AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I must have dozed off from all the drinks I had.
My eyes snap open, her soft lips moving against mine. She’s warm and sensuous, and my eyes are closed again a second later as I start to take over her rhythm. She runs her hands through my hair, each touch sending a spark of arousal pulsing through my blood.
I’m already hard.
I hold the sides of her face, tracing the curve of her jaw with my index finger and coaxing her mouth open with my tongue. She grants me access, a soft moan falling from her lips as I kiss her deeper.
Fuck.
She tastes like orange juice, and the cinnamon scent of her lipstick fills my consciousness. I slide one hand along the back of her neck, holding tight as our mouths move together in a frenetic rhythm.
This is one of my favourite ways to wake up.
When we pull apart, there’s a smile on her swollen lips. I look down at her, mesmerised. She’ssofucking beautiful that sometimes it makes my heart ache. This is one of those times. She looks good enough to eat, and I almost want to take her back to the stateroom to fuck her again.
But the ambient noise from the engines is gone, which can only mean one thing—we’ve landed.
I’m officially in the same country as my father, and instantly the tension is back in my body. Alize presses a small kiss to my lips, a small smile on hers.
“You were out cold,” she says with a chuckle. “Someone had one too many drinks.”
I frown. “Can you blame me? We’re about to walk into hell itself.”
The corners of her eyes twitch, her smile falling slightly. There’s a question on her features, almost like she’s wondering if I’m exaggerating.
I undo my seat belt and wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer to me. “Everything will be okay, though,” I say, kissing her forehead. “I’ve got you.”
We might be walking into a warzone, but the last thing I need is Alize freaking out on top of it. Despite the anxiety of meeting my father returning, I feel a little bit better than when I fell asleep.
Michel isn’t Alize’s father.
Her father’s name is Louis.
That makes things a little less complicated. There’s a chance she’s still related to him, but Moreau is a common French surname. They could be distant relatives, distant enough that I won’t be dishonouring my mum’s memory by marrying the daughter of the man who killed her.
Distant enough that his death won’t matter to her.
Because I’ve already made up my mind to kill him.
“I can handle it,” Alize says, giving my hand a squeeze. “We’re stronger together.” She nibbles on her lower lip, her eyes darting from mine to the empty aisle behind me
She’s right.
“We are, sweetheart.” I bring her palm to my lips, pressing a kiss there. “I have my own floor of the penthouse. It should be easy to avoid him.”
A few minutes later, we’re exiting the jet and descending the steps onto the tarmac. The temperature here is a few degrees lower, and I give Alize my coat to keep warm for the short walk to the waiting vehicle.
A convoy of blacked out Range Rovers are parked a few metres from the jet. A handful of my father’s soldiers are waiting to usher us to one of the SUVs. They take our suitcases.
I recognize Ben, my father’s chief enforcer.
“Welcome home, Alexander,” he says with a grin.
Ben stands taller than all the other men, and even taller than me. He’s more muscular than I am, too. He’s been loyal to my father ever since his family was killed in a hit put out by the Empire. It’s not like my father ever gave him a choice—it was either bend the knee or end up in a body bag.
He made the obvious choice.
“Thank you, Ben,” I say.
