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“Little rosebuds on the towel that were embroidered by hand. Wow. And matching soaps! Look, how adorable!”
“Did you say rose soaps?”
I put my phone down mid-reply to Fabien when she stands in the doorway holding something.
“Yes. Look how cute!” Small, rose-shaped soaps sit in the palm of her hand.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Where did those come from? Someone who was outfitting this place must’ve taken them from home.” I shake my head.
“What do you mean?”
“I carved these. I learned how to carve things by hand by practicing on soap. My mother thought it was clever, so I guess she kept them or something.” I shrug. “I made these when I was a kid.”
She quirks a brow. “Why does it not surprise me you had access to knives when you were a kid?”
I snort and pick up a piece. I still remember sitting by the fireplace in our family home. My father was still alive.
Funny how a little bit of soap can trigger such vivid memories.
I shake myself out of my reverie. We’re short on time, and Cosette’s pregnant. Who knows what she’ll need from me.
“I have a few things to do. Settle in and we’ll get something to eat.”
When I finally look up from my phone an hour later, all I know is that Montague’s press conference made him out to be some sort of a hometown hero, and his ratings are up. The head of one of our rival families has been taken into custody, so we aren’t the only ones under scrutiny. Fabien seems to think that means he won’t come after us, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s only wishful thinking.
He won’t find us here. But he’s after us. I wouldn’t be surprised if the attack at Le Luxe was somehow tied back to Montague as well. We’re safe here while we hide, but I only hide to regroup.
Once I find out who’s behind the threats against us—once I know who threatened Cosette and now threatens the well-being of my entire family—we’ll leave the security of this fortress.
It will be time to attack.
We take a quick ride in the elevator so I can give her a brief tour. She grins when she sees the swimming pool, the state-of-the-art exercise equipment in the fitness room, and private movie theater. Most luxury hotels have concierge services and room service, fine dining and well-stocked bars, butlers and valets. Not every luxury hotel has private elevators, bulletproof windows and reinforced doors, private security, advanced air filtration, or a helipad on the roof next to the garden terrace.
“Wow, seriously, this is amazing.”
“Mmm.”
“You’re distracted, Lyam,” she says quietly as she threads her fingers through mine tentatively. It’s going to take time for us to get back to where we were before all this happened, but we’re getting there.
I breathe a little easier with her palm against mine.
“Fucking politics,” I mutter. I slide the phone into my pocket. Fucking Montague doesn’t even care about us or what we stand for but wants the ratings and votes.
Cosette blinks. “Politicians?”
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to dwell. I’ll do what I have to and so will Thayer and Fabien, but for now, I want to revel in her. Relax right here, by her side. Make sure she’s alright. We’ve been through hell and we need some time to reconnect.
I step off the elevator and into the hallway.
She doesn’t follow.
I reach for Cosette’s hand and give her a little tug, only to notice she’s gone white as a sheet.
“Are you feeling sick again?” I ask curiously. “You okay?” I’ve got half a mind to scoop her up and carry her off the elevator. Her skin’s gone pale and clammy like she’s contracted something.
“Cosette. Are you alright? What’s going on?”
“I’m… I don’t feel so good,” she whispers. “I think I need that food after all.”
