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“How was school?” I ask when I stop next to her, observing her closely.
She looks up at me with a start. “Good.”
I know why she asked Benoit to keep his mouth shut. After all, it’s my fault they all hate her. Perhaps I should’ve been upfront about how she’d gotten into the school, but she was just so damn excited about it. Her joy made me feel things I’ve never felt before. It made me happy. I just didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.
Tracing the curve of her shoulder with a finger, I ask, “How was your coffee date with Sylvie?”
Her face brightens a little. “We had a good time.”
“I’m glad.”
I mean it. Despite what she thinks, her unhappiness affects me. I don’t like it when she’s lonely or sad. The attempt on her life still hangs over us. So does everything else that has happened—the icepick incident, coming inside her, tying her up, punishing her…and telling her the truth. The air hasn’t been cleared, and all this pollution makes it hard to go back to how we used to be. Then again, do I want to go back? Perhaps this is a step forward.
Tentatively, she lifts a hand. Ever so slowly, she cups my fingers where they rest on her shoulder. I don’t breathe. I don’t even blink for the fear that she’ll move her hand away. Joy surges through my chest. Such a small gesture, yet such a big step in bridging this gap that has fallen between us since the attempt on her life. We stay like this for the longest time as I try to understand this olive branch she’s offering. Did Sylvie manage to talk some sense into her?
Fran breaks the spell, calling, “Dinner is ready.”
Bloody hell. I turn on her. “You hardly have to announce it.”
She pales and wilts. “The food will get cold.”
My voice rises with impatience. “Leave it where you always do. In the warm drawer.”
“It’s all right.” Zoe gets to her feet. “We’re coming.” When my fingers tighten on her shoulder, she adds quickly, “I’m hungry.”
I know what Zoe is doing. She’s trying to prevent a fight. It’s working. My body goes slack, and the earlier tranquility we’ve somehow found flows back through my veins.
Fran turns away with a wounded expression.
“I think she has feelings for you,” Zoe says when Fran is out of earshot.
“Our relationship is strictly professional.” Gripping her chin, I note the dark rings under her eyes. “Maybe we should have an early night.”
“I can’t. I missed a lot in class yesterday. I have to catch up.”
I trace her bottom lip with my thumb. “Not at the expense of your health. You need your rest.”
“Maxime, stop babying me.” She swallows, then glances away. When she looks back at me, she says in a composed tone, “I need this.”
“I know you do, cherie.” Ah, hell. My resolve crumbles. “I’ll sit up with you. I won’t be able to sleep, anyway.” Not if she’s not in my bed.
“Honestly, you don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t.” In a rare instant, I give her the truth. “I want to.”
Chapter 15
Maxime
For the next few days, clearing the city of infiltrators dominates my time. I flush out the disloyal men and dole out deaths as examples and punishment where due. It’s not only about survival. It’s also about keeping the streets safe for the people we protect and the businesses that rely on us.
The attack on Zoe’s life left me edgy. Volatile. Even Leonardo stays out of my way. My instincts scream at me to lock her up again, but I understand enough of human nature to know it’ll be a mistake. Zoe needs the illusion of freedom. She needs her friendship with Sylvie. She needs to go to classes and chase her dream. I want to own her, not crush her. I want her to flourish, because I need her for who she is. Because of this, when she comes to me one night in the library after I returned home late and another dinner we didn’t eat together, I’m attentive to her needs.
“How was your day?” she asks, handing me a whiskey.
She’s been nothing but exemplary, a good little girl, and it earns her my kindness. Zoe isn’t my enemy. I have no desire to harm or hurt her. I neither take pleasure from teaching her lessons, nor from inflicting pain on myself when I’m hurting her. I much prefer our harmony, to fuck her in earnest and without the tension that comes with complicated games. I know adapting hasn’t been easy for her, but I’m trying to make up for it by giving her everything I can. The more effort she makes for me, the more I give back in return. Of all the lessons I’ve taught her, this is maybe the most important one. It’s the answer to both of our peace and happiness, for as long as I can taste her pussy and drink in her existence, I’m as happy as I’ll ever be.
