by Penelope Sky
“Sure.”
He took a seat then grabbed the notebook on the coffee table. “Working on your French, huh?” He nodded to the TV.
“Fender said I sucked at it, so…”
“Yes, he asked me to teach you even when he’s in residence.” He grabbed the pen and clicked it. “Any luck with this?”
“Nope.” It was some kind of soap opera, and while there was a lot of yelling and then a lot of steamy scenes right afterward, I couldn’t make out the transitions in between. Other than simple words that I had already learned, the rest was indecipherable.
“French is a difficult language for a novice. And we speak so quickly that it’s hard to grasp.”
Whenever Fender spoke on the phone, his words tumbled out like a waterfall. In English, his words were seldom and purposeful. Maybe it was because it was his second language.
Gilbert crossed one leg on the opposite knee and got comfortable against the cushions.
“Is he home?”
“Yes. Just had dinner.”
If he wanted to see me, he would have come to me. He wouldn’t have ordered Gilbert to continue his instruction. He was either in a bad mood or still had work to do. His work outside the camp seemed to be dinner with important figures and nighttime strolls with shady characters. I knew which one it was when I wasn’t invited.
Gilbert went on with his instruction, teaching me a couple phrases I could use at dinner parties, and then tried to help me figure out what was being said on the TV show, so I could follow along. “I think regularly watching French TV will help. They say immersing yourself in a culture is the quickest way to learn a language. But since you don’t go out, this is the next best thing.”
The most French I’d learned was what Fender said to me, so that was true. “He said I sucked at French, so I’m obviously not understanding what he says to me.”
“And what does he say?”
I tried to think of something new, something I didn’t recognize. “Cha… chatti—”
“Chatte, probably.”
“Chatte parfaite.”
He chuckled as he wrote it down. “Chatte parfaite.”
“What does it mean?”
He lowered his eyes and cleared his throat. “Perfect cunt…”
“Oh…” Sometimes I didn’t want Gilbert to translate because it was a bit awkward, but I didn’t have a phone or laptop so I couldn’t figure it out myself.
Gilbert moved on. “What else?”
What other dirty things did Fender say to me? “Uh… something like… te baiser… dans le cul… I’m not sure if that’s right.”
He didn’t have a reaction as he wrote it down. “He wants to fuck you in the ass.”
My eyes immediately paled at Gilbert’s words. I was sure Fender would do a good job, but I was not interested in that…at all. My cheeks started to redden a little bit when I knew exactly what he said, what he wanted me to know that he’d said it. I pushed past it to dispel the awkwardness. “He also says… Je t’aime, chérie. He says that a lot, actually.”
Gilbert went absolutely still, the point of his pen pressed to the white paper, a drop of ink growing bigger and bigger the longer he held it there. With eyes wide open, as if he realized he forgot to turn off the stove in the kitchen, he didn’t even breathe.
“What?”
He unclicked the pen then dropped it on the notebook, like he was finished for the night. He leaned forward and set the notebook there, his forearms moving to his thighs, his hands coming together.
The silence was suffocating. “Gilbert, what does it mean?”
He inhaled a deep breath before he cleared his throat. He got to his feet, straightened, and then tucked his hands behind his back before he departed the living room.
“Gilbert?” I got to my knees and faced the back of the couch, watching him walk out. “I don’t understand. What the hell did he say?”
He halted in his tracks, his back to me, one hand gripping the other wrist. His entire body lifted with the breath he inhaled then slowly sagged as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping farther than they’d been a moment before. “I love you, sweetheart.” He took a step forward and continued his route to the door. “That’s what it means.”
My legs were crossed with the book in my lap, the pages open to the next chapter in the story. The fire was warm against my legs and knees, even though it was several feet away from me. My eyes took in the words, but occasionally they would flick up and look at the fire.
Fender sat at his desk, making phone calls, working on his laptop, so comfortable with my presence it was like I was absent.
When the fire died down, Gilbert entered and quietly fed the fire with more logs.
He didn’t look at me.
When he brought lunch, Fender received his tray first at the desk. “Anything else, sir?”
Fender’s eyes remained glued to his screen. “No.”
Gilbert nodded before he turned around and crossed the room, his shoulders still low, his eyes hollow. When he returned with my tray, he set it down without making eye contact with me then departed without a word.
He didn’t hate me.
He was just heartbroken.
I closed the book and stared at the food he’d brought me, having no appetite because my hunger had been replaced by guilt. My fingers traced the edge of the pages of the closed book as I stared.
“Chérie.”
I lifted my gaze, not realizing Fender had moved to the couch across from me.
He stared me down, shirtless in his black sweatpants, his bare feet on the rug. His stare was endless and depthless, like he could do this for hours, days, an eternity. “What is it?”
I moved to the plate that held the tea sandwiches, one of my favorite items that the chef prepared. I set it on my thigh then picked up the freshly made bread without a crust and brought it to my lips for a bite. “Nothing.” I’d been quiet and withdrawn for two days, unsure what to do with the information Gilbert had revealed to me.
“I don’t trust people who lie to me.”
I stopped chewing at the assertion and lifted my eyes again.
His stare had darkened with sheathed ferocity.
“I just… It’s been over a week since you said you would remove my sister.” My first impulse was to lie because the truth wasn’t an option.
His anger slowly defused, and he accepted my lie as truth. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”
My eyes focused on his face as my heart clenched with a jolt. “You are?” Being reunited with my sister was what I wanted more than anything. Knowing she was safe, even as a prisoner, was better than her working in the snow, being the target of the executioner and the guards who despised her.
He gave a nod so subtle it was hard to catch.
“Thank you…” The end was near. My sister would be here, her hands in mine, her arms around me. I was so deliriously happy by the image in my mind that my eyes actually watered. My hand returned the half-eaten sandwich to the plate, and I set it on the table.
He didn’t give another nod.
My spare time could be spent with her in the guesthouse, talking the way we used to, reading together, just being together in the same room. My mind drifted away into memories that hadn’t been formed, the two of us eating on the patio deep into spring, swimming in the large pool on the grounds in summer, living a luxurious life.
“How’s your French?”
My eyes immediately shifted back to him, my heart tightening for a whole different reason.
He didn’t blink, his eyes shifting back and forth as they pierced into mine, penetrating my mind for the information he wanted.
That was what he wanted me to understand.
He wanted me to know how he felt.
What would happen once I understood? What would he expect from me?
My words broke the silence. “He taught me a few more things. We watched a soap opera, and he translated for me.” I held his gaze and waited for hi
m to catch my lie like he did every other time.
His eyes continued to drill into me, piercing the surface and digging deep inside.
I held my stance, controlled my breathing, and hoped Gilbert hadn’t already told him the truth.
Because I’d be screwed.
A full minute of tension passed. “Your French better stop sucking soon, chérie.”
I stepped out of the office to use the restroom, but I had an alternate agenda.
I located Gilbert in the grand foyer, speaking to a housekeeper in French, giving orders that implied he was dissatisfied with her work. When they were finished, he turned around and halted when he came face-to-face with me.
There was anger in his eyes, out of his control, and then it dimmed to unbridled pain. He inhaled a deep breath, getting a hold of the reins connected to his heart. When he spoke, he had a controlled voice that hid his resentment. “How can I serve you, Melanie?”
Gilbert and I were never close and we would never be close, but his sadness hurt me. I was the reason his heart had been broken, having something that he could never have, that no amount of affection and loyalty could earn him. “Can I speak to you in private?”
He immediately glanced down the hallway to where the office was located to make sure we were alone. He gave a subtle nod toward the drawing room and closed the door behind us. It was full of stocked bookshelves and a seating area for entertaining. He pulled a book off the shelf, to cover his ass if we were caught. “Yes?”
“Please don’t tell him what you told me.”
His eyes didn’t look the least bit confused because he knew exactly what I spoke of. “He wants you to know, Melanie. I can’t hide it.”
“I understand that. Just…buy me some time?”
Now his eyes narrowed in disappointment. “You don’t feel the same way.” His resentment was palpable, that I had the love of a man he adored, and I didn’t want to treasure it the way he would.
“He told me he’s returning to the camp in two days. I just need to get Raven here first. Please, just give me two days. I can’t risk losing her, not when I’m this close.” My hands came together in front of my chest, silently pleading for him to betray his own boss and help me out.
He turned away slightly and released a long sigh, carrying the burden before he even took it. “Two days.”
I closed my eyes. “Thank you…thank you.”
“I’m only helping you for one reason.”
I looked at him again and lowered my hands.
“Because you better be prepared to say it back once I tell him.”
Twenty
Birthday Drink
Fender
I sat in my office and stared at the fire, a glass of scotch on the desk, my temple resting against my closed knuckles. My mind shifted from one topic to the next, thinking about the hour I would leave for the camp in the morning, imagining Raven’s face as she was taken from the cabin for the final time, Magnus’s reaction, the men’s reaction to my weakness. Then I thought about my other responsibilities that required my attention. And of course, Melanie, the woman I would leave behind.
I saw her face as I stared at the flames.
She’d been quiet and withdrawn for the last two days. Her sister had been on her mind consistently, which changed her behavior toward me. I hoped having Raven here wouldn’t steal all of Melanie’s focus.
She’d better have nothing but gratitude toward me.
Gilbert entered my office and didn’t draw my attention until he was in front of my desk. “Sir, is there anything I can get you before I retire for the evening?”
My hand dropped to the screen of my phone, and I tapped it with my finger.
It lit up, reminding me how late it was. “No.”
Gilbert gave a bow. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Gilbert.”
He straightened. His expression instantly fell, turning serious. At attention, he kept his gaze locked on my face.
“Melanie will not learn French watching TV. She will learn by what I say to her. Understood?”
Gilbert held my gaze for a while before he gave a nod. “Understood.”
“Her French better be flawless by the time I return.”
He gave another bow. “It will, sir.”
She was pinned underneath me, my arms hooked behind her knees, her body shaking slightly with my movements. Her head was on the pillow, her eyes on me, her beautiful face erotic when it was tinted red, when her lips were parted in her moans and screams. Her eyes never shone brighter than when we were together like this.
This was not the way I took my whores. The last thing I wanted to see was their faces. All I cared about was their asses and tits.
But Melanie’s face was her most beautiful feature.
It was the face in my dreams. The face in my fantasies. The face seared onto the inside of my eyelids. On the road through the wilderness, she was in the landscape, on the side of the mountains I passed. She was in a glass of scotch. In the flames that danced in the fireplace.
When we finished, I didn’t want to leave.
It was the first time I’d wanted to stay.
For the entire night.
But my eyes wouldn’t close. My heart wouldn’t slow. I had to depart in a few hours, and I needed to sleep before the drive. I lay there for less than a few minutes before I got out of bed and pulled on my bottoms.
I’d come to her bedroom so the sheets would be warm after I left, so she would fall asleep immediately and not realize the moment I was gone. But she was wide awake, as if she knew what was about to happen.
She sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, her large tits perky and proud, her long legs over the edge with her foot on the bed frame that surrounded the mattress. Hair messy, makeup smeared, she was gorgeous.
It was hard to leave.
I moved to the bed beside her, looking down into the side of her face, the thin line of mascara that had dripped with a previous tear. My hand moved to her thigh, my fingers surrounding nearly the entire thing.
“When are you leaving?” Her eyes were down on the rug, her features somber with sadness.
I loved that she hated my absence. I loved that she needed to sit in my office while I worked just to be near me. I loved the way she made me feel, like she’d be lost without me. “In a few hours.”
“I’ll set an alarm so I can say goodbye.”
My hand moved into her hair and pushed it behind her shoulder, revealing the feminine curves of her high cheekbones, her slender jawline. “Sleep, chérie.” My thumb brushed across her bottom lip, feeling my lungs suck in a gulp of air when her beauty left me breathless. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“When will you be home?”
I sucked in another breath as my thumb stilled against her bottom lip, cherishing her choice of words. This palace was her home. It was the place where we both belonged. “I don’t know.” I never knew. I never made plans, because plans could be tracked and traced. Keeping everyone on their toes was how I kept my power.
“Be careful…”
I felt my lips lift with a slight smile. “Always.” My hand cradled her face and neck, and I turned her toward me, giving her a soft kiss that lasted for several seconds. My eyes closed briefly as I enjoyed it, as I felt that lightness in my stomach, that tightness in my chest. I opened my eyes and saw that hers were closed, that she loved the kiss the way I did. I pulled away and kept my hand on her neck. “Je t’aime, chérie.”
Her eyes opened and met mine, her lips lightly parted from the kiss. While her eyes showed affection and desire, there was no recognition, like she had no idea what I just said.
I left her on the bed and rose to my feet.
A knock sounded on the door.
My entire body tightened at the sound. My muscles prepared for an invisible fight, and I instinctively moved in front of Melanie so she would be blocked from view.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you like this,” Gilbert s
aid as he opened the door. “But it’s urgent. Magnus needs you.” He kept his eyes closed as he held out his personal cell phone, doing his best to protect my privacy.
I snatched the phone out of his hand and pressed it to my ear. “Are you okay?” I could still feel the weight of his body in my arms when I’d lifted his lifeless form off the bed. I could still remember the feeling of ineptitude when I dropped him on the stairs. I could still remember looking behind me as we ran for our lives, making sure my little brother was still with me.
“I’m fine.” He took a second to breathe into the phone, as if my question put him off.
“Then what is it?”
“She escaped.”
My eyes narrowed on the wall in front of me.
Gilbert silently excused himself and stepped into the hallway but left the door open, so he’d be prepared to take orders.
I didn’t need to know who she was. “When?”
“A few hours ago.”
The anger in my veins was instantaneous. “Then why the fuck did you wait a few hours to tell me?” With flared nostrils and bulging veins, I was a bull that had found its waving red target.
Melanie threw some clothes on then approached me.
I held up my hand without looking at her and marched into the hallway. “Why, Magnus? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me the second this happened?”
“Because she knocked me out with a goddamn pipe, and I was unconscious,” he snapped. “I have a fucking concussion and a migraine that can’t be fixed with pills. The men found me and went after her. The second I realized what happened, I called.”
I marched into my bedroom and grabbed my clothes. “Where is she?”
“They don’t have her yet.”
“I’m on my way. And when I get there, she’ll hang. You can’t save her this time, Magnus.”
His silence lingered like he wouldn’t say anything. Just hang up and get back to work. “I know.”
I hung up then pulled on my clothes as quickly as possible before I kneeled and got my boots on, the veins in my neck bulging, my gums aching because my teeth were so tightly clenched together.
