Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Cosette
“There’s blood on your shirt.”
He glances down before looking back at the road in front of him. “Why, so there is. Must be Claude’s.”
He doesn’t care at all that he’s splattered in another man’s blood.
Figures.
I shudder and turn away to look out the window, rubbing my wrists now that he’s taken off my restraints. I stare outside the window.
When I boarded the plane, I didn’t know where they were taking me or who they were pairing me with. I felt my heart sink when I saw the familiar city skyline of Paris.
I wish I could love Paris like others do. But it’s a city for lovers, something I’ll never be. It’s also a place that haunts me, one I’d like to forget.
But I forgot my dislike for Paris when I saw who they stationed as my captor.
Lyam.
Why Lyam?
There was a time when he turned my head with those fiery, hazel eyes and that stern, utterly masculine face that stops women’s hearts.
The black ink that marks his body with the memories of what he’s survived, who he is, what has meaning in his life.
They say French men make the most passionate lovers, and I think a part of me wondered if I’d find love here.
I know better now.
I watch him surreptitiously as he drives the car with the command and authority of an expert.
His large, muscled body, honed from hours upon hours of hard work at the gym, moves with fluid grace as he navigates the busy streets, teeming with curious tourists.
I watch as he thoughtfully brushes a thumb along his lower lip, his eyes narrowed on the road in front of us.
Someone with an untrained eye might think he’s a fitness model, a personal trainer, or even a professional athlete on holiday.
Dressed casually in expensive but simple clothing, he’s the very picture of health and vitality.
Sculpted and rugged, it still makes my heart turn over in my chest when he moves, his muscles rippling with grace.
Perfection.
And why is it so beautiful here? Paris at dusk, silhouetted in velvety blue, is stunning.
I sit in the passenger seat of the car he drives—a gorgeous, armored Ferrari he had custom designed, no doubt with help from their friends the Rossis in America. Everyone in Europe knows about Mario Rossi’s affinity for stunning, insanely expensive cars.
I remember when he talked with Mario. I remember when he told me all about the car, in vivid detail, his eyes shining and proud, almost boyish. Unlike how he is these days.
He used to be a lot more carefree. But that was back when we liked each other. Maybe even loved each other.
I miss that Lyam.
I shut my eyes because hot tears blind my vision and I’d rather die than let him see me cry and know he won. I take in a deep breath and get my shit together, then let it out slowly as I gaze out at elegant buildings and glowing streetlamps.
“Funny how life works,” he says, almost thoughtfully. “I always wanted to show you my place in Paris. And now here we are.”
I exhale a shaky breath. If he only knew the half of it.
“Here we are.”
I expect him to go on about rules and expectations and how he hates me. I expect him to tell me I’m his prisoner, under his command, and blah blah blah. Maybe smack his chest like the animal he is and growl his ownership of me, or whatever it is he’s told himself he deserves because of what I did.
If only he knew…
A part of me hopes he does punish me.
I never meant to betray the Gerard family. They’re the only family I have. I hate the guilt that weighs me down, the knowledge that I hurt people who cared for me. I hate the pain of their rejection.
I swipe discreetly at my tears that will fall as I continue to stare out at the night through watery eyes, trying to ignore him. I’m not so much interested in what’s out the window so much as I’m trying to make sure I don’t look at him.
If I do, I might love him again.
I can feel him, though. Beside me. And there’s nothing he could ever do that would make me forget.
The nights of passion. The late-night hookups. Our rendezvous at Le Luxe. The hours we spent confiding in one another, sharing our hopes and dreams and regrets. The midnight sex and passion a girl could only ever dream of.
It’s how I got into this predicament to begin with.
Someone knew, though. Someone saw. And someone used my love for him against us.
I flinch when he speaks, his voice as harsh as a slap. “Why did you do it?”
I look at him in surprise at first, wondering if he’s asking why I fell in love with him.
But no. Of course that isn’t it. He may be many things, but he isn’t a mind reader.
He wants to know why I chose to betray him and his family.
I snort, trying to feign disdain. “Maybe they paid me. Maybe I needed the money.”
I’ve always been a terrible liar.
He snorts. “Liar.”
And he’s always been able to suss me out.
That’s honestly what I’m afraid of.
I look back out the window and try to put up a wall between us. I can’t, though. I can feel the tension between us, and I know it isn’t just the knowledge of what I did. It runs so much deeper than that.
I gasp out loud when I feel his hand on my knee.
“Skittish.”
I don’t reply.
He continues, “We have a lot to address.”
Oh yes, we do.
“And we’re going to start with honesty, Cosette.”
I wonder if it’s only hopeful thinking that his voice is a little softer this time.
To anyone looking in from the outside, Lyam’s the life of the party, full of jokes and laughter and humor.
He could tell you the best restaurant to go to in any major city, the best nightclub, the most luxurious hotel.
Women fawn over him at Le Luxe like he’s an ancient deity incarnate, a god descended from Mount Olympus who’s graced us mere mortals with his presence.
No one knows the way he broods when he’s alone.
Even his brothers don’t know about the scars on his back or why he never sleeps.
But I do.
“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask, my voice husky with emotion because I know before he answers that I can’t tell him the truth. None of it. Not why I made the decision to betray them. Not how I really feel.
And most definitely not who I really am.
“You heard me. Why did you do it?”
“I told you that night,” I say, grateful he’s focused on the road because I don’t want to look in his eyes. “They threatened to hurt you.”
The fingers on my knee tighten.
“And we both know that was a lie. My brothers buy it, but I don’t.”
Is that why he’s the one who spared my life?
How can he see through me like that? How? My God, sometimes I wonder if the man is superhuman.
His phone rings. Cursing, he glances at the screen and stabs it with his finger. Thayer’s voice comes over the car speakers.
“You got her.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause, before Thayer clears his throat.
“And Claude?”
Lyam’s jaw tightens before he responds. “Is on his way back to Corsica.”
“Alive?”
“Yeah, fucking alive. He’ll need a medic, but I told you I wouldn’t kill him on a whim.”
Now who’s the one lying? Lyam would absolutely kill someone on a whim if he thought he had to.
I’m under no delusion that his brutal attack had anything to do with caring about me. No, definitely not. I know for a fact that it was only because Claude touched Lyam’s property. I have nothing to do with it.
“Something else you need?” Lyam asks his brother while he makes a turn. I’d bet good money we are heading toward the Louvre.
I learned the layout of Paris years ago and have it committed to memory. I walk the streets in my dreams sometimes.
“Just wanted to tell you I’ll be in Paris next week. Savannah’s decided she wants her prenatal care here instead of Corsica. She said —”
He keeps talking but I don’t hear a word because of the pounding of blood rushing in my ears. My cheeks feel hot and my chest, heavy. My skin prickles with awareness and fear.
My mind completely short-circuited at prenatal care.
Savannah’s pregnant? Oh my God.
Savannah’s pregnant and I betrayed her.
She could have died because of me.
I was the one that handed her over. I was the one that let their enemies in. If she’d died, her blood would’ve been on my hands.
Pregnant.
It doesn’t matter that I had no choice. It doesn’t matter that I did what I thought I had to.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Lyam asks me. I swipe at my cheeks, angry that I’ve always cried easily. I try not to, but it seems the harder I try, the harder I cry.
I didn’t even realize they’d disconnected the call.
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk.
“Did he fucking hurt you?” Lyam snaps, as he yanks the steering wheel, pulls over to the side of the road, and slams on the brake. “If that fucking asshole hurt you, you’ll fucking tell me.”
I shake my head. I know he’s talking about Claude, and I know that if I told him Claude hurt me, he’d destroy him.
“He didn’t hurt me. It’s nothing. I’m cold and tired.
” I put ice into my voice to cover up the trembling and turn to face him.
He doesn’t deserve my honesty and vulnerability.
He had that once, and that was enough. “That’s all.
Now take me back to wherever you’re taking me and do whatever you’re going to do to me already. ”
Lyam grabs my chin, his eyes blazing into mine. Even when he’s furious with me, my body can’t forget what it’s like when he touches me. My skin feels warm and tingly, and my heart beats too fast.
“You think you’ll get away with stonewalling me? You think I won’t find out?”
I stare at him, unblinking. I refuse to cave. I refuse to let him have any control over me.
I know he’ll find out. I know he’ll find out everything eventually. I just need this to be on my terms, not his, and I have my reasons.
“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” he asks, his lips curving in a sardonic smile.
I know we’re not in Corsica anymore, obviously, so my fear that I’d be kept in one of the cages at Le Luxe was unfounded.
Not that he doesn’t have whatever else he needs at his disposal, wherever the hell he is.
I shake my head, glaring at him.
I can’t believe I ever thought I loved this asshole.