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“All of this made me realize I didn’t really know Violette.” He shook his head like he was trying to eradicate a bad memory. “She was supposed to be my best friend and yet…She hid so much from me.”
“It’s always those closest to you that hurt you, Ben.”
Taking out a matchbox, I lit up a stick and threw it onto the bed, watching the entire thing erupt in flames.
Antoine Toussaint—Pierrot—was finally dead.
CHAPTER 34
Betrayed Hearts
Darla
It was almost 3:00 a.m. when my husband—who left the house hours ago under the pretense of having drinks with his friends—sent me a cryptic text message that ignited my foreboding.
Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes. —Zed
Grabbing a robe, I left our room and entered his office ten minutes before requested.
I trusted my husband, but it wasn’t like him to disappear for so long without texting me in-between. The worry hammering in my chest grew exponentially when he failed to show up on time.
For the most part, I stayed in my lane, choosing to focus on my own endeavours and our marriage. But I wasn’t stupid nor was I privy to the kind of business my husband and in-laws conducted. I knew exactly what ‘drinks with friends’ meant in their world and I did not like it.
I worried for Zeno’s well-being more than I let on.
He had pocketed his silver gun and two extra knives in his holster before leaving with Benjamin and their four bodyguards—bodyguards that I knew the De la Croixes used as a cleanup crew for their extracurricular activities. Unless they were having Molotov cocktails tonight, I didn’t know what kind of ‘drinks with friends’ required that much armed muscle.
Oh,God. What if he’s hurt?
I sat on his office desk, butterflies swarming in my stomach, when the doorknob finally twisted open. Zeno staggered inside, buzzing with an untamed energy.
“Where have you been?” I didn’t intend to snap, but my eyes widened when I spotted his busted knuckles and the bruise on his cheek. The faint smell of gunpowder and blood lingered on him.
“Out.” He sank his muscular form in his office chair with a tired huff. “As I said, drinks with friends.”
Crossing my bare legs in front of him, I returned his dry tone. “Yeah? What drinks did you have?”
I wore a skimpy blue teddy with a matching robe and not once did he notice, too busy digging through a drawer for what I hoped was a first aid kit.
He pulled out a cigar instead. “Just some Shirley temples. You know they’re my favourite.”
The bastard was a whiskey and rum aficionado.
I straightened from my perch on his desk so I stood between the open V of his legs. Grabbing his chin, I forced his gaze to mine. “The truth. What were you doing?”
In my presence, the stormy mood slowly evaporated but not entirely. I itched to know what was going on, even as dread slammed in my gut like a bulldozer.
“Something bad. Do you really want to know?”
I wanted to say no. That I was scared. But that I understood being married to him meant getting used to these late nights that would keep me awake with worry as I prayed for his safe return. That I was his pillar the same way he was mine. That he could share his burdens with me because I was his safe heaven. Now and forever.
But I opted for, “I just asked, did I not?” and dragged my knuckles down his cheek with a shaky exhale. “You need to ice your bruise, Zeno.”
“What I need is a smoke, a whiskey, and my wife.”
Every time he called me his wife, I swooned pathetically.
The dangerous aura this man exuded amplified his sexual appeal. I held back from jumping his bones when he watched me in that lazy manner of his as I reached for the lighter on his desk.
