Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” Cosette says calmly. “But I don’t like to lie.”
“You,” Montague rages. “You’re as despicable as your mother.”
“Me?” Cosette says, her eyes the picture of innocence. “I’ve done nothing to hurt you. I’m not quite sure why you hate me so.”
He pulls himself to his full height and points an irate finger at her. “You should never have happened. I have no daughter!”
“Oh,” she says with a nod, “but you do. Just because I don’t fit in with your plan doesn’t mean I don’t exist. But I don’t need your acceptance. I don’t need your money. I have become who I am without your aid, and I’m proud of that.” She shakes her head sadly. “Parents should never reject their children. I spent many years mourning what could have been.” She smiles proudly and lifts her chin. “But no more. You left me, and that was your loss, not mine.”
My own chest swells with pride. Montague, however, shakes with fury.
“Get them!” he spits out to one of his guards, but he’s shit out of luck, because his guard takes one look at Princess and whimpers.
I look at Princess and issue a loud command. “Kill.”
Montague’s bodyguard screams and runs from the snake who’s as harmless as a kitten.
Cosette looks across the room to me. “Lyam!”
In a flash, she whips her hand and throws me a gun. I catch it mid-air.
I point the gun. “My family deserves this retribution. Hell, I do.” I draw in a breath. Cosette is innocent. She deserves to know that she means more to me than anything.
After everything he’s put us through, I want him to suffer. I want him to feel the physical torture I have and the emotional torture she has, but sometimes, justice takes another form.
“Promise us you’ll never come after us again. You’ll make a public statement that my family has done no harm to the citizens of Paris, withdraw your candidacy, and tender your resignation from your current role. Then we will never, ever see you again.”
Thayer shakes his head. “Lyam, are you out of your mind? Think of what this man has done to you. You’re just going to let him go like that, scot-free? Jesus, brother…”
Acid stings the back of my throat, raw nerves and adrenaline fueling me. I shake my head. “He’s her father.” I swallow. “And I love her.”
Her eyes meet mine, and in that gaze is forgiveness and understanding. We’ll bury a world of hurt and build a new life together.
Montague fumes, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head and instead of responding to my offer, he pounces. He grabs Cosette by the arm.
Motherfucker.
I would have let him go. Against every fiber of my being, I was going to let the motherfucker go.
But he just put his fucking hands on her.
“Let her fucking go,” I say, my gun pointed at him.
He brandishes her like a shield. I can’t get a good shot in.
He won’t hurt her. I won’t let him.
“You’re scum! All of you are scum!” Montague fumes.
“Let her go, or I’ll shoot.”
His hands are on her neck. He’s going to hurt her. Her face is beet red and she’s gasping for air. She beats at his hands but it’s useless.
No.
Cosette twists to the side, giving me the sliver of a window.
It’s all I need.
I pull the trigger.
I never miss.
TWENTY
Cosette
I barely remember what happens next. I don’t know how we get to his apartment. All I remember is Lyam crossing the room to me, Montague forgotten. Mumbled words from Thayer about “cleaning up” and Lyam saying he’s taking me home.
I remember Lyam bending and lifting me, cradling me against him as if marching away from a bloody battle.
It’s time to go home.
Home.
We make it to Le Marquise. He carries me upstairs; it seems he can’t bear the little bit of distance we’d have between us if he were to let me walk.
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I nuzzle my head against his neck and loop my arms around him.
“Lyam,” I say in a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to. So many times, I—”
“And I should have given you the benefit of the doubt,” he interrupts in a low, husky tone. “No more, Cosette. No. More.”
“No more what?” I ask, as he carries me past his staff who scurry like ants with one sharp look from him. Anyone that even glances our way gets the message loud and clear: Stay. Away.
“No more regrets. No more ‘should haves.’ No more apologies. We leave the past behind us right here, right now. All we have is this, right here, right now. Us.” And I know deep in my heart that he doesn’t mean just me and him, but our unborn child too.
Our family.
Lyam nearly kicks the damn door down.