Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cosette
I truly feel nauseous, and I’m not sure the pregnancy is helping at all, so when he leads me to the room under the assumption that I’m nauseous from pregnancy, I don’t correct him.
There’s no way… no.
I hate Paris because of my father.
He hates Paris because of politicians.
The man who got my mother pregnant—by all definitions, my father—lives in Paris.
Francois Montague will never admit that I’m his daughter.
It looks good to the press that he has a wife he’s been married to for thirty years, two picture-perfect children at university, and a modest home in the suburbs.
Montague would never recover from the admission that he cheated on his wife and had a child with her.
Better for him to pretend it never happened.
Some politicians would’ve paid my mother off to keep her silent, but that was too good a choice for Montague.
Maybe he feared she’d better herself or make a spectacle of him.
So instead, he threatened to ruin her, to have her put in jail on trumped-up charges and have me taken away.
Instead of providing for either of us, he chose to pretend it never happened.
That we never existed. To Montague, we don’t exist.
For years, my mother wouldn’t tell me who he was. She said we were better off without him.
I’ve spent the past few years of my life trying to figure out who he was.
The irony of Lyam asking for a paternity test…
If Montague ever asked for one, it would be loud and clear.
I don’t want to know who it is that Lyam’s after.
I don’t want to know anything.
I can’t deal with that now. Not when I have a baby to bring to term. Not when I have my own life to worry about. Not when Lyam’s lack of trust runs so deep in his veins, it takes everything I’ve got to rebuild what we had.
And I know the chances are so slim—
I’m always looking for excuses to run. This time, I won’t. I can’t. If I spend the rest of my life running every time I draw close to anyone, where will I end up?
My thoughts come to a screeching halt when the elevator door opens, bringing us back to the most high-end penthouse I’ve ever seen. It’s more than a hotel room, more than anything I even saw at Le Luxe.
I have a question, though. “Lyam, how is this place possibly secure? How do you hide it?”
He shrugs. “Camouflage, to begin with. That forest of thick trees? The outside of the building was intentionally designed to disappear into the surroundings. Remember how we didn’t even see it when we first drove here?
I nod, wordless. This is amazing.
“So the structure blends into the forest, making it harder to see from a distance. That only keeps the most basic viewers from finding it, though. We planted natural barriers, some extra vegetation and a rooftop garden which makes it a lot harder to see from above.”
Brilliant. Anyone flying over would see the spread of green and colors of vegetation. From a distance, it would look like the ground below.
“The entrances are secret and hidden, but the most high-tech methods involve blocking radar and jamming systems with electronic countermeasures. We don’t want aircraft finding us.”
“And this is all legal?” I blurt out. “Like… there are military planes and—”
He only smirks.
Yeah. I forgot who I was talking to there for a minute.
“We’ve got surveillance cameras, motion detectors, alarms, and security teams around the clock. Biometric access panels keep out unwanted guests.”
“Right. Wow.”
“Windows are reinforced, the walls are bulletproof. We even have a fire suppression system and emergency generators. The windows and doors are reinforced with shatterproof glass and heavy-duty locks.”
“So not only are you guarding against attacks, not only are you making sure you have a place to hide where literally no one can find you, but you’re also prepared in the event of like… a nuclear attack.”
“Yes.”
Holy shit.
“Well, then,” I mutter to myself. “Guess I somehow stumbled on the exact right type of father I’d want for my baby. Someone to make sure they are as safe as can possibly be. Maybe we should pick out where we’ll put the nursery.”
Another smirk.
The elevator opens.
“This place is lavish,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “You know I like to work hard and play hard. And we had to have it designed so that it was comfortable enough for a long-term stay.”
Long-term stay.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “We may be leaving the premises for your prenatal visits. We don’t bring people here unless it’s necessary.”
That’s a full month away.
“You’ll like it here, though,” he says, as he stretches his shoulders and neck. His voice drops to a lower, deeper register that holds promise. “I’ll make sure of it.”
My pulse begins to pound. My mouth goes dry, and a warm sensation fills my belly.
He’ll make sure I like it here, will he?
I’m glad we moved out of his house. I’d have a hard time forgetting the memory of the prison-like room he kept me in, even if it wasn’t for long. I want to start fresh with him. Maybe this is my chance.
I look around the room. It’s elegant but functional, with modern and stylish decor—marble flooring, stainless steel appliances in the kitchen, and in the living area, comfortable seating with panoramic views of the skyline.
There’s an office, a kitchen, and two sitting areas, one with an open dining room table near the kitchen.
I don’t feel right about getting these floors dirty, so I kick off my shoes.
I luxuriate in the soft feel of carpet underfoot.
When I walk to the kitchen, though, I brace myself for the cold of the floor beneath my feet.
I pause on the very edge of the room and look to Lyam with wide eyes.
“It’s warm,” I whisper.
“They’re heated floors,” he whispers back.
“Are you kidding me? Why?”
I like the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, almost boyish. He’s never carefree, but this is close. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.
“Because no one likes cold feet. They’re in the bathroom, too.”
This is the Lyam I’ve missed.
My heart aches, knowing that this is the Lyam I crave.
No. No, that isn’t true.
I crave every facet of Lyam. Without his hard exterior, his tenderness isn’t the same. Without his struggles, he isn’t the man he is today, the man he strives to be.
Without his past, there is no present.
Is the same true about me?
I’m not sure how to feel about any of this. I’m not sure what he wants from me. Is he only trying to butter me up?
Or can I actually accept the fact that he’s forgiven me? That he knows I’m carrying his child, and that my protection matters to him?
Why is it that being with Lyam makes me question everything? I ask as many questions as I get answers.
I walk silently to the bedroom. There’s only one, and of course it’s outfitted with a king-sized bed, decorated in shades of cream.
Everything in the bathroom’s equipped with high-end luxuries—a large soaking tub, a walk-in shower with luxurious toiletries, and those heated floors like in the kitchen.
“Well,” I say thoughtfully as I look around the room. “This is the sexiest prison I’ve ever seen.”
A shadow passes over his features before he nods. “It is, isn’t it?” A muscle twitches in his jaw. Something I said, then?
I look at him in silence.
His eyes smolder with intensity. I turn to face him. He mirrors me, turning to face me, too. I touch my hair and smooth it down.
A girl doesn’t forget what a man like Lyam’s capable of. I watch as he draws his thumb across his lower lip.
And I remember.
The feel of those lips across my body, heated and passionate like a brush with fire. The electric intensity of our connection.
“Come here,” he orders.
I said your disobedience intrigued me. I never said I’d allow it.
“Maybe you should come here,” I say boldly, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes. “I’m pregnant, you know. It might be a little… hard to walk.”
“Cosette,” he says with steel in his voice. “Come here, before I demonstrate exactly how one can safely but thoroughly punish a pregnant woman.”
Shi-it.
I walk to him.
I stand in front of him expectantly, when he reaches for me.
He spreads his warm hands along my lower back, and it feels so good to be touched by him.
His finger under my chin, he lifts my face to his.
At first, the kiss is exploratory and tender, soft and gentle.
But when he deepens the kiss, my lips part, allowing his tongue to explore mine.
My mind and body fuse in a whirlwind of desire and love, lust and need. I lose myself in the moment, this quiet, knowing passion laced with forgiveness and trust. My heart races and I can’t breathe. My senses spring to life as he runs his hand along my back gently, drawing me closer.
When he pulls back, I’m confident my eyes are wide and surprised.
I let myself forget how much I loved it when he kissed me.
I let myself forget everything.
Lyam is nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced before, and it makes me wild for him. Tortured and badass and dangerous as hell, he softens when I’m with him.
God, I want him so damn bad.
He holds me. I lean my head against his chest and allow myself the luxury of feeling safe and protected for a little while.
“How are you feeling?” he asks. “I’ll have this kitchen stocked with things you can eat.”
“I am starving. I don’t know what they’re talking about with the whole ‘you don’t eat for two until the second trimester’ thing, but I feel like I could eat like an entire turkey leg right now.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“Or maybe a burger. Some chicken? Fish? Protein. I want protein. I think.”
“Protein,” he repeats. “That’s easy. I’ll order food.”
Of course it is. He lifts iron like it’s saving his ass, and the man eats my body weight in protein every day.
“Wait, no. Soup. Can you get me soup?”
“Of course.”
I yawn. “You’re tired?” he asks.
“Always.”
“Let’s get you to the bedroom.”
“How cliché.”
A spark flares in his eyes that makes my own heart beat faster.
“Cosette—”
I swallow and gather my nerves. “Yes?”