Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“What does that mean?”
“It means I was told to buy you. To proposition your ex so he left you all alone and in my control. But the rest…the other offer I made? That was real.”
“You were told to get rid of Sam?”
“Yep.”
“By who?”
“Doesn’t matter now, it’s done.”
My heart kept pounding; my mind kept whirling, trying to unravel his secrets. “So…you did things you didn’t want to do, but the million euros you offered me was your choice?”
“Yes.”
“Because you want me for yourself? Because you noticed me?”
His eyebrows came down. “Can you honestly say you didn’t notice me back?”
Lies sharpened my tongue. I wanted to hurl falsehoods like daggers, but instead, I held his stare and tried to be as honest as he’d been. “I noticed you.”
God, why does that hurt to confess?
“I-I was drawn to you.”
“Putain, c’est la merde. (Shit, this is so fucked up.) None of this was supposed to happen. I wish you’d never been in that godforsaken club. I wish you’d never noticed me or I’d noticed you. You’d be safe, and I’d…”
When he didn’t continue, I shifted against him. “You’d…?”
“Be here. Where I’m supposed to be.”
I cocked my head, studying him like an inquisitor. Thanks to Krish and his nonverbal days, I’d gotten used to reading body language. I’d gotten rather good, but Henri…he was hard to read. Hard to pin down his true thoughts when they scattered in all directions.
For a man playing the part of a rapist, he seemed oddly…sad.
“You said you were meant to come here alone?”
He scowled. “Are we going to stand around whispering all day? They’re watching—”
“If you want me to stop fighting you, then answer the question. Help me understand.”
He huffed. “Fine. Yes. You weren’t meant to be here, and like I already said, I’m sorry for dragging you along with me. This was never meant to be your task, just mine.”
“Task?”
He hung his head, exhaustion lining his eyes. “Yes. And I’m already fucking it up.”
Everything he’d said scattered like puzzle pieces. The longer we stood there, the more the edges filled in and the colours of his confessions began to paint a picture…a blurry picture slowly coming into focus, word by word.
“Fucking what up?” I murmured.
“This!” he whisper-hissed. “You. Me. If Victor guesses who I truly am—”
“Who you truly are?” My heart pitter-pattered. “Who is that exactly?”
“Christ, not that question again.” Pressing his forehead to mine, he breathed, “I’m merely trying to do the right thing, alright? That’s all.”
“The right thing being…”
“To help.” He closed his eyes. “I’m merely trying to help.”
And there it was.
The elusive clue, the final piece.
Every moment since we’d met in the Rockin’ Rabbit nightclub flashed before my eyes. His obvious discomfort tangled with his true nature. The need in him tempered by morals. The commitment to doing something that only seemed to cause him grief, all while a deeper force drove him. A force that looked so familiar because I felt it too.
Obligation.
A burden to someone you valued. A bond to what they needed.
I adored my brother above all things, but being his sister was a duty I would never be free of. I would always carry a debt of affection to keep him safe, well, and happy.
He’s here for someone else.
God, how had I been so stupid?
How had I not seen!
The nightclub.
It all makes sense now.
His unwillingness, the stiffness, the avoidance of me the moment he got me into that room with the table from hell. He hadn’t wanted to rape me. He’d thrown back drink after drink, almost as if he’d rather hurt himself than hurt me.
Ever since our eyes had met—in bad fortune or guided fate—his had been masked with lies so no one ever saw his true intentions.
But I saw them now.
Before I lost my nerve or second-guessed my wild epiphany, I grabbed his shirt and yanked him into me. His eyes flared as I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his ear. “You’re undercover. Aren’t you? That’s why I keep getting mixed signals. Why you said you’re meant to come? Why it’s your task? You were sent here to save the jewels. Y-You’re a cop?”
“What?” He reared back, shooting a look at one of the cameras. As quickly as he backed away, he crowded me again, mirroring what I’d done. His lips grazed the shell of my ear, sending pinwheels over my skin.
“Saying such things will end badly,” he hissed. “For both of us. So don’t.”
For the first time, I felt a glimmer of salvation.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t laugh or hit me.
Could he truly be the fantasy that Peter nursed? The dream that one day an unwilling Master would infiltrate this castle. A man pretending to want such bad, bad things, all while biding his time, doing his best to fit in, passing back information so law enforcement could save us?