11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Elsa
T hierry and I had a long talk about how guilty he felt for not telling me that my father had hired him to keep an eye on me.
"In his defense, it was for you protection," he told me. "He's kept you away from the life, but Els, some people know."
I patted him on his shoulder. "I don't hold it against you. I never have. Let it go."
He kissed me warmly on my forehead. "I love you, ma chérie ."
I leaned into him. Délices d'Elsa was quiet in the early evening—most people were looking for a glass of wine at a bar, not a café au lait and croissant at my place. But we stayed open until six for the dinner crowd picking up a baguette or dessert to go.
I heard the bell on the door which was behind me open and felt Thierry stiffen.
"Your husband is here," he whispered, brushing his lips against my ear.
I was expecting him.
I didn't know what to do with him, but I knew I had to figure that out sooner than later.
I couldn't and wouldn't be married to an adulterer. Regardless of what his brother thought, I'd seen Duncan in action and was familiar with his reputation. Everyone in the Ritz knew that he brought escorts over. High end, for sure, since I knew what Angelique charged, and I had no beef with that. He could do whatever he wanted and however he wanted; he just couldn't do that and be my husband.
I put a hand on my belly to steady myself and turned to face not just Duncan but also Dean.
He came over and gave me a quick hug and a kiss. "We were having a drink a few blocks away and thought we'd drop by." Dean slid an arm around me, gently pushing Thierry aside.
My friend grunted, and I sighed. " Allez, do your dick measurements elsewhere. We're closing."
Duncan stood by the door, looking gorgeous in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves folded, showing off his forearms. He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.
" Bonsoir, ma douce ," he said softly.
Just that voice, and I felt heat streak through me.
Nuh-uh ! Not going to give him a free pass because my baby was making me hormonal and horny.
" Bonsoir, Duncan ." I turned to see Thierry and Dean, who flanked me like bodyguards. "You both need to find something else to do while I talk to my…Duncan."
"I don't think so." Thierry folded his arms, standing like a sentinel, guarding the fair princess. "He may need to have his ass kicked."
"And I want to watch the show," Dean quipped. In the short time I'd known him, I'd found out that he deflected with humor. Everything was a joke for Dean; but he also had a sensitivity that was endearing.
" Dégagez ," I said firmly. Get out!
Thierry stared down Duncan, who didn't seem to be affected at all, while Dean wondered, "Is there any good sports bar around here? Man U is playing."
"Of course, you're a Man U fan," Thierry said with a sneer. "You Americans who know fuck all about football always latch onto that team."
"Fair point," Dean replied, unfazed.
Thierry shot me a look, and when I rolled my eyes, he turned back to Dean. "Come on, I'll buy you a beer and teach you about le foot ."
The two of them left, and I followed to flip the sign to "Closed" and lock the front door.
"Would you like a coffee?" I asked, moving behind the sales counter, needing to put some space between Duncan and me. My stomach churned, and I instinctively placed a hand on it.
"You feeling okay?" he asked, leaning over the counter, concern lacing his eyes.
"Like you care." It sounded churlish, but I couldn't change how I felt. I cooked him dinner. We had great sex. I thought it was a beginning and now I didn't know what to think. I was pregnant at twenty-four years of age and had what was a shotgun wedding, and now my husband was fucking hookers. If anyone had a right to stomp their feet like a child, I think it was me.
"I do care," he whispered. " Please , can we sit and talk?"
He seemed so earnest that I almost caved in but I shook my head, crossing my arms, taking a defensive posture. "Say what you have to say." Then I thought better of it and, before he could speak, added, "But I have to say something first. Madame Lefèvre said you've been staying at the Ritz for the past week while you ignored me in your apartment. Your brother says you haven't been sleeping with prostitutes. If you have been, you can walk out right now because we have nothing to say to each other. I'd appreciate it if you got tested, and I'll do the same and share any untoward results, just in case since we didn’t use a condom this last time. I'll let you know once the baby is born. We can do a paternity test and then figure out visitation if the baby is yours."
I saw hurt flicker in his eyes and felt like a bitch. That last remark about the baby maybe not being his was unnecessarily cruel.
He came around the counter and before I could move or protest, caged me by leaning onto his hands that rested on the counter next to my hips.
I swallowed nervously.
He smelled good. And he reminded me of sex. After all, he'd been my only sexual partner, so that was no surprise.
"The baby is ours. So, don't ever say that again. And since you, that first time, it's only been you . I get tested regularly. I'd never put you or our baby at risk. I stayed at the Ritz because it's my suite, and I'm comfortable there."
"Why? Your apartment is dull and lifeless just like the Ritz."
He smiled then. "Then change it."
"Don't want to. It's too big and too showy. Also, I hate Mrs. Danvers."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Who?
"Madame Lefèvre," I explained.
He laughed, his face softening. "Dean fired her. He's never liked her. I had no opinion. My mother wanted her hired because she'd taken care of her for many years when she lived in Paris."
"I like my apartment." I wanted to move away from him, but he seemed very relaxed, keeping me prisoner, and if I was honest, I liked it…a freaking lot.
"Okay. We can live there."
"That's presumptuous of you, assuming I'll let you move in with me."
"I'm sorry, Elsa," he spoke gently. "I don't know how to do this, and it's fucking with my head. I can't even say I won't piss you off again because I think I might, but I'm going to learn and—"
"What kind of marriage do you want to have? A real one or just this…I don't know, fuck and run affair? Or maybe you just want the child and not me. Tell me so I can prepare myself." My shoulders slumped, energy leaving me. I was tired of being hurt and annoyed with him. I was tired because I was having a baby. I was tired of waking up at four in the morning to get the day started. I was tired, point final !
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I want to give you whatever you want. So, if you tell me what you want, I can—"
"That's not how this works."
Maybe he wasn’t kidding when he said he had no clue how to be in a relationship. I'd never been in one either but at least I knew how to have one.
"Tell me how it works," he asked desperately. "I'm fucking lost, Elsa. I know that I like you. I like fucking you. I like the idea of us becoming parents, even though it terrifies me. But that's all I know. I'm not wired to…fall in love and do romantic shit."
"You did rose petals and candles," I accused him.
"I called my sister-in-law and she advised me," he admitted. "On my own, I'd have just asked you if I could fuck you hard because," he shifted his hips, and I gasped, feeling his erection, "that's how I am when you’re around; when I even think about you."
I pushed him away then, and he moved.
"Sex isn't marriage."
"Then what is?" he demanded, and I saw the softness shift, and his face fall into hard lines. I wanted to smoothen them out.
"Companionship. Partnership. Friendship."
"Okay."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Okay?"
"Yes. I like your company. If you want to be partners, we can set that up, and you can have my share of the Archer business and—."
Merdé! This guy was clueless. "I meant a partnership in the marriage. I don't care about your business."
"What does that mean?"
It hit me then—he had no idea how to be a husband. It wasn't something he said to make an excuse; it was true.
"It means we take care of each other, Duncan and be honest with one another. We don't run away. We help each other. We are each other's champions."
He smiled, relief on his face. "I can do all that. I want to do all that, with you."
" And we love each other," I added.
His face fell. "I don't know what that means. I get the rest. I'll be loyal to you—in and out of bed. I mean, I only want to fuck you. I want to take care of you, and I've never wanted to do that for anyone except the members of my family, which makes sense because you're my wife." He came closer and cupped my cheek. "I don't have a lot of friends. I have business associates. I guess I can learn this friendship thing if you'll teach me."
My husband baffled me. He went from confident man to an oblivious one in seconds.
I had a decision to make. I could send him away or try again. It wasn't really a difficult decision. I already knew what my heart wanted.
"I'll teach you," I vowed.