“Your contact at the pharmaceutical lab,” she finally says, rambling off a name. The drug factory.
My father sounds tired. “Pack your bags.”
My mother’s lips part as if to argue, but then she stands taller. “Why?”
“I’m sending you to the house in Corsica. You’ll never set foot in France again.”
He’s condemning her to prison. The holiday house stands on a stretch of isolated beach. No one ever goes there except for my family, and none of them will visit there again. It’s nothing short of a cloister. She’ll be living the rest of her days out alone and never see her family again. Me, I’ve already written her off, but the grandchildren she so badly wanted from Alexis and me will never know their grandmother.
Her jaw trembles. “I’m the backbone of this family. Without me, you won’t survive a day.”
“Get out of my sight. You disgust me.” My father turns to me. “You too.”
Gladly.
I leave, turning my back for a second time on my family for the woman I love.
Yes, love.
Fuck my shrink and every textbook that’s ever been written about psychopaths.
Because what is love other than an obsession?
Chapter 21
Zoe
Maxime arrives home just as Hector gets ready to leave. My husband’s strong body is coiled with tension. It looks as if he’s a soldier on the verge of war, ready to strike.
“We’re just wrapping up,” Hector says, pulling off his plastic gloves.
Maxime holds my gaze for another beat before he asks, “What did you find?”
“I’ve collected the dead ants. I’ll have to run tests. At least that’ll tell us if they died from poison and if so, what kind. To be on the safe side, I took samples of your toothpaste and other toiletries like soap and shampoo. We’ve cleaned off the counters and vacuumed. I suggest you throw out all the food and perishables and do a thorough spring-cleaning.”
“Apparently, it’s botulinum,” Maxime says.
“Ah.” Hector rubs his chin. “In that case, you’ll want to use vapor for cleaning and boil the sheets. The toxin is heat sensitive. I’ll run tests anyway to be sure.”
Maxime nods. “When will you know?”
“I’ll push it to the front of the line. I should have something for you in a couple of hours.”
“Great.” Maxime shakes his hand. “I appreciate it.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Belshaw.” Hector nods in my direction. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thanks for your help,” I say.
Maxime walks him to the door. “I’ll have your payment delivered.”
“Try not to call again too soon.” With a crooked smile, Hector leaves.
When the door shuts, Maxime and I just stand there for a moment, looking at each other. He moves first. In a few long strides, he eats up the distance between us and folds his arms around me.
“Maxime?” I whisper with my cheek pressed against his chest.
He buries his nose in my hair. “It was Fran and my mother.”
My heart trips in its beating. I suspected Francine. After all, who else had a key? Who else knew I’m the only one in the house who uses granulated sugar? However, Maxime’s mother? She doesn’t like me, but to kill me? That sounds preposterous.
“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling away to look at my face. “You needed to know that.”
“What…?” I lick my dry lips. “Did you confront them?”
His expression is pained. “Fran confessed about my mother. My mother admitted the truth.”
I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this must be for him. Maxime and his mother are close. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“You don’t have to worry about them.”
“Maxime.” I slip from his embrace. “Keeping it from me doesn’t help.”
He clenches his jaw. “My father banished my mother to Corsica. She can never come back to France.”
Oh, my God. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His eyes are harsh. “She deserved her fate.”
“What about Francine?”
He only looks at me.
“Tell me, Maxime. You promised me honesty.”
“She’s dead,” he says in flat voice.
I slam a hand over my mouth. “What? How?”
“She killed herself.”
Did she? My stomach flutters with a tremor. “How?”
“She drank her own poison.”
It sounds too much like punishment—an eye for an eye.
Cupping my cheek, he says, “Pack a bag. Take clothes for two days.”
The shock numbs me. I’m rooted to the spot. “Where are we going?”
“We’re staying in a hotel until I’ve had this place thoroughly cleaned.”
“We can do it.”
“No.” The word is a non-negotiable verdict. “I’m not taking any risks. Go now.” He gives me a little push toward the bedroom.
Acting on autopilot, I do as he says and pack hurriedly. We don’t take any toiletries, but buy new products on the way to the hotel. Maxime books us into the penthouse suite and puts the do not disturb sign on the door. The minute the door is locked, he pounces on me.
Grabbing my face in his hands, he kisses me like the world is about to end. The caress is rough. The pressure of his palms is hard. He bites my bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth before sweeping my tongue with his. Pouring fear and despair into the kiss, he claims my mouth without sparing me his violent emotions.
The kiss is too savage to enjoy, but arousal sparks in my body. God, how I’ve missed this. How I’ve missed being held and consumed. My body jumps right back to the past, to the ecstasy it remembers, seeking solace in the relief only he can give. No matter how many times I came on my own fingers, the release was never complete. There was always something missing.
Him.
I consume him right back, tangling my fingers in his thick hair and pressing our hips together. A low growl escapes his throat. Backing me up to the bed, he rips at my clothes. The front of my blouse falls open with the erotic sounds of silk ripping and buttons popping. The
