“You don’t want to be married to a man like me.”
“Who does?” I ask under my breath.
“Leclerc was a loose end. That life is over.”
I study his profile. “What about that loose end? Are you going to just let it dangle?”
He purses his lips.
In other words, he’s going to kill another man. “What about your brother?” I know the answer, but I want him to say it. I need the confirmation.
Still, he says nothing.
Right. Two murders.
“I’m not letting you go, Zoe.”
Crossing my arms, I lean closer to the door. “Did I ask you to?”
“I know you. I know what you’re thinking.” His nostrils flare. “It’s not happening, so you can put it out of your pretty little head.”
I turn sideways to face him. “Do you even feel guilty?”
“For taking care of the people who tried to burn me alive?” He utters a laugh. “No, I don’t.”
I study him in silence. He’s dangerous, this husband of mine. He left that life behind for me, to be able to marry me, but it’ll always be in his blood. He’ll never hesitate to use violence to keep us safe and take lives to protect me. I wasn’t a big enough fool to believe that part of his life was behind us. I knew what he was dragging me into when he brought me back from Johannesburg. I didn’t want a life like this. He never gave me a choice.
Whatever the case, this is who he is. Under the fashionable clothes and the smooth businessman will always lurk a mafia boss. He’s not going to change. I’m stuck with him in this marriage. I know I can live with him. I’ve done it before. I’m doing it now. It’s not that I can’t accept who he is. It’s that I can’t deal with never being loved. I long for it with all my soul. I want to know what it feels like. I know the bitter side of love. I know how it hurts when it’s one-sided. I want to know what it’s like to be on the receiving end. I want the hurt to end, and the only way to stop making it hurt is to stop wanting what I can’t have.
We drive for hours. In Clermont-Ferrand, he pulls up at a hotel. It’s the big, commercial kind close to the highway that caters for travelers.
“I can’t drive anymore,” he says, hunching over the wheel.
My chest tightens with compassion. I almost reach out to rub his shoulder, but harden my heart. “We could’ve stayed in Paris.”
“After what happened? Not a chance. I want you safe, not in the middle of fucking danger.”
“Will Leclerc tell Alexis what you know?”
“He’s blackmailing Alexis. If my brother knows I know, Leclerc has nothing to blackmail him with. Leclerc also knows he’ll be a dead man walking if Alexis finds out I know. The only thing preventing Alexis from killing Leclerc is the evidence that will be made public if anything happens to Leclerc.” He rubs his neck. “So, no, he won’t tell Alexis.”
“What’s your plan?”
He opens the door. “Let me worry about that.” Coming around, he gets mine. “Let’s get a room.”
We book in and take the elevator to the fifth floor. The room is tiny, barely a shoebox with a bed and shower, but it’s clean. I sit down on the bed, staring at the wall while Maxime peels out of his clothes. I sacrificed a whole day of work and closed the boutique for this. I should’ve known better. It was the last time I made a bad decision. It’ll never happen again.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I look at him. He’s naked. His body is hard and brutal, just like his mind. “Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that,” he says through thin lips. “I want to know.”
I lean back on my arms. “Why?”
He walks over. Nudging my knees apart with his body, he steps between them. “I could’ve lost you.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Mine.” His face contorts. “I carry all the blame.”
“You do.”
With his hands on my knees, he spreads my legs wider. “Don’t keep from me. Not now.”
My thoughts are not his for the taking. My heart either, not any longer. “It’s all right here.” I lift my dress to expose my underwear. My pose is slutty. “Take it.”
A muscle ticks under his eye. “Why are you doing this?”
“Isn’t this what you want?” I support my weight on my elbows. “You can go down on me first. It makes me last longer when I come around your cock.”
He clenches his hands at his sides. “This isn’t you, Zoe.”
“You think you know me?” I laugh. “I think you’re wrong.”
Kneeling between my legs, he grabs my hips and yanks me to the edge of the bed. I pull on the thong, but I’m not strong enough to rip it like him.
“Tear it off,” I say.
He holds my eyes as he grips the elastic. It gives with a snap at the twist of his wrist. Threading my fingers through his hair, I guide his lips to the center of my legs. The kiss he plants reverently on my clit isn’t what I want.
“Eat me out like you mean it,” I say.
He drags a tongue over my folds before plunging inside.
I lock my ankles around his neck. “Stop playing. Do it.”
He does. He nips, sucks, and licks until my toes curl. He does every dirty thing I tell him to do while I lean back and watch. My orgasm comes quickly. I don’t savor it. I let it crash through my body and wreck me, devouring it much like downing instead of sipping a good glass of wine.
When I’m done, I put my palm on his forehead and push him away. “I’m done. I don’t feel like sex any longer. You can go shower now.”
The growl that escapes his chest should frighten me. “You used me? That’s how you want to play it?”
I sit up. “It’s good to be useful. You’ll get over it.”
Before I
