The Boss (Chateau Book 3) Page 19

  I leaned back into the couch and curled my fingers into a fist, my elbow propping on the back of the couch with my hand on the back of my neck. My other arm was stretched across the back of the couch. I rubbed the back of my neck and the bottom of my hairline, my fingers running through the short strands. I waited for her to storm off and not speak to me for several days.

  “You’re right.”

  My fingers stilled at her admission.

  She smoothed out her dress then got to her feet. When she approached me, she hiked up her dress before she lowered herself right between my knees.

  I stared at her. Breathless. Still. Focused.

  Her palms moved up my sweatpants to the band before her fingers hooked inside the fabric of my boxers. Then she dragged them both down, assisted when I lifted my hips to get the clothes off my ass, and she pushed everything to my ankles on the floor. “I should be thanking you.” She craned her neck forward and started at my balls, pressing gentle kisses there.

  The surprise waned, and my hand fisted her hair, keeping it from her face as I guided her onto my length and pushed her down, getting my dick in her throat, moaning when I felt that tongue. “Yes, chérie.” I closed my eyes briefly when I felt her warm mouth, when I listened to her make a slight choking sound. My hand gripped her neck, and I forced her down over and over, making her take that dick harder than her pussy did. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she gasped, but I guided her at the aggressive pace I demanded, and she didn’t resist. “Thank me good and hard.”

  The catacombs were once a national landmark to the French. Tourists could pay a fee to explore the underground tunnels that stretched for miles and miles, admire the skulls in the walls, the underground city of the dead.

  Until the Chasseurs bought it.

  I wasn’t the only man acquainted with the political aristocrats of this country. Paris was known as the city of love, the Eiffel Tower a symbol of light and heart, the bakeries selling chocolate croissants that couldn’t be replicated elsewhere.

  Little did people know that monsters lived in the shadows.

  That it was one of the most corrupt cities in the world.

  I descended through the tunnels until I came face-to-face with Bartholomew in the great hall, an enormous cavern with an ancient city in the rear. The Chasseurs were there, drinking at their tables, entertained by the French whores that were paid to pay a visit.

  Bartholomew was on the throne, and his eyes were instantly on me when I entered, as if he expected me the moment I approached his territory, his spies everywhere. His chin was propped on his closed knuckles, and with a bored look, he watched me approach.

  There was another throne beside him—but it was empty.

  I stopped in front of him.

  His eyes were still and cold.

  Mine were hard and black.

  The standoff ended when he spoke. “You lifted the regulations. Congratulations.”

  He knew everything the moment it happened—as did I.

  He continued his bored expression, losing interest in me the second I stepped into his presence. “You better be here to deal us in. Otherwise, you’re here to brag, and no one likes a bragger.”

  “Once we ramp up production, we’ll offer you a partnership. Not sure when that will be, but soon. Get ready.”

  His body didn’t shift or move, but a slow smile spread over his lips. “Now we’re talking.”

  “You offered them a partnership when we haven’t even figured out a way to implement this?” Magnus asked incredulously. “I’m in negotiations with Hector, but nothing has been guaranteed. To increase our supply, he’ll have to make changes, and those changes could get a competitor’s attention. Fender, we don’t make promises we can’t keep—”

  “I made him no promise. Instead of sitting around finding all the reasons why something won’t work, find the reasons why it will work.” I tossed my jacket on an armchair in my bedroom as I paced.

  “I’m being realistic, Fender. Maybe you should try it sometime—”

  “Maybe you should grow some balls and stop being a little bitch.” I hung up and slammed the phone onto my nightstand. “Mauviette…” I yanked my shirt over my head then dragged my hands down my face as I approached the bed. When I heard her quiet footsteps and the creak of the door, I knew I wasn’t alone. I dropped my hands and turned my stare on her.

  She flinched at my look, her hand still on the door like she intended to sneak away when she realized my foul mood.

  My stare continued, eyeing the black satin nightgown that showed her soft thighs. She was barefoot, looking petite when she didn’t have those five-inch heels to compete with my height.

  “Everything okay?”

  I turned away and undid my jeans before I kicked off my shoes. “Get in bed.”

  She hesitated before she entered my bedroom. She got on the bed then slid under the sheets as she watched me finish getting undressed.

  When I was naked, I got into bed beside her. But my mood was too foul for sex, at least right now, so I lay beside her and stared at the fire Gilbert had prepared before I returned home.

  She didn’t come close to me, giving me my space. After minutes of silence and separation, she moved closer to me and wrapped her body around mine, giving a slight shiver when her body thawed at my heat.

  My arm wrapped around her as I cradled her to me, loving her body up against mine even if I wasn’t inside her. Her skin was so soft, her smell so fragrant, her hair like gentle fingertips against my skin.

  Time passed with our eyes on the fire, watching it dance beautifully, slowly dying down as it cannibalized itself, eating the fuel that sustained it. My thoughts were on business, but particularly, my uncooperative brother. He claimed to be the voice of reason, but he felt like the voice of sabotage.

  Melanie propped herself on her elbow and faced me, some of her hair falling forward onto my chest. Her hair had grown longer over the months, becoming more beautiful with its increased length. It was extra rope to wrap around my fingers when I held on to her, like reins to the most beautiful mare.

  And I was her stallion.

  “Where did you go?” Her fingers moved farther up my stomach to my chest, lightly pressing into me like she wanted to feel my hard muscle push back.

  “Met a business associate.”

  “That didn’t go well?”

  “That was fine. But I spoke to one of my men when I came home…and I didn’t appreciate the conversation.”

  “What did he do?”

  I turned to look at her, questioning her with my eyes.

  “I just…want to know more about you.” Her voice trailed away in its timidity, as if she were afraid she would provoke the hurricane again. “You don’t talk about anything personal, so…” Her hand continued to rub my chest.

  “You know everything about me, chérie.” She knew me better than anyone—besides Magnus—without realizing it.

  “Really?” she asked. “Because I don’t even know your last name.”

  “A surname tells you nothing about who I am.”

  “Then what does?” she whispered.

  My hand slipped underneath her hair and cupped her cheek, her skin cold to my touch, like the fire and my warm body still hadn’t thawed her entirely. My thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth as I stared at those full lips, dark with lipstick, with a gentle shine of gloss. When I looked in the mirror, sometimes I saw the imprint of her lips on my neck. When I looked at my dick after she sucked me off, I could see it around the base of my length. It stained the sheets, stained the pillowcase when I shoved her face down to get her ass higher into the air. “This.” My eyes lifted to her eyes again. “The way a man treats his woman…tells you everything that matters.”

  Nineteen

  Je t’aime

  Melanie

  He sat in the center of the couch in his office, his bottoms snug around his ankles with his bare feet planted to the floor. My panties were somewhere on the r
ug. His thumbs were pressed against my hips, and his fingers kneaded my ass as I rose up and down, my tits dragging against his chest.

  His eyes were always on mine, always watching every reaction I made, every breath I took. His strong hands guided the pace, making sure I kept it nice and slow as he preferred. Whenever I was on top, he never wanted it hard and aggressive. He wanted it to stretch it out forever, for us to breathe as one person, to make the moment last forever.

  My arms hooked around his neck, and I kept my head close to his, moaning in his face, my bent knees on his thighs while I arched my back as best as I could. I’d come into his office to read and feel his presence, but he marched over, dropped onto the couch, and before I knew it, I was on top of him, riding him like he’d just come home after being gone for weeks.

  I clung to him as I started to rock hard and fast, driving myself into another climax that made my eyes burn with tears, made my perfect makeup run.

  He watched me come, his eyes gaining in intensity as I came and clenched his dick. “Je t’aime, chérie.” His fingers dug into my ass harder, and he brought me down with force, releasing inside me with a clenched jaw, the cords in his neck bulging with tension. He gave a masculine grunt when he finished, his dick throbbing inside me before he gave my ass a hard smack with his big hand. “Fuck, chérie.”

  I was comfortable on top of him, even though I knew we were finished because his dick finally began to soften. My arms remained around his neck, and I rested my forehead against his as I caught my breath, my nipples softening when the heat was over. The office smelled like a wood-burning fire, sweat, and sex.

  His eyes maintained their intensity, like everything I’d given him wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. His arms wrapped around my back and tugged me harder into him, locking me in place like he didn’t want me to leave. He probably had a million things to do, but he’d rather be naked and wrapped up with me, still buried inside me like a car in a garage.

  Moments like these made me forget the truth. I wasn’t a prisoner in a labor camp who caught the eye of the kingpin. I was at a bar with my friends. He walked over and bought me a drink, and after weeks of hot sex and midnight secrets, he asked me to move in to his mansion so we could be together always.

  I wished that were the truth.

  His arms loosened around me like the opening to a cage—so I could fly away. His hands glided to my hips, where his fingers gently caressed me underneath my hiked-up dress. His dark eyes looked me over, examining the beauty that had stolen his attention and religiously kept it.

  My arms dropped from his shoulders, and my hands moved to grip his shoulders so I could use his mass as an anchor when I got up. But I stayed. I looked into his dark eyes and stayed. I looked into his hard face and realized I didn’t know the man who had given me intimacy so deep, it changed my perspective on my situation every single day. “Can I ask you something?”

  His eyes turned guarded, deflecting the question I’d yet to ask.

  “You said I could ask you anything.”

  “You know how I meant that, chérie. You can ask me about my lovers. You can ask where I’ve slept. You can ask me anything a woman would want to know about her man. Everything else…off the table.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes turned hard like stones.

  “Is it because you don’t trust me?”

  His eyes remained rigid and in place, but slowly, they eased up a little.

  “You said you don’t trust anybody, but how can someone live that way?”

  “It’s easier than you think.” He broke eye contact and shifted his gaze away, looking at the fire that smoldered down to hot coals. Flames reflected on the surface of his eyes, the brightness making a sun appear in the darkness of space that surrounded it.

  “There has to be somebody…”

  Seconds trickled past before he spoke. “My brother.”

  “It doesn’t seem like you’re close. He’s never come to the house.”

  “Trust is an elemental connection between two people that isn’t affected by companionship or conversation. It’s unconditional. Regardless of what happens in this unpredictable life, that remains predictable.” His eyes shifted back to me. “We’re very different men. We believe in very different things. But those virtues and ideologies are irrelevant when it comes to us. There are times when I want to break that trust, but I never would. And I’m sure the temptation has happened for him as well. But it never happens. It will never happen.” He stared me down for a while. “That’s what trust is.”

  I waited for Fender to leave and retrieve my sister.

  It never happened.

  I trusted his word. I knew it would happen.

  I just wanted it to happen now.

  Fender had left early that morning and hadn’t returned. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, not even Gilbert, and I knew better than to ask. If he departed for the camp, he would tell me, so that meant he was doing something in the city.

  I explored the house again, examining the paintings in bedrooms on floors that no one ever frequented except for Gilbert and the housekeepers. I made my way to a large room with hardwood floors and mirrors on one wall. Exercise equipment was spaced out everywhere, heavy weight plates on the floor and dumbbells in the corner. Everything was big and heavy, so this must be where Fender did his workouts. He must have done it early in the morning before I woke up

  I went downstairs for lunch and took a seat at the dining table in the garden room even though I wasn’t hungry. There was just nothing else to do, not when Fender wasn’t home. When I saw him in his office, he didn’t usually talk to me, and I didn’t understand his phone calls in French, but it was still comforting to be near him.

  I didn’t want him to leave me here alone.

  But when he returned, he would have Raven.

  And I could see her all I wanted.

  “Everything alright, Melanie?” Gilbert carried the teapot and filled my teacup. “Your eyes are sad.” The steam immediately rose from the cup, a translucent white color that filled the room with the smell of peach. He set the teapot on the surface in front of my lunch.

  My elbows were on the table, and my chin was propped on my closed hand, ignoring the table manners I should exhibit. When he didn’t scold me, I knew he was cutting me some slack because of my somberness. “Fender said he would retrieve my sister from the camp, but that was days ago, and he still hasn’t gone…”

  Gilbert positioned his arms behind his back as he stood at the head of the table, dressed immaculately in his tuxedo, a slight shadow on his jawline. “You’re worried he won’t keep his word?”

  “No. I just… The wait is killing me.”

  “Well, her quarters have been prepared. He asked me to oversee the project. Perhaps that will make you feel better.”

  My hand dropped from my chin, and I straightened. “He did?”

  He nodded. “Would you like to see them?”

  I abandoned the lunch Gilbert had served and got to my feet. “Yes. Please show me.”

  Gilbert hesitated, glancing at the hot food that had just been brought from the chef’s kitchen.

  “Hot or cold, it’s still delicious. Don’t worry, I’ll eat it.”

  We made our way across the property to another building that was identical to the main palace, just a tenth of the size. It was two stories, probably the size of a single home in my old neighborhood. There were gardens around the perimeter with a patio that showed the lawns and the main palace.

  It was nothing like the cabin she had now.

  Gilbert allowed me inside, and we stepped into a living room with elegant furniture facing a TV. There was also a piano in the corner. The curtains were parted over the windows, giving a view outside.

  It was beautiful.

  Nothing like a prison.

  We explored the guesthouse, stepping into her bedroom, where she had a large bed all to herself. She had a master bathroom with a full tub and a shower, a
vanity to apply her makeup. Clothes were in the closet. Not nice things like what I had. But they would keep her comfortable.

  Gilbert followed behind me. “Fender makes a promise, he keeps it. You shouldn’t doubt him ever again.”

  I turned back around and regarded him.

  His expression contained mild offense.

  “I didn’t doubt him. I’m just anxious.”

  “Why would you be anxious if you didn’t doubt him?”

  My arms crossed over my chest, and my eyes narrowed. “Gilbert, I understand your loyalty to that man, but let’s not forget that my sister is working in a labor camp every single day that he doesn’t go back. She could be killed at a moment’s notice. I’m entitled to be anxious—so get off my ass.”

  I sat on my couch and watched TV in French, hoping to catch on to their conversations. It was such a hard language for me because I’d never been exposed to it prior to my trip to Paris. In high school, I took Spanish…and didn’t retain a word of it.

  A knock sounded on my door, telling me Gilbert had entered my bedroom.

  I kept my eyes on the TV, still annoyed with him from earlier today.

  He cleared his throat as he stood at the end of the other couch.

  I still didn’t look at him.

  “Melanie, I’d like to apologize. I think my feelings may have gotten the best of me.”

  I turned away from the TV and met his gaze, seeing the guilty look on his face. “You think?”

  He dropped his gaze, the features of his face sagging like he aged a decade in a second.

  “Please accept my sincere apology.”

  “I’m not going to tell Fender.”

  “I already knew that, Melanie. I’m sorry because I was being biased and insensitive.”

  My anger was impossible to grip, so I let it go. “It’s okay, Gilbert.”

  He came closer then indicated to the cushion beside me. “May I?”