Chapter Four
Julian
I ’m not talking until I see him,” she says, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest .
Across the table from her, the captain of the guard and one of the top men in Griskold’s security forces tap their pens against the metal surface, lean back .
“Mademoiselle, we’ve been over this already,” the guard captain, Pierre, says calmly. “Your father is also currently being questioned, and the faster that both of you cooperate, the faster we can let you see him, the faster we can make sure that his medical necessities are taken care of …”
He’s already had his medicine, by the way. We want him talking, not dead, but she doesn’t know that .
The other man, Jean-Luc, leans forward .
“We don’t suspect you of anything but wanting to help your father,” he says, his voice radiating warmth and sincerity. I’m sure he’s practiced that a million times. “But if you’re hiding something that you know about him, this could go from you walking out of here tonight a free woman to… well …”
A heavy silence falls over the interrogation room, and behind the one-way glass, I frown, crossing my arms .
He’s lying to her. I know that he is, the captain knows he is, and judging by the ferocious sparkle in Mademoiselle Marchand’s eyes, she knows it, too .
“I don’t know anything because he hasn’t done anything,” she says, her voice deadly and quiet.
“He’s an opinionated citizen who thinks the monarchy should be done away because it’s an institution that’s a hundred years out of date.
Luckily, Griskoldian citizens have rights that include free speech, so wanting a different type of government isn’t against the law . ”
She folds her hands in front of her on the table, glaring, eyes still flashing. They did search her, but she’s wearing the same thing she was when she came into the palace: tight jeans, heels, and a blouse that’s almost low- cut .
From this angle I can just barely see the tantalizing rise and fall of her breasts, and despite myself, my eyes are glued there. I’m practically willing a button to pop off, but it doesn’t work .
What would she look like tied to my bed ?
Hands over her head, spreader bar between her legs .
I could undo every button with my teeth as she panted for breath, feel her sweet submission with every rise and fall of her chest …
I turn away from the window abruptly, pace the small observation room, hands clenched, and try to drive the fantasy out of my head. I think about butterflies, kittens, puppies .
What she’d sound like when she moaned with a gag in her mouth .
How pretty her perfect ass would be as red welts rose up across it …
“You know what is against the law?” Jean-Luc says, quietly. “Colluding with foreign agents to assassinate the king .”
“What?”
She looks genuinely surprised, confused, looks from him to Pierre and back .
Then she laughs .
“You’ve got something wrong,” she says. “Look. My father does a lot of hanging out in pubs, and probably too much running his mouth, but he’s not colluding with anyone.
The man could barely collude with his cable company to get an upgrade package earlier this week, it’s completely ludicrous to think that he’s — ”
“Not him, Miss Marchand,” Jean-Luc says quietly .
She blinks at them, hands still spread on the table in front of her .
“Then why am I here?” she finally says .
“Because we’ve got evidence that you’re colluding with foreign agents,” Pierre says .
She goes perfectly still for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth. Then she frowns, her brow furrowing, and narrows her eyes .
“No, you don’t ,” she says .
Both men just sit back in their chairs expectantly, like they’re waiting to get her confession or something, though I’m pretty sure she’s not about to give anything up .
They’re not bluffing. Not exactly , because recent intelligence has come to light that Petrovinsk has a sleeper agent on the inside. A woman, which is unusual, and a few reports have made us think that she might even be a Griskold native who was somehow turned .
That’s all the reports say, of course. There’s no description of the woman, nothing about who she is or where she lives.
Pierre and Jean-Luc are just trying to scare her into giving up anything she does know, but as the beautiful Miss Marchand flounders, looking from face to face, trying to find a sign that they’re bluffing, I put both hands on the sill of the one-way glass window, thinking .
This means that legally, I don’t have to let her go .
I could make her stay here, in the castle. With me .
The thought sparks something deep inside me. I’ve had plenty of women over the years, even since I came back looking like this , but none of them made me feel quite the pull that she’s exerting over me right now .
Those women were already submissive, already practically mewling at my feet. They couldn’t wait to be tied up and spanked, bound and gagged, teased and denied again and again until they begged me to let them come .
But this girl is different. I can tell by the fire in her eyes that she won’t be so easy .
I’m going to need to break Belle Marchand .
And she’s going to love every second of it .