14. Decadence
Chapter 14
Decadence
Christophe
Winnie stands wrapped in a cloak of silk curtains, lit by the moon as it streams through her window.
I don’t know what she’s staring at, if any of what’s out there looks at all familiar to her since she’s never been to my house. Would never come with me any of the times I asked her to follow me home from the woods. But the picture she makes stops my lungs, holding my breath hostage.
Her neck lengthens as she tilts her head to the side and unwinds the tight little twin buns. Waves glide down past the bottom of that tiny shirt, swinging against her back as she scrubs her fingers through the locks.
She arches, stretching her arms above her head, relieving tension that’s obviously settled deep in her bones. Hell, the fact that she hasn’t fallen apart is a testament to her strength.
I swirl my glass, ice clinking against the sides.
Last night, I sipped whiskey sweetened with her honey. The whiskey in my glass tonight falls sadly short.
I have work to do, emails to respond to, shit to take care of but none of that interests me. All I want is to sit here and stare at the picture of innocence bathed in silk and moonbeams.
That’s a lie. I want to do a lot more than stare at her.
Before Alain barged in uninvited, I was fine—no, I was okay with doing what needed to be done. Debts are not allowed to stand, and selling her at auction is really the only way to clear what’s owed.
After seeing the way he leered at her, hearing the way he wanted to use her, I was rethinking that plan.
The moment it clicked for him just exactly who it was perched on my thigh, my stomach dropped out my ass.
I didn’t want to know what he was thinking, the vile thoughts running through his mind, but there was no doubt in my mind what they consisted of.
The things he would do to her, she’d never survive. And begging for death would get her nowhere. I told her as much, but seeing the glint in his eye, yeah, that was too much.
“You good, boss?” Teague stalks into my office and lowers himself into the chair opposite my desk.
When I don’t answer, he tears his gaze from the screen of his phone and glances up at me. On my screen, Winnie pulls the curtains closed and leaves her sitting room. I want to follow her into her room, watch her strip off the day and slide between her sheets, but I don’t need Teague’s eyes on her like that. I’m the only one with access to the camera in her room. I plan on keeping it that way.
I had Teague pull her friend from her bed and take her back to her own suites so my men could work. I didn’t like not being able to see Winnie last night. I stole down to her room in the middle of the night, just for another glimpse of her.
“Boss?”
I push the air from my lungs and glance out the window. “What did Alain say to you when he left tonight?”
A laugh huffs from him, though I’m fairly certain there’s no humor behind it. “He asked me what I knew about the drug issue. Wanted to know what Henri still owed.” I don’t like the sound of that or where this might be going. “He wanted to know what your plans were going forward to clear that account.”
This is exactly what I was afraid of. And once Alain scents blood, there’s no deterring him.
“And?”
Teague’s expression turns hard and he shifts uncomfortably. Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he rubs his palm down his face and huffs out a sharp breath. “He asked if there would be two girls up on the auction block, if it was a buy one, get one free deal.” His grip on his phone is tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. I wouldn’t be surprised if the case yields under the pressure.
My pulse races, thundering through my veins. My head pounds at the added pressure. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, but that was not it. “Jesus.”
“Yeah.” Another huff from Teague and then he bites out, “Not happening.”
His obsession with the petite femme tranquille isn’t something I understand, but I don’t need to. He feels the way he feels and has held her close since we picked the girls up from the cemetery, but my gut tells me whatever is going on between them is rooted in history far deeper than what the past handful of days could hold.
Silence swirls thick between us.
At no point since pressing the plungers on her parents did I think any old feelings would resurface toward Winnie. I really thought my anger would sustain me. The vulnerability those feelings expose is concerning.
Alain thrives off the suffering of others, doesn’t matter who they are, how long he’s known them or whether they’re relatives. If he smells a hint of fear or the possibility of it, he’s going to pop his proverbial popcorn and sit back to enjoy the show.
I want to believe that I was able to shield Winnie at dinner, but I know better.
He took notice.
Of her.
Of me.
Of the way I kept hold of her.
And now he wants both of the girls. Greedy fucking bastard.
“Christophe,” Teague says, his voice low as if the walls have ears.
They have in the past but, aside from my driver whom Alain insists on remaining in my service, I cleared house. The only men I have on my team and in my employ are those I trust.
I meet his dark gaze.
“She is not to be touched. I won’t stand for it. If that’s going to be a problem, tell me now. I’ll send her away where no one can find her.” He’s unnaturally still, like a big lethal cat waiting to pounce. “Give me time to make the arrangements, and then I’m yours. You know this, yeah? I’ve got your six and will do whatever you need me to, but let me make her safe.”
I flex my jaw, the muscles bouncing with each hard grind of my teeth, and offer him a tight nod. “Do what you have to do. Put your mind at ease, but in two days we have a show to put on.”
Alain won’t wait any longer than that for his cash.
The wheels are already in motion and the invitations have been issued. Plans are well underway and there is no turning back now. Not that that was ever really an option, but time and distance have a habit of fucking with a person’s memories.
And to say I’ve been fucked is like stating that water is wet.
“And you? What are you going to do about his”—he tilts his head from side to side, searching for the right word—“interest?”
Isn’t that the fucking question. “I don’t know.” Simply put, there are not a whole lot of options.
“You could step up, demand your rightful place at the table.”
This is a conversation we’ve had on more than one occasion. Teague has always been in my corner, always had my back even when I had nothing but the hint of legacy within Les Millieu . But my uncle is all the family I have.
If my parents hadn’t been slaughtered in the bloodiest of ways, things would be different. An iota of support, having even Maman , who stayed clear of the family’s business, as counsel, a voice of reason, would have made all the difference in the world.
I was barely a man, grieving the murder of my parents. Stuck between throwing myself into a position of responsibility I was in no way ready for and doing what other kids my age were doing—going to college. Who knew a business degree would translate to mafia life, but Les Millieu is a business with profits and losses, our product might be different but we most definitely were a business.
“Timing is an issue,” I mumble.
“Timing. You think there’s ever going to be a good time to tell Alain to fuck off? You think he’s going to be receptive if you ply him with—what? Winnie? A beautiful young thing for him to taunt and tease, torture and ultimately destroy?” The glare I send him doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. “He’s not going to willingly step down. He’s not going to pat you on the back and thank you for allowing him the opportunity to hold things together until you were ready to step up and take your rightful place.
“You’re going to have to overthrow the dictator, Christophe. You have your people in place, ready and willing to back you in this coupe, but you have to want it.” There’s not another man alive who could talk to me the way Teague does. He’s the only one who can get away with laying it all out there for me, and he knows that.
That doesn’t stop the warning glare I shoot him. “I do want it,” I growl.
“But…?”
I sigh. But is right. What’s holding me back? Fear of the unknown? Fear of the known? Because I have no doubt if I go straight for his throat, Alain will put me down like a dog.
“It’s late,” I deflect. “Tomorrow, we make a plan.”
Teague stiffens, pulling back from me. “I have shit of my own to take care of tomorrow. You gave me two days. I’m going to need them to?—”
“Tomorrow, we plan. Then we each take care of business and reconvene prior to the event, but I’m done talking tonight.” I push back from my desk and stand, draining my whiskey before depositing the empty crystal to the table just inside the door. “Get some sleep; it might be the last you have for a while,” I tell him.
I stalk from the room, leaving Teague alone in my office. If he wants to waste his time sitting in there wondering what the fuck the next few days will bring, that’s his prerogative. I have things I need to sort out on my own before our joint planning session.
The fewer people who know what’s going to go down, the better.
I only get one shot at this; I can’t fuck it up.