“I figured when it feels like our world is ending, we might as well spend it at the happiest place on Earth. Besides, I don’t think anyone would look for us here.”
I don’t dare argue. As soon as we get out of the Uber—it looks like Blaise has handed the driver the entire contents of his wallet, plus a business card—and we’re enveloped in the sprawl of the resort, surrounded by happy families and laughing children running around in costumes, it really does feel safe. It feels normal.
We don’t have any luggage, but the front-desk person doesn’t seem to notice, though she takes a second glance at Blaise’s black eye and bruises, and soon we’re heading up to one of the suites at the top floor.
The moment the door closes behind us, I nearly collapse to the floor. Blaise locks the door, and then he’s at my side, pulling me into an embrace and kissing me wildly.
There are so many questions going through my head, so many unknowns, but they all dissolve into dust the moment I feel his lips on mine. The adrenaline that was surging through my body is now funneling into the desire for him and only him.
Always only him.
All we’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours is coming out in surges and waves, and just like last night, I’m craving the release, needing the escape, wanting that connection to him.
His hands pull my coat off, and I’m pulling off his, and it’s then that we both look at each other and realize what a fucking mess we both are. My blouse is torn, my pants ripped and dirty. His shirt is splattered with blood, so much blood.
“We need to get ourselves clean before we get ourselves dirty again.” He takes my hand and leads me to the large marble bathroom, and we quickly undress as he turns on the showerhead. He leads me into the shower, the water powerful and hot, and he brings my naked body right up against him.
He lays kisses down my neck as he brushes the hair off my shoulder, then his head dips to my breasts, where he gently cups and cradles as his tongue swirls around my nipple.
I moan, my eyes closed, head back in the falling water, feeling it wash everything away. I’m becoming new, my sins are being cleansed, and yet nothing feels so lush and decadent as Blaise as his wide palms roam around my slick body, running down between my breasts, over my stomach, and between my legs.
I immediately let him in, the slow tease and push of his fingers, while he pulls my nipple into his hot mouth, pinching the hardened tip between his teeth.
Another noise escapes my mouth, this one harsh and sharp and full of mindless need. That’s what I want right now—to feel just this and only this, only him, as he makes my body run wild with desire.
“I need to be inside you. I need to feel you, to know that I have you,” he says hoarsely, the lust dripping in his voice. But it’s not just lust. It’s not just this primal drive that I know is awakening within each of us. It’s a need for each other on a deeper level, a place so deep that only our bodies together can seem to reach it.
But before I give myself to him in that way, I want to give myself to him in another way.
I grab his cock, making a fist, and kiss him madly as I pump my hand up and down his shaft.
He groans, biting his lip, eyes pinched shut from the pleasure. I step back an inch, just to see the water pour down the sculpted planes of his body, the battered features of his face, the way his eyelashes glisten when wet.
Then I sink down to a crouch and take his cock into my mouth, slowly, carefully, wanting to take my time in teasing him, in letting him know that I want to do this for him, want to bring him pleasure.
His hands go to either side of my head and hold me in place as I grip the base of his dick and start pumping him into my mouth faster, harder, my teeth occasionally scraping along the stiff, veiny ridge, which prompts a breathless gasp from him.
“Seraphine,” he says, voice gruff, and his words are like a prayer said in the middle of the night. The kind of prayer you make even if you don’t know anyone is listening.
I want to answer his prayers. This man who was once my cousin and yet ended up being even closer than that. A man who saw in me what ailed him, someone who didn’t have a place in the world. Someone on the outside.
Now we have each other.
I’ll do my best to hang on to that.
“Stop,” he hisses. “Stop. I need to come inside you.”
I pull my lips away from his hot shaft and smile as I get to my feet.
Before I can say anything, he’s kissing me fiercely, violently, and then he’s spinning me around until my arms are up high, palms pressed flat against the glass of the shower, my sensitive nipples barely grazing it.
He parts my legs by sliding his hand between my ass and the back of my thighs and grips my waist as he pushes himself inside me.
I gasp from the feel of him, a shock to my system, then I relax as he slowly eases in and out, and my body starts writhing with greed.
Yes. Yes, this is what I wanted.
This is what I needed.
For him to reach me deep inside here and turn my world upside down.
Make up for all this fucking lost time.
And make up for it, he does.
He fucks me thoroughly, pumping himself up into me from behind, more and more, faster and faster, until he’s slipping around on the tiles and I’m pressed up against the glass, and I wouldn’t have it any other way than this.
He pulls my hair and tells me he loves me.
I cry out his name, begging for more.
He gives me more.
More and more.
And then we’re both coming, lost to each other and swept away by the falling water. Every care and worry and wish I had gets swept down in a circle toward the drain.
At least for the moment, but a moment will do.
Then, when we both regain our breath and give each other a flushed and slightly shy smile, we soap each other up from head to toe, making sure that when we step out of the shower, we’re different people than when we stepped in.
When we’re clean and dried off, I walk right over to the bed and throw back the covers, getting in. I don’t care that I’m naked, I don’t care that it’s the afternoon. I just want to rest.
Blaise follows, coming in to be beside me and pulling me close, tucking the covers around on top of us. This is the first time I’ve been in a bed with him, and I have to say that it feels as natural as breathing.
I rest my head on top of his chest, relishing the sound of his heartbeat, the warmth of his strong body, a body that would die to protect me.
I love him. With every fiber of my being, I love him.
I want to live in this feeling, hold it close, now and forever.
But I know that finding love doesn’t mean that life stops.
It means that you want more than ever to keep on living.
“What happens now?” I ask softly, wanting both to talk about it and to pretend that everything is fine, that all we need for the rest of our lives is in this hotel room. And maybe it is.
“Well,” he says, inhaling slowly as his fingers play with my wet hair. “I struck a deal with Pascal.”
“You did what?”
“I know. But believe me when I say he’ll honor it, because he will. A lot went down this morning, a lot of stuff I don’t want to get into right now. But we have a way out of it. Both of us.”
I’m almost afraid to hear what it is. I lift my head and rest my chin on his chest, staring at him. “What?”
“You’re getting transferred to Dubai.”
“Dubai?” Now I’m sitting up straight. “Why?”
“Because, as you know, that’s where the new Dumont office is. And they’re looking for someone to head the company there. That someone will be you. Or you can take any of the other roles if you want. Or you don’t have to take any. But for now, that’s the solution.”
“What if I don’t want to go to Dubai?”
He gives me an apologetic smile. “You can’t stay in Paris. You know tha
t.”
“Tell me what happened.”
He exhales noisily. “Everything happened. I got Pascal to cover for us. To get my father to call off his fucking hounds.”
“How did you do that?”
“Your gun came in handy.”
My brows raise to the ceiling. “You pulled a gun on your brother?”
He nods. “Was I not supposed to?”
“Blaise . . .”
“It was the only way he’d listen, and you know that. I was hiding there when Father showed up with Jones and his cronies. By the way, the guy you shot is alive . . . not well, but alive.”
“You saw him?” I’m almost embarrassed at the relief I feel at his not being dead.
“As I said, I was hiding. But I heard it all. Pascal stayed true to his word. We’re both cleared to leave. He doesn’t care where I go and neither does my father. It hurt to hear that part, not going to lie, but at least I know it was honest. As for you, well, you can go to Dubai. It would be what’s best for the company, but I already quit, so I don’t give a flying fuck about the Dumont brand. Don’t think I ever did. Just wanted to belong, that’s all. But if you want it, you can have control at the Dubai office, the power. You’re good at what you do, and you’ve earned it. But if that doesn’t appeal to you, we can go anywhere you want. And when I say we, I mean it. It’s you and me. I can’t leave your side, even if I wanted to.”
It’s too much to handle all at once. I don’t even know if I want to work for Dumont anymore, but perhaps a new city in a new country, as a boss . . . maybe that’s what I need. Or maybe I need to cut ties altogether.
“Can I figure it out when I get there? What if I don’t want it?”
“Then we’ll do what you want. You can get a job anywhere, and you know it. We just can’t be here. Not in Paris. That’s where it all ends.”
“That’s the only part of the deal?”
“That and dropping the investigation into your father.” He pauses. “I know that’s hard. I know it’s so hard, especially when we both know, well . . . the truth.”
“Which is?” I demand. I need to hear him say it.
“That my father killed your father,” he says.
And it’s like my whole world changes into something new.
I am no longer alone in my conviction.
I am no longer alone.
I swallow, feeling tears well up inside me. “You believe it,” I whisper, my nails pressing into his chest. “You believe it.”
“I do. And I am so sorry,” he says, his eyes growing wet as he stares at me, brows drawn together in determination. “I am so, so sorry. So sorry that he’s dead. So sorry that I didn’t believe you. And I am so, so sorry that it was my own father who took his life. That it was someone whose blood runs through my veins. I am so sorry that I am his son.”
I’m already breaking, and Blaise looks close to it.
“It’s okay,” I say through a choked sob, reaching for his beautiful face and running my fingers down his cheek, which is still bruised from last night. “You don’t have to say anything. I was there, Blaise. I only had eyes for you growing up. I watched you and your family, and I knew how it was, even if you didn’t tell me. You aren’t like them; you never were and never will be. In my eyes, you’re not a Dumont. You’re just Blaise. And you deserve peace and family and forgiveness as much as anyone.”
“I love you,” he whispers again, his voice ravaged with the emotion that seems to roll through him. “I’ve always only loved you, even if I didn’t know how to feel it, how to say it, it’s still true. You’re mine. You were always mine.”
“And you’re mine.” I lean up and kiss him on the lips, feeling the tears run down my cheeks and onto our lips, tasting the salt, tasting each other. “I love you. I think I always did. When I was young, you broke my heart, Blaise, because I’d given you my heart, and I swear I never got it back until now. It’s yours and I’m yours.”
He kisses me back, and we’re immediately wrapped in each other’s limbs, both of us spilling tears for the things we’ve let go of and the things we’ve gained. For the love we’ve been denied, the love we’ve lost.
The love we’ve found.
The next morning I wake up in a haze. Despite the copious amounts of coffee I consume from the hotel room’s coffee maker, I can’t seem to get my head on straight.
There’s a lot to process: What just happened to us. What’s coming up next. The longer I’m in the hotel room—almost like Blaise and I are biding our time, because I guess we are—the more I feel like I’m trapped.
“I want to go for a walk,” I tell Blaise as I slip on a Minnie Mouse dress, eyeing myself in the mirror. It reminds me of the shirt I had when I was in the orphanage. We don’t have any clothes other than the bloody and dirty ones we showed up in, so Blaise had the concierge bring up a whole assortment of clothes from the gift shop. Of course, most of them are Disney themed, but I don’t really care. It’s all pretty surreal right now as it is.
“I’ll go with you,” Blaise says, getting up off the chair. He’s been on his phone all morning, looking at flights to Dubai and places to stay, and everything is just moving oh so fast.
“No,” I tell him. “I want to be alone. I just need some fresh air and some space to think.” His face falls, so I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, momentarily giddy that I can do this with him. That he’s mine. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. This is just how I process things, and there’s a lot to process. Besides, I need to call Olivier. I need to tell him everything that’s happened.”
“I worry about you,” he says.
“Well, you shouldn’t,” I tell him. “I’m going to go for a walk in the actual park. Happiest place on Earth is also the safest, most secure, and most-monitored place on Earth. You have to be screened to get in, and security cameras are absolutely everywhere. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
He frowns and then kisses me on the forehead. “Okay. But if you’re not back here in an hour, I’m going after you, and I’m bringing the police in tow.”
“If it’s not the Goof Troop, I’m going to be very upset,” I tell him. I can tell by his bemused expression that he doesn’t know what the Goof Troop is, so I leave it at that.
I slip on some Daisy Duck–print leggings, plus my boots, and grab my coat and purse, and then I’m out the door. I feel ridiculous, like I’m an adult in kid’s clothing, but the feeling only lasts as far as the park entrance, where I go to buy the day pass. It seems almost everyone, of all ages, is dressed similarly to me. It actually makes me smile—the first bit of lightness I’ve felt in my chest since yesterday.
Even though being with Blaise now has opened up my world to love, something I’d only dreamed of sharing with him, at the moment everything is tainted by the fear of the unknown, the fear that at any moment, someone might appear and ruin everything. All we have is Pascal’s word. We don’t have any closure whatsoever.
Which is why I have to phone Olivier. It’s going to be late at night, but I don’t think it can wait. I need to hear my brother’s voice, especially since he’s gone through almost the same thing I have.
Once I’m in through the park gates, I relax a little. Even though it’s a weekday and it’s winter, it’s still crowded and loud, so I set out across the park looking for the quietest place possible. I finally find a little duck pond by Cottonwood Creek Ranch in the frontier section of the park. I sit down on a bench and call.
He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hello?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
“Olivier?” I ask, letting out a breath of relief at the sound of his voice.
“Seraphine?” He sounds more awake now. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I’m sorry to wake you,” I tell him. “I know it’s early.”
“It’s okay,” he says, and I’m surprised he’s still speaking English. He sounds really good. “I get up early anyway.”
“Who is it?” I can hear Sadie mumble
nearby, and I feel bad for waking her too.
“It’s Seraphine,” he says. “Go back to sleep, baby, I’ll take this in the other room.”
“Baby?” I ask with a chuckle as I hear some shuffling and the shutting of a door. “You guys are pretty cute in the morning.”
“She’s the cute one,” he says with that same softness he always has when he’s talking about Sadie. He clears his throat. “So what’s going on with you? Last we talked you seemed a bit . . . distant.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah. Well, I had my reasons. And before I explain, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’m alive. I think I have a future ahead of me, much like you had your future ahead of you when you stepped on that plane and went after Sadie.”
“Oh shit. What happened? Is it Gautier?”
I swallow and try to keep the tears back. I should be all cried out after these last few days, and I don’t want to lose it in the middle of Disneyland Paris. “I did something stupid, Olivier. Or maybe it wasn’t stupid, because it led me to the truth. But it’s changed everything. Everything.”
“What truth?” he asks cautiously.
“That our uncle murdered his own brother in cold blood.”
There is silence over the line. I hear him exhale a shaky breath. “And you know this how?”
“Because I got too close to the truth, and he found out. Because I trusted the wrong person.”
“Blaise.”
“No,” I cry out softly. “No, not Blaise. Blaise is the only one I can trust. I . . .” Shit. Never figured out how to break this part of the story to him. I leave it for now. “It was Cyril. I told Cyril what I suspected, and he went straight to our uncle.”
Olivier grunts. “Those two don’t even like each other.”
“Birds of a feather,” I tell him. “Cyril wants revenge for not getting a single penny from me. And I guess Gautier trusted him because Cyril has always been weak and spineless. He knows how to manipulate the desperate.”
“So then what happened?”
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