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Stepping back, he shrugged almost self-consciously. “I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you.”
I half-smiled, Ily growing heavy in my arms. “Yeah, me too.”
“You’re still not home free.” He waggled a finger in my face. “It will take years for me to fully trust you, but…you just chose me over your own flesh and blood. And I can’t help but be swayed by that. And so…” He padded back to his desk and locked the phone away. “Keep being who you truly are, Henri Mercer. Share all your parts, not just the dark and disturbing. Allow yourself to be vulnerable. Allow yourself to be happy. And perhaps…one day, that lifetime membership you’ve fought so hard to earn might turn into something far, far more.”
I stilled. “What does that mean?”
He sighed and simply said, “I’m in need of an heir, aren’t I? Eventually.”
Ily coughed on a breath; I stumbled back. The punch of acceptance from a man who’d been seconds away from shooting me made me feel as if I’d been the one winded.
Not sure how to reply, the weight of the past few sleepless nights, the exhaustion of decades of pretend, the pain of losing everything and gaining a very different future chose that moment to choke me. “D-Do you trust me enough to allow me to spend the rest of the day with my jewel? Alone…in my room?”
He flipped open his laptop and nodded distractedly. “You have full reign of my home, mon ami. You know there’s no escape…by scrambler or by brother. You’re locked here by your choice.” He looked up and smiled. “I will no longer demand anything of you, and you are free to do as you please. The matter of the funds can be taken care of another day.”
I nodded my thanks.
And without another word, I carried Ily down the stairs, entered my room, kicked my door closed, and laid her exquisitely gently on the bed.
Chapter Nine
………………………….
Ily
WE SLEPT FOR THREE DAYS.
Exhaustion came for both of us and shoved us down, down into its cloying, clinging grip. I tried to fight it off. Tried to summon enough strength to slink out of bed and return to the jewel quarters, but the moment Henri placed me like spun glass on his mattress, handed me another black t-shirt from his wardrobe, and held back the covers for me to clamber beneath, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
He didn’t march to the bathroom to hide.
Didn’t touch me or hurt me.
He merely unbuttoned his jeans, undressed to his boxers, then crawled into bed beside me.
He plummeted into sleep quicker than I did.
I had a few seconds where I could’ve slit his throat with…something. Maybe a shard of glass from breaking the vanity mirror or even the sharp little pins from his cufflinks abandoned on the bedside table.
But then everything went black.
And I slept.
* * * * *
We slept through lunch and dinner.
We stumbled blurry-eyed and silent to the bathroom to relieve ourselves and drink some water.
We tried to stay awake, but the emotional and physical burnout wasn’t done.
I slept beside my enemy and didn’t give a damn.
By the end of the second night, we roused ourselves just enough to order room service. We ate in caustic silence, devouring the most heavenly mushroom and pumpkin risotto. The fresh cheesy bread filled my stomach with carbs, and before I knew it, we were fast asleep again, completely unconscious, side by side, until another dawn shone, and the sun slowly cured our debilitating fatigue.
* * * * *
I treated myself to Henri’s shower.
His back had been turned to me as I woke and noticed the clock next to the unicorn-murdering goblin hinted noon wasn’t so far away.
I’d never slept so long or so deeply.
I didn’t know if it was the fact I hadn’t slept for a few days previously or my terror and heartache had wrung me dry, but as I stood beneath steamy, burning droplets, I felt more myself than I had since I went to the train station with Samuel and headed through the tunnel to Paris.
A lifetime ago.
A world past.
Tipping my face into the heavy stream, I sighed.
Did that Q guy hear me clearly enough? Had he found my father and told him what’d happened? Was he on his way to find me and the other slaves?
Three days was a long time.
Three days could be the difference between sexual servitude and freedom.
My skin prickled with awareness.
I jumped as I looked to my left and spotted Henri watching me. His grey eyes sharp and savage, no longer hazy with sleep.
Instinct made me raise my arms and cup my breasts, turning my hips so he couldn’t see. But then remembrance made me flinch, and I let my hands fall.
He’d seen everything. Touched everything.
The fact that I’d fallen for his falsehoods—lies that left me with a horrible aftertaste—didn’t change the fact that he’d kept me from the grasp of others and I’d been given a blessed honeymoon in this place.
