Twenty-Seven #2
I’m back to square one. All this effort wasted, because I couldn’t control my temper.
Part of me doesn’t even care. No one talks about Amelia like that.
“Bastien!” I grip his forearm, pounding him on the shoulder with my free hand.
He grins at me, returning the greeting with as much enthusiasm. His two bodyguards fan out around his car, covering opposite angles with professional efficiency.
“It’s good to see you in person. How long has it been?”
“Three months?” I venture.
“You’ll have to come out to Montana. That mare you like? She’s with foal.”
“I have my own mare, now,” I chuckle. “Come and meet her.”
“I don’t remember seeing you this… lighthearted,” he says as I lead him into the house.
I hadn’t considered it, but maybe he has a point.
“Why shouldn’t I be happy? I’m getting married. Ah, Linda. Is my beautiful fiancée ready?”
“Mr. Fournier, sir. How nice to see you again.” Linda gives Bastien a deferential nod, expression carefully composed, then addresses me. “Amelia is at the pool.”
“Of course she is.” I laugh to hide my irritation. I specifically told her that Bastien would be arriving soon. She was supposed to be in our rooms, preparing herself, and I know she’s done this deliberately. My Little Stray does like to push. “A whisky, then?”
“Swimming in November?” Bastien asks as we walk through the house, his bodyguards trailing at a distance.
“She swims every day,” I say with pride. Her already spectacular body is leaner and tighter for it. “The pool’s heated, of course. I understand she’s turned the temperature up. It’s probably costing me a fortune.”
Bastien chuckles. “Was that a veiled attempt at a pay raise?”
I spread my hands innocently. “I do have another mouth to feed.”
His expression turns grim. “The Volkovs have disrupted two more of our deals. They’re targeting us deliberately.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster,” he says curtly. “They’ve cost us millions already.”
I show him into my study, getting two glasses and a bottle of single malt off the bookshelf. “How are they finding them?”
Bastien flops into a chair. “I’m not sure. It’s possible they have someone inside. Or they may merely have analyzed our patterns.”
I nod as I pour. “Koval is behind this. He’s their sovietnik.”
Bastien accepts his glass, looking over it at me. “Do whatever you need to do, use whatever resources are required. Get this done, Lukas.”
“I understand.” It will take me away from Amelia, but it will keep her safe in the long run. “I’ll see it through. Then I’m going to want some time off.”
“Of course. And thank you for delaying your honeymoon.” He grins, raising his glass in a toast, turning on his charisma in that way of his.
We both take a sip, the whisky smooth and warming my throat.
Bastien waves his glass. “This woman of yours that’s such a distraction. Married after only four weeks? She must be keen.”
“Very,” I say instantly. Then I pause. “Well… not very. She understands the need.”
“Understands the need?” Bastien’s eyebrows rise. “What did you do, my friend?”
I talk to my whisky. “I… uh… might’ve told her that the Volkovs wouldn’t attack her or her sister once she was married to me.”
He barks a laugh. “I suppose that’s true… to a point. They do have some honor, but it’s more that they wouldn’t risk an escalation like that. They don’t want their own women as targets, do they?”
“No,” I say coldly. “And if they harm Amelia in any way, I’d have no compunction about exacting my revenge.”
“Exactly, but it won’t come to that.”
“Right…” I grimace. “My apologies that she’s not here to greet you. I did tell her.” She and I will be having words tonight. It’s good that the walls are thick enough to contain the sounds of spankings and the moans I intend to extract from her.
“I think she’s exactly what you need, my friend. Someone who doesn’t immediately come when you snap your fingers.”
Not from snapping, no.
“She’s stubborn.”
“And that’s my point. Maybe even enough to match your stubborn.” He grins at me, then sobers. “Juliette was an arranged marriage, and I always thought you were brave to stand by her to the end. But if you’ll excuse me for saying, your relationship lacked… fire.”
I can’t argue that. “There’s no lack of fire between Amelia and me. Or fight, for that matter.”
Bastien chuckles. “Yeah, that’s when I get bored. When they stop fighting.”
I think of nine years of watching Juliette become a shadow of herself before my eyes. She fought, in her own way, even though she lost in the end. Amelia fights every day, and I can’t see her ever giving up.
Heavy thoughts for this moment, and I cover them with a sardonic look. “Is that why you get bored so fast?”
He dismisses it with a laugh. “When there are so many of them, and all so keen to find me attractive for my money—”
“Plus your charisma,” I add dryly, “and your rugged good looks.”
“I won’t argue,” he grins. “But it’s mostly the money.”
There’s not even a hint of self-pity in Bastien’s honest appraisal.
“I can’t wait to meet the woman who makes you settle down,” I tell him as I lean back in my chair.
Bastien shakes his head. “That’ll never happen.”