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“Cousin.”
His cousin stands at a bar, nursing a drink on the rocks.
“Fabien.” He nods. “Nicolette.”
He must’ve heard my name at the table. Still, it unsettles me. Fabien’s the only one I trust in this entire room, and that’s not saying much.
Though he’s polite, I get the sudden feeling I’m talking to a domesticated wolf.
“We need to chat. Do you have time?” He swirls me around in time to the music. I feel light on my feet, a fairy in flight.
“Of course. I always have time for you.”
Fabien dances me closer.
“The Carnival de Sartène approaches. I’m sure you’ve gone into great detail preparing security at The Underground.”
It seems outrageous that one of the made men of the Gerard family’s the head of security, but I suppose it’s also quite convenient if it involves masters and slaves.
“We have.” His cousin’s wolfish grin spreads across his face, his eyes zoning in on me. “And what might that have to do with you?”
His knowing look tells me he knows what Fabien’s interested in.
“You want to bring her to The Underground.”
“I do.”
Milo frowns. Someone hoots with laughter behind us, and a woman screams with glee. “And what does that have to do with the Lyon family obtaining the talisman?”
“I don’t need money, Fabien, you know that.” Milo looks bored. “And we’re talking about something worth two hundred million euros.”
“Two hundred and fifty,” I supply, then realize that was maybe not super helpful. Fabien only snorts. I do pay attention to detail.
“You’ve wanted a part of our business for a long time,” Fabien says, clearly saving this bargaining chip. “I’ll give you ten shares.”
I swear his cousin’s eyes look almost green with greed. Still, he shakes his head.
“I don’t want that, either.”
He can’t tell him Lyam’s in danger. He has to pretend he wants the talisman for the sake of it.
Fabien exhales. “What do you want, then? Name your price. You know how important this is to me.”
“I do. So does most of your family. You’d have to shut your brothers up.”
“Let me handle that.”
“They’re bringing the talisman in the Tuesday before the parade. It’s highly secured with six armed guards and will be locked in a secure location I can’t reveal.”
“Without the right price,” Fabien presses.
Milo’s eyes meet mine. I know what he’s going to ask for before he says it. Sudden nausea clenches my belly.
“One night with Nicolette.”
Fabien’s entire body goes rigid. We stop dancing. “You son of a bitch.”
“Uh, Fabien, that might not be the best response to someone we really need,” I whisper in his ear.
“One night,” Milo insists. “One night and you’ll have it all. Location. Security name. I’ll even tell you what time and the number to get in.”
Fabien spins me around and heads back to the dance floor.
“Fabien!” I protest. “You want this. It means so much to you!” He can’t back down now.
“It’s not worth his price.”
I’ve been with so many men, I’m not sure why the thought of being with his cousin makes my skin crawl.
“But you can’t give up,” I press.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re okay with his proposal?” I knew the first time I laid eyes on Fabien he was a dangerous man. I’d almost forgotten that, until now.
I swallow. “I don’t like the idea, but I promised you.”
The song comes to a stop. Fabien’s lips are pressed in a thin, tight line. I swallow.
“I’m just saying—”
He throws up a hand to stop me mid-sentence. I watch as he breathes through flared nostrils. Alright, then, he needs a minute.
“We’ll revisit this later,” he whispers in my ear as his cousin comes back over. This time, the threat sounds ominous.
“Alright, alright, that price isn’t worth it to you.”
I don’t look at him. I don’t know why someone like me, who’s been used so many times I’ve lost count, feels uncomfortable with the thought of being a bargaining chip.
I like the thought of him not sharing me.
This time when he pulls me to him, there’s no distance between us. My breasts are smashed against his chest, his hands are in my hair, and when we dance to the slow tempo of the music, I feel as if we dance as one.
“I don’t share, Nicolette.” The way he pronounces my name sounds like a prayer, the delicate enunciation of each syllable a plea to the sacred. “I won’t share you. Our deal excludes all others while you’re with me.” Though he doesn’t say it, I feel the rest of his words deep in my belly. And all others after.
I close my eyes against his chest and wish, for one brief moment, this was real. That I hadn’t agreed to a short-term arrangement. That he’d won me fair and square, and that when the music stopped playing, I wouldn’t have to go home. Alone.
Discarded.
I want this to be real.
