Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Lyam
Even though night has now fully fallen, when we near my house, I can still see the silhouette of the gardens.
Tourists and couples, pedestrians and visitors roam the streets we’ve been driving through.
Most of them likely oblivious to echoes of the claims made by the pompous asshole while he stood right here on this pavement and read canned words someone else wrote for him.
He doesn’t care about the city of Paris. Even I know that. They buy it, though. They want to believe that what he says is the truth, because people like to have someone to look up to. Someone they can trust.
I’m struck with the irony of that when I pull the car up to the house.
I made sure my home was located in the heart of the city but somewhat away from the main tourist attractions. Still, it’s heavily secured with gates and the most efficient security cameras money can buy. I don’t take any risks. Fabien and Thayer think I’ve gone overboard, but I know better.
I live here because Paris is the heart of France and I like to keep my finger on her pulse.
I get out of the driver’s seat and stretch. While I don’t let anyone drive for me, I want to take Cosette inside immediately, so tonight I’ll allow one of my men to park it. Six of them stand beside the car, waiting for instructions.
“Mr. Gerard, you had a visitor earlier.”
“Who was it?” It’s unusual for me to get visitors. I don’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.
“They didn’t leave a name, but we suspect it was one of Paris’s detectives.”
Of course it was. I look to Jacques, my main assistant. Sworn into our family recently, he’s loyal and adept and notices everything.
I don’t fear them. Everything I’ve done is neatly accounted for, and I’ve got alibis and justifications if anyone raises accusations against me, not to mention a team of lawyers and, worst case scenario, dirty cops on our payroll.
But detectives are like pesky little flies that won’t go away, no matter how many times you swat them.
“Was he in a uniform?”
I hate anyone in a uniform.
“She, and yes, sir.”
She. I know who it was, then, and she should’ve been smarter than to come here in uniform.
“Thank you. Park my car. I have a guest I’m bringing inside.”
The slightest lift of his brow is the only indication that he’s surprised before he nods. I rarely let anyone touch my car, but I trust Jacques. “Yes, sir, right away.”
I open the passenger door. Cosette looks up at me, her lips pursed in disdain, but I don’t miss the way she’s quickly taking in every detail. I told her about my home in Paris, but she’s never been here before. I wonder what she thinks.
I shake my head and reach for her. I shouldn’t care what she thinks. It doesn’t matter. I should want her to hate being here. She’s my prisoner, and the more she dislikes it, the better.
I reach for her restrained hands but think better of it and grip her elbow instead.
God, her skin’s so soft and warm. I remember what it felt like to brush my body against hers, both of us stripped and vulnerable. I remember the way she felt, the way she tasted. I remember the way she yielded to me. I remember the sound of her cries when she came.
“Very nice,” she says, her nose in the air. “It’s very you. I suppose you have a room for all your pets?”
Fuck, she makes me hard when she spars with me. “Some have rooms, yeah. And some,” I say in her ear as I move her from the car, “have cages.”
Yeah, that struck a nerve. Cosette’s well acquainted with the room of cages at Le Luxe.
Of course those are consensual.
“Very cute,” she quips, but she can’t hide the flush of her cheeks or the way her voice trembles a little. I wonder why. Curiosity? Anger?
Arousal?
If I can still wield that power over her, my job will be so much easier to do.
My men flank our sides, weapons drawn. They walk in sync like I’ve trained them.
“Isn’t that cute,” Cosette says, rolling her eyes.
I give her hair a good pull, making her gasp in surprise.
“Watch it.”
She only smiles.
“Ah, I see what you’re playing at.” We step up the stone stairs that lead to my main door.
My staff opens it. A dim light in the entryway welcomes me home, and I know if I call, more staff will come within minutes.
It’s late, though, and I don’t need more of them than are already here.
I’m never alone here unless I demand it.
“I’m not playing at anything,” she insists.
Like hell she isn’t.
“You forget, Cosette. I know what you like. I know what you crave.”
Her flushed cheeks deepen in color as we enter my house. “I won’t be baited into punishing you. Not the way you like.”
That woman craves an over-the-knee spanking like some women crave wine or sex. She falls apart over my lap and comes so easily I hardly have to work for it.
Though… now that I think about it… that actually could be used to my advantage…
“I’m not baiting you,” she protests, and this time there’s none of the disdain and hardness. She falters a bit.
“So you aren’t trying to get a spanking because you like it,” I say nice and loud for everyone to hear.
Drawing in a breath, she releases it slowly before she responds. “You said you were going to punish me. And I won’t even pretend I haven’t earned it. But don’t forget, Lyam. I know what you like, too.”
And just like that, I’m hard as fuck.
She fucking does.
I need to get her alone, and now.
“That doesn’t fucking matter,” I say to her, but we both know it’s a lie.
Jesus, making love to Cosette was the pinnacle of damn near everything I’ve ever done.
Even though she’s being terse with me now, I know.
That’s not her personality. I’ve never met a woman so eager to please in all my life.
Her anger and contempt only mask her fear.
I grind my teeth together, because I can’t think about our time together… the passion… everything we did…
Contrary to popular opinion, I’ve only been with a few women. But everyone, literally everyone, pales in comparison to Cosette.
God, Cosette. Why did you have to betray us? I can’t ever love a woman I can’t trust.
“Ow,” she protests. I didn’t even realize I was holding her as tightly as I am.
I loosen my grip.
Some members of my staff stand in the shadows, watching. They know I expect them to be unobtrusive but ready to do whatever I ask at a moment’s notice.
“The room’s ready?”
“Of course, sir. I assumed you meant the one near yours? And I assumed you meant one for someone kept under guard. Thayer filled me in.”
I nod as we walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She’s pretending she isn’t observing every single damn thing along the way.
“Well,” she says almost begrudgingly. “I shouldn’t be surprised you live in the lap of luxury.”
There was a time that I imagined bringing her here, only in my imagination, the circumstances were very, very different.
“I like to work hard and play hard.”
“Right. And you need a place large enough to accommodate your monstrous physique?”
I press my lips together. I won’t be taunted. “Remember what I said about sarcasm.”
Still, I can’t help but smirk at her comment. She isn’t wrong. When I work, I’m laser-focused. When I come home, I like my surroundings luxurious and spacious. I spend good money on shit that will last.
“Surely you didn’t pick this all out yourself?” she asks, gesturing toward the furnished rooms. “Either you hired someone, or you’ve got a hidden talent for interior decorating.”
“I don’t give a shit about whatever decorating. I told someone what I wanted, paid them good money to do it, and they delivered.”
I’ve got the most up-to-date electronics and comfortable, well-made furniture that will last, but most importantly, the large bay windows look out over the Louvre. At night, the city twinkles, as if it were a movie set.
My bedroom’s decorated in simple, muted tones to help me relax, with leather and wood accents, and a king-sized bed I’m told is designed for the best night’s sleep.
Not that I ever sleep.
But we aren’t going to my bedroom.
Occasionally, my brothers or mother come to visit, so I made sure this home had a guest room. I know how I am. I know if Cosette’s anywhere near me, I’ll soften. Before I know it, she’ll be in my bed.
And that’s not why we’re here.
“Ground rules,” I tell her. “You know why you’re here. You’ll stay in the guest room unless I give you permission to leave.”
“Mhm,” she says, her lips pursed.
Still trying to pretend she isn’t afraid.
“I was thinking I was tired and could put off your interrogation until the morning, but now I’m thinking it might be smart to start this off on the right foot.”
She grits her teeth but doesn’t fully hide the fear in her eyes. She swallows.
“Right.”
My pulse begins to quicken. I love dominating anyone, but dominating Cosette’s a particular delicacy.
She’s your prisoner.
I can’t let myself forget even for a second why she’s here.
Why I am.
It won’t be like punishing a man.
No.
The beauty of knowing her so intimately is that I know exactly how to push her buttons.
“Lyam,” she begins. “I’m very tired, and so are you.”
It isn’t like her to try to talk her way out of something. She’s way too brave for that. So it surprises me she’s trying this angle.
“There will be plenty of time for sleeping later.”
She purses her lips and walks beside me with her head held high, but her lower lip trembles.
It would be a lie to say I don’t look forward to part of this. I’m not dead.
She’s gorgeous and brilliant, even if she is our enemy now.
I know what she looks like when she comes. I know that when she softens her heart and gentles her spirit, she’s irresistible.
“Sir?” someone calls from down the hall.
I turn with her still in my grip.
“Your mother’s here.”
My mother? “What? Is she alright?”
“Yes, sir. She said she’s here to talk to you and won’t keep you long.”
My mother never shows up unannounced. I glance over to see the look of triumph on Cosette’s face.
“Did you call her?”
“With what?” she asks innocently. “Smoke signals?”