. So, guilt left me trapped in marriage with an abusive control freak who blamed any personal or money worries on to me. I know it takes two and I won’t have been easy to live with. I have a temper but to Martin I have been solely to blame for everything,” I sounded breathless with my frustration. “I finally picked up the courage to initiate divorce proceedings when I realised he was having an affair even though we had agreed to stay together for another year not to disrupt our child’s education,” I blurted out. “So, yes I find it too difficult to trust men.”

  I paused taking a breath wondering why I was telling a complete stranger my whole life.

  “Maybe this trust issue with men startled earlier than with your husband. How is your relationship with your father?” he probed.

  “I don’t have one at all with him.”

  My statement was flat and final and on this subject, he wasn’t going to get to know anymore. An awkward silenced ensued for a brief moment then Lucien spoke again.

  “I could get you to trust me given the chance,” Lucien said confidently, seductively. “Not all of us are the monsters we are often taken for these days. Tell me more.”

  “No. I shouldn’t. I have already said too much.”

  “Please. Get your anger out on me. Talking to a stranger often helps.”

  Still unsure, but not wanting to cause any more awkwardness, I continued my pathetic tale of woe.

  “Martin had finally accepted the marriage was over and I would leave him when our son’s exams in High School were finished. It was agreed he could go outside and indulge his needs shall we say,” I told Lucien lowering my eyes. “As long as he didn’t tell me anything and it didn’t interfere with our son’s life. I couldn’t bear him touching me. But he decided to have an affair and taunt me with it. He hurt my son leaving the house when he chose coming back and forth and ignoring him. Martin put himself first just like he always did.”

  I lowered my head feeling defeated that I hadn’t been able to protect my son.

  “He talks to me as though I should be happy for him. He did all of this when my son needed to be concentrating. Thankfully, I got him through and he did very well. He has just gone to Oxford University. I live at home alone, without anyone, ill, unable to drive. I stayed when I should have left.” The anger inside me threatened to boil over. “Because of misplaced loyalty and guilt, I stayed and he let me down. I don’t love the man anymore so it isn’t because I want him back. I just want him to pay for what he has done. He’s made a fool of me. I am so angry I can’t bear to be near him. I should be over him. Nearly two years have passed and I am still damn angry. I was with him since I was a teenager and now he has flaunted having a baby with this younger woman. I can’t escape it. My life has been systematically raped of everything over the last two years and now there is nothing left,” I finished feeling tears swim inside my eyes.

  Lucien raised his eyebrows and then sighed. He reached out his arm and placed his hand on mine resting on the table.

  “He is gone. It is time to look after you,” Lucien had lowered his voice to caressing whisper when we both noticed glances our way. “It sounds like you are better off without him. People grieve their marriage at their own pace. I think you are having trouble dealing with anger because you are reluctant to let go of the past. Scarlett, you are afraid of the future and what you will become. Treat it as an adventure. That is what I have done. He wasn’t good for you,” Lucien told me rubbing his hand over mine. It felt good to feel the touch of another human being again.

  “I just wish I didn’t feel so angry. I can’t seem to conquer this anger. It is consuming me and taking over my life. It feels more like fury.”

  “If I may be so bold, it seems like your anger is caused by a stubborn nature. A refusal to move on in your life and trust the future to take care of you. It is willful and fear based but it can be conquered.”

  I gave him a quizzical look. I hadn’t thought of it that way.

  He leaned ove
r the table towards me and whispered.

  “I believe you would feel much better if you were spanked.”

  I stared at him looking for the smile on his face to show me he was actually joking. But there was none.

  “You are serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very. I think it would release some of that anger and tension you keep trapped inside of you for the sake of civility and other people’s feelings. Maybe these people you feel so angry at, including yourself should have been made to listen to what you had to say. A good old-fashioned spanking would be cathartic for you.”

  I stared at him, a little shocked by his words.

  “I hardly think that is the answer.”

  Lucien sat back and drummed his fingers on top of the table for a short while studying me with a gentle frown creasing his smooth brow.