by Penelope Sky
Our dinner was mostly spent in silence. He didn’t seem to mind that.
We finished our meal, he paid the tab, and then we got into his car and left.
But we didn’t head home. We moved deeper into Paris.
His hand held mine on the center console, and he drove through the busy streets of Paris, everyone enjoying the summer evening.
“Where are we going?”
His eyes remained on the road.
When I didn’t get a response, I looked at our joined hands, his big hand wholly encompassing mine.
He turned down a few streets before he stopped and waited for a car to move from its position at the curb. It seemed to be one of his men holding the spot for him because he immediately drove off the second Fender approached.
We parked, walked up many steps, and then stopped at the sight.
The Louvre.
The stone plaza was empty of tourists. The windows of the palace behind it were lit like there were guests inside. And the space around the glass prism was full of lit white candles everywhere.
Everywhere.
There was a narrow path down the middle for the two of us.
With my hand in his, he guided me forward, approaching the pyramid made of glass.
My eyes surveyed the sea of candles around us. They flickered as we passed. Flickered again when a summer breeze moved through. The fountain was the only audible backdrop. All the entrances to the area were blocked off by ropes.
I looked at him, waiting for an explanation for the most beautiful sight I’d ever witnessed.
He ignored me and took me to the base of the pyramid, a wider area that was open in the field of candles.
I looked at it close-up, felt the wind ruffle my hair, felt the heat lick my skin. My heart raced now, pounded in my chest because something was about to happen. “It’s beautiful. But…what’s it for?”
He pulled his fingers away from mine and slid both of his hands into his pockets. He looked up at the structure before us, his gaze casual, like arranging this was no big deal. He could do anything—because he owned everything and everyone.
“I’ve always wanted to come here… It just never worked out.”
He turned to look at me, hands still in his pockets.
I went still, paralyzed by that stare.
He pivoted to face me head on. Drew close. Stared into my eyes like he hadn’t gazed at me over dinner.
Something was about to happen. I could feel it in the air around us. I could breathe it in, and every time it reached my lungs, it burned.
He pulled his left hand from his pocket, and within his fingers was the biggest diamond ring I’d ever seen.
I sucked in a breath. My heart did a weird somersault. My stomach dropped to my feet.
He stared at it in his fingertips for a moment, turning it slightly so the diamond reflected the array of candles around us. “This belonged to Countess Baudelaire—my great-grandmother.” He continued to admire it, the enormous rock made small by his big hand. “I tracked it down. Paid a fortune. But it’s a family heirloom—and it should stay in the family.”
Oh my god.
He lifted his gaze to me. With a hard stare and a depth to his eyes, he grabbed my left hand and slid the ring on to my finger. “Now you’ll be Countess Baudelaire—my countess.”
The ring was snug on my finger, and the second it was in place, it held a weight I could barely carry.
He pulled his hands away and waited for my reaction.
I looked down at my hand, seeing a diamond that belonged in a museum, seeing a history so rich and deep. My thumb brushed over the diamond, a rock that could easily cut me if I weren’t careful. I lifted my gaze and looked at him again, realizing he’d never asked me to marry him.
He just told me that I would.
There was a short moment of euphoria, because everything about this proposal was perfect. The scene. The ring. The man. It was a Cinderella story, but instead of a prince, I got a count. I got a palace.
But it wasn’t enough.
I slipped the ring back off my finger.
There was a subtle change to his expression, but that slight difference conveyed so much.
“How can you expect me to say yes?” With the ring in my fingertips, I stared at him.
He was quiet, moving his hands back to the pockets of his slacks. His eyes were trained and steady, focused on me, like the barrel of a gun pointed at a target.
“I—I can’t.” I held the ring back out to him.
He didn’t take it.
I continued to hold the ring in front of me.
He didn’t move.
“I’ll say yes—if you free the girls.”
His answer was immediate. “No.”
He’d put his heart on the table, and I leveraged that against him as best as I could.
“You have no say in how I run my business. Nor will you ever.” His voice remained low, but it was so hard and callous.
I looked at the ring again, seeing a future I still wanted, inexplicably. “Then release my sister.” My fingers moved the ring back over my knuckle, the weight back in place.
His eyes glanced at the ring on my finger before he looked at me again.
“You said I’m loyal. So, you can’t expect me to marry you while my sister is in that godforsaken place. Let her go—and I’ll marry you.”
His stare was endless. Hostile. Annoyed. Furious. A breath escaped his lungs and made his nostrils flare. But slowly, he let all of that go. He came back to me. He drifted back to the moment we shared. “Alright.”
Rose petals were on the bed. White candles glowed on every surface, filling the room just the way they did at the Louvre. The door had been fixed, and a line of red petals led to the bed.
I moved forward, constantly aware of the weight of commitment on my left hand.
Clothes dropped behind me.
My heart raced. It was the same room, same kind of evening, but tonight was different.
My life was forever different.
A powerful arm slid over my stomach and pulled me into his bare chest, his head dipping to kiss my exposed neck. He sucked the skin as he bunched the dress in his grasp, treating the designer dress like a dirty rag. His hand moved up and cupped my ass, his breaths moving straight to my ear.
I closed my eyes and felt my insides melt.
He whispered into my ear, “You will give me strong sons. You will give me beautiful daughters. You will be my one and only until death takes me. My countess.” His hand pulled down the zipper until the dress came apart and slid to my feet. His kisses turned more heated, his hand dipped into the front of my panties and rubbed my clit as he devoured me, his lips growing harder, more aggressive.
I held on to his arm for balance and writhed at his touch, my hips rocking to press into his fingertips because it felt so damn good.
He brought me to the edge before he removed his fingers.
I exhaled in frustration, but I knew he only stopped because he could give it to me better than that.
We made it to the bed, his body crowding me on the mattress, and after my thighs were separated by his narrow hips, he slid inside me, eyes on me, possessing me with more than just his touch, but his mind, body, and soul.
With his eyes on me, he made love to me.
Over and over.
Telling me he loved me. I was his one and only. Till death do us part.
My eyes opened to a view of the windows.
Sunlight didn’t break through the gaps in the curtains like every other morning.
Because it was noon.
I was immediately aware of my left hand because of the brand-new weight I’d carry for the rest of my life. My hand lifted to my face, and I looked at the oval-shaped diamond, the rock that was so big you wouldn’t be able to miss it if it fell on the ground. It shone in the light, a million little prisms with every slight movement I made.
The man who gave it to me was still asleep.
He was on his back, sprawled out and taking up most of the bed, his hand stretched out to me like it’d been on my stomach at some point during the night. Gentle breaths filled and depleted his lungs. The sheets were bunched at his waist, as if he’d gotten warm sometime during the night. He was a behemoth of a man, giving more protection than an automatic weapon.
I stared for a while, taking in the sight of the man I would marry.
My fiancé.
Guilt pulled at my stomach—but not for the reason it should.
I slowly crept out of bed and got to the edge. My feet planted on the rug, and I ran my fingers through my messy hair. My makeup had never been washed off, so now my eyes were puffy from the eye shadow and mascara. My fingers rubbed the corners, getting piles of goop on my fingertips.
The candles were dark because Fender must have blown them out at some point. Rose petals were in my hair, and one fell out and drifted to the floor. I got to my feet then slowly tiptoed around the bed toward the closet.
“Get back here.” His deep voice was raspy, his vocal cords still asleep.
I turned back to him.
He looked at me with tired eyes before he patted the sheets beside him. His hair was messy, there was a streak of lipstick at his jawline, and his sleepy look was sexy. It was one of the rare times he looked harmless.
I slowly crept back, stopping to grab one of his shirts from a drawer on the way. I got back into bed beside him.
He immediately pulled me close, his arm hooking around the small of my back, his lips brushing my hairline. “I’m tired of waking up and you’re gone.” He closed his eyes once more and held me there, his fingers lightly caressing me, holding me as he slowly woke up.
We lay there for a while before a quiet knock sounded on the door. The noise of the tray settling against the hardwood floor was audible, along with the sound of Gilbert’s retreating steps.
It must be breakfast.
I moved from his hold again and retrieved the tray, placing it on the dining table in the sitting room. I used the drapery pullers next and opened the windows, letting the daylight invade every corner of the bedroom.
Fender sat up in bed, his arms moving to his knees, and he rubbed his eye with his palm.
I set the table then took a seat, pouring a hot cup of coffee.
He joined me a moment later, in his black boxers, scruff on his jaw, a slight look of annoyance in his gaze. He sat across from me but didn’t reach for the coffee or anything else. His look pierced me from across the table.
I added cream and sugar, eyes down.
He continued to stare, drilling harder, demanding an explanation for my behavior.
When my fingers gripped the handle of the mug, I noticed my ring there, brilliant and beautiful. I released the mug and tightened my fingers into a fist, seeing the diamond reflect different spectrums of light.
I lifted my gaze and looked at him.
He could convey so much with just his expression—and right now, he was borderline furious.
“I…I have to tell you something.”
Instantly, all the tightness of his features relaxed. He’d probably expected me to give the ring back because I’d changed my mind.
I didn’t just agree to marry him to save my sister. I did it because I couldn’t picture myself with anyone else but him. That made me feel guilty for my dishonesty. Made me feel disloyal. Made me feel like I didn’t deserve him. “When I came back to you…I did it to save her.” I dropped my gaze because I couldn’t look at him, not when I was admitting that the foundation of this relationship was a lie.
The silence lasted a long time.
When he said nothing, I looked at him again.
His expression hadn’t changed. “I know, chérie.”
I inhaled a breath in relief. Whenever he called me that, I knew we would be okay.
“I know that was why you told me you loved me too.”
Guilt flooded my heart then circulated into all my veins.
“But I didn’t care. Still don’t.”
My fingers played with my ring, spun it back and forth. The diamond was too big to spin all the way around my finger, so I had to turn it back and forth between the two fingers on either side.
“Do you love me now?”
The question caught me off guard because it hurt so much. It hurt that he had to ask that, because what we had was real. Even if it was wrong, it was true. I shouldn’t love a man like him, but I did anyway, and that told me it was undeniable. Tears burned my eyes, provoking emotions that hadn’t been there just a second ago. “With all my heart.”
His hard gaze continued for a while. Then his eyes lightened. His energy changed.
And he smiled.
Instead of working in his office, he chose to spend time with me.
Our mornings were spent in bed, making love like we hadn’t done that all night long. Then he would take me to Paris. We would get lunch, do some sight-seeing, go shopping, stuff that regular couples did.
With his hand in mine, he led the way.
Giving me a life I’d never thought I could have.
He bought me anything I wanted, whether it was a scarf or diamond earrings. Whenever a man came too close to me, he literally gave them the death stare until they scurried off. If a woman hit on him, he acted like she didn’t exist.
I was the only thing that mattered to him.
His head never turned.
And I knew it wasn’t for show.
We returned to the palace, and Fender carried my shopping bags into the foyer before he set them down for Gilbert to retrieve.
Gilbert emerged when he arrived. The old Gilbert would be ready the second the guards notified him that Fender was at the gate, but it was wrong to compare them, despite the now-same name. “Dinner is almost ready. Will you be dining in your room this evening?”
“Yes.” Fender barely looked at him before he took the stairs.
I followed behind him, and we entered our bedroom.
He removed his watch and pulled his shirt over his head, standing shirtless near the bed.
“You don’t like Gilbert.”
He turned to me, undoing his jeans. “I don’t like anybody.”
“I know it’s hard, but you can’t compare him to…”
Fender didn’t talk about the first Gilbert, didn’t talk about anything really, but it was obvious it still haunted him. He’d lost someone he cared about, and it made him shut down in many ways. He ignored what I said and pulled off his shoes then stripped down to his boxers.
I let it be.
After he’d said he would release Raven, we hadn’t talked about it. I assumed he would make good on his word next time he went to the camp—which was probably any day now. I kicked off my shoes and got undressed, choosing to wear one of his t-shirts instead of my fancy clothes. We’d become fully domesticated now, like a couple that sat around in their pajamas when they were home.
He walked up to me, his gaze dark, like he had something to say.
I waited. I knew him better than anyone else, so I recognized all his subtle cues. I understood what he said without saying a word. I didn’t have to see his anger because I could absorb it through my skin. I didn’t even need to hear him say he loved me—because I could feel that too.
“I leave tonight.”
Like I received devastating news, I inhaled a deep breath. “Why do you always tell me at the last minute—”
“Because you hate it every time I leave.” His big hands cupped my face. “I hate it too.”
The last time he left, everything fell apart.
“I’d stay…but I can’t. I have work to do.” His eyes were full of apology. “I’ll bring you with me if that makes you more comfortable.”
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to be with him always. I wanted his massive size beside me every single night.
He watched my eyes, studying my reaction.
But that place was the source of my nightmares. The source of my pain
. The very reason we shouldn’t be together. My sister would be removed from the camp, so it was best never to think of it again, to pretend it didn’t exist. I couldn’t pretend if I was there.
His hands slowly dropped from my face. “I understand.”
I hated to disappoint him, but I just couldn’t do it. “You’ll release my sister when you’re there?”
He nodded.
“And when she’s in Paris…can I see her?”
His look suddenly turned angry. Out of nowhere. Like an asteroid that appeared in the sky with no warning whatsoever. He stepped back, nostrils flaring, eyes closing, hands clenching. “No.”
In shock, all I could do was stare.
A knock sounded on the door, announcing Gilbert’s arrival.
As if the conversation was over, Fender turned away. “Enter.”
Gilbert let himself inside and carried the tray of food to the table.
My eyes never left Fender. “What do you mean, no?”
He turned back to me, surprise in his eyes, like he expected this conversation just to go away.
“You expect me to marry you but never see my sister? Who’s with your brother?”
His voice boomed like someone had cranked up the volume on a stereo. “I’m letting her go. Why isn’t that enough for you?” He turned on me, skin tinted red with rage, his eyes hostile.
Gilbert stilled at the table then quickly arranged the platters, trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.
My eyes narrowed on Fender’s face, all the love in my heart gone. “How do you expect me to be happy when I can’t see the only family I have left—”
“Why am I not enough for you?” He rounded on me, his powerful arms clenched at his sides, staring me down like I was the enemy, not the woman he loved. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve given you every single part of me. Why the fuck is that not enough?”
I stepped back, my eyes shifting back and forth between his, realizing there was something I was missing.
Gilbert hurried out the door and silently shut it behind him.
“What aren’t you telling me?” My voice escaped as a whisper, because when he was irrational, it somehow made me turn calm.