The Reigning and the Rule

by Calia Read

  “Out.”

  “Stay.” I lean in.

  Étienne mimics my movements. “Out.”

  “Stay.”

  We both look at Nathalie as if she’s our loyal puppy and needs to obey her master. She stares at us, her eyes wide as saucers. Livingston clears his throat.

  “If I may speak for Nat and me, we’re gonna go.” He points at me. “You may do damage with your words, but my brother is taller and larger than you, and I’m afraid he might rip me from limb to limb if I don’t leave. We’ll give you two a moment alone.”

  He walks toward the door with Madame Bourgeois and her assistant before him, and Nat scurrying after him. “It’s indecent! He’s engaged to someone else. What if Scarlett finds out?”

  “She’s not gonna find out,” Livingston says. The rest of his words are cut short as he shuts the door.

  I want nothing more than to avoid Étienne, but in this bedroom smothered with lace and satin, he fills the room with his masculine presence. I take a deep breath and stare at the wall.

  Slowly, he circles the room, staring at the fluffs of lace. He picks up a few articles of clothes before he drops them. “Are you gonna ignore me the entire time you’re here?”

  My lips pull into a thin line.

  He chuckles, which makes me wanna punch him in the face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “I’m getting really tired of people speaking French in front of me and me not understanding a damn thing.”

  “Ah, alas, she can speak! And if you’re so upset about us speakin’ French, learn the language.”

  “Learn to wait for the woman you claim to love. Oh, wait. You can’t even do that!” I hotly retort.

  Anger flares in his eyes, and within seconds, he’s in front of me. “You don’t believe I waited? You think my love for you is just a ruse?”

  I go toe to toe with him. “You’re not the innocent one here. If that was the case you wouldn’t be engaged to someone else right now, would you?”

  A muscle along his jaw clenches as he glares down at me. “I still love you. I will always love you.”

  “Vous êtes arrogant et égoïste!”

  Étienne arches a brow. “Where did you learn that?”

  I pick at my cuticles. “Your brother. We thought it’d be funny for me to learn some French words just to see the look on your face. And you know what? It was totally worth it.”

  “Je suis désolé pour tout ce que j’ai fait. Si je pouvais revenir en arrière, je le ferais. Je t’en supplie, pardonne-moi. Je t’aime.”

  I frown at him. “What did you say?”

  Étienne blinks at me and gives me an innocent expression. “Nothin’.”

  My shoulders sag in defeat. It’s a never-ending loop, but my heart craves this. Him. More than anything in the world. And I wish there was a way for me to tell Étienne to fuck off. For me to say I was over him, but I can’t. Instead, I had to put on the best performance of my life and pretend I was fine when I’m really dying inside. “What do you need, Étienne?” I say quietly.

  “I want to speak with you.”

  “We already talked. You broke into my room in the middle of the night. We talked during the little horseback riding adventure your fiancée was at, remember?”

  “Yes. I remember all those times.”

  “Good. Then there’s nothing else we need to say.”

  I hate his eyes on me. They’re like fire and leave a trail of flames wherever they go. I fight the urge to grab the comforter from the bed and drape it around me like a cloak. I have a feeling if I did, that still wouldn’t be enough.

  Étienne’s unnervingly quiet. Nothing new there. What’s causing tension to build in the room and me to shuffle from foot to foot is the fact I’m wearing next to nothing, and he hasn’t stopped staring. No matter how many times I stare back into his green eyes, I can’t figure out what’s running through his mind.

  “I don’t believe that to be true. I think there’s plenty to be said.”

  I throw my hands in the air and shake my head. Of course, he would say that. He’s arguably the most baffling and infuriating man I’ve ever met. My hands fall to my sides. “Why is that? Enlighten me.”

  “I believe it’s because you’ve been evadin’ me at every turn. Our conversations go—”

  “I’m not evadin’ you,” I say, mimicking his accent.

  “You are. You know you are.”

  He’s right, but I’m hardly going to concede that little tidbit to him. Stubbornly, I cross my arms over my chest. Wrong move. At once, Étienne’s eyes zero in on the movement, but other than a slight lift of his brow, he doesn’t look physically affected. I want to lower my arms, but I can feel my nipples hardening. So I grab the material of robe between my middle and index finger, then extend my thumb across my chest and scramble to draw the material together.

  Even with my cleavage out of Étienne’s line of vision, he continues to stare. I clear my throat, and he jerks his head up, his eyes meeting mine. He looked like a kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

  “Even if I was evading you, which I’m not,” I rush out. “I think it’s for the best. I’m too angry right now,” I confess.

  Étienne appears shocked by my admission, but it feels wonderful to tell the truth. I swear my heart takes a giant sigh of relief.

  He looks down at the ground and drags a hand through his hair. Hair that’s gradually growing out. The strands are curling around his ears. It gives him a boyish appearance and brings him closer to the Étienne I knew. Seeing what was once mine but never would be again only puts a spotlight on the hollow space Étienne once filled.

  I look down at the ground and continue to clutch the material of my robe. “I don’t like being upset with you. It doesn’t feel right to me, but when I see you, I think of Scarlett, and I’m reminded you’re engaged to someone else.” I lift my head and see Étienne’s mere steps away. In seconds, he could haul me in his arms. I ignore the thought and press on. “It hurts to think of you with someone else. It hurts, and it makes me incredibly angry, so I lash out. I know I do. I know it’s not mature. I’m to the point where it’s either yelling at you every time I see your face or not speaking at all. I think not speaking will be the healthier choice between the two.”

  “I don’t want that,” Étienne says.

  “Neither do I. But it’s for the best.”

  Étienne’s lips go into a firm line. He’s furious. In a rare moment, I can see his emotions in his eyes. However, he doesn’t put up an argument like I anticipated. He merely clenches his jaw and gives me a blunt nod. “Very well. I will respect your wishes.”

  At that, my brows shoot up. “You will?”

  “Of course.”

  My grip on the robe loosens until I finally let go. All I can say is, “Oh.”

  Étienne nods and takes a step back, crossing his arms, and leans against the wall. I thought our conversation was over with, but he looks like he’s making himself at home. What else does he have to say?

  I glance over my shoulder for a place to sit, but the entire room feels stuffed to the max with yards of silk and lace. Awkwardly, I stand and watch Étienne.

  “Soooo,” I draw out slowly.

  Étienne tips his head against the wall and watches me with hooded eyes. “I have a question.”

  Of course, he does.

  “About?”

  “Nicholas.”

  My heart picks up. I start to feel as if I’m a bug beneath a microscope. “What about him?”

  “He’s sweet on you.”

  “Sweet on me?” I question, my lips curling into a small smile.

  Étienne doesn’t return the smile. “He has feelin’s for you,” he elaborates.

  “Oh.”

  His tired green eyes meet mine. “Do you feel somethin’ for him?”

  The seconds tick by as I debate whether to tell him the truth. The truth wins. “I don’t know.”

  Étienne mutters a curse word under his
breath. “You asked me!”

  “I know. However, I didn’t anticipate you admittin’ you could think of Nicholas as more than just a friend.”

  I’ve been remarkably calm and forthright with Étienne these past few minutes, but my anger boils over, causing me to advance on him.

  “Let me know if I have this clear. You can ask another woman to be your wife, but I admit I potentially have feelings for another man, and you’re pissed?”

  “Of course, I’m upset. You’re Serene!”

  “But you have no right. You lost that right the minute you asked Scarlett to be your wife. You understand that, correct?”

  “Serene, I don’t need you to speak to me as though I’m not aware of how muddled this entire situation is.”

  I snort. “The double standard seems lost on you, though.”

  His eyes narrow as he pushes away from the wall. “It’s not. Believe me.”

  As Étienne moves closer, my mind begins to spin. Even when I’m upset with him, my body still responds to Étienne. When I smell the clean, crisp scent of him, I wait in anticipation.

  It was an uncontrollable response that made me all the angrier. I want what I cannot have. My hands curl into small fists, and I fight to breathe in and out evenly. “Look,” I start slowly, “I’m probably going to say something I’ll regret later, so you should go.”

  “No.” Étienne drags his hands through his hair and gives me a look filled with frustration. “I am exhausted with our war of words. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Sighing heavily, I look toward the window. “But we’re only human. We react to situations in different ways and handle our pain the best way we know how. Doesn’t make it the right way. It simply means we’re trying to survive.”

  At this point, I’m all but pleading for Étienne to understand where I’m coming from. We’re both in pain, and the truth is, I’ll probably continue to lash out at him because it’s a known fact we hurt the ones we love the most.

  Étienne’s whip-smart eyes continue to drill holes into me. His steps are slow and deliberate. I stand my ground and try to appear unaffected, but as he approaches me, my hands begin to shake. I lace them behind my back.

  Étienne doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of me with only an inch of space separating us. I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

  “There’s one thing we have in common,” he declares.

  We have many things in common, but I’m not going to point that out. I merely arch a brow and wait for Étienne to continue.

  “We both still love each other.”

  The invisible rope around my heart pulls in Étienne’s direction with his words. I want to believe what he says, but his actions prove otherwise. His vow to me that I would always be his surviving trace flashes through my mind, causing my temper to go from tepid to boiling within seconds. I stab a finger against the solid wall of his chest.

  “Don’t,” I hiss.

  Étienne wraps his hand around my finger, holding it in place. He leans in until our noses brush. “No. It’s the truth.”

  “It used to be,” I point out.

  “It still is,” he insists.

  “No, it’s not.”

  His lips draw into a thin line before he jerks my hand away from him. I stumble back and watch as he paces the room, his hands on his hips. “God, Serene. You deny the truth even when it’s directly in front of you!”

  “So do you!” I holler.

  “I don’t know why I bother talkin’ to you when you rebuff every attempt I make.”

  I want to shout at him, but I stay quiet because I know he wants me to reply.

  Suddenly, he turns and faces me. His green eyes sharp and assessing. “Answer me this. Do you love me?” he asks.

  Tilting my head to the side, I observe him. “Why ask? I’m still in the room, and I haven’t punched you in the face. I think the answer is clear.”

  He wants me to say it. I can’t say it. I used to be able to say it but not anymore.

  “Do you think about me?” Étienne asks.

  This question is far less dangerous, but I still find myself reluctant to answer. “Yes,” I finally say.

  My words seem to chase away some of the anger from his eyes and replace it with heat. He moves a bit closer.

  Leave, you fool! my mind screams. You’re in danger!

  Yet I stay put. And I can’t tell if it’s out of sheer stubbornness or complete stupidity. I’d like to believe it’s the former, but it’s hard to say at this point.

  “You won’t admit you love me, but do you want to kiss me?”

  “Do you want to kiss me?” I shoot back.

  “Every day.”

  We stare at each other, the tension between us so incredibly strained and pushed beyond its brink, it snaps the same time my control does.

  There’s no meeting halfway.

  To the surprise of us both, I am the one to go to him.

  I am the one to grab his face between my hands.

  I am the one who mutters, “Fuck it,” seconds before I curl my hands around the material of his shirt, yank him toward me, and kiss him as though tomorrow isn’t promised to me.

  Since I’ve been back, our conversations have been very rocky. Feeling his soft lips against mine is a shock to my system. I breathe deep through my nose as my arms wrap around his neck. It’s an instinctive move. One that feels so amazing to finally be able to do.

  Groaning deep, Étienne’s hands drift down my back. Stopping was an option two, three, four seconds ago, but as his tongue glides against my own, and his warm body is pressed against mine, stopping is beginning to look a lot like starting, and now I’m wondering why I didn’t do this the second I saw his face.

  Étienne’s fingertips dig into my sides as he picks me up until our faces are eye level. My feet dangle above the ground, and my hands sink into the locks of his hair. I suck on his tongue before I pull back. Étienne leans in, chasing my lips. With a small smirk, I meet him in the middle and lick the seam of his lips.

  After that, he takes control of the kiss, and I let him.

  Both of our movements become a bit frenzied and rushed. My feet touch the ground, but Étienne’s broad shoulders block my view of the room as he’s hunched over me. His strength envelops me, and for the first time since I arrived, I allow myself to believe everything is going to be all right. And that thought causes me to kiss him all that much harder.

  Our clothes stay on, but our hands move all over. My nails rake down Étienne’s back. I feel his muscles jump beneath my touch, and even with the barrier of his shirt, the heat from his skin sears my palms.

  As Étienne sucks on my lower lip, I’m dimly aware of the front of my robe gaping open. Étienne’s hand snakes through the opening and encircles my now small waist, courtesy of the corset. His large hands drift upward and boldly palm my breast.

  I moan into his mouth.

  At first, all I can think is finally. Then, I want his hands between my legs, then his lips and...

  My thoughts are broken by Étienne’s thumbs brushing across my nipples. Warmth instantly spreads throughout my body. Gently, he tugs at my nipples until they are hard points and incredibly sensitive.

  Étienne pulls back an inch, resting his forehead against mine and yanks the robe wider until I’m on full display. Étienne mutters a curse under his breath before his hands go back to my breasts. My eyes close, and my back arches. I want him to keep going, and I’m on the verge of telling him to do just that when he whispers into my ear, “I still love you. And you still love me. Admit it.”

  “No,” I say as I search for his mouth.

  I distract him with a long kiss. His hands move from my body up to my face, curving around my jaw. He speaks between small kisses. “Say you love me.”

  “No.” My hands wrap around his waist.

  “Serene,” he growls.

  “Étienne,” I growl back.

  This game we’re playing is one I’m familiar with and can take
part in all day long. My body sinks into his as I sigh deeply.

  Étienne gives me one last searing kiss before he pulls away, curling his hands around my shoulders. He’s gasping for breath as if he’s run for miles without a break. His hair is in every direction, and his green eyes are wild. No longer filled with the control that’s always there.

  I realize I still love him. I haven’t stopped. Chances are I won’t.

  Étienne stares at me, panting. I’m blinking rapidly, trying to figure out what just happened, and place my hands over my tingling lips.

  “Oh, shit,” I murmur because I’m afraid I’ve opened a door I have no business messing with.

  He’s not yours, he’s not yours, he’s not yours, I remind myself on a constant loop.

  Yet I’m a junkie who’s been clean for months and had a hit of my drug of choice in a moment of weakness. All I feel is euphoria, and I want to keep that sensation. Greedily hoard it away so no one else can have it.

  Étienne’s chest rapidly rises and falls. Slowly, the seconds tick by. Space remains between us, but the heat doesn’t fade. Straining against his pants is a massive erection. He still wants me as much as I want him, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to step forward.

  “I’m leavin’,” he declares.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  He makes good on his word and slips out of my room. Even when the door shuts behind him, I brace myself for Étienne to charge back in. After a few minutes, I walk over to the door and slump heavily against it. After a few deep breaths in and out, I close my eyes and repeatedly rap my head against the door. I’ve gone from hate, anger, sadness to rage, betrayal, sorrow, and now lust. There’s no predicting which emotion would be next.

  I’ve never regretted kissing Étienne in the past. Truth be told, I still don’t.

  You’re lying to yourself, Serene. You kissed another woman’s man.

  I stop hitting my head against the door and pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

  I know the truth behind my fear. I know why I’m reacting like a caged wild animal. The real reason is, I know it takes one small sin to commit one great tragedy.