The Palace (Chateau Book 4) Page 8

  “You know I’d do anything for you.” My hand encircled her waist before I gave her another soft kiss. “Now, let the men talk business. I’ll join you for dinner soon.”

  She gave a nod before she left my hold and walked away, her heels growing fainter and fainter as she disappeared.

  “Now that is a woman worth fighting for.” I turned back to my brother and took a drink, seeing the anger still on his face.

  He hated Raven so much it was even hard to be around her sister.

  Guess I had nothing to worry about.

  He took a drink before he spoke. “I’ve never seen you this way with a woman.” He didn’t ask how I felt. He didn’t ask for details of the relationship. He just made his assessment based on a single interaction.

  “Because this is the first time it’s happened.”

  Eleven

  The Lies We Keep

  Melanie

  It was the first time I’d ever interacted with his brother directly.

  Last time I saw him, he was screaming at Raven, telling her to run or he’d kill her.

  Throughout the entire conversation, he looked like he wanted to kill me.

  I’d taken a big risk, a risk that could ruin what I had with Fender. But when Gilbert had said he was here, I had to take the chance. I quickly scribbled that note and bunched it up in my hand. My heart still raced a million miles a minute because, any moment, I could be caught. I put my faith in the belief that Magnus still felt something for my sister—and would do as I asked.

  He didn’t rat me out on the spot, so that was a good sign.

  But he might change his mind tomorrow.

  Or the next day.

  The next morning when I woke up, I expected Fender to come at me hard with the news of my betrayal.

  It didn’t happen.

  I went into his office where he worked behind the desk—and everything was exactly the same.

  Magnus didn’t tell him.

  When we had lunch, he stared at me with an intensity that had increased significantly. The portrait had magnified his obsession. The idea of another woman being more beautiful than me was deeply offensive, and now he was on this tirade to prove that they were all wrong. It made him want me more, made him treat me the way he used to, made him forget about what I’d done.

  I wondered if I could ask him to release Raven.

  Or would I jeopardize these months of work?

  I spent the evening in my bedroom before dinner, wondering if Fender would get that phone call from Magnus at any moment. I sat on the couch and tried to study, but the paranoia continued to suffocate me.

  If Magnus were going to tell him, he would have done it already.

  I had to keep telling myself that.

  Gilbert knocked before he stepped inside, carrying a large tray that contained dinner for two. “His Highness will join you in a moment.” He set the table, two large plates with silver lids, along with tea and desserts.

  “Thank you.”

  Gilbert silently dismissed himself. He wasn’t outright rude to me, but he was never kind either.

  Minutes later, Fender silently emerged, letting himself inside my bedroom without announcement. He approached the table then stared at me in my seat on the couch. Shirtless and muscular, he looked like a professional fighter rather than someone who sat at his desk all day and yelled at people.

  I set my book and notebook on the end table then got up to join him.

  His eyes watched me draw closer, his arm extending slightly so he could get it around my waist when I embraced him. His arm scooped around me and brought me in for a soft kiss, pulling me to him and almost lifting me off the ground. The look that came with it was searing, full of devotion, completely devoid of the previous anger he’d carried for months.

  I’d never been loved by anyone the way he loved me.

  When he released his hold, he pulled out the chair for me before he moved to the chair across from me.

  I watched him go, a tremor in my throat, because I’d finally gotten back what we lost. I treasured it, and the second I asked him to release Raven, it would all be gone. No one saw the good in me the way he did. No one loved me the way he did. No one took care of me the way he did. I didn’t want to lose that.

  But I had to.

  We sat down and ate in silence.

  Fender’s portions were always much bigger than mine, having enough food for three servings instead of just one. For him to maintain that size, he had to eat the calories to support it, and I wondered what his breakfast was like. I never saw him in the morning, so I had no glimpse into that aspect of his life.

  With his eyes on me, he ate. He shoveled pieces of meat into his mouth then washed it down with water. He rarely drank scotch anymore, unless it was socially. “What is it?”

  I was about to slice into my meat when I paused at the question. I stared at him for a few seconds, not understanding the question, and then continued to cut into my dinner and place a bite in my mouth.

  He continued to eat, but his eyes remained fixed on me, waiting for the answer.

  “Is he your younger brother or older brother?”

  He slowly chewed as he listened to the question, taking his time to decide if he wanted to respond or not. “Younger.”

  “You look a lot alike.” When they were in the same room, their similarities were profound. Magnus was leaner, having an athletic build of a runner or swimmer, but he still appeared strong. Fender, on the other hand, looked like a mountain.

  “You and your sister look nothing alike.”

  “We have the same eyes.”

  “Never noticed.” He continued to eat, his mood souring slightly at the mention of Raven.

  “You guys seem good again.”

  He drank from his glass of water and kept his arms on the table, but he didn’t eat. It wasn’t a question, but he absorbed my statement like it was, searching for a response. “He’s made up for his mistake…for the most part.” His eyes flicked away, slightly glazing over. “His betrayal hurt. But I know he wasn’t himself.” His dark eyes came back to me. “A woman can do that to you…”

  I felt the waves of his stare wash over me like the high tide had rushed in. The beat against my face as if I were the rocks. They kept coming—over and over. “It’s good to forgive and forget—especially for family.”

  His stare deepened, penetrating my face like needles to the skin. “And love.” His hands went back to his utensils, and he watched himself slice the meat and stab the vegetables before putting it in his mouth, his eyes returning to me.

  My heart raced because that was the first time he’d said anything of the sort since I’d left. “How did you two get into this line of business?”

  He ate his food with no intention of answering.

  “I just want to know you better. If I intend to stay here for a long time—”

  “For the rest of your life.” His voice deepened, as if giving me a command that only had one response—to obey.

  He possessed me with just his words, reached across the table and grabbed me without ever touching me. Even when we weren’t in the same room together, his hold was unbreakable. I lived on my own in Paris for months, and even then, he still had me. I had options to date other men, to sleep with other men, to move back home, but I never did any of those things. “Then you’ll have to tell me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything, Melanie.”

  It was a deliberate sting, a reminder that he was still upset about my betrayal, that he hadn’t quite overcome it. “I just want to know you. That’s all. Why does Gilbert call you His Highness? Is that a title you picked out?”

  He stopped eating, resting his arms on the table. “No.”

  “Then where does it come from?”

  He gripped the fork between his fingers. “I’m a count.”

  My eyebrows rose. “A…count?”

  “Yes.”

  The palace. The paintings. The teacups. The butler. His social connect
ions. In an instant, it all made sense. He was handsome, intelligent, well-mannered, like he’d been born into elegance. “If you’re a count, why do you have the camp?” If he was already rich, already powerful, then what did he need it for?

  His look turned cold.

  “I just want to know you…” I egged him forward in the only way I could.

  His elbows rested on the table, and his hands came together in front of his lips. He stared me down, for seconds that felt like minutes. “Our wealth and reputation were stolen from us. I had to earn it back to reclaim my title.”

  “Who’s us?”

  “My family.” He continued to remain tense, the veins popping in his arms, like he was forcing himself to answer, forcing himself to share a piece of his life with me.

  “Who took it away from you?”

  Silence stretched. Stretched so far that the string broke. “You know me in the ways that matter. My past has nothing to do with us—”

  “If it has nothing to do with us, then why won’t you tell me—”

  “Because I don’t want to.” He raised his voice slightly, bringing me and the entire house into silence. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it. Conversation over.”

  Once we were on the bed, his foul mood evaporated.

  He was on top of me, taking me slowly, taking me over and over, his kisses on my neck and jawline, his mouth against my ear so I could listen to him breathe. When we were connected this way, he was the softest—his mind, body, and soul wrapped around mine. Without saying the words, he made me feel loved, made me feel secure in his commitment, safe in his devotion, made me feel things no other man ever had.

  When we were finished, he lay beside me, his fingers slightly grazing over my skin. He would press a kiss to my shoulder for no reason. He would stare at me like he hadn’t stared at me all day. Whatever he had of me, it just wasn’t enough. Never enough.

  I propped myself up on my elbow and turned to him, my palm planted against his stomach. I stared at the hardness of his physique, the strength of his abs, his two pecs that looked like concrete slabs.

  His fingers slid through my hair, gently brushing it out of my face. His fingers moved underneath my chin and gently lifted my eyes, wanting my stare to meet his. His fingers released me and slipped back into my hair once he had me in the right position. I was the painting—and he savored me like art.

  I saw a man who would do anything for me. Anything at all. “I want you to do something for me…” My heart raced because the moment had arrived. I didn’t plan it, but it suddenly felt like the best time to make my case, to plead with his heart that was literally in my hands.

  His eyes shifted back and forth as he waited for the request.

  “I want you to free her…for me.”

  His expression didn’t change for the first few seconds. But when the change began, it was profound. Eyes darkened in rage. The softness of his calm features immediately tightened into a wall of hardness. Now we were back in time, and he stared me down with the same hatred he had on the steps of his home. “I enjoyed your lies. But I never believed them.” His hand dropped from my hair, and he left the bed.

  The attempt immediately backfired in my face. “I didn’t lie to you—”

  “You don’t love me.” He turned back to me, his arms by his sides, his hands clenched in fists. “She’s the only reason you came back to me. I’m not a fucking idiot. And as I said before, I will never let her go.” His voice was controlled and deep, and somehow that was more sinister than if he screamed. “And I will never let you go either. I love your lies and your performances. I let you go once, but now, I owe you nothing.” He grabbed his bottoms and pulled them on.

  I was out of the bed and on my feet, naked and covered in a gleam of sweat. “I didn’t lie about that, Fender.”

  He turned away, the conversation over. “The only reason you’re alive is because my love is stronger than my hate. Count your goddamn blessings.”

  Both of my hands grabbed on to his arm. “I do love you…I do.” The emotion came out of nowhere, burning the corners of my eyes, making me realize this was no longer pretend. It had never been pretend. “Why can’t I have both? Why can’t I love you but also want her to be free?”

  He yanked his arm away and turned back to me.

  “If you really love me, you will do it.”

  “No. I warned you that I wouldn’t change my mind about this. Not now. Not ever. Not for you. I agreed once, and she humiliated me. And then you—” His jaw tightened, and his eyes filled with darkness. “You crossed me just as much as she did. And I still kept my fucking promise to you.” He slammed his palm into his chest with a strike so hard it made a loud thud, but he didn’t flinch at the hit. “The only reason she’s alive is because of what you asked of me. How dare you ask for more?”

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I don’t understand you…”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “This isn’t you.” Tears continued to fall, to streak across my quivering lips.

  He pivoted closer toward me, looking down into my face with the same hardness.

  “The man I know, the man I’ve fallen in love with, is kind, chivalrous, good… Why do these terrible things if it’s not who you are?”

  He breathed hard as he stared me down.

  “Why?” My voice broke with emotion. “Why do you keep my sister prisoner and punish her for running, when she’s doing exactly what you would do if you were in her situation? Why do you keep these girls against their will for forced labor when you’ve never forced me to do anything? Why do you not give the woman you love the one thing she wants more than anything? Why…?” The tears kept falling. “You have no idea what it’s like to love a man with everything that you have…and he stands for everything that you’re against. You have no idea what it’s like to love a man who’s literally keeping your sister a prisoner in a labor camp. And the only way I can justify it is…by believing that it’s not who you are. I truly believe that, that you’re better than this.” Everything broke through the dam and came rushing out, giving me a needed catharsis that I’d bottled inside for so long.

  His enormous chest continued to rise and fall with labored breaths. An invisible button had been hit, because for the first time, he didn’t have a distinct reaction. He continued to think about every single word I spoke.

  “Tell me…” I was on the precipice of truth, so close to understanding this man.

  He inhaled one final deep breath then went still. “You’re wrong to believe I’m anything more than what you see. I feel nothing for anyone besides Magnus—and you. I do these terrible things because I’m a terrible man. My love for you is independent of my crimes and tragedies, and it’s not enough to release my hate. Your sister will never be free. She had her chance—and she blew it.”

  Fender didn’t speak to me for a couple days.

  He didn’t order me out of his sight. When I came to the office, he didn’t tell me to leave. He just didn’t talk to me or look at me. He took his dinner alone in his room and never came to mine.

  I let him boil until the water was completely evaporated. No point in trying to be with him when he wanted nothing to do with me. But when another day passed, the isolation became overwhelming. It wasn’t just that I had no company, but I missed the company I enjoyed the most.

  I made a gentle knock against his bedroom door before I opened it.

  He wasn’t on the bed.

  I let myself inside and heard the sound of the fire in his living room. I moved farther into his quarters and found him sitting on his couch, elbow on the armrest, fingertips against his lips. A bottle of scotch was on the table in front of him, along with a glass with a few drops of liquid at the bottom.

  I stood at the opposite end of the couch and stared at the side of his face, the dark beard that he hadn’t bothered to shave. He usually shaved every morning and got a shadow by the evening. But now, he’d stopped altogether. His dark e
yes were focused on something on the wall.

  I followed his gaze to the painting.

  The portrait of me.

  Glowing in the firelight.

  There had been another painting there before, but he’d replaced it with mine, so he could stare at it whenever he felt like it, could admire my face even when I was just down the stairs from him.

  He turned his chin slightly and regarded me. Longing had replaced anger. Love had replaced hate. Desire had replaced solitude.

  A flood of emotion swept through me as I moved to the couch and took the seat beside him. My hand went to his thigh.

  His arm moved around my shoulders.

  I shifted closer to him and got into his lap.

  He brought his face close to mine and closed his eyes.

  We sat together in silence, our bodies at ease now that they were reunited, our hearts returning to their peaceful pace.

  It reinforced my belief.

  That the man and the boss were two different people.

  He would release my sister.

  And eventually…everyone else.

  Twelve

  Mon amour

  Fender

  We sat across from each other inside the restaurant. It was a round table near the window, covered in a white tablecloth with a small vase of roses in the center. The lights were dim, but the chandelier still cast a glow on her perfect face.

  In blush pink, she wore a beautiful sweetheart neckline dress, her décolletage sparkling with diamonds. Her collarbone had a distinct outline, as did her petite shoulders, so slender that the segment of muscle was visible. Her fair skin was kissable. Her full lips were kissable, too. Men couldn’t resist a glance. When they stared too long, I stared back.

  It was as if nothing had happened.

  We went back to our lovemaking.

  Our quiet evenings were spent wrapped around each other in silence.

  Whether she really loved me or not, it didn’t change the way I felt about her. Whether she meant a word of anything she said to me, it didn’t change anything either. Nothing would ever change it.