Epilog
It was short before noon and Sandrine was lying next to Pick in her magnificent, large bed. There residence was now an old castle in the countryside of eastern Europe. A great part was still under re-construction, but each of them had their own room with an extra bathroom and besides the great there was a gigantic living room, a library, a huge room re-designed as a gym, a dining room and not to forget the tremendous kitchen.
They got a butler and a cook, who - of course - had dirty backgrounds as well.
Sandrine was happy, three month had passed since she had lost her status as a virgin and still her father had no idea what was going on between her and his right hand. During the diner in Mexico it seemed he got them, but luckily the idea was to absurd. At first she had wanted him to know and asked Pick various times to find a way of breaking the news.
Later when she had learned that no matter how mean Van Cleaf seemed to be Fouchon could be way more dangerous. Like Sandrine, her father was moody and hence she agreed with Pick that it was far too risky.
It troubled her a bit. One reason was that she really liked her real father, in her opinion he proved to be what a good father should be like. The second more severe reason was the fear that Fouchon might accidentally stumbled over them. She would not be surprised if he would shoot Van Cleaf right away.
Considering what her lover did sometimes to her, it would be pretty understandable. Pick was sometimes kind of vile to her, but her anger never lasted for long. Even the first time he forced her to please him with her mouth - and Sandrine had felt really humiliated then - it was only moments later her fury had been forgotten. There was no way to explain to her father, that it was alright with her. All things considered she was more than happy.
Her eighteens birthday had taken place and it has by far been the greatest party of all - although Tessa had not been there and she spend the entire day only with her father. She had been taught to drive and a car of her own had been her birthday present. The same night - who she spend entirely with Pick - he gave her the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen.
Sandrine's thoughts were interrupted when Pick suddenly started to nibble on her ear. Fouchon was gone on a business trip and they did not expected him to return before tomorrow night. Of course Van Cleaf had some things to settle as well, but he had returned in the early morning. After a short liaison he had decided to sleep in her room.
Both were really into each other, when Sandrine suddenly startled. Pick also started listening. Then they looked at each other. Fouchon was for some reason on the stairs and on his way to their floor.
"Sandrine?"
"Shit!" they screamed and went into action. Pick grabbed his clothes and head for the bathroom, where Sandrine jumped quickly under the shower until her hair was entirely wet. Then she grabbed her dressing gown and a towel.
Short afterwards Fouchon knocked at her door. While Pick remained in the bathroom, she went to open the door.
"What a surprise!" Sandrine greeted her father.
"Everything settled down smoothly - you are getting up very late," he said, knowing, that his daughter usually did not sleep that long.
"I was already up, I was just exercising a bit," she said smiling broadly. "Therefore I needed a quick shower."
"I stumbled in Paris over this, " he said pulling a small jewellery box out of his pocket. "And thought you might like it."
Sandrine carefully took the velvet covered box from her father and opened it slowly.
"That's so beautiful!" she replied seeing the elegant platinum ring within. "Thank you, dad," she said smiling.
The girl did not hug him, for she was not used to hug. She simply felt not like doing it, but luckily it was the same with Fouchon.
Nonetheless it was clear that he adored her about anything else. His primary interest giving her presents was not to gain favours, but to make her happy. And for this Sandrine loved him. If only there was a way to make Fouchon understand how badly she needed Pick, too.
"So, have you any plans for today?" He asked her suddenly.
"Oh yes - I'm meeting with my future French class in the city library."
"Will you be back for supper?"
"Sure, this won't take long!"
"Good," Fouchon said " I'm going to reserve a table for us at Domian's. Is it ok, if I take Pick along?"
"Why not - if he wants to!" Sandrine shrugged her shoulders.
"That reminds me - have you seen him?"
Sandrine's face turned dark: "I haven't left my room yet", she answered avoiding to lie again.
Fouchon nodded and bid her goodbye. Then he left to look out for his right hand. Sandrine shut the door and sighed. She put the ring on her desk. "The air is clear!"
Van Cleaf left the bathroom. He was already dressed. All he had to do was slipping out of her room without being seen. This time Fouchon had been close to discovering their secret, too close. Both of them realized that.
"We have to find a way to tell him - before he finds out for himself and gets really mad!" She said.
Van Cleaf nodded. "I guess you're right, but let me do it."
Sandrine agreed. Pick knew her father better than anyone else. His chances were higher than hers.
Three hours later Sandrine was in a much better mood as she jumped down the stairs. The girl shouted a happy goodbye to her father, who was just walking with Pick across the entrance hall. Both stopped surprised. Before he could say anything she was already outside. Hearing her car starting Fouchon said to Pick: "You know I have a bad feeling about this?"
"Her improving her French?" Pick asked surprised.
"No, of course not that. It's good she likes to learn, but .... " Fouchon paused a moment. "I observed this for some time now and my guess she has a boyfriend. Probably some weenie from one of her classes." He sighed.
Pick did not know what to say. He liked to bite his tongue for acting as if his friend was to ignorant to notice. "I mean, I can't hope that she has meet someone like you - who is already involved with certain business and who leads a live half in the shadows. I think, if she had met someone like it, she probably had told me. At least I hope she knows she could."
"And what would you do if you can't stand her boyfriend?" Pick wanted to know.
"Probably nothing - until he stumbles over something he shouldn't know," Fouchon explained.
"So any guy she chooses would be fine as long as he does not interfere with our business?"
"Why should I?" Fouchon walked on. "Anyway I want you to find out who it is - in case I need a long preparation time."
Pick watched his boss walking into the living room. He thought a moment about what he had just been told. Theoretically he was the ideal choice, but his friend knew him to well. With someone like him he had for sure not his unpleasant character traits in mind. All his good intentions might be forgotten, when he started imagining what he might do to his daughter.
Now there was not much room left for Pick to dance on. He had to tell him sooner or later something. Lying was out of the question. He was given a specific order. Since the whole game was anyway like betting on black or red Pick decided to gamble. Looking at the matter his chances were not that bad.
Van Cleaf followed Fouchon into the living room.
"Have you already made up your mind how you going to find out?" Fouchon asked him.
"I don't think that will be necessary", he said stepping closer.
"You already knew about this and did not told me anything", Fouchon was angry and Pick could not blame him.
"Well I was a bit concerned how you take it!"
"Is it that bad?" Fouchon looked still upset and prepared for the worst news.
"That depends on how you look at it - because I'm Sandrine's ... boyfriend", Pick said thinking it was best not to say lover.
"You! - It is you!?"
Before Pick realised his friends intention, he felt a breathtaking impact to his rips and then how is nose cracked on the living room table. Streams of blood came running from his nose. Pick realised that Fouchon had turned away from him. Van Cleaf's first thought was that he probably was looking for a gun to settle the matter, but instead he heard Fouchon opening the bar. Getting up he saw that his friend was pouring two drinks of the best Irish whiskey they had.
"I guess I deserved that", Pick admitted.
"Yeah - for NOT telling me! All this time I was thinking, considering all kinds of dreadful possibilities."
"Well we thought you might not approve of it."
"I promised her, I won't tell her what she can do and what not. I really don't want to know how you two ended up together. I really do not," he handed Pick a glass. "I hoped you would get along - so will not complain."
They drank to it.
Sandrine returned an hour later and found Pick in the entrance hall.
"What happened to you?" She wanted to know seeing the bruise on his nose.
"I told him."
Instantly her face lightened up. There was no need to ask for her fathers answer. He was alive, so he must have accepted it. She ran towards Pick and kissed him.
"I never thought you would do it today", she said regaining her breath. "He is not too happy about this, is he?"
"Well, he nearly broke my nose and cracked two of my rips, but besides that, I think he is glad that you chose me?"
"Oww", Sandrine uttered. The girl touched his breast, she carefully touched the bandaged rips. Of course Pick had not taken any pain relievers and even this light touch was painful. Van Cleaf removed her hand.
"I thought I was supposed to be the sadistic one in our relationship."
"Oh, of course I forgot for a second", she answered with a teasing smile on her face.
Pick grabbed her hair and pulled her head roughly back. A moment he thought about a verbal reply, but then he went directly on to kissing her.
THE END
It was short before noon and Sandrine was lying next to Pick in her magnificent, large bed. There residence was now an old castle in the countryside of eastern Europe. A great part was still under re-construction, but each of them had their own room with an extra bathroom and besides the great there was a gigantic living room, a library, a huge room re-designed as a gym, a dining room and not to forget the tremendous kitchen.
They got a butler and a cook, who - of course - had dirty backgrounds as well.
Sandrine was happy, three month had passed since she had lost her status as a virgin and still her father had no idea what was going on between her and his right hand. During the diner in Mexico it seemed he got them, but luckily the idea was to absurd. At first she had wanted him to know and asked Pick various times to find a way of breaking the news.
Later when she had learned that no matter how mean Van Cleaf seemed to be Fouchon could be way more dangerous. Like Sandrine, her father was moody and hence she agreed with Pick that it was far too risky.
It troubled her a bit. One reason was that she really liked her real father, in her opinion he proved to be what a good father should be like. The second more severe reason was the fear that Fouchon might accidentally stumbled over them. She would not be surprised if he would shoot Van Cleaf right away.
Considering what her lover did sometimes to her, it would be pretty understandable. Pick was sometimes kind of vile to her, but her anger never lasted for long. Even the first time he forced her to please him with her mouth - and Sandrine had felt really humiliated then - it was only moments later her fury had been forgotten. There was no way to explain to her father, that it was alright with her. All things considered she was more than happy.
Her eighteens birthday had taken place and it has by far been the greatest party of all - although Tessa had not been there and she spend the entire day only with her father. She had been taught to drive and a car of her own had been her birthday present. The same night - who she spend entirely with Pick - he gave her the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen.
Sandrine's thoughts were interrupted when Pick suddenly started to nibble on her ear. Fouchon was gone on a business trip and they did not expected him to return before tomorrow night. Of course Van Cleaf had some things to settle as well, but he had returned in the early morning. After a short liaison he had decided to sleep in her room.
Both were really into each other, when Sandrine suddenly startled. Pick also started listening. Then they looked at each other. Fouchon was for some reason on the stairs and on his way to their floor.
"Sandrine?"
"Shit!" they screamed and went into action. Pick grabbed his clothes and head for the bathroom, where Sandrine jumped quickly under the shower until her hair was entirely wet. Then she grabbed her dressing gown and a towel.
Short afterwards Fouchon knocked at her door. While Pick remained in the bathroom, she went to open the door.
"What a surprise!" Sandrine greeted her father.
"Everything settled down smoothly - you are getting up very late," he said, knowing, that his daughter usually did not sleep that long.
"I was already up, I was just exercising a bit," she said smiling broadly. "Therefore I needed a quick shower."
"I stumbled in Paris over this, " he said pulling a small jewellery box out of his pocket. "And thought you might like it."
Sandrine carefully took the velvet covered box from her father and opened it slowly.
"That's so beautiful!" she replied seeing the elegant platinum ring within. "Thank you, dad," she said smiling.
The girl did not hug him, for she was not used to hug. She simply felt not like doing it, but luckily it was the same with Fouchon.
Nonetheless it was clear that he adored her about anything else. His primary interest giving her presents was not to gain favours, but to make her happy. And for this Sandrine loved him. If only there was a way to make Fouchon understand how badly she needed Pick, too.
"So, have you any plans for today?" He asked her suddenly.
"Oh yes - I'm meeting with my future French class in the city library."
"Will you be back for supper?"
"Sure, this won't take long!"
"Good," Fouchon said " I'm going to reserve a table for us at Domian's. Is it ok, if I take Pick along?"
"Why not - if he wants to!" Sandrine shrugged her shoulders.
"That reminds me - have you seen him?"
Sandrine's face turned dark: "I haven't left my room yet", she answered avoiding to lie again.
Fouchon nodded and bid her goodbye. Then he left to look out for his right hand. Sandrine shut the door and sighed. She put the ring on her desk. "The air is clear!"
Van Cleaf left the bathroom. He was already dressed. All he had to do was slipping out of her room without being seen. This time Fouchon had been close to discovering their secret, too close. Both of them realized that.
"We have to find a way to tell him - before he finds out for himself and gets really mad!" She said.
Van Cleaf nodded. "I guess you're right, but let me do it."
Sandrine agreed. Pick knew her father better than anyone else. His chances were higher than hers.
Three hours later Sandrine was in a much better mood as she jumped down the stairs. The girl shouted a happy goodbye to her father, who was just walking with Pick across the entrance hall. Both stopped surprised. Before he could say anything she was already outside. Hearing her car starting Fouchon said to Pick: "You know I have a bad feeling about this?"
"Her improving her French?" Pick asked surprised.
"No, of course not that. It's good she likes to learn, but .... " Fouchon paused a moment. "I observed this for some time now and my guess she has a boyfriend. Probably some weenie from one of her classes." He sighed.
Pick did not know what to say. He liked to bite his tongue for acting as if his friend was to ignorant to notice. "I mean, I can't hope that she has meet someone like you - who is already involved with certain business and who leads a live half in the shadows. I think, if she had met someone like it, she probably had told me. At least I hope she knows she could."
"And what would you do if you can't stand her boyfriend?" Pick wanted to know.
"Probably nothing - until he stumbles over something he shouldn't know," Fouchon explained.
"So any guy she chooses would be fine as long as he does not interfere with our business?"
"Why should I?" Fouchon walked on. "Anyway I want you to find out who it is - in case I need a long preparation time."
Pick watched his boss walking into the living room. He thought a moment about what he had just been told. Theoretically he was the ideal choice, but his friend knew him to well. With someone like him he had for sure not his unpleasant character traits in mind. All his good intentions might be forgotten, when he started imagining what he might do to his daughter.
Now there was not much room left for Pick to dance on. He had to tell him sooner or later something. Lying was out of the question. He was given a specific order. Since the whole game was anyway like betting on black or red Pick decided to gamble. Looking at the matter his chances were not that bad.
Van Cleaf followed Fouchon into the living room.
"Have you already made up your mind how you going to find out?" Fouchon asked him.
"I don't think that will be necessary", he said stepping closer.
"You already knew about this and did not told me anything", Fouchon was angry and Pick could not blame him.
"Well I was a bit concerned how you take it!"
"Is it that bad?" Fouchon looked still upset and prepared for the worst news.
"That depends on how you look at it - because I'm Sandrine's ... boyfriend", Pick said thinking it was best not to say lover.
"You! - It is you!?"
Before Pick realised his friends intention, he felt a breathtaking impact to his rips and then how is nose cracked on the living room table. Streams of blood came running from his nose. Pick realised that Fouchon had turned away from him. Van Cleaf's first thought was that he probably was looking for a gun to settle the matter, but instead he heard Fouchon opening the bar. Getting up he saw that his friend was pouring two drinks of the best Irish whiskey they had.
"I guess I deserved that", Pick admitted.
"Yeah - for NOT telling me! All this time I was thinking, considering all kinds of dreadful possibilities."
"Well we thought you might not approve of it."
"I promised her, I won't tell her what she can do and what not. I really don't want to know how you two ended up together. I really do not," he handed Pick a glass. "I hoped you would get along - so will not complain."
They drank to it.
Sandrine returned an hour later and found Pick in the entrance hall.
"What happened to you?" She wanted to know seeing the bruise on his nose.
"I told him."
Instantly her face lightened up. There was no need to ask for her fathers answer. He was alive, so he must have accepted it. She ran towards Pick and kissed him.
"I never thought you would do it today", she said regaining her breath. "He is not too happy about this, is he?"
"Well, he nearly broke my nose and cracked two of my rips, but besides that, I think he is glad that you chose me?"
"Oww", Sandrine uttered. The girl touched his breast, she carefully touched the bandaged rips. Of course Pick had not taken any pain relievers and even this light touch was painful. Van Cleaf removed her hand.
"I thought I was supposed to be the sadistic one in our relationship."
"Oh, of course I forgot for a second", she answered with a teasing smile on her face.
Pick grabbed her hair and pulled her head roughly back. A moment he thought about a verbal reply, but then he went directly on to kissing her.
THE END
