Those lessons I hated so much, they did serve one good purpose. They taught me how much it hurts to love. To hope. To crave scraps of affection. Maybe that’s the most important thing Maxime taught me. After what he did today, I’ll never open my heart to him again. I’ll never make myself that vulnerable for anyone. Love is a joke. It’s a laughable weakness. I’m so over it. It’s time to woman up. It’s time to seal the walls around my heart and grow a thick skin.
After a long time, he comes back inside. A puddle accumulates around his feet on the floor. Grabbing a dishtowel from the kitchen, he dries his hair. He doesn’t look at me as he stalks past me toward the room. The water in the shower comes on. I kick off the shoes that are pinching my toes and limp to the bedroom, hovering outside the door. I listen to the sounds Maxime makes as he dries his hair and dresses. I’m still standing on the same spot when he appears in the door several minutes later.
My gaze drops to the overnight bag in his hand. “Where are you going?”
“To a hotel.” He presses a phone in my hand. “You know my number.”
Without another word, he walks from the apartment, leaving the door wide open.
I stare at the empty space as the quiet slowly fills me up, at the freedom of the open door. It’s fake, that freedom, a false promise. The ring on my finger is more effective than handcuffs. The promise I made is more imprisoning than a lock and key. It’s a stronger token of ownership than a choker necklace. That’s the message Maxime left with the open door.
Footsteps fall on the landing. It’s a strong beat. Only a man’s stride can tap out that promise of dominance on marble. Why is he coming back? Did he forget something?
Refusing to cower, I limp to the door to meet him head-on.
Then I stop in my tracks.
“Hello, Zoe,” Alexis says, pushing inside.
Chapter 12
Maxime
Lying in the bed big of the honeymoon suite surrounded by petals and candles, I stare at the ceiling. I haven’t even bothered to cancel our dinner. Neither the singer, nor the cake. I’ve only scavenged enough energy to let the priest know he could send the choir home.
As darkness creeps through the window, a strange sensation grows with the shadows. It’s a brand new feeling.
Regret.
I’ve fucked this up. I’m out of control, which is why I can’t be with Zoe. The way I behaved wasn’t a well-crafted lesson. I was running on pure, undiluted emotions. I allowed my feelings to control me instead of the other way around.
That has never happened. I’m not sure what to do with these feelings, these things living in my chest. It’s a godawful sensation, downright depressing. I wish Zoe has never made me feel. It hurts like a bitch, worse than the flames that melted my skin. The intensity with which she makes me experience things is frightening. What if I don’t master these emotions? I have to get a grip on myself and fucking learn to control these foreign sentiments.
A knock on the door startles me.
Zoe?
The only way she could’ve found out where I am is by tracking my number via the geolocation app on her phone. Pushing off the bed, I go to the door with my stupid heart thumping in my chest. I pull it wide open with hope chasing the corners of the shadows away, but my wishful thinking collapses like dominoes.
My voice is dejected. “Francine.”
She’s wearing the same dress from this afternoon, a white one that shows off her legs. “Can I come in?”
I lean in the frame. “How did you find me?”
“You sent me your itinerary to go over everything and make sure you didn’t forget something, remember?”
Fuck. Yeah. I’m not thinking straight. I turn the wedding ring around my finger with my thumb, feeling the weight of it. “What you do want?”
“I reckoned you could do with a friend.”
“Wait. How did you know I wasn’t at home?”
“I went around to see if you needed anything. The way you and Zoe got married made me worry. Your car wasn’t in the parking. Thought I’d take a chance and check here. Bingo.”
“I appreciate the concern. Now good night.”
I start to close the door, but she slams one hand on the wood and the other on my chest.
The touch is repulsive on my dead skin. I back up a step, giving her the opportunity she needs to wiggle her way into the room.
She shuts the door. “Just one drink. Don’t look so scared.”
I smirk at that. Walking to the minibar, I take out the vodka and whiskey. “What do you want?”
She saunters over to the table where the champagne stands in the ice bucket. “Nothing too strong for me.” Popping the cork, she pours two glasses and hands me one. “Want to talk about it?”
I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Not particularly.”
She takes the chair and studies me as she takes a sip. “Mm. This is good stuff. Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Zoe isn’t right for you.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, I say, “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.”
“She doesn’t have what it takes to be with a man like you. She needs regular. You know? A nice guy with a nine-to-five job.”
“I am a nice guy with a nine-to-five job.”
She snorts. “You gave it all up for her, and this is how she treats you.”
My muscles tense, tightening my shoulders. “Did you come here to criticize my wife?”
“I knew this was going to happen. I knew she was going to dump you and throw it all back into your face.”
“So,” I lean back on an arm, “you came here to tell me I told you so?”
She leaves the glass on the table and gets to her feet. Walking over to me, she unzips the dress. “I came here to offer you consolation.”
Her perfume makes my nostrils itch. It’s young and sophisticated like green apples and cherry blossoms. It’s nothing like roses.
Stepping out of her panties, she bunches them in a fist and drags them over my chin before bending down and bundling them in my jacket pocket while whispering in my ear, “You can even keep the trophy.”
I shove her away. “Stop it, Fran. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
She stumbles a step. Hurt twists with tears in her eyes. “I waited for you. I waited for you, Maxime. I waited for this day.”
“For the day Zoe kicks me out?”
She reaches for me. “For the day you realize how wrong you’ve been about her.”
Catching her wrist, I stand. “I’ve been wrong about some things, but Zoe isn’t one of them.”
She yanks free of my hold. “How can you be so blind? You used to be the boss. What are you now, Max? Huh? What have you become for her? A weak man, a pussy. With me, that would’ve never happened.”
Her words run off me like water. They don’t move me. They don’t spark anger. They don’t matter. I don’t care. I do see now that keeping Fran on my payroll was a mistake.
“I thought you’d moved on,” I say. “Clearly, that was my error.”
“What?” Nostrils flaring, she locks her fingers into fists. “What are you saying?”
“It’ll be better that you hand in your resignation than letting me fire you.”
Her face goes white. “I need that job.”
“I’ll give you a good letter of recommendation. I can even put in a good word for you with a few of my contacts.”
She grabs the lapels of my jacket. “No, Maxime. Please!”
Taking her wrists, I move her hands away. “This has gone on for too long. I let it go too far. As I said, it’s my mistake. I’ll carry the blame.”
“I have bills to pay!”
“I’ll pay you six months’ salary. That should tie you over until you find another job.”
“Six months?” she cries out. “That’s what I’m worth to you?”
“You’re an employee. Nothing more. I’m treating you more than fairly.”
Wiping her nose with her hand, she says, “Okay, look, I und
erstand.”
“That’s a mature approach.”
“Just let me finish this month. Give me time to get my ducks in a row. You know how it will look if you make me walk before the month is over.”
It will spell out in capital letters that she’s been fired. “At the end of this month, you’re out.”
Pulling her shoulders square, she says, “Your loss.”
“You should go now.”
She stares up at me. At one time, I thought she was attractive. The only pretty I see now is Zoe. My wife. The irony is too funny not to laugh. The sound is hollow. I married the woman who doesn’t want me and am throwing out the one who does.
She pinches her lips together. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not laughing at you. The joke is on me.”
Her green eyes soften. “You really feel for her, don’t you?”
“More than I’ve ever felt. So much, it’s fucking frightening.” Which is why I’m here. To get my shit together. To find my control. Maybe to punish Zoe a little in a disgustingly immature way.
She sniffs. “It’s cold. May I please borrow your jacket? I’ll drop it off when I come in to work tomorrow.”
Shrugging out of the pinstripe, I hand it to her. “Want me to call you a taxi?”
She slips on the jacket without bothering to zip up the dress. “I’m good.” Pulling the sides of the jacket around her, she walks from the room.
I’m left alone once more with these feelings, and fuck me if I can make any sense of anything better than before.
Chapter 13
Zoe
“What do you want, Alexis?” I ask, backing into the kitchen. The phone Maxime gave me is still in my hand. I clutch it tightly.
Alexis looks around the space. “Nice place.”
I stop close to the knife block. “Why are you here?”
“I just thought I’d swing by to congratulate you and Max.” He cranes his neck to look over my shoulder toward the bedroom. “Pity I’ve missed my brother.”
I think quickly. “He’s having a shower. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
Alexis smiles. “Liar. Sylvie told me your wedding didn’t go down as planned. Francine said Max is spending the night at a hotel.” He drags his gaze over me. “I have to say, you look a lovely mess.”
“How nice of them to run to you with their gossip.”
“Oh,” he tilts his head, “it was nothing like that. I called Max. Since he didn’t answer, I called Sylvie. After she’d filled me in, I tried Fran. Fran and Max have always been close. She was my best bet of finding him. From what Sylvie told me, I was worried about my brother.”
Right. If Alexis is trying to hurt me with the Fran and Max being close part, it’s working. Maxime shouldn’t have forced me into marriage like this. I’m still freaking out about it. That doesn’t mean I want him to run into Francine’s arms. What Alexis is fabulously successful at is scaring me. I slip the phone onto the counter and close my hand around the shaft of the carving knife. “If you came here just to gloat, you can leave. I want you to go—now.”
“Tsk, tsk.” He advances. “What are you going to do? Stab me?”
I point the knife at him. “If I must.”
“Why would I want to hurt you?” He smiles. “After all, I’m in your debt. If not for you, I wouldn’t be the boss.”
“What?” My grip falters on the knife. It slips in my sweaty palm. I catch it just before it drops to the floor. “What do you mean you’re the boss?”
“Didn’t my brother tell you?” He stops by the counter in front of me and leans his arms on the top. “In order to marry you, he had to step down.”
Step down? “I don’t understand.”
“You deserve a golden star for your timing.”
“My timing?”
“We were about to sit down for breakfast with Izabella Zanetti’s family when Max’s guard called to say you’d run. Of course my brother immediately wanted to go after you.” He waves a hand in the air and rolls his eyes. “Family dramas. You know how those go. Naturally, Izabella’s father was very upset. What a slap in his daughter’s face. What a scandal for a man to abandon his engagement party to chase after his mistress. Izabella’s father threatened to annul the contract. My father threatened to disown Max if he dishonored the deal by leaving. What did Max do? He threw them both the finger and ran after you.”
“Your father disowned him?”
He pouts. “It broke my mother’s heart. She’ll never forgive you, by the way. You see, Max has always been her favorite. In any event, as the next in line, I took Max’s place in the business and family. We made a new deal. I got to marry Izabella and secure the contract with the Italians. The house was a nice bonus. I know Max is going to miss it.”
“He gave up his house?” I ask with a growing feeling of sickness.
“The house comes with the business. Max did put a lot of time and heart into the place. Splendid job he did with the renovations.” He looks around. “This isn’t bad, either.”
“Is this why you came here?” The knife suddenly feels too heavy. I drop my arm at my side. “To tell me about Maxime’s misfortune?”
“I came here to warn you.” All pretense of friendliness vanishes from his face. “Don’t get too attached to your husband, because I’m going to squash him like a bug.”
My whole body tenses. “Maxime is too powerful.”
“He’s no one,” he says with a sneer. “He has no more power. I’m going to ruin him, and I’m going to kill him when I’m done.”
I grip the edge of the counter, fear mixing with that sick feeling. “He’s your brother. Why do you hate him so much?”
“Maxime has always taken everything for himself. The business, the money, you.”
“He’s the oldest. It’s not his fault he was born first, and he took me to save me from you.”
He snorts. “Save you?”
“I’ve seen how you treat women, remember?”
“He didn’t tell you,” he says, his smile stretching.
“Tell me what?”
“Those women, my darling, were prostitutes. You, on the other hand, were destined to be my wife.”
The strength leaves my legs. My knees wobble. It’s only my grip on the counter that keeps me up. I couldn’t have heard right. “What did you say?”
“The plan was that Maxime would extract you from South Africa and deliver you to me. Since he was already promised to Izabella with only the final details of the contract to be ironed out, I would’ve married you to force an alliance with your brother.”
I can’t believe it.
“You can understand why I was a little more than pissed off,” he continues. “Not only did Max claim the big prize by signing the contract for Izabella, but he needed to take everything. Like the selfish bastard he is, he needed to steal my wife and make her his mistress so he could have both of you.”
I think about the windowless room under the water level in Venice where Maxime locked me up to demonstrate my fate with Alexis, to force me to choose between them.
“You would’ve locked me up,” I exclaim with intensifying panic. “Tortured me. Raped me. Let your men have their fun, too.”
“Maybe I would’ve locked you up to keep you from running and have a little fun with my men. Where’s the harm in sharing? An orgy can be exciting, especially for a woman. You lucky bitches can have multiple orgasms whereas us poor guys have to wait between hard-ons. I wouldn’t have tortured you, though.”
“Your idea of excitement sounds close enough to torture.”
He shrugs. “Each to his own. In any event, when my brother is dead, you’ll need protection.” His expression sharpens. “Marseille isn’t safe for a mediocre man, let alone a pretty little girl on her own.”
I need time to digest all this. “Get out.” I point at the door. “Now.”
Smiling, he straightens. “You may want to be nice to me, kitten.
You may need me sooner than you think. When that time comes, I think I’ll claim you as my mistress.”
Over my dead body. Whereas Maxime specializes in mental and emotional torture, Alexis is an expert in the physical. They’re two of a kind. Maybe they deserve each other after all.
He walks to the door with the arrogant stride of a victorious man. Waving his fingers at me, he says, “Chao, belle.”
The minute he’s gone, I run to the door and lock it. To be on the safe side, I pull out the key and push it under one of the books on the bookshelf. Backtracking, I keep my eyes on the piece of wood that stands between Alexis and me. It’s nothing to break down a door. Look at Maxime. He got through a security gate and alarm system, not to mention the double security at the complex entrance. How much easier is a thin little door?
With a racing pulse, I retrieve the phone and knife, carry both to the bathroom, and leave them on the chair as I strip out of the dress. I leave the gown where it drops in a heap on the floor. My chattering teeth are not only from the cold.
After a quick, warm shower, I dress in my flannel pajamas and crawl into bed. Too exhausted to stay awake and vigilant, I fall asleep with the knife under the pillow and the phone in my hand.
Chapter 14
Zoe
A persistent noise penetrates my dream. I’m not ready to wake up. I’m still tired. The noise doesn’t let up, though. As I slowly come to my senses, overwhelming anxiety slams into me when I remember where I am and why. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and squint at the time on the screen of my phone.
Seven o’clock.
It’s dark in the room. I haven’t closed the curtains, but sunrise isn’t for another quarter of an hour. It’s still raining.
I’m groggy and starving. My throat aches, and a headache pulses in my temples. Shivers run over my body. Every muscle hurts as if I’ve completed a triathlon.
The cause of the noise registers in my fuzzy brain. A vacuum cleaner.
Throwing the covers aside, I get out of bed and pull on a pair of socks and a robe. Even the slight pressure of my own hands on my skin hurts. Tying the belt of the robe, the one Maxime restrained me with yesterday, I go to the door. Francine is vacuuming the lounge. I tense. A black suit jacket that hangs over a chair back at the dining room table catches my eye.
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