Chapter 12 Aliénor
ALIéNOR
I tried to give Luca back the money he loaned me, but he wouldn’t take it.
I was secretly relieved because I had to start my life over, and it was nice to have a cushion to get back on my feet.
I was able to get a decent apartment and buy some furniture, so I had a bed to sleep in and a table at which to eat my meals.
It’d been a week since I’d left Luca’s home, and while I was excited to start over without someone trying to kill me all the time, I did miss that place. Missed the meals delivered to my room. The turn-down service. The safety of those walls.
But I missed him too.
Missed the conversations we had with just our stares. The innate comfort his presence brought me. His calm and quiet confidence. The fact that he was clearly the most dangerous man I’d ever encountered and he made me feel safer than I’d ever been in my entire life.
And I wouldn’t lie, I missed that dick too.
I used to try to stick to waitressing types of jobs, something that made it easier to lie low and stay out of the spotlight.
But now that I could do anything I wanted, I started to shoot higher.
Apply for other jobs, a receptionist in an art gallery, an intern with a high-end fashion company, an assistant for a photographer, things I was personally interested in.
I considered studying for a real estate license in the hope I could sell some of these multimillion-dollar properties. The sky was the limit now.
Would I actually get these jobs? Probably not. Probably wouldn’t even get an interview. But Septime would welcome me with open arms the second I called, so I had a backup if I needed it.
Getting a job and putting my life back together weren’t the only things on my mind.
I wanted revenge.
Revenge against the motherfucking asshole who killed my entire family and then chased me down like a rat living in the sewer.
My life had already been destroyed and unbearable, but he’d insisted on pursuing me anyway, making me live in a state of terror every minute of the day, making me wake up from panic attacks caused by nightmares.
I could move on with my life and try to be happy.
But I didn’t believe I could ever let this go.
Never.
I got a few interviews, one with the fashion company, probably because it was an unpaid internship and no one else could afford to do free work in Paris.
The other was the photographer’s assistant.
He was well-known in the city for his work with models and relationships with magazines, but he also occasionally did special events for the elites of society, like weddings and dinner parties.
Perhaps it was foolish of me to believe that the Oath would truly abandon their contract. I hardly knew Luca because he barely strung a few words together to form a sentence, but I trusted him like I’d known him forever.
I still had the gun he gave me, kept it on the dining table when I was in the kitchen. I left it on the nightstand when I went to bed. But I didn’t actually believe I needed it. It was a poor replacement for the man who had protected me with just his position and reputation.
Anytime I thought of him, I got chills. Instead of going out and getting dick in a bar, I chose to pleasure myself at home, picturing his naked body, his hard chest and massive shoulders, his stare dark as night.
He had a quiet masculinity that was so palpable I could taste it every time I breathed.
The sexiest man I’d ever been with.
But that was over, even though it’d never begun. He was in my life for a season, for a reason, and then we parted ways. It was never supposed to be more than that. I needed to feel grateful and move on.
I was at home one evening with a lasagna in the oven, reading a book on the couch, when my phone vibrated with a text.
You doing alright?
It was Luca. My heart did a whirlwind and then exploded in a crescendo. Adrenaline and then anxiety and then excitement. Pretty much every emotion I could feel hit me in the face. I hadn’t had enough time to process the fact that he was contacting me when he fired off another text.
Just wanted to check in.
It’d been two weeks since I’d hugged him goodbye.
Two weeks since I’d stared at him through the tinted windows of the SUV and felt a tear in my heart at our parting.
I felt so much for him so quickly. Probably because he was the only man who had helped me in eight fucking years.
Probably because he’d saved more than my life, but my sanity.
But I continued to stare at the messages and say nothing, so overwhelmed by everything he’d done for me that I didn’t know how to respond. He was like a celebrity to the Americans. The Pope to the Catholics. Sunshine to the trees.
I finally overcame the shock and replied. I’m well. Found a nice apartment. Had a couple job interviews this week. It’s still hard for me to believe that this is real, but I’d already be dead if it weren’t.
There were no dots.
I didn’t expect there to be. It was nice enough for him to text me at all, to let me know he was still there if I needed anything. If I asked him for money, he’d probably hand over a wad of cash without blinking. If I asked him for a ride, one of his drivers would be there in fifteen minutes.
I looked away from the phone and stared at the book in my hand.
The last few pages I’d read seemed to evaporate from my mind.
I checked the timer on my phone to see how long I had until the lasagna was done, but I’d suddenly lost my appetite.
The little speaker I bought played one of my favorite playlists, and I could see the raindrops collect on the window because it’d started to rain an hour ago.
It was the first moment of peace I’d known in a long time. So long it felt like a stranger. Even a dream.
My phone lit up again. Let me know if you need anything.
It wasn’t a lengthy message, but it was more than I expected from him.
You’ve done enough for me, Luca. I’d never met anyone quite like Luca, but I’d encountered variants.
Filthy rich and painfully handsome and built like concrete, he could have his pick of any woman he wanted.
If he wanted a wife, he could marry a princess.
If he wanted to be a father, he could have any baby mama he wanted.
If he wanted a different woman in his bed every night, he could have that too.
He didn’t need me.
I’d probably already been replaced by someone new. Probably several.
I didn’t get the job at the art gallery.
Well, fuck ’em.
I walked into my apartment and hung up my coat on the rack. I still had leftover lasagna that I’d made a couple nights ago, so I would finish that off even though I was ready for something new. Had to make my savings stretch until income started to roll in again.
I was excited to have a chance to live again, but I forgot how shitty being alive was sometimes. Everything cost money, and I didn’t have any coming in. The only way not to spend money was to sit on the couch and read, which was what I did a lot in my spare time.
I kicked off my boots and preheated the oven before I dropped onto the couch, still in my black dress and tights, looking ready for either a job interview or a funeral.
I didn’t even get to go to my own family’s funeral.
A knock sounded on the door.
I jolted so hard I felt my bones shift. I didn’t have any friends except Dominic, and he didn’t know about my new apartment.
So, whoever was on the doorstep was either a solicitor, which would be strange, or perhaps someone who assumed I’d let my guard down and they would blow off my head when I opened the door.
They knocked again, like they knew I was home. “It’s Luca.”
My eyes almost popped out of my head because I opened them so wide. My heart did the same dance as when he texted me the other day. An explosion of terror and joy and something in between burst inside me. “Oh my god.”
I finally got to my feet and crossed the room to the door, grateful that I was already dressed instead of having changed into my pajamas the second I walked in the door like I usually did.
Because I recognized that deep voice despite not seeing or talking to him for two weeks, I didn’t check the peephole before I opened the door.
It was really him.
Standing on my doorstep.
Hot as holy fucking hell.
In a long-sleeved black shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows like he was warm even in the rain.
There were drops splashed on his clothing like he didn’t care about getting wet when he walked from the car to the door to my apartment.
The webs of veins were so distinct on his arms I could see them in my periphery.
They were up his neck too, rivers popping from his skin.
He towered over me with his nearly six and a half feet of height, and his arms were like heavy dumbbells that he carried with him everywhere he went.
I didn’t say a word.
His eyes were exactly what I remembered. Dark and full of depth and always a splash of anger. His jawline didn’t have a shadow this time, like he’d shaved shortly before he’d come over here. Probably starting his day when most people were ending theirs.
The silence continued. I was still in shock that he was there.
He was the one who’d chosen to come here, but he seemed equally provoked by our union. “Are you going to invite me inside?”
“Oh…” I stepped aside so he could fit through the door. “Of course, yes. Come in.”
He entered my apartment, the ceiling so low that there was only a foot between his head and it. He took a quick scan of my small, one-bedroom apartment before he looked at me again.
“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see you.” I didn’t ask how he knew where I lived. It seemed like a stupid question when I’d experienced the extent of his power and resources.
My apartment was pretty bare, just the essentials to get by for the time being. But he didn’t insult what little I had or react to it. My entire apartment was probably smaller than the broom closets in his villa.
“Are you expecting company?” He faced me, head tilted down slightly to look at me.
“No.” I realized he was referring to my outfit. “I just got back from a job interview. They asked me to come all the way down there just to tell me they wouldn’t be hiring me. Not everything needs to be done in person.”
His hands slid into the pockets at the front of his black jeans. He wore boots that were almost militaristic. “What job was it?”
“A receptionist at the art gallery. Apparently, I don’t have the right look or whatever.”
He stared and gave no discernible reaction. “The others?”
“I’m still in the running for those.”
“If they don’t work out, I can get you something.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” I wouldn’t take anything else from him. He’d done enough. I wouldn’t take his time or his money or his resources.
“I know a lot of people,” he said. “People who matter.”
“I’m sure, but it’s okay.”
I saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but it slowly faded. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” I blurted, not thinking too hard about his question or my answer. A knee-jerk reaction.
“Then let’s go.”
“Go where?” I asked dumbly.
“Dinner.” He turned and headed back to the door like that explained everything. He opened the door and stood there, waiting for me to join him.
“Oh, you mean with me?” I asked, still feeling dumb.
He gave me that hard stare before he stepped into the hallway. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” He pulled out his phone and typed a text as he left and turned the corner to the stairs.
I blinked as I stared after him. “This is really happening.”