The Boss (Chateau Book 3)

by Penelope Sky

  “I’ll be gone for a week. Maybe more.” I didn’t fit my life into a schedule. I gauged my surroundings and reacted to them. Having a schedule implied time was your boss. But in my world, I was the boss.

  After she had a moment to process my departure, she looked at me again. “Can I come with you?”

  I wished it were because she couldn’t be apart from me, but I knew there was a different reason. Anytime her sister was mentioned, I felt the bones in my jaw work, like a machine without the proper oil to stop the grinding. She’d humiliated me, more than once, and it was obnoxious that she was still a wedge between us. Without her, our lives were perfect. But the second she emerged into our thoughts, Melanie’s loyalty swayed. She pulled away from me. Her eyes turned sad. She couldn’t enjoy the world I’d given to her on a golden platter. Releasing Raven was the best solution, but it would be catastrophic to my reputation. I spared her life twice and then let her go? The guards would be furious. The women would stage a coup. It would be fucking pandemonium. “No.”

  Her breaths immediately came out hard and strained. “Please—”

  “No.”

  “Please. Let me see her—”

  I snapped. “When I say no, I mean no. It’s not a negotiation.” My eyes drilled into her face like she was Liam, one of my disobedient men who needed a knife against his throat to be reminded who was in charge.

  She couldn’t hold the look and dropped her gaze. “I’m not asking you to let her go. I just want to talk to her—”

  “You think I’d let the two of you be alone ever again?” I grabbed her by the neck and forced her gaze on me. “After the stunt you pulled?” My fingers gripped her throat but stopped just before I began to choke her. “You still have no idea what you did to me, do you?”

  Her eyes shifted back and forth quickly as she looked into my gaze, pulling her body tight like she wanted to be as small as possible, but never looking at me like she was actually scared. She wasn’t scared of me anymore.

  “I had to sit there and wait for my men to return you. But would you return as my chérie? Or as a corpse? What would I have done if I lost you?” I lost my temper and pushed her down to the bed as I got on top of her, holding myself over her, bringing our faces closer together so she could truly grasp how much she’d hurt me. “What would I have done if I’d had to bury you? What would I have done if I’d had to live without you?” I forced myself to let go and get off her. My hands shook because I was so furious. I moved to the edge of the bed and planted my feet on the rug, my hands coming together, my arms resting on my knees. I closed my eyes for a brief moment just to wipe out the images in my head, flashbacks of events that I hadn’t seen, Melanie trying to conquer a storm when I was the only one who could.

  She didn’t move for a long time, just lying there.

  What the fuck did Magnus see in that bitch? She’d almost gotten my chérie killed. She should have died for that.

  The mattress shifted and moved as Melanie crawled toward me. The insides of her knees hugged my ass as she wrapped her arms across my chest and over my shoulders. She held on to me as she pressed her face into my neck, her gentle breaths falling across my skin. “I promise I won’t run again—”

  “No. Don’t ask me again.”

  She continued to hold on to me, her chest rising and pressing against my back, her hard nipples pressing into me every few seconds. “I’m sorry…”

  It was still dark when I left.

  In my bomber jacket and boots, I descended the stairs and prepared to depart out the double doors and get into the car that my valet had parked outside. It was raining. I liked the rain, so it didn’t make a difference to me, and riding in the snow was no problem either. Ever since I was a boy, I’d had to survive. I had to get food in my stomach with no money. I had to find a place to sleep, even if it was in an alley. There had to be a solution to every problem. The rain, the snow, those weren’t problems by comparison.

  When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Melanie was there.

  She was in her nightgown. Her lips were dull, and her eyes empty because she wasn’t covered in makeup. She was exactly as she’d looked at the camp, and only a woman like her could pull that off and still be stunning.

  Only my chérie.

  I halted as I stared at her. Our conversation had concluded with her on top of me, riding me nice and slow, her tits in my face, showing me how sorry she was. My anger had evaporated, and now I looked at her with longing.

  Because I would miss her.

  And by the look in her eyes, she would miss me too.

  Gilbert opened the double doors so I could depart and stepped outside under the portico roof. The rain was loud, splashing against the cobblestones, echoing as it pierced the pond in the center like bullets from a barrel.

  She moved into me, her arms sliding inside my jacket, her head tilted all the way back because it was much harder to meet my gaze without her five-inch heels. “I asked Gilbert to wake me up…so I could say goodbye.”

  My hands scooped under her ass and lifted her up against me, her nightgown riding up so her ass hung out, but my men knew better than to look. I had her against me, right where I wanted her, with her face right next to mine.

  Her arms circled my neck, and she rested her forehead against mine.

  I held her there, silently saying goodbye, her body so light in my arms that I could hold her that way forever. “Tu vas me manquer, chérie.” I kissed her, giving her my tongue, my hot breaths, my fingers kneading her ass.

  “I don’t understand…”

  I gave her a slight smile as I rested my forehead against hers once more. “I think you do, chérie.”

  After the long journey, I arrived in the camp at sunset.

  My men came out to meet me, taking my horse to the stables, grabbing my bag to carry it to the cabin before I arrived there, working like obedient dogs without needing a command. Not a word was spoken.

  I was marched through the cabins then approached the clearing, flanked by two of my men. My eyes scanned the area, making sure everything was exactly as it should be, that the men were doing their jobs, that the women were doing theirs.

  As I walked through the clearing, I could feel it.

  Feel that stare.

  Violent. Furious. Maniacal.

  I stopped in my tracks and turned to give her mine in return.

  She stood near the table, her ugly face contorted into a tight look that made her even more hideous than she already was. Her arms were by her sides, but her hands were curled into fists. Her nostrils flared as she breathed hard, as if she was a bull about to charge me, seeing red instead of black.

  I took a step toward her. Silently threatened her. Promised to put that noose around her neck if she didn’t look away.

  But she didn’t. The bitch fucking stared and stared.

  She wouldn’t give in, so she left me no choice but to turn away first.

  And she should die for that.

  There was only one reason she didn’t.

  One.

  The fireplace burned in my cabin, the darkness pressing up against the windows like the shadows would slip through the cracks and put out the flames. My dinner plate was empty, the juice from my steak the only thing left behind other than a few crumbs of bread. My fingers rested on the top of my scotch, as if protecting it from someone who might want to steal it.

  It’d been a long day, so I’d get to work when the sun rose.

  Making an appearance was work in itself.

  The guards never knew when I would arrive. Magnus didn’t even know sometimes, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t know I was going until ten minutes before I left.

  Magnus knew of my arrival but didn’t speak to me.

  Good.

  He would depart in the morning, and hopefully, he would do that without a farewell. Our relationship had never been more tense, personally and professionally, and it was best if we didn’t interact for the time being. E
mails were intimate enough.

  I stared at the fire, my thoughts going to the exquisite woman I’d left behind. My watercolor painting. The future countess. The only lover I’d ever had that I wanted all to myself. A woman who had been worth the patience. A woman worth all the high-end jewelry in my vault.

  Footsteps thudded against the wood right outside the door.

  My eyes stayed on the fire.

  A knock sounded.

  I drank from my glass.

  He let himself inside, like my silent answer made it through the solid wood and into his ears. His hood was pushed back, his hair messy from being underneath the material all day except when he was inside a cabin.

  I didn’t give him a glance.

  He stood there for a while, waiting for my coldness to thaw before he sat down. When that didn’t happen, he did it anyway. He moved to the couch adjacent to my armchair, so we weren’t face-to-face.

  I didn’t push the bottle into his hands. Offered him no hospitality. Gave no respect.

  After a long silence, Magnus spoke. “Thank you—”

  “Don’t fucking thank me.” My head snapped in his direction to regard him, my brother, who shared so much likeness but embodied so much difference. “I don’t want gratitude. I want the respect that I lost when I granted your request.”

  Magnus held my gaze, his features as impassive as ever. “You’re the boss. You don’t need respect—”

  “Without respect, there is only fear. Those girls work out of fear. The guards obey out of respect. Don’t tell me you’re too stupid to see the difference.” I set my glass down with a loud thud, tempted to punch him square in the mouth. “What the fuck is it about this cunt? She’s hideous.”

  Magnus’s eyes flinched slightly, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “If you moved mountains for a woman like Melanie, I’d understand. But she’s not only unremarkable, she’s disobedient, idiotic, and difficult. Fuck your whores in Paris. Fuck the beautiful women who want to lick your balls. But don’t waste your dick and your reputation on a woman who’s beneath you in every way imaginable.”

  He only took a breath and let it out. There was no other reaction.

  “She’s on her third strike, Magnus.” No one even got one strike, but this bitch managed to secure three, and that infuriated me even more. “If she crosses that line, I’ll kill her myself. If you care about this whore, keep her in line.”

  Magnus shifted his gaze to the fire. “Our production has exceeded the schedule—”

  “I’m not done.”

  After a breath, he shifted his eyes back to me.

  “Don’t fuck with me again.” He knew exactly what I was referring to without my having to address it.

  “Charles paid—”

  “I don’t give a shit. He missed his deadline—”

  “What happened to ruling with respect and not fear?”

  My eyes narrowed on his face harder than they ever had. “He disrespected me when he missed his deadline—”

  “You need to calm the fuck down, Fender. Greed and ego collapse regimes all the time. Don’t let that happen to us. Because if you continue to operate this way, it will.” Now his eyes showed the same anger as mine. “If you looked past your tyranny, you would see that I’m helping you. You would see that I’ve got your back through and through. You would see that I’m protecting you from yourself.”

  My nostrils flared as I breathed, processing his insulting outburst.

  Regret didn’t move into his features even though he had a few seconds to reflect on what just happened.

  I was so livid that I actually quieted my voice rather than raised it. “How does protecting that cunt help me, Magnus? How does humiliating me in front of my men help me?”

  Magnus held my gaze, absolutely still.

  “Answer. Me.”

  The silence stretched, growing louder, our eyes boring into each other’s. Then he looked away.

  “Get out, Magnus.”

  Fifteen

  The Language of Love

  Melanie

  With Fender gone, there was a hole in my life.

  All I had was my books, my thoughts, and TV entirely in French.

  I slept alone in my bed, and while I did that every night anyway, I didn’t smell like him. I didn’t have that intimacy right before, our bodies wrapped around each other, his enormous size sinking me into the mattress. Without his whispers in French, without his hot gaze, I felt like nothing.

  I felt like nothing without him.

  I had no value. I was just some weak woman without a backbone. I was just someone who lived a life full of regret. The shadows took me, possessing my soul, making me relive the most painful moments of my life.

  In the blizzard, begging for forgiveness that I would never receive.

  She loved me still, would always love me, but it would never be the same.

  Without him to chase away the thoughts, I was left to my own misery. I was left to reflect on my bitter regrets, to look further back than that terrible night in Paris, to think about all the things Raven did for me that I never appreciated. She was a better mother than our own mother had been, and I’d never told her that.

  I never realized how shitty of a person I was until now.

  Fender was the only thing that made me feel good about myself.

  I took my lunch in my room instead of the garden room. I didn’t bother with my hair and makeup, because without Fender to appreciate it, there was no point. Sometimes I took a walk outside when the weather permitted it, but I mostly spent my time alone in my room.

  I sat at the dining table and watched Gilbert serve my tray, a full meal with desserts and tea. Fender encouraged me to eat whatever I wanted, but I just wasn’t hungry anymore. I barely ate half of whatever Gilbert brought me.

  When he set down the tray, he didn’t leave. This time, he stayed.

  I looked up to meet his gaze, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted.

  He took a deep breath with his hands behind his back. “May I join you?”

  “Join me for what?”

  “For lunch.”

  My eyes narrowed in confusion because the request came from nowhere. Gilbert and I hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other after Fender left. I’d given up trying to play nice with him, and once I stopped caring, it was actually easier to accept his hatred. “Why?” The question wasn’t meant to be rude. His request was just a surprise.

  He gave a shrug. “With His Highness gone, I don’t have much to do.”

  “Um…okay.”

  He retrieved his lunch from downstairs and took a seat across from me. He had the small meal that I did, so Fender obviously fed his staff the way he fed himself. There were so many moments that showed his kindness and empathy, sometimes I forgot the other version of him that I despised.

  I stared at Gilbert for a while, hardly able to believe he was actually there.

  He sat with rigid posture and dined like he was sitting across from royalty.

  It made me drop my elbows off the table and straighten my back.

  We ate in silence for a while, hardly looking at each other.

  I spun my fork in my pasta before I looked at him. “Did Fender ask you to do this?”

  He hesitated at the question, his eyes still down on his food. He cleared his throat before he forced his gaze to rise and meet mine. “Yes.”

  “Well, you don’t have to. I won’t tell him.” I’d rather be alone than have someone who hated me forced into my company.

  His gaze dropped back down to his food before he took a deep breath. “I apologize for my behavior, Melanie.”

  I stilled at his apology, saw the sincerity in his gaze but could still hardly believe it.

  “It was wrong of me. I didn’t realize how much my personal feelings were affecting my professionalism until Fender addressed it. It’s unacceptable, and I’m grateful he was able to forgive me. I hope you will as well.”

  I knew how terr
ible it felt to ask for forgiveness and not receive it. It was the most haunting experience. Isolating. Painful. “Of course.”

  He told me about his life in Paris, growing up in a middle-class home. Both of his parents were teachers. He had two sisters. He lifted the teapot and poured more tea into his cup then dunked his tea cookies inside before he took a bite.

  “How did you start working for Fender?”

  “I earned a butler position for a few ultra-wealthy families, taking care of their homes while they were away, things of that nature. It paid well and Paris is expensive, so I took the job despite the long hours. Fender was acquainted with those families, and when he heard all the positive things they had to say, he came to me privately and offered me the position. Said he wanted me to work for him exclusively. I’m loyal to my clients, so I turned him down. He went to my clients and paid them whatever they wanted to release me of my obligation, and I’ve been here ever since.”

  Fender didn’t seem to accept no for an answer—ever. “How long have you felt this way…about him?” Maybe I shouldn’t ask such a question, but the information was out in the open now.

  To my surprise, he answered. He just didn’t make eye contact as he did. “Within the first few weeks after I started working for him.”

  “That was four years ago.”

  He gave a slight smile that was packed with his sadness. “Yes…it’s been a long time.”

  “That must be hard.” I couldn’t imagine working for someone you felt that strongly for every single day for years, knowing they would never feel the same way.

  He dunked his cookie into the tea before he took a bite. “It was never really hard…until you.”

  I gave a slight nod. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said quickly before he brought his cup to his lips to take a drink. “It was bound to happen sometime.” He set the teacup back on the saucer then met my look, hostility gone from his gaze. “You’re a very lucky woman. He’s a good man.”