He gives a frustrated sigh. “I thought writing would be good for you. Therapeutic. You thought I didn’t know you were warning Damian with your hidden messages?”
“You read them,” I say with disgust even if I’ve always suspected as much.
“You went through my desk. When? The door was always locked.”
“I was looking for my passport. When you kicked me out of your house, I told Benoit I’d left my phone there. He took me back for it. The study was open then.”
He clenches his jaw. “I didn’t kick you out of my house. I gave you one of your own.”
Turning my face away as if I can escape the painful memory, I ask, “What does is matter how I did it? It changes nothing.”
“It matters because I can’t let it happen again. How did you get away from the guard?” When I don’t answer, he gives me a little shake. “Tell me!”
I look back at his rugged, angry features. “I changed into a different jacket and beanie I carried in my bag. I stuffed the bag under the jacket to look pregnant.”
“Zoe, Zoe, Zoe.” His gaze roams over my face. “You’re even better than what I gave you credit for.” Cupping my chin, he splays his fingers over my cheek. “Hotter when you behave like a little spy.”
“Stop it, Maxime.” I push his hand away. “Please.”
“This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell your brother we’ve had a fight, but we’ve worked things out, and you’re going home with me.”
I give a start. “How do you know I haven’t told him the truth?”
“If you had, the deal would’ve been off. He would’ve come after me, and we’d be fighting a war right now.”
“You have to realize you don’t have a hold over him any longer. If you take me, he’ll come after you. If you hurt me, he’ll kill you. He’ll cancel the deal.”
“I guess you’ll have to be convincing.”
“I’m not lying to my brother any more than I already have.”
His smile grows broader as he narrows his eyes. “What lie did you tell him not to cut us out of his business and come after me with every weapon at his disposal?”
I swallow. “That wasn’t a lie.”
“Tell me. Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
Averting my eyes, I admit the truth. “I told him I loved you.”
Gripping my chin, he turns my face back to him. Possession swims in the gray depths of his eyes. “You’re coming back with me, Zoe. I don’t care about the deal or the diamonds. I’ll fight your brother if I have to. I’ll wage any war. I won’t hesitate to kill any man I must.”
No, he won’t hesitate. Between Damian and Maxime, I’m not sure who would win. They’re both ruthless. Powerful. Determined. I think about Lina, Josh, and the baby. I can’t risk Damian’s life. Maxime knows. That is his trump card.
My voice is shaky with the tears I refuse to shed. “You’re a bastard.”
“That, we’ve already established.”
I ball my hands into fists. “I hate you.”
“I know, cherie, but you also love me.”
Scooping one arm behind my knees and the other around my shoulders, he lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me back to the lounge where he lowers me onto the sofa before kneeling in front of me. A tremor runs over my body when he grips my ankle. I stare down at his dark head as he inspects my injury as if he cares, as if there isn’t a possibility that I can sustain others by his hands. The gray that brushes his sideburns has crept a little farther, like years and not months have passed. He smells of cloves and citrus, a faint mix of a familiar winter that matches the equally familiar frosted landscape of his eyes.
Lifting his gaze to mine, he says, “Stay,” before leaving the room.
I hate how much I’m shaking. I hate how powerless he makes me.
The cabinet door slams in the bathroom, and a moment later he returns with my medicine kit. He didn’t have to ask where it was. The bastard went through my things. He invaded my privacy and searched my place, just like he did before.
Crouching in front of me again, he reaches for my bleeding foot. His fingers locking around my ankle makes me feel like a trapped animal.
In a knee-jerk reaction, I shove him away. “Don’t touch me.”
A smile curves his lips. Slowly, he pushes to his feet. His gaze is level on me, those steely eyes hardening enough to contract the skin on my arms. “My mistake. It seems kindness isn’t what you need.” He moves so close I have to crane my neck to look up at his face. “It seems a different approach will work better with you.”
I lean as far back as the couch allows. “Excuse me?”
“Take care of that cut before it gets infected.” His smile is unwavering, but it never reaches his eyes. Taking the kit, he shoves it into my hands. “Is that easier for you to understand?”
Yes. I’m well educated in his lessons. He offered to take care of me. Since I rejected the kindness, he’s retaliating by being cruel, but I’m done with his games. If it’s not real, I don’t want it. “If your caring comes with a price, you can keep it.”
“If by that you’re suggesting I don’t care, you’re wrong.”
“Caring isn’t selfish. Caring is giving without expecting something in return.”
“Is that so? Then tell me how that doesn’t make you selfish. If you love me like you claim you do, shouldn’t you give it without expecting my love in return?”
If you love me like you claim you do… “Fuck you!” How dare he demean my feelings by questioning them, feelings he is solely responsible for? It was damn hard for me to admit those feelings. He has no right to use that against me. “The problem with you, Maxime Belshaw, is that you don’t understand anything about love. To love means putting someone else’s needs before your own. To love someone else, you must first love yourself and loving yourself means not letting a toxic relationship destroy you. I think that is the problem with you. You don’t know how to love yourself.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “You think you’re the expert on me? You think I’m selfish?” His laugh is cold. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for you.”
“I never asked you to.”
Gnashing his teeth, he knocks the box from my hands. It falls on the floor with a thump. “Do not be ungrateful for what I’ve done.”
The violence jars me, locking me in place.
Dragging both hands over his head, he tilts his face to the ceiling and walks away from me. “Fuck.” He stays at the far end of the room for a moment before turning back to me. His hair is even wilder than before when he finally drops his arms to his sides. A war rages in his eyes. For a minute, he’s not my kidnapper, but the man who cares about me. He’s just a man making himself vulnerable by opening up and dropping his defenses. “I don’t want to scare you, Zoe. After your father—”
“Don’t.”
Sighing, he comes back and picks up the medicine box. “I’m going to tell you a story. A young man goes to a market and sees a beautiful woman admiring a precious object. He can see she wants it, but when she opens her purse, she doesn’t have enough money. This man, he was paid to abduct that woman. He has two choices. He can either grab her, tie her up, and drag her away, or he can go up to her and tell her how beautiful she is and buy her that precious object she wants so much. He can do that for her and be kind, inviting her to dinner. They can have a good time, have great sex. He can ask her to go away with him and knows she’ll say yes. Tell me, Zoe. Which man is kinder? Which man is the most selfless?”
“The honest one,” I whisper.
A shutter drops in front of his eyes. The man who was reaching out to me a second ago retracts back into his shell. I mourn the loss, the almost-intimacy, but I can’t lie to him. I can’t betray myself. I can’t strengthen his warped belief that lies can smooth over his crimes.
“You better take care of that,” he says flatly, pointing at my foot and handing me the medicine box.
I act on autopilot, taking out disinfectant
and a Band Aid. My hand shakes when I pull out the piece of glass. The sting burns all the way to my heart. I glance up at him. He’s watching me quietly, his face an unreadable mask.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“When I couldn’t track you down in Marseille, I knew you’d skipped the country. It wasn’t that difficult. I only had to have your family followed.”
My heart starts beating in my temples. “Damian?”
“His wife.”
I jump to my feet. “Stay the hell away from them, do you hear me?”
“Whether I stay away from them is up to you. However, you will speak to your brother tomorrow and tell him we’re back together. You’re going to take me to meet him. How things happen from there depends on how convincing you are. We can be like the couple in my story, leaving nicely, or I can kill a few people before we go. As I said, it’s all up to you, my little flower.”
His voice is even, disinterested almost. It’s as if his fire has burned out after our fight, but I know better. I know him too well. He’s pulled away, hiding deep inside himself. He’s become the cold psychopath again. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep on trying to draw him out of his shell and hoping to reach him. This love I feel, this hopeless, wrong, painful love, I’m not sure it’s worth fighting for. It almost destroyed me once. I can’t let it happen again.
When he pushes me down with a hand on my shoulder, I’m too weary to resist. I simply sink down into the cushions and let him take my foot in his hand. I watch him disinfect and bandage the cut with the meticulous attention that makes him Maxime. I sit quietly while he cleans up the broken glass and mops the floor. I don’t say a word while he boils water and makes tea.
“Have you eaten?” he asks, handing me a cup.
“I’m not hungry.” I can’t be a complete monster. “If you are, there’s food in the fridge.”
He doesn’t smile at the offer. He waits for me to drink my tea, then helps me to my feet.
“Can you put weight on that?” he asks, looking at my bandaged heel.
I flinch when I put my foot down. “I think it may take a day or two.”
Scooping me into his arms, he carries me to the bedroom and lays me down on the bed. He sets the gun on the nightstand and settles next to me before pulling the covers over us. I don’t brush my teeth or wash my face. We don’t undress. We simply lie next to each other in the layers that protect our bodies and hearts, breathing quietly in the dark, both of us staring at the ceiling.
After a long moment, a big, masculine hand rubs against my smaller one where it lies on the mattress, his pinky locking gently over mine.
Chapter 8
Maxime
Waking up early is an inaccurate statement. It’s more like I never slept. At the crack of dawn, I take the gun and go to the kitchen, leaving Zoe in bed. She’s not sleeping either, but she can do with the rest. We have a long flight ahead of us.
I find bacon and eggs in the fridge and make breakfast. I’m drinking a strong cup of coffee when Zoe walks into the kitchen, showered and changed. My gaze skims over her frilly blouse and fitted jeans. The clothes are her, the woman I got to know. She’s as beautiful as ever, even as a blonde. My heart skips a beat. The truth gives me a head rush. She’s truly here and not just a vision from one of my empty dreams. I have her back.
I pull out a chair at the breakfast counter. “I kept your breakfast warm in the oven.” Using a mitten, I serve her the warm plate of food. “Coffee?”
“Yes.” Like an afterthought, she adds, “Please.”
I pour a cup and stir in two sugars the way she likes. Gripping a strand of her hair, I twist it between my fingers. “You’re going to dye this back to your natural color.”
Her words are catty. “I thought men liked blondes.”
“I like you for who you are unless you want to be a blonde now.”
“Not particularly.” She folds her hands around the mug. “Anyway, it’s a lot of work to keep up.”
Good. It’s one step closer to who we used to be, to who we’re supposed to be. “Eat your breakfast, then call your brother. I’m going for a shower.”
She eyes the door. I smile. The keys are safely in my pocket, the alarm on the door set, and I’ve already confiscated her phone. If she thinks she can run from me again, she’s got another think coming.
While she eats, I shower and pull a clean shirt from my overnight bag. The pants are crumpled from sleeping in them, so I pull on a pair from the suit travel bag I’ve stored in Zoe’s closet. I’m ready in twenty minutes, finding Zoe in a clean kitchen. It would’ve been fifteen if I didn’t have to tend to my painfully hard dick in the shower.
Defeat sits in her shoulders, their proud line slouched. “Damian can meet us at ten.”
“If you have any loose ends to tie up, I suggest you do so now.”
From the thorough check I did on her, I know she doesn’t have any accounts. She pays cash for everything. We only have to give notice to her employer and rental agent.
While she writes a letter of resignation, I make the bed and take the bag she keeps packed from her closet.
I dump it at her feet in the kitchen. “I suppose you’ll need this.”
She gives me a cutting look.
“Come on.” Wrapping my arm around her waist, I support her while she hops down the stairs and to my car on one foot.
“How did you get in here?” she asks as I throw our bags in the trunk.
“I got someone to hack into the rental agency’s database. We pulled your code for the gate and your thumbprint for the boom.” Smiling, I open her door. “This may or may not surprise you, but there isn’t an alarm in this world I can’t override or a lock I can’t pick.”
“Right,” she says, letting me help her into her seat.
I fasten her safety belt before going around to my side. Throwing the keys up in the air, I catch them in a fist. My heart beats again. For the first time in months, I feel something other than despair. The autumn day is warm with the fragrance of honeysuckle hanging in the air. It’s pretty. It’s the only way I can experience these upbeat things. It’s the only way I can eat and taste the food, only when I have Zoe by my side.
Zoe gives directions while I drive, even if I know where Damian’s office is. The block he owns is a glass skyscraper with a helicopter landing pad on the roof not far from Newtown. Big, silver letters spell Hart Diamonds across the front of the building with the company logo depicted underneath. The place is like Fort Knox. We’re searched before we enter the parking. I don’t have a choice but to leave my gun in the visitor’s safe. Then my car is searched. After a lengthy process of signing in, we go through scanners, are searched again and made to wait in an area with heat sensitive scanners that pick up above normal body temperatures to raise a viral threat alarm. This guy leaves nothing to chance.
A woman in her late fifties meets us when we clear the final checkpoint. “This way, please.”
She calls down an elevator that works with voice recognition software and escorts us to the top floor. When we step out, Damian Hart himself is waiting in a large reception area featuring an eclectic collection of art. He’s wearing a dark suit like me, and like me, his regard is sharp and observant. If he didn’t already know who I was, he would’ve done an extensive search on me to arm himself with every piece of information he could lay his hands on. Of course I’ve done the same with him. The little media and company photos I could scavenge don’t do him justice. They portray his strong form and handsome features, but not the cunning edge to his manner or the dangerous vibe only someone of the same making can recognize.
Walking toward us with long, confident strides, he pulls his sister into an embrace and kisses her cheek. The resemblance is striking. They have the same good bone structure and dark hair—that is, when Zoe doesn’t dye hers. Zoe is a female version of her brother, smaller and paler, but not less stronger. In her own way, she’s a warrior, a fighter for justice, a spokeswoman for l
ove, and a formidable little con artist when she wants to be. Or shall I say escape artist?
“How are you?” Damian asks, searching her eyes. The question is loaded.
She gives him a broad smile. Her cheeks are flushed from the stressful situation, but it works in her favor, because she looks like a woman in love. “Good. Damian, I’d like you to meet Maxime.”
Damian turns on me with ice in his stare, but he offers a hand. “Belshaw.”
His handshake is strong. I like him. “Let’s skip the formal address, shall we?”
He tilts his head, examining me like an obstacle he’d love to pull apart. “As you wish, Maxime.”
Our voices bounce off the high walls and marble floors. It’s a rather unwelcoming reception, but I get the point he’s making.
His demeanor only warms when he takes Zoe’s arm. “Let’s take a seat.” When she limps next to him, he stops. “What happened to your foot?”
“Kitchen accident.” She waves a hand like it’s nothing. “I broke a glass and stepped on a piece.”
“You have to be careful,” he says. “Is the cut deep?”
“It’s just a scrape.” She’s flustered, but one could easily mistake her reaction as embarrassment for having been clumsy. “Don’t fuss.”
He leads her to a leather bench facing a wildlife painting. “Tea?”
“No thanks.” She looks at me like a considerate girlfriend would.
I shake my head.
Pulling her down next to him, Damian motions for me to take the single visitor’s chair. He flinches with annoyance when I drag it closer, the feet scraping over the floor.
“This was speedy,” he says, scrutinizing me with his cold smile.
“We’ve worked things out,” Zoe says. “Maxime asked for a second chance.”
“You’re giving it to him?” Damian asks with a hint of disbelief that makes me want to plant a fist on his clean-shaven jaw.
“She hardly needs your permission,” I say, drumming my fingers on the armrest.
Damian looks at me with so much scorn if he was the devil he’d set my chair on fire. “I carry my sister’s best interest at heart. Do you?”
Diamonds are Forever: A Diamond Magnate Novel (Diamonds are Forever Trilogy Book 3) Page 5