“You lied.”
Laurent watched her move behind the couch, but he would have none of that. Too many things had come between them, beginning with the way they’d met. He wouldn’t allow it now, of all times. Her took her by the arm and gently moved her back to sit next to him on the couch.
“And you let me believe what we did was a one-night stand. No contact from you for nearly six months!”
He widened his eyes, and it was all he could do not to smile at the absurdity of this complaint leading the pack of all the much, much worse ones. “You are only bringing this up now?”
“It’s been on my mind, believe me!”
He could see she was becoming more upset the more she talked. “I perhaps should have called,” Laurent conceded. “But I couldn’t come right away because I had to wrap up some business.”
“Skulduggery business? Monkey business?”
“Business that could not be left undone.”
“You were only in it for the money.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, as if to guard her body against him or to protect herself from his gaze.
“How much melodrama do you think I should allow?” he asked. “Is this the price I must pay for a few lies?”
“Lying is bad, Laurent! I know there’s a culture difference here, but I would’ve thought even the French were on board with that. You lied. To me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Which reminds me. Your English has improved remarkably.”
He shrugged. “I am on trial for my language proficiency now? If it consoles you, I always had trouble understanding you.” He smiled.
“Everything between us was a lie.”
“Surely not everything, chérie. Are your reactions to my caresses a lie? Are your whimpers when you are under me a lie?”
“Stop saying things like that! Why is it you think you’re in control, Laurent? You bilked my family out of thirty thousand euros! You pawned off a street urchin as a member of my family. You took advantage of us when we were at our most fragile—when Elise died!”
“Did you remember that when Nicole died, I too lost a niece?”
Maggie sucked in a breath. He could see her mind working. He was Gerard’s brother. Nicole’s uncle. “I had forgotten that,” she admitted. “But that just means you were in a good position to take advantage of the situation.”
“I won’t apologize for who I am.”
“I don’t know which is worse—being a criminal or being proud of it.”
He shrugged, and he could see that she was interpreting it as a gesture of nonchalance. The way she sat watching him, her face flushed, her eyes flashing, he realized he desired her strongly at this moment.
“I can’t bear to think of how you were involved with the whole Elise and Nicole thing. I can’t bear to look at you when I think of it.”
Laurent sighed. “Your sister’s story is not our story.” He pointed to the two of them on the couch. “Nicole’s story is not our story either. Neither of those sad stories has to do with you and me, together. Only you and I can write our story.”
She made a face. “Then our story is built on lies.”
“Am I the only one who lied? Did you not attempt to see Gerard, twice, after I told you not to?” He saw her hesitate, unsure. Guilty.
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“That’s not the point. The point is you said you would not see him. You promised me.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I am eager to hear how it is not. Yours was a lie by omission.”
“And yours was a deliberate con. In fact, you were conning me all along.”
“If that is so then answer this: what is it I wanted from you?”
Maggie frowned at him, but he could see she was processing the question.
“What do you mean?”
“It is not a difficult question, chérie. What do I want from you?” He could see her mind visiting all the possible ways he could be taking advantage of her. In truth, she had probably visited those possibilities many times since she’d found out who he really was.
He would not allow her any more self-indulgent complaints. If she had discovered even one thing that he had taken from her—and he knew she must have searched desperately to find it—she would be able to answer him now.
“I know what you want,” she said, the anger draining from her face. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes were large and trusting—ahhhh, my Maggie—her lips were full and quivered ever so slightly.
“What is it, mon ange?” he asked softly, touching her arm with his fingers, a moment away from bringing her to him. “What is it I want?”
“My heart.” She spoke the words as if she didn’t realize she was saying them out loud, as if she hadn’t realized she’d known all along.
He nodded and his fingers wrapped around her arm. “Your heart.”
He pulled her into his arms and her hands went to his face as he nuzzled her neck, her long hair hiding them both. “You had mine from that first week in Cannes. You cannot doubt that, chérie.”
He felt her soften in his arms. “No more lies, Laurent.
“I cannot promise that, chérie. I may need to lie to you in order to protect you or to do something that I believe is important. You see that, yes?”
She gave a gasp of frustration and incredulity.
“But while I cannot promise I won’t lie to you, I can promise to always protect you and to love you.”
Maggie looked at him, her eyes wide with longing. “But if we throw out all the rules touted in every women’s magazine in practically every nail salon in the world, how will I know if we’re going to be okay?”
Laurent ran his hand down her shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry, chérie. You will know.” Then he lowered her onto the couch and proceeded to end the discussion once and for all.
Murder in the South of France, Book 1 of the Maggie Newberry Mysteries Page 58