“I’m close,” I say, grabbing his shoulders for support.
“Come.” He grits his teeth. “Come for me one more time, Zoe.”
He’s waiting for me to finish before he comes. I can’t deny that I’m always turned on when he makes me come draped over his lap, but I prefer it like this, when we’re coming together.
So, I do. I come for him. For us. He follows a second later, filling me up with a thrust of his hips. We’re both spent in the aftermath, not so much from the physical effort than the emotional toll. Sex with Maxime is always intense on a deeper level. He demands as much as he gives, and if I didn’t put a chain and lock on my heart, he’d take that with my release.
“Cold?” he asks, rubbing a hand over my back.
I shiver.
Without pulling out, he removes his shirt and holds it open so I can fit my arms. Then he buttons it up and pulls me against his chest.
We sit like that with him stroking my hair until shadows creep over the floor.
“I’m proud of you,” he says after a long while.
I sit back to look at his face. “Do you mean that?”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You said you didn’t want me to work.”
He smiles. “I don’t want you to do something you hate to put the food on our table because my business is suffering. I have nothing against you making money by doing what you love.”
I’m not going to ask for his permission to do what I believe is right, but I don’t say so. We have little enough peace as it is.
“What are your plans?” he asks.
“Eventually, I’d like to have a small boutique.” I add, “If my designs keep on selling.”
“I know just the place.”
“You do?”
He kisses my nose. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“Do you have time?”
“For you? Always.”
I lean my head back on his shoulder. If only we could stay like this. If only we could pretend our love was naked and raw and real, and not a plastic mannequin in an elegant dress.
Chapter 32
Maxime
Francois Leclerc is hiding like a cockroach in the drainpipes. It’s not as easy to find him as I hoped. I’m certain he’s not in Marseille. He won’t risk it in the hub of Alexis’s organization. Too many men are on the lookout in the city. My bet is on Paris, somewhere where he can lie low until he has enough bribe money to buy a nice, big hacienda in South America.
Even if I’m no longer part of the mob and cut off from my family, many men still respect me. Trust doesn’t vanish overnight. It only takes one call to my old bookkeeper to find out Alexis is making transfers to an offshore account. Leclerc isn’t a total idiot, after all. I put out word with a few men who owe me favors to keep an eye out for any offshore property purchases or suspicious business activities, and then I contact a banker in the offshore department who laundered money for me before. Now it’s only a question of waiting.
I pick Zoe up after lunch and take her to visit the boutique in the old center. It’s a small two-story level shop in a prominent trading street with a beautiful façade. The upstairs room can be converted into a working space while downstairs can be made into a showroom. There’s a storage room at the back and a kitchen and toilet upstairs. The rent for the prime spot is expensive, but I know the owner, and he’s willing to cut me a deal.
I watch Zoe carefully as she pokes her head around doorframes and into empty cupboards. “What do you think?” I ask when I can’t keep it in any longer.
She knocks on a wall as if to test its sturdiness. Adorable. “It’s stunning.”
“The location is right.”
“Couldn’t be better,” she says, folding her hands behind her back.
I lean a shoulder against the wall. “But?”
“It’s too soon.”
“It’s never too soon.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
“We don’t have to sign a contract for a year’s lease. We can give thirty days notice.”
She narrows her pretty eyes. “How did you manage that?”
“The owner owes me.”
She doesn’t quite smile, but it’s close enough. “Of course he does.” She rests her chin on her shoulder, looks through the window for a while, and then asks, “Why are you doing this, Maxime?”
Straightening, I walk to her. “I want you to be happy.”
She stares at my face. “Why?”
“Don’t you want me to be happy?”
I cup her hips to draw her to me, but she twists out of my hold and escapes to the far end of the room, pretending to study the mosaic floor tiles.
“Zoe?” I ask with a nerve twitching under my eye. I don’t like it when she defies our connection. No matter what she wants to believe, we have something. A spark.
She shrugs. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Yes,” she says with a sigh. “I want you to be happy.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She faces me. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Haven’t I proven myself by now? “What more do you want me to do to?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Have I manipulated you since our wedding?” I ask.
“Maybe a little yesterday.”
When I seduced her with the mannequin. I disagree. That kind of seduction wasn’t manipulation. I only reminded her she wanted me. “We both wanted it.”
Her cheeks turn pink.
“Have I lied to you since my promise?” I ask.
From the way she averts her eyes and studies her shoes, I’m guessing this is the heart of the problem.
“Have I lied to you, Zoe?”
She looks up. “I don’t know.” Her voice is pained. “Have you?”
My answer sounds harsher than what I intended. “No.”
“That’s the issue.” She spreads her hands, holding up her palms. “You’ve lied to me
