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“Si-si-sign,” the sheikh stops to clear his throat, “signthe fucking contract.”The sheikh tucks an index finger at the collar of his suit. “Sign it this instant!”
Your sins are graver,my gander warns as I affably state, “Oh, but I am. Relinquishing my dignity to save the life of my love.”
* * *
While my jet glides into the air, the only words Luxury utters are her desire to return to New York. My indispensable butler, temporarily confined to a wheelchair, acquired a home in the Greenwich area and would already be there awaiting us.
The second we arrive in New York, a doctor attends to Luxury’s well-being and bandages my wound. The woman gave Luxury a clean bill of health. Well . . . almost. We will soon know if she is free of any diseases.
As the Phantom roams through the west side of Lower Manhattan, Lux seems to return to the present.
She glares out the window at Washington Square Park. “Where are we?”
“Greenwich Village.”
“Yes, yes.” Her agitated voice is so very unfamiliar. “I asked you to take mehome.”
A tightness spreads over my chest. I clear my throat, ignoring the peculiar apprehension, and reply, “Your home ismyhome, which further suggests that all I own belongs to you, Luxury. Because I've burned bridges with your father, and regardless of the dire circumstances, I wouldn't dream of sleeping in your father’s loft, so we are here. Your new home.”
Silence pursues us for a long moment.
Seconds before I presume the argument is over, Luxury murmurs, “My home is mine, okay?”
“Rubbish.”
Her chest rises in anguish. “Victor, you came to a foreign country, fought to save me . . .” While appreciation melds into her tone, something else is there too. Something sinister. Luxury clears her throat and groans, “But I need time alone.”
“Again, I bloody sayrubbish. I’ll not allow you to draw into yourself, Lux. You’ve done this before. Well, not to this extent. But after your mother—”
“We aren’t discussing my momma right now.”
“Alright. You have my word. I won’t touch you or do anything that you consider detestable...”What did that arsehole do to my woman?“I’ll give you space, love. But I forbid you from isolating yourself.”
“How’s this for size? I-I cannot recall the girl who was friggen snarky, who said you hadn’t saved her from a bike courier on day one . . .” Pain weaves into Luxury’s cracked voice, her eyes shift away. “Ican’trememberher.”
I slide across the leather, desperate to draw my Little One into my arms, love her. Intuition blares that touching her is too soon.
Tenderness washes over my usual tenor as I take her hand. “You've been through a horrific ordeal, Little One.”
A silky palm swats my touch. “I don’t wanna remember that girl, Vic. Because she wasn’t just snarky. She wasobsessedwith a man she knew couldn’t be hers.”
“Lux—”
“Just listen.” Her slender shoulder settles against the closed door of the vehicle. Every endeavor of hers is to maneuver far, far away from . . . me.
“Your job was to assassinate my father—you and I never should’ve been. I won't even mention Somerhavenor . . .” She stops, shaking her head. “Or Mad—” Luxury pulls tighter into herself. “Thisis the end for us, Vic. A whirlwind romance.Get on the fucking rollercoaster. Everything is fast, fast, fast until it crashes. We’ve officially smashed to smithereens.”
She can’t even bloody look me in the eye. A jaded gaze perches on my shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me to New York. Right now, the farther I get away from you, the longer I’ll probably survive.” With that, she turns to look out the window.
The chauffeur glances through the rearview mirror, unsure where to proceed. I nod my head for him to continue.
The car travels to familiar territory as I mull over a viable response. My petite lady has darkened her corner of the Phantom. She'd already been through enough. In the beginning, I desired to transform Luxury. Her mother's death compelled me to wipe every tear from her eyes. Yet Luxury’s arms wrap around her abdomen. My Little One places herself into my role—comforting herself.
Sometime later, the vehicle stops in front of the building that houses Jonah’s apartment. I motion for the chauffeur to stay put, quickly exit, and open the door for Luxury.
“I can’t owe you, Vic. Not now. So please don’t follow me up,” she murmurs before stepping onto the sidewalk.
“I must.” I cease the rise of a commanding royal whose very custom is to take, demand, with no regard for another.
