Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “Just something the guys talked about.”
“A mistress is a lover. It means an open-ended relationship that continues for however long the guy wants.”
“What about what the woman wants?”
“In our world, honey, it’s always the guy who decides when to call it quits. Property, on the other hand, is a dead end. It means a man has claimed a woman for life. It’s like being a mistress, only forever.”
The revelation shouldn’t shock me. Maxime said as much when he told me he’d never let me go. Still, her explanation settles like an iron ball in my stomach.
She scrutinizes me with shrewd eyes. “Did Max tell you you’re property?”
I can’t even answer that.
Her smile is sympathetic. “Give him a chance, Zoe. Max isn’t that bad. You do feel for him, don’t you?”
Placing a hand on my forehead, I say, “I don’t even know what I feel anymore.”
“It’s obvious you care. What are you so worried about?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Tell him how you feel.”
Chewing my lip, I consider that. “I don’t know.”
“Look, you’re stuck, anyway. What can it hurt?”
I inhale deeply. “That’s the problem. It can hurt.”
“Max really is crazy about you. He’s different with you. Just give it a shot. If you don’t try, you’ll never know.” Waving a hand to disperse the smoke, she puts the cigarette out in the sink and drops the butt in the trashcan. “We better get back before they wonder what’s taking us so long.”
“They? You have men following you, too?”
“Protecting me.” She winks. Going through her bag, she takes out an anti-tobacco spray and applies it liberally to her clothes and hair before popping a chewing gum into her mouth. “There. Ready to go?”
I nod.
“You’ll be okay. Trust me.” She takes my hand. “Promise we’ll do this again.”
I can’t help but smile. “I promise.”
“Good.” She kisses my cheek. “You can do with a friend.”
A man in a suit I don’t recognize stands next to Benoit when we exit.
He addresses Sylvie when we reach them. “What took so long?”
She bats her eyelashes. “Period. Changing tampons and all that. Want more details?”
The man coughs. Benoit looks away. She gives me a smile that says, see?
She’s as trapped as I am. It’s an eye opener. I feel sorry for her, but I also feel a little lighter when Benoit drives me home. Sylvie has helped me face a truth, something I’ve known in my heart for a while but couldn’t admit. My love for Maxime isn’t conventional. Our relationship isn’t healthy or smooth sailing. He’s a hardened criminal with a dark heart, and I’m a naïve romantic with an abandoned princess fantasy. Somehow, we work together. Somehow, we’ve rubbed off on each other. We’re diamonds in the rough, cutting our edges together. I no longer want to leave. This is crazy, the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m going to tell Maxime how I feel. I want to try, because maybe, just maybe, there are ways to survive Maxime, and maybe I don’t have to do it alone.
Chapter 14
Maxime
When Benoit calls me while Zoe is having coffee with Sylvie and tells me what has happened at school, I’m fucking fuming. I leave my father’s office earlier than usual and drive to the campus, bargaining on the fact that Madame Page always works late.
She’s alone in her office when I enter just before seven.
“Can I help you?” she asks with her head bent over some sketches and a cigarette dangling from her mouth.
“You most definitely can,” I say, striding to her desk.
Her paper-thin skin turns white when she looks up. “Mr. Belshaw.”
Yeah. She should be scared.
Her hand shakes as she tips the ash. “I’m busy.”
I turn a chair around and straddle it. “Let’s get something straight. Zoe deserves to be here the same as everyone else. She has more passion in her style than that shift dress with the fancy label you’re wearing. If she’s not in class, it’s because I need her to be elsewhere. Do you understand?”
Her lip curls. “You’re being very clear.”
“Good.”
“However, this is a serious establishment. I won’t let you intimidate me.”
I grin. “Let me remind you that the women who earn enough money to afford your label move in the same circles. It’ll be a pity if their eyes are opened as to just how undeserving your style is of praise.”
Her right eye twitches.
“Is that enough intimidation for you?” I ask. “I can get as persuasive as you’d like me to be.”
“Quite enough,” she says with a tight jaw.
“Great.” I rap my knuckles on her desk. “I’d hate to destroy your career when you’re so close to retiring.” I get up. “Nice talking to you.”
I leave with a smile.
At home, I find Zoe sitting on her favorite bench in the garden, sipping a glass of wine and staring at the sea. I study her profile to make out her mood, but for once her expression doesn’t give much away. Her gaze is trained on the distance, her thoughts seeming far-off.