Chapter 57
Lincoln
“How was the picnic?” Pierre asks.
I close my eyes and suppress a groan. The picnic was fucking incredible, and then after was just as incredible when I washed
us both clean in the shower and I fucked her again. After, we moved the TV into my room and lay in bed for the rest of the
night eating snacks and watching movies. I know that’s not the kind of answer Pierre is looking for though, which is why he’s
waited until the privacy of the basement to ask.
“It was good. She didn’t seem on edge at all. Didn’t ask any questions about where we were. I did tell her the road we turned
off led into town and we heard some traffic while we were out there, but she showed no sign of wanting to run.”
He does that humming thing when he’s thinking. “Per’aps she realized it would be futile to run? I mean you would surely catch
her, and she is a smart girl.”
I had considered that. “I know, but it was her whole body language. She just seemed happy to be outdoors, and to . . .” I
swallow the knot of happiness and perhaps disbelief that clogs up my throat.
“And to what?”
“To be with me.”
He smiles.
“Am I fucking insane, Pierre? I feel like a fucking teenage boy.”
“You are in love, mon ami. It happens to the best of us, and yes of course it feels like you are going crazy.”
“I’m twice her age,” I remind him. I’ve never fucked a woman young enough to be my daughter before, let alone take her for
a picnic and discover a new and incredibly satisfying use for butter.
He shrugs. “Only for one more year, and then you will simply be twenty-one years older.”
“I’m her godfather,” I add.
“In name alone. You have not known her for almost her entire life.”
Guy has an answer for everything.
“She thinks I murdered her parents.”
He throws his hands into the air. “Then tell her the truth. Tell her you did not!” He says that like it’s easy.
“She spent eighteen years of her life being convinced otherwise, Pierre. We know her grandfather is a piece of shit, but she
loves the guy. She’s still loyal to him, and I’m not sure yet whether she’d believe me over him.”
“Not yet, but one day. Maybe you should look into her grandfather a little more, non?”
I’m already looking into him after the whole chess quote, but he’s frustratingly difficult to get information on. Like me,
he has very little online presence. Despite being incredibly wealthy, he has very few expenses or social interaction. He’s
a shut-in—even more of a recluse than I am.
I did entertain the notion that he may be the King I’ve been looking for, but that makes no sense.
He’s just too . . . bland. The King, while his identity is protected, would live the kind of decadent lifestyle his wealth afforded him.
Despite Imogen telling me Saul has six drivers, he rarely leaves his estate except for an annual board meeting once a year.
He’s a born-again Christian, devout advocate of traditional family values, yet he doesn’t even leave his estate to attend church.
His expenses are minimal. He doesn’t fit the profile of a King.
“Find proof that he is a bad man, and then maybe she will believe you instead?” Pierre adds.
“I’m a bad man too,” I remind him.
He laughs. “Not bad to her though. Never bad to her. To her you are a teddy bear.”
Definitely wasn’t a teddy bear yesterday when I fucked her ass out in the open with only butter for lube. The memory makes
my cock twitch in my pants.
I shake the image from my head. I came down here because I got an alert from one of my tracking software programs, and I need
to focus on that. Not the siren currently sitting in the garden, looking innocent and far too fuckable for my mental health.
I drop into my chair and pull up the tracking program. “Bingo.”
“You have found something?” Pierre asks.
“One of the girls from the auction. She’s only a little over a hundred miles away too.” I check my watch. It’s a little after
ten, meaning I could be there and back in a day if I leave this afternoon.
“You are leaving today?”
“Yeah.”
“You have not been home long. Mon chou will be very sad.”
I know she will, and I hate leaving her, but if she knew why I was, she’d want me to go. She’d probably insist on coming with
me. Now there’s a thought, but one for another day, one day in the future. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe you and she could
watch a movie or something? Explore a new universe now you’ve finished showing her the wonders of Marvel?”
He shakes his head. “You know I like to spend my evenings alone, mon ami.”
I rest a hand on his shoulder. “I also know you enjoy her company.”
He snorts. “Says the man who likes to be alone even more than I do, at least until the girl arrived.” Then without another
word, he heads for the staircase, leaving me to prep for my trip.
He’s right. Before her, I preferred my own company, even where Pierre was concerned. We’ve lived in this house together for
sixteen years, and we’ve spent most of that time alone, coming together only for work, or the occasional game of chess. But
yeah, that was before her. Before I truly knew what it felt like to be alive. And being locked away in this mausoleum is no
life for any of us.