by Millie Adams
“I knew you would see,” she said, brightening.
“Yes. I see. I don’t want your body,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, that is fine in any case.”
She looked vaguely insulted.
“But I will take a share of what I’m investing in here.” In fact, he would welcome the chance to be rid of that farce he conducted in Hollywood. It had never been a game he’d enjoyed, but lately it had grown more and more tiresome. There was a limit to how much amusement he could extract from fooling the world.
The double life he lived was wearing on him. It offended him. To go and play at rehabbing images and then go off and take down another totalitarian regime.
And all he ever did was make the smallest dent in the world. Rolling a stone up a hill forever.
And here she was, offering him a chance at redemption.
Offering him power.
“I’ll help you, Annick.” And he was formulating an idea of just how she could help him. She wouldn’t like it. He didn’t care. “You don’t need my image. You need to create one of your own. I would be willing to help you with that.”
“Just for money?”
He inclined his head. She didn’t need to know about Stella. That was his business. His wound.
His debt.
“I am skeptical.”
“I will transform you into the leader your country needs. I will cow your enemies. Better yet, you will.”
He straightened as she handed him the whiskey. He swirled the liquid in the glass, doing his part to channel the Maximus King that everyone knew. It was easier. A more comfortable skin for him to act in. Annick had come face-to-face with the soldier. Few people knew of him. Even fewer who had met the soldier now lived to speak of it. But everyone knew this version of Maximus King. The Playboy. The one who took no one and nothing overly seriously. And why would he not take this job? It was a lark, after all.
“And if it is not fixed then? Then what? You leave—” she waved her hand “—and I am back where I was. No. I need more. I need you to stand in. I need you to keep my enemies at bay.”
“Trust me, I will make Aillette into a fortress of wealth and perceived power. I will ensure you are safe, Annick. You have my word on that.”
“I lived for too long, I survived for too long, to lose it all now. You cannot let it happen.”
She faltered, truly faltered, and he could see now that everything Annick had done up until this point had been driven by terror. By fear. And if he were a different man, he might’ve felt some guilt. Might have felt some pity. Instead, he felt anger. Anger was about the only emotion he knew. It was about the only thing he could manage. Otherwise... Otherwise his chest felt hollow. Dead. It was the rage that kept him going.
His grief had burned out years ago. Like the blood that had drained from Stella as he held her in his arms. As she had died. That grief was gone.
Replaced by the poison of hatred. It fueled him. It spurred him on. It had made him lethal. It had made him useful.
The sad thing was, he knew how to play the role of Maximus King so well, because it was who he had spent the first twenty-two years of his life as. A debauched playboy. A debauched playboy who had loved precisely one person in his life more than he loved himself. And she had died in his arms.
He had been Annick’s age then. And it had changed him forever.
And here Annick was, never having been silly or young. She had been a prisoner. And now she was being asked to lead a country.
“I won’t. I’ll protect you.”
And he didn’t need ask anymore why it was his responsibility. It clearly was. Nothing to be done about it.
He wasn’t a good man. And he was nobody’s superhero.
But when he made a promise, he kept it.
It was why he didn’t make very many.
“Good.” She seemed happy.
“Did you want some whiskey?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No. I think perhaps it is best that I keep my wits about me. That is a bad thing about alcohol. It takes your wits.”
He chuckled. “Not a problem I have.”
“Why?”
“I drink too much. And it has ceased to affect me.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Don’t you have things you like to forget?”
She nodded, her expression getting very sad. “I have so many things I would like to forget. But I spent a great many years with only my own company, and I have been forced to go over the very bad things in my mind far too many times. Now... There is little point. It is too late. I have relived the past over and over again.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her lips curved upward. “I almost believe you.”
“I am,” he said, taking another drink of the whiskey.
“Do you feel it?” She touched her chest. “Here. Your sorry.”
He wished he could tell her he did. That, in and of itself, was a novelty. “No. But I don’t feel anything there. Except for maybe anger.”
She nodded. “I am well familiar with that. It burns. I have been so angry, for so many years. Sometimes anger is the only thing that keeps you alive. And everything else... It just hurts too badly.”
“Yes, you’re right. Anger is easy. Anger gets things done.”
“Pity is a pointless one. I tried that when I was twelve. Felt an endless amount of self-pity to go along with my grief. But then I remember, I’m the one that’s alive. Not my family. So pity is not something I should feel for myself. Angry is better.”
“Angry is better.” He lifted his glass. “And if you would drink, we could say cheers to that.”
“Say cheers?” She squinted and looked at him.
“A toast,” he clarified.
“It is not toast.”
“No. It’s... Salud.”
“Right,” she said, understanding.
“Where did you learn English?” he asked, intrigued by this woman who was such a strange mix of naivete and cynicism.
“From my governess. When I was a girl. So I had a lot of years when I did not use it. But I made a game in my head. To remember to speak French, and English, and German. So that I don’t forget any.”
“What was your life like?”
“Oh, it was not so bad. Except the loneliness. I had school. They could not risk me being stupid. But they also did not want me to be too educated, so they did not show me news from the world outside. I have spent the last year reading about everything that happened. Everything that happened in the world. It has been a strange and depressing time for me. But also, good.”
“I imagine. That many years of world history all in one go seems a little bit extreme.”
She smiled. “My life is nothing but extreme. That I can say.”
“How long until we arrive in Aillette?”
“Soon. Only maybe a half hour now. I had to give you a lot of chloroform. You’re very large.”
He laughed. “And you are certain you wouldn’t kill me?”
“I truly hope to not kill you, Maximus King. I need you too badly.”
And something reached down deep in his chest just then, something he hadn’t expected. Because he could not remember the last time someone had looked at him quite like that. He had been told a number of times by women that they needed him. They needed him to rehabilitate their image, which was essentially what he was going to do for Annick. That they needed him sexually. Yes, that was one of his favorites. His chest might be dead, but the rest of his body was not, and he did enjoy beautiful women. One of the perks of selecting the persona that he had chosen to carry on with his normal life.
Maximus King, the image consultant in San Diego, could have any woman he wanted. He took nothing seriously. He was charming and good in conversation. And he was even better in bed
.
So yes, he was accustomed to women saying they needed him.
But not like this.
There was no greed in her eyes. No avarice.
There was an honesty there, that was what called to him. An honesty that was so different from anything he had been exposed to for an age.
It was simple. And clear.
She said that she needed him, and she meant it.
She also wouldn’t hesitate to use chloroform on him if she needed to.
He didn’t doubt that either. She’d do it again.
“But you were willing to risk it.”
“Well, if I could not bring you back to Aillette, then I would not have had you anyway.”
“Very practical.”
“I told you. I had a lot of time to think. I have had a lot of time.”
“And how did you find out that I was the one who performed the assassination?” That was very important. Because if he had been made by one of his contacts, then it was going to be a problem. There were very few people who knew his identity. As Annick had already said, those people had a vested interest in the outside world not knowing that they knew who he was. Or why they knew him.
“I’ll never tell anyone about you,” she said. “I swear it. And it is not important how I know.”
“It is,” he said. “I need to make sure there aren’t enemies out there we both need to know about.”
“No! It’s only me. And I needed you. It was what I had to use against you, so I did.”
“Good. You were desperate, and I will forgive you for that. But if you ever threaten my family again...”
“It is not a thing I want to do. I don’t want to threaten your family. I don’t wish it.”
“Good.”
“Ah,” she said. “We are descending. I look forward to welcoming you to Aillette.”
CHAPTER THREE
SHE DIDN’T KNOW why she was nervous. It was a very strange thing. To feel nervous. He was not a prisoner anymore. Sometime during the flight they had made the transition from prisoner and jail keeper into allies. And she was much more comfortable with that. She had no wish to become a jailer. Not simply because she’d had one her entire life. It was far too much work. She needed help. She did not need another project. If he had continued to resist her...
It would have been a problem.
Of course, his denial that he wanted her body had wounded her slightly, but she would not dwell on that. There was no reason for her to feel out of sorts over that exchange.
They walked into the palace, and she found she wanted him to like it. Which was quite strange. But she had changed the palace quite a bit since the other regime had fallen, and she was proud of the changes she’d made. The modernizations.
“It is a bit different since you were here last,” she said, feeling proud.
He flicked a glance around the space. “I suppose it is.”
“You do not remember.”
“I have one job when I am sent on these missions. It is to get in and out without being detected until it is too late. That’s it.”
“You’re cold, aren’t you?”
“I have to be.”
“To have a secret life? Or just to live?”
“Either. Both. Don’t you think?”
“I wish I could be cold,” she said, feeling a bit flat. “But I’m not. I never have been.”
“Only a while ago you claimed to be ruthless,” he pointed out.
It was quite annoying.
“I think they are different things. I am willing to do whatever I must for Aillette. For my people. They have suffered enough. I have suffered enough. We all have lived a collective hell. And yes, I have been willing to do what needed to be done in order to pull us from it. But there is no... There is no coldness in me. I burned with it. Like I said.”
“I burn when I’m angry.”
She stared at him, and suddenly, she felt warm. There was something about the look on his face, about the keenness in his blue eyes, that made her feel unsettled. That made her feel...strangely hungry. She did not like it. Did not understand it.
She squinted. “But you’re cold mostly?”
Amusement tipped his mouth upward. “Mostly.”
One of the women who worked on her staff, Elise, rushed up to them. “You’ve returned,” she said, speaking in their native language, which was a dialect of French that the Parisians insisted was not French at all.
“Oui,” Annick confirmed. “With Maximus King. He is my new...guard. Adviser.”
“Good?” she said, phrasing it as a question.
“For the whole country,” Annick said, switching to English. “He will be a great asset to Aillette. He is a businessman. And he will know how to help with the finances. He will also be exactly what we need to be taken seriously.”
He chuckled. “I can’t say that the world takes me seriously.”
He had slipped into some sort of character. She had noticed it on the plane. Their interactions at his house and the initial interactions when he woke up were markedly different to the interactions they had after she’d given him his whiskey. She didn’t know why. Except...
She knew that he had a double life. She knew that the man that he pretended to be was not the man he actually was. She knew that he was lethal. Dangerous. And that the majority of the world had no idea.
Perhaps he was playing that up, even now. And she could see why. He played an interesting and dangerous game. Being as visible as he was, conducting missions that required the utmost in discretion.
“Ready him a room,” she said, and all of the women that were present in the antechamber nodded and scurried about their business. She looked to him, to see if he was impressed with the organization of the palace.
“You have a lot of women working here,” he said.
“I do,” she said happily. “That was one of the first changes I made, you know. For when I was here before, it was all men. Except those doing menial positions. I made a change. Women in this country who desperately needed money... I hired them. Now they can take care of themselves. If they have husbands that are cruel to them, they can leave. This is a very good thing.”
“It is a good thing,” he confirmed.
“I would hire men if I needed them. I am hiring you. But for the most part I find women do the work just fine.”
He chuckled. “Sadly, you need a man to protect you?”
“It’s sad, this thing in the world. I am not so strong.”
She looked up at the ceiling. It was midnight blue marble, swirled through with bright colors. It reminded her of the painting The Starry Night, and she had always thought it beautiful. She had made changes to the palace, but what she’d said was true. They were not flush with money. These things were not changes she had bought. These stones had been here for centuries. The only things that remained of her family. She had always found them soothing.
“I do not care much for men.”
She had not meant to say that out loud. He was, after all, a man, and she needed his help, so perhaps it was not in her best interest to say mean things about his gender.
“You don’t?”
She would have to answer for that now. “Non. It was not women, after all, who seized power in my country and killed my family.”
“No, I suppose it wasn’t. If it helps, I’m not a big fan either. I have seen a great many atrocities in this world. Most of them committed by men. So I’m with you.”
“Well. I’m glad we can at least agree on that. Though I hear tell that your sex has a few things to recommend it.”
“Do you?”
“I have heard. I surround myself now with many women, and we have conversations. Most of them have a fondness for at least one man in their lives. That is fair, I think. But...I do not know enough of men.”
“Is that why you offered me your body?”
Heat flooded her face. “It is not a gentlemanly thing to remind me of that, I think.”
“Is that so?”
She frowned deeply. “You turned me down.”
“I was not aware it was a proposition, so much as a form of payment.” He looked her over, his expression dispassionate. “Payment I don’t require.”
“Yes. That is what it was. Payment. If you don’t want it, it’s okay with me.”
“Then you don’t need to be so angry about it.”
“I’m not angry,” she said. “I have no anger to waste on you, in truth.”
“Another very good thing, because I have a feeling that anyone who is on the receiving end of your anger is going to find himself very unhappy.”
“Yes. This is true.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “It was a good thing they did not wish me dead. Pierre Doucet, he was a friend of my father’s, and yet he killed my father, his wife and son. By order, at least. He did not spare me due to any sentimentality. I tell you this. He only wished to use me when it was convenient to show my face, and I made it hellish hard for him. I do not hold my tongue well.” Anger, sadness and old fear welled up in her chest. “I might have suffered when I misbehaved, but it was worth it. A reminder that I was still me.”
“They hurt you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “They killed my whole family. Stole my life. A beating here and there was nothing.” She felt moisture in her eyes and hated it.
He stopped her. He did not touch her, but his gaze stopped her. And she saw there... The predator.
“I am very glad I was put on the mission to kill Pierre Doucet. I am glad I ended him.”
She was not used to this. Not used to someone being so firmly on her side. “As am I.”
She led him through the palace and toward the rooms that she had chosen to be his. “Here you are,” she said, thankful to leave the previous subject and its accompanying heaviness in the past. “I think you will be comfortable. I have given you extra blankets.”
That earned her a very long stare. “Thank you. In your chloroform kidnap, you didn’t by chance happen to pick up a razor, did you? Because if not, I find myself inconvenienced.”
