“Did I ask you?” I barked as we arrived at the fourth-floor landing, and I took us to the right down a hall with high-gloss floors that smelled like wood polish.
“No, sir,” Antoine replied, cool as anything.
Fuck, now I’d need to apologize to him and kiss his ass or I’d be getting nasty salads and mineral water for lunch. He would never admit to it, but when he was mad at me my entire life was worse. Between him and Noah, I might as well sleep in my car tonight.
“You’re being mean,” Noah whispered. “Why?”
We reached the principal’s study and I pushed open the heavy arched door, dragging Noah inside the room. I held up a finger to Antoine when he went to follow, then slammed the door in his face. With a check to make sure the book-lined room was empty, I shoved Noah up against a wall, and the fear and discomfort that flashed across his face tore at me. He hadn’t looked that way since the first day he was at my house, when I’d had to go down to the kitchen and scoop him up naked off the floor.
Smashing my lips to his, I tipped his head back and kissed him. With a flick of my tongue I forced my way into his mouth, and he whimpered, inviting me in with a beautiful swirl of his tongue on mine. I leaned back and the hurt was still on his face, so I bent and kissed him harder until my lips ached and he was clawing at my shoulders.
I’d thought everything was going well. I wanted to keep him. I’d promised myself I would get everything I wanted now. When the fuck had Noah Divine—no, Noah Bouchard—become what I needed to be happy?
I ripped my mouth away from his. “You’re right.”
He blinked up at me.
“This was my fault. I shouldn’t have relied on you to do something that was my responsibility. This isn’t why I married you.” I knew I still sounded like a fuck, but I couldn’t make myself relent. None of this mattered. I’d thought I would be able to marry him and get my revenge before I walked away scot-free.
Noah’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I was trying.”
There was a knock on the door and I stepped back, smoothing down my suit coat. The principal—a friendly man with a wide smile and a silver beard, which looked fake since he had dark brown hair—stepped in. His gray tweed suit made me grin as he shook hands with me. I got the feeling that if I sliced him open with a knife he’d leak ink and good pipe smoke instead of blood.
“Principal Bronkhorst.” He winked at Noah, who flushed. “Wonderful. Great to meet everyone, especially your new husband.” I sighed as he switched to shaking Noah’s hand. “Let’s go on a tour of the newly refurbished library!”
Noah winced, probably because he’d seen every other inch of this place today, and I almost laughed. There’d been some strategy in sending him ahead of me. They always put on a production and I hated it, but I suspected there would be no way to stop it.
“Absolutely,” I said, rustling up some enthusiasm. I wrapped my arm around Noah while Principal Bronkhorst talked full steam ahead, but my husband was stiff as a board. I’d been furious most of the day, but somewhere, deep down, I’d been looking forward to getting here. Noah had become a soothing part of my day and I was always excited for his smiles and laughs and on-point, whispered asides. I got nothing from him, however, as we doggedly kept up with the principal.
This was such a burr under my saddle. While I wanted to think up a way to fix the rift between us, I still wasn’t sure I should bother. I hadn’t married him because I thought it would make me happy and relying on him to fix my shitty mood also wasn’t smart.
The tour wound down and I realized Antoine was following us. Inside the library’s entrance hall, I smiled and shook the hand of Principal Bronkhorst. “Thank you, sir. You’ve impressed me, as usual. The money will find its way to the school by the end of the month.”
“Excellent,” he said, shoulders sinking back where they probably normally lived. I hadn’t realized he was nervous, but I laughed and patted him on the arm. “Thank you for all the care you and your staff took today. My husband asked me to fully fund the art department for the next ten years.”
Noah coughed beside me and glanced up, wide-eyed. I thought Principal Bronkhorst would faint. If dumping this pile of money into the academy dragged me down on a few financial top-ten lists, who cared?
“Thank you.”
“Why don’t you get that old theater going, sir? I’d sure like to see a play next time I come. I bet you could build a few new houses with some of that money, too. Take on a few more scholarship students? Write up a proposal for it all so those geezers at the bank have something to look at.” He nodded and mopped at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. I’d knocked him speechless, which was good because I was feeling on edge.
“Antoine, see that my husband gets home,” I said and headed for the door. I left them all there to stew together—the principal to sing my praises, Noah to hate me, Antoine to loathe me. I chuckled to myself as I headed toward my car.
* * *
The day draggedon after I got back to my office in the Divine Conglomerate building. Antoine didn’t show up, so he must be good and pissed off at me. I stayed past seven, which I hadn’t been doing recently, and when I left the office I didn’t head home. Briefly I considered a detour to the Courtesan, but my heart wasn’t in it.
Instead I stopped at a boutique jewelry shop, Beaulieu. Winter Janvier, the designer and owner, kept a studio exclusively for people who were willing to spend over ten thousand dollars, so simply walking in the door was a commitment. I took a cranky, rusted old freight elevator that squealed and rocked more than it should to the top of a rundown brick high-rise located on the borderline between downtown and the east side of the city. The doors opened and it was like night and day—the boutique had an impeccable cream and silver theme, and all the displays were lit from above with dangling spotlights. There was nothing so pedestrian as a glass display case. I went inside and browsed, not certain what I was looking for, but I knew I still hadn’t gotten everything I wanted from my time with Noah. Even worse, I was beginning to realize something fucking awful—I probably never would.
There wouldn’t be enough time.
No matter how many outfits I bought him or how many times I stuck my cock between his pretty lips, it would never top off whatever empty hole lived in my chest. And worse still, there was probably not an amount of money I could spend to make the beginning of our marriage ever equal something that was good for Noah. There was no organization to donate to in order to make the start of our relationship normal. There wasn’t some magic wand I could wave to take back the horrible things I’d shown him that existed under the surface in New Gothenburg. What the hell should I do if I wanted to keep him?
Nothing came to mind. I stared blankly around the store.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Bouchard? How is the tennis bracelet? Well-received?” Winter walked out from the back room with a cocky smile on his lips. His white-blond hair dipped down to cover his right eye, and the all-black ensemble that hugged his slim muscles was the height of pretention. I bet Noah would have loved to meet him, and I’d never brought him here.
“What do you have that says, ‘I’m sorry I’m a fuckin’ asshole,’ without me saying that?”
