The Palace (Chateau Book 4) Read online

  Magnus shut the door the second I was inside and departed.

  Fender sat forward with his elbows on the table, his glass full of scotch, the bottle beside him. He lifted his gaze and stared at me in silence.

  He probably saw my red eyes, my puffy cheeks, my ruined makeup. I moved to the seat across from him like we were home in his bedroom, having dinner together as our nighttime ritual.

  I placed the linen napkin over my lap and grabbed the silverware to eat.

  He was still, his fingers interlocked as they rested against his mouth. It wasn’t an intense stare that shone with his obsession. He was clearly angry.

  Like a deer in the headlights, I went absolutely still, too petrified to move.

  “I’m waiting.”

  I swallowed, confused by the statement.

  “I’m waiting for your gratitude.” He was a different man when we were here. He wasn’t the man who could be entertained for hours just by looking at me. He was the boss. He drank his scotch, barked his orders, and his need for power increased tenfold.

  “Thank you…”

  Satisfied, he dropped his hands and began to eat.

  The sex was rough too.

  He wanted me on top, one hand deep in my hair, the other on my ass. He spanked me to increase my pace, making my skin redden because he did it so many times. He wetted his fingers in his mouth before they returned to my ass and slipped inside.

  I slowed down and held on to his shoulders because I’d never experienced that before.

  His eyes deepened in desire. “First time?”

  I nodded, feeling his fingers pulse inside me.

  That seemed to be the answer he wanted, because he gave a loud moan as the pace of his fingers increased. “I’ll do the honors when we get home.”

  When sex was finished, he showered then moved back into the sitting room down the hallway. He had his laptop, so he worked on the couch, drinking scotch like water.

  There was only one bedroom, so I wondered if he would sleep with me.

  I lay there alone for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep, until I eventually got up and went to the living room. “Are you coming to bed?”

  He was lying down on the couch, in just boxers. The scotch was on the coffee table beside him. His eyes were closed, so he opened them and looked at me. “I was in bed…until you woke me up.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d fallen asleep.” I eyed the bottle, which was now empty. “You don’t drink this much at home.”

  He sighed as he sat up and got to his feet. He moved down the hallway and into the bedroom.

  I followed him then got back into bed.

  He stepped back into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and locked it.

  I was back on my feet instantly. “What are you doing?” I tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. “Fender? Why is the door locked?”

  “I’ll unlock it in the morning.”

  “That wasn’t my question. Why is the door locked?”

  No answer.

  “Fender?”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” His footsteps sounded down the hallway.

  “I don’t want to sleep alone in here!” My voice turned hysterical, and I pounded on the door. I’d had to sleep alone in my cabin for a long time, and it brought all that stress back. “Please don’t leave me in here…please.”

  His footsteps grew louder as he returned. “No one will hurt you. I’m right here.”

  “Please just unlock the door…” I banged my fists against the wood again.

  Now his voice grew louder, angry. “If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have asked me to bring you with me. Fault’s on you.”

  “Open the fucking door! I don’t want to talk through a piece of wood.”

  The knob turned, and he unlocked it, opening the door quickly and staring down at me with eyes filled with the underworld. He breathed hard, his jaw clenched tightly, like he was pissed off at me the way he’d been with Magnus. “What?”

  My eyes welled up with tears. “Please don’t make me sleep in here alone. It brings back so much.”

  His anger didn’t wane, not this time. “You insult me. You think I’d ever let something happen to you?”

  “It’s not that, okay? I just don’t want to be alone…with my thoughts…my memories.”

  Still nothing.

  “You’ve slept with me before—”

  “That was when I trusted you. I don’t trust you anymore.”

  My eyes closed at the comeback. “Mon amour—”

  “Nothing you say will change my mind. You’re the only woman I’ve slept with my entire life—and you threw it away.”

  “Why are you like this—”

  “None of your fucking business.” He slammed the door and locked it. “That’s why.”

  Fender was a different man when he was here.

  Hostile. Angry. Venomous.

  I hardly recognized him.

  He was out of the cabin most of the day, so I stayed inside alone. I didn’t get much sleep, during the day or at night, because just being at the camp was so traumatizing. He was the one thing that could make me feel better, but he refused to comfort me. He didn’t give in to my demands, and every night, he locked me in the bedroom.

  Thankfully, we were only there for a couple days.

  When it was time to leave, I was so relieved to get the hell out of there.

  The fact that Raven had to stay just made me feel worse.

  I had a choice—she didn’t.

  We rode on horseback back to the main road, took his car into Paris, and then pulled up to the palace at dark. The windows of his bedroom were lit because Gilbert had it prepared for Fender’s return. The grounds were maintained. The flowers were in bloom. It was such a beautiful place.

  I was so happy to be back I nearly cried.

  I could never go back to the camp again.

  We entered the palace, were greeted with pleasantries from Gilbert, and then headed upstairs.

  Fender went into his bedroom, still in a foul mood.

  I didn’t follow him and went to my bedroom. It was prepared for my arrival as well, with fresh flowers everywhere, the bed already turned down for bedtime. There was a hint of floral fragrance in the air, and sometimes I wondered if the housekeepers sprayed a scent in the room when they cleaned to make it smell like that.

  I took off the dirty clothes, showered, and then got into bed.

  I was so happy to be home. Could finally get some sleep.

  I was on my side, the lights off and my eyes closed, drifting off instantly.

  Then the bedroom door opened.

  My eyelids rose at the sound, seeing Fender approaching the bed in his sweats, like this was every other night.

  I sat up in defense, wanting him to leave for the first time ever.

  He stilled at my reaction, his eyes narrowing in surprise at my response.

  “No.” That was all I said. There was no better way to describe my feelings. Even if he wanted to sleep with me now, I wouldn’t allow it. It was the first time I really wanted to push him away, to get him as far away from me as possible.

  He continued to stand there, reading the unspoken words in my stare.

  “Leave.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I—”

  “I said leave.”

  He remained still, absorbing the command slowly. He probably had never been spoken to that way in his life, and it took him a while to understand reality. But he stepped away from the bed and walked out without saying a word.

  I stayed in my bedroom the next day.

  I woke up refreshed after a good night of sleep, had breakfast and lunch in my living room, and spent my time reading. As the sun moved, I sat in different places to feel the warmth coming through the windows. Sometimes I was on the couch, and sometimes I was on the rug in the center of the room, just to feel those rays.

  In the evening, I was on the couch, still reading, when the door opened. />
  I knew it was him—and anger immediately flooded my body.

  His footsteps came across the hardwood then turned muffled on the rug. They stopped altogether when he was in my living room.

  I kept my eyes on my book. “I still don’t want to talk to you. Leave.”

  He inhaled a deep breath, full of irritation.

  I turned the page and kept reading.

  “What—”

  “I said leave.” This time, I looked up and met his eyes.

  He was livid. His face was tinted red, and all the muscles of his body were flexed. But he kept his mouth shut and clenched and left.

  This went on for a couple days.

  He would come into my bedroom every night and stare at me.

  I’d ask him to leave.

  He would obey.

  It didn’t matter how angry he was, he respected my wishes and excused himself. That didn’t stop him from trying, from hoping that night would be different, but when it wasn’t, he listened.

  I didn’t understand how he could be two men. When we were home, he was Fender. When we were at the camp, he was the boss. Different personalities. Different hostilities. Different everything.

  When he came into my living room that night, I was finally ready.

  The space had been necessary, but once it went on for too long, I started to miss him. I closed the book and set it on the end table beside me before I looked up at him.

  The anger slowly left his face when he realized he wouldn’t be asked to leave. He moved to the couch across from me, his forearms on his knees, and he leaned forward as he stared at me. “I told you I don’t sleep with people—”

  “Why?”

  He clenched his jaw at the interruption. “The only reason I’m allowing you to talk to me this way is because—”

  “What?” I purposely interrupted him just to press his buttons.

  He shook his head and clenched his jaw, keeping his rage restrained. He dropped his eyes and stared at his hands, rubbing them together slightly as he let the seconds trickle by, as he let his anger fade before he spoke. “Because you’re the only person who’s allowed to speak to me this way.” He lifted his chin and looked at me again, still angry, but substantially less.

  “Answer my question.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re still upset about that? Because I didn’t let you sleep with me—”

  “What kind of man are you?”

  His face flushed with anger at being interrupted again, but he didn’t interrupt me. He didn’t want to risk being ordered to leave, and watching him cooperate despite the way I treated him showed how much I really meant to him.

  “Your woman is having a panic attack because she’s back in the very place where she was held prisoner, and you do nothing? I needed you, and you weren’t there for me. Because of what? You just don’t like sleeping with people? I’m not people, Fender.”

  “I never offer to take you with me for that very reason.” He didn’t raise his voice. He stayed calm, because he wanted to resolve this, to get me back into his bed so he could kiss me and make love to me. “You wanted to come.”

  “You locked the fucking door—like I’m an animal.”

  He rubbed his hands together again and didn’t refute that.

  “I barely slept the entire time we were there.”

  “You. Wanted. To. Come.”

  I shook my head in anger. “What do you think I’m going to do to you? Stick your hand in a cup of warm water and make you pee yourself?” I turned sarcastic when I was really angry, and I knew I got that from Raven.

  His eyes darkened at my words, but he didn’t say anything.

  My voice trailed off, the hurt rushing in. “You really think I’d ever hurt you?” I could have snuck into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and hid it behind my back. I could have gone into his office, and when he came to me, I could have stabbed him right in the throat. There were countless ways I could have retaliated, but the thought never crossed my mind. I wasn’t a murderer by nature. But I also had no desire to cause him pain. Even if his death would result in Raven’s freedom, I still wouldn’t do it.

  He dropped his gaze and rubbed his palms together. “I’m the reason you were in the camp in the first place. I’m the reason your sister is there now. I’m the reason she’ll be there for the rest of her miserable life.” He lifted his chin and looked at me again. “Yes. I think you’d hurt me—and I wouldn’t blame you.”

  I held his gaze as the pain engulfed my heart. My eyes even watered a bit, hurt by the mere idea of ever causing him any kind of harm. “I would never…ever…hurt you.” My voice broke, so I stopped talking and shifted my gaze away.

  He stared at my face for a long time. “The only way your sister gets out of there is if I’m dead. Surely you’ve come to this conclusion.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not the way she gets out of there. There’s another option.” I turned back to look at him.

  His gaze was as hard as ever. “No, there’s not.”

  “I know you’ll let her go.”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “You’ll change your mind.”

  His voice was quiet, as if he regretted having to say the words. “I won’t.”

  I stared at him for a long time, seeing a distant softness in his eyes, a glimpse of who he really was. “I don’t know what made you this way, but I’m so sorry that you had to go through it.”

  He immediately shifted his gaze to the window, his demeanor turning rigid like the door of an impenetrable vault.

  “I wish I had been there for you…”

  His eyes didn’t shift. He didn’t breathe. He was stone.

  That was his reaction to trauma—to turn everything off and feel nothing.

  He wasn’t a monster. He was just…heartbroken.

  I left the couch and walked over to him, his expression not changing even when I was right in front of him. My hand went to his shoulder, and I gently directed him backward as I straddled his hips and got into his lap.

  He allowed me to guide him, but he still didn’t look at me.

  My hand cupped his face and forced his eyes on me.

  He allowed that too. He gave up all his power to me, let me cross lines that others would be killed for. He let me speak my mind without punishment. He let me order him to leave—in his own home.

  His eyes moved with mine, dead inside.

  I brought my forehead to his. “I can see you—who you really are. You’re the man I’ve fallen in love with.”

  He pulled away so he could look me in the eye, life coming back to him.

  “Je t’aime…”

  His eyes reacted instinctively, contracting at my words. A kaleidoscope of emotions filled his gaze, showing the depth of his love, the goodness in his heart. Because a man couldn’t love this fiercely if his heart were full of evil. He couldn’t treat me so well if he weren’t willing to sacrifice his life for mine. He couldn’t forgive his brother if he possessed too much hate. He was a good person—even if he resisted. “Chérie, je t’aime…”

  Fourteen

  Never Let Go

  Fender

  She lay with me in bed, cuddled into my side with my arm hooked around the small of her back. Her face was on my chest, her hair was everywhere, and she breathed slowly because she’d fallen asleep almost instantly.

  I wondered if she drifted off as quickly when she was alone.

  The fireplace was cold because it was too warm for flames. The chandelier above was dimmed to the lowest level, so little light highlighted her face. Her hand was on my chest, over my heart, and I grabbed it and held it there.

  A quiet knock sounded on the door. “Sir?”

  I didn’t speak because I didn’t want to wake her up.

  Gilbert poked his head inside.

  I raised my hand slightly to tell him I’d be down in a moment.

  Magnus was supposed to stop by tonight. Just didn’t expect him so late in the evening.


  I hugged her to my chest then gently rolled her to her back before I left the bed.

  She stayed asleep.

  I went downstairs and found Magnus waiting in the living room. In silence, I sat across from him and stared at him, knowing Raven was in Paris since he was in Paris. She was staying at his estate, exposed to luxuries she shouldn’t ever get to experience.

  I’d thought his betrayal was in the past, but now that she accompanied him, it was in the present—and it was hard not to think about. My love for my brother outweighed my hate, but I did still hate him because of this. “How’d it go?”

  His answer was blunt. “I don’t like him.”

  “You don’t like anyone, Magnus.” Except ugly cunts.

  Magnus ignored the insult and told me all the reasons why dealing with Napoleon was a bad idea.

  All he ever had were reasons not to do something. I was used to it.

  “We have enough money, Fender. Risking the empire we have isn’t worth—”

  “That empire can grow into a regime—if we work for it.” I wanted this enterprise to exist outside of France, expand into the other European countries, even into Russia if I could make that happen. It didn’t stop here. When we were big enough, we would take on the Skull King in Italy.

  His eyes filled with irritation. “We have enough money.”

  “No amount of money is enough. Not unless it’s all the money.”

  “I have more than I can spend in a lifetime—”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  He fell silent.

  “Napoleon is a good partner. He can increase our distribution.”

  “I told you I don’t trust him.”

  “We don’t trust anybody.”

  He took a deep breath then pushed it out of his flared nostrils. “Why would someone like him work for someone like us—”

  “Me. Everyone works for me—including you.”

  His annoyance was impossible to hide, but he didn’t voice it. “I don’t think he’s right for us. We will find someone else.”

  “And you won’t like that someone else either.”

  Magnus took a long pause, simmering underneath the surface. “I know it’s difficult for you to see, but I’m doing everything I can to protect your back when you’re looking the other way. I want to preserve everything you’ve built. I want to preserve what we’ve accomplished—because I know how important it is to you.”