A Man Like No Other

Arcangel Gallery, Paris, two days later " What the...?" Michael raised his head in disgust as he heard what sounded like a baby crying in the office across the hall. He stood up from his desk as he heard several voices rising above the noise. His expression remained twisted as he crossed the office and opened the door to the hallway. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the chaos that had ensued. His secretary, Marie, was arguing in French, as was his assistant, Pierre Dupont. And in the middle was a young woman holding a baby. She had shoulder-length ebony hair and was wearing tight jeans and a tight T-shirt, the uniform of her generation. Her expression was flushed and she was ignoring Marie and Pierre, her efforts focused on calming the crying child. "Would you mind lowering your voices?" the young woman asked hoarsely. "You're scaring her. Look what you've done!" she exclaimed when a second baby started crying. Michael looked around in amazement for the second baby, and his eyes widened when he saw a stroller inside Marie's office. A double stroller with a baby crying at the top of his lungs. "Thank you," the young woman murmured accusingly. Marie and Pierre remained silent as she approached the car and squatted down to try to calm the second baby. Michael had already seen and heard enough. "Will someone, for the love of God, tell me what the hell is going on here?" his voice cut through the cacophony of noise. Silence. A wonderful silence, Eva thought with a sigh as she saw that not only had the two gallery employees remained silent, but the two babies had also stopped bawling. Eva squatted down and turned her head to look at the source of that controlling voice. He was in his thirties, with short black hair, olive skin, and a face that any of the models Eva had photographed early in her career would have envied. Dark eyebrows framing obsidian eyes, a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, sensual lips, and a strong chin. Broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and narrow hips under the expensive, custom-made dark suit. Eva had no doubt that the man was D'Angelo. The man she had come to see. He stood up and crossed the room to give it to Sophie. "Hold her so I can pick Sam up," she ordered impatiently when she saw that Michael made no attempt to take the baby from her arms. He just stared down his regal nose at her in disbelief. Michael had to look down his nose. God, how small that thing was. Woman. Just over five foot two compared to his six foot two. She had a youthful slimness that didn't seem masculine, thanks to her large, heavy breasts crowned by delicate nipples. Completely bare breasts beneath her purple T-shirt, if Michael wasn't mistaken. And he was sure he wasn't. Those breasts and the confident sparkle of her violet eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, were enough for Michael to know she was a woman, not a girl, and that she was in her mid-twenties. I also had to admit that she was extremely beautiful; her face was dominated by those incredible violet eyes, her small nose, and her sensual, full lips. Her skin was pale and delicate, like fine porcelain. The dark circles under her eyes gave her a fragile appearance. A fragility that was somewhat nullified by the determination of her chin.