by Pamela Ann
“I think he might be, but I couldn’t be sure. Knowing his frame of mind at the moment, he’d rather make sure you are secured. You can leave whenever you feel like would best suit you tomorrow. There’s no rush, just as long as you get there by nightfall.”
I merely nodded, and when he asked if I was still up to have dinner, I requested it be sent to the bedroom since I wasn’t sure when I would feel hungry. Besides, I wanted to pack for the trip tomorrow. Truth be told, I would feel much more comfortable at the chateau than here. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. This place was truly amazing, but the chateau had that homey feel to it. My soul felt lighter there. And at times like these, when tension ran high and I was constantly on high alert, the chateau would do me a world of good. Pregnancy was exhausting enough. Taking on a mirage of people who wanted me gone … Well, that was another thing altogether.
My life was in shambles, and the best I could do was to toughen my core, my armor, or I would breakdown like any sane, normal person would. If it weren’t for the twins, I would probably have surrendered already.
Glancing at the beautiful ring on my finger, I wondered if it was enough to keep me secure.
Julien thought me unyielding, indestructible.
I should believe myself as such.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hugo
“Isobel’s father is here to see you, Mr. Xavier,” Benoît informed me with a disapproving look on his face.
After the blasted man had threatened his own flesh and blood, how in God’s name did he dare to come here?
“Tell him to leave my property right this second, or he’ll land himself in jail. If it weren’t for the fact that Isobel might be affected by such a notion, he’d be in there already.”
The last thing I wanted to deal with was Constantin Callas. The man was below anything despicable. I already had a lot going on, and I needed to make sure I got all my work addressed so I could focus on Isobel when she got to the chateau tomorrow. It was a given that I would be there until Julien was back. Although, I had to admit I was beyond ticked that he hadn’t done much protecting of Isobel. She could have been shot, but he had argued that he had to give Isobel that option. Constantin was her blasted father, after all.
Benoît remained in the library, as if conflicted. Frowning, I sent him a questioning gaze.
“Is there more to be said about this?”
“The man said he had some information that might interest you, something rather important.”
Oh, the blasted fuckery. The tricks were laughable at this point.
“Tell him to give it up, yeah? Real men in this world have jobs and simply don’t have the jolly ol’ time for such follies.”
Benoît remained unmoving. “It’s in regard to Miss Callas. He said that maybe you could save her from the Russians.”
My ears immediately perked up at the mention of Russians. What in Hades did the blasted fuck know about any of this?
“Bring the impotent cretin in. I’d love to have words with him,” I harshly commanded, already fuming deep within, and Benoît left to fetch the bastard. If the bloody oligarch had contacted him, it would be no wonder he had brought a damn pistol to see Isobel. He had to be desperate and surely at his wits end to consider such an incomprehensible deal with humanity’s worst kind.
Constantin Callas entered my library, looking like the ultimate rubbish that he truly was. What a sad, pathetic man, scrounging money from whomever, and once all resources were dried up, he resorted to his daughter. Well, that truly stopped this time around. He was done milking his connection with his daughter. I was going to make sure of that.
The moment I set eyes on the pathetic, foolish sod, I had to harness the violent storm inside of me to even look him straight in the eye without wanting to knock him back. “You have five minutes to explain yourself fully, Callas. And don’t give me the runaround stupidity you usually go for, or your body will be dumped somewhere in the Mediterranean.” As threats went, I usually didn’t go in for the kill, but my levelheadedness had vanished. To be quite frank, I would personally bag his dead body and dump it in the sea if need be. I doubted anyone would miss the bastard, anyhow. He was better off dead. Killing this man wouldn’t be such a hardship. I would do anything for Isobel and my unborn twins. Anything.
“I have information that might interest you, but you must pay me two million Euros, or Isobel’s life might be in danger,” the cretin said in a dispassionate tone, eyeing me as if I was an ATM machine.
After what he had pulled off at Julien’s home, I could have smashed his head to the ground. It was best to stay seated as I dealt with him, because I didn’t trust myself not to pursue that appealing idea.
Grinding my teeth together, I took a hefty breath and eyed him with scorn. “You’re the one who’s endangering her by fucking around with a gun in your hand!” There went my cool demeanor. Well, at least I hadn’t killed the bastard. Even though he was filth, Isobel would surely hate me forever if I did her such a favor, or the world a favor for that matter.
Constantin gave out a short, disgusting laugh before getting back to business. “That might be so. I could’ve shot her then, too, but I figured out that you might be willing to pay double, because I believe you’re in love with that bitch, so I’m taking chances by coming to you.”
He thought himself a genius, believing I would give him double the asking price he had stated at Julien’s house. Well, hell. He was in for some reality.
“What makes you think I’d be interested?”
Constantin smirked, as if the question amused him to no end. “Because someone just posted a million Euro bounty on your girl, Hugo; that’s fucking why.”
Everything became suspended. My detached demeanor began to slip the second he finished saying the word “bounty.” Who in God’s name would dare do such an atrocious thing? A million Euros was a lot. No poor bloke would be able to afford it. And if it were the Russian oligarch, he would have his men do it without the bounty attached. So what in the bloody fucking hell was going on? Constantin was pulling my leg.
“You’re bluffing,” I uttered, wanting to throttle him for his despicable lies. He was spewing more on his bullshit train. No. I wasn’t going to be swayed by this useless information he was trying to hold for ransom.
He shrugged. “No, I daresay I am not this time. Let’s just say this stemmed from bad blood, a rival from Eastern Europe to put it lightly and into perspective here. So are you willing to dish the millions or not? Because I need the money. If you aren’t, I might have other people who might be interested to know where the princess is hiding.”
“You always need money, you pathetic beggar!” Each time I saw him, it always entailed money. He would sacrifice anything for monetary gain. That was just it. It didn’t matter how he achieved it. And since the “traditional” route, if one could even call it that, was out, the rake had gone black market to provide for his sickening addiction.
He barely grimaced at my insult yet remained on his pointless stance. “Two million Euros. The price is not negotiable.”
“All right. We have a deal.” As much as it would give me pleasure to throw this rubbish out of my home, I couldn’t take such a risk knowing the blasted fool could be saying the truth. It was just too risky to play Russian roulette with so many lives involved. “Your money will be wired within the next few hours. Leave your information with the head of my security on your way out.”
“Isobel isn’t my daughter. Just after we got married, her mother had a fling and got pregnant by some powerful Russian man who was in Athens for business. His name is Benedikt Romanov.”
My blood ran cold. That name had plagued me for years. The bastard who had been shadowing my life, Benedikt Romanov, was Isobel’s, the woman who was carrying my unborn children, real father.
He paused, as if to take in my non-reaction before shrugging then continuing on. “Last year, one of the wealthiest businessmen in Moscow had a falling out with him. From wha
t I heard, it was a business gone wrong, and apparently, Benedikt didn’t want to give back the money that was invested in the company. He won’t yield. They want to hurt him, but he’s too powerful. And since he didn’t have any wife or children, it was difficult to make that possible … until they found out about Maria and how she gave birth to a girl a year after Romanov left Athens.
“Benedikt doesn’t know he has a daughter, but he will soon enough. He will start hunting her down, too. I’m thinking you’ll have less than twenty-four hours, because word has it that Romanov works fast, and he never loses.”
Masking my reaction, I didn’t give myself a chance to dwell on the facts. There was no way this fool was lying, because this information was too complicated for his imagination.
“I believe we’re through here. You can go now, Constantin.”
The man Isobel had called and considered a father wasn’t even her real one. The plot thickened as the seconds ticked away. Who was the rival who had placed a bounty on Isobel? With a million Euros on the line, I was sure hit men all across Europe were getting ready to take arms and scour the streets in search of her.
This was war, and Isobel was caught in the crossfire. No wonder nothing was being done with Isobel. The Russian was busy with another feud elsewhere. I could have been thankful that no one knew she was pregnant, but at the rate this catastrophe was going, I wasn’t sure what would come out of the woodwork next.
Dialing Julien’s number, I held my breath until I heard his familiar voice. “Get out of the villa immediately. Leave as soon as you can. It’s too dangerous to stay there. Leave now. I’ll meet you at the chateau. I’ll explain when I get there.” I hung up before Julien could even finish asking what in Hades was going on.
If there was a chance for Isobel to survive this, she had to go in hiding. The chateau was the safest place for her, although I knew Benedikt Romanov would come for her sooner or later.
And when that time came, I would make sure to be there, negotiating my way into Hell or Heaven.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hugo
“There’s word out that Isobel has a bounty on her. Find out whatever you can, anything.”
Benoît eyed me with uncertainty. “Is that what Callas was here for, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I merely nodded as I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose, hoping to stay focused instead of completely giving in to the turmoil that threatened my grip on sanity.
My past curse could be overlooked. I had to know what I was up against with this man who was after Isobel. Time was of the essence. I had to play this smart, or it would be over soon.
The ever-efficient Benoît dug up everything he could acquire within two hours. Everything Constantin had stated aligned with what he found. There were a few hacking forums that delivered the mission through secret codes with Isobel’s background and last whereabouts. In this way, they could filter through the amateurs and the professionals. And they stated that they wanted the latter. It also stated that they wanted her alive, but if the first option was not viable, death would be acceptable.
Benedikt Romanov had made a multi-million-dollar deal that had gone awry. He apparently gave his word that the money invested would be worth it, guaranteeing he would personally pay them back if it didn’t work. And it hadn’t.
The research for the weapon had a lot of problems along the way, beginning with their scientists disappearing simultaneously without a trace. There were a lot of complications after that, and the money invested went kaput. The man who had a part of that plan was now demanding he get his money back since Romanov had given his word. However, the oligarch wasn’t budging and had shut down his demand with an iron fist. Hence, the hunt for Romanov’s only offspring. It was the only thing that would surely make him bleed—his last living relative, his unknown daughter.
It was no wonder Constantin Callas could easily sell her as if she were nothing but rubbish. His resentment ran deeper than the normal, callous bastard. He was a warped fuck who couldn’t forgive his wife for getting herself impregnated with another man’s child, and he kept punishing Isobel because he knew it would hurt his wife more.
Why did innocent children pay for their parents’ mistakes? Isobel had paid the price for her mother’s and I with my uncle’s. It was a blasted cycle that happened everywhere in this world. All it took was one action—one mistake—to spiral into this madness. The future generations always paid the price.
The drive to the chateau was riddled with mind-boggling questions circling around in my head. The very thought of bringing the subject up to Isobel would be crucial, yet I couldn’t bring myself to break it to her. It would probably hurt her, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen. She was pregnant and emotionally fragile at this point; I didn’t see the need to add on more stress in her life.
Regardless, a large part of me believed I should be the one to tell her instead of finding out from someone else. It was such a trivial matter, but I decided to gradually tell her this god-awful tidbit, making the impact less severe than if the news were delivered straight away.
Once I got to Provence and finally arrived at the chateau, I was beyond relieved to see she was fine. Though she looked as if she had gone past bedtime, the way she smiled and looked at me with such adoring eyes made everything worthwhile. I loved her; that was all that mattered at this point.
“What’s going on, Hugo?” Isobel murmured before heavily yawning.
Without much ado, I barely threw a glance at Julien before I strode towards Isobel, plucked her off the sofa, and cradled her in my arms as I began to walk towards the stairs.
“I can walk in case that escaped your notice.”
I gave a genuine smile, partially gazing down at her as I took the steps. “I’m a romantic. Let me just take care of you the way I know how.”
Arriving at my bedroom, I opened it and immediately took her to the king-sized mattress. Carefully laying her down, I situated her pliant body then covered her with the feather comforter.
“Are you comfortable enough?” My eyes lovingly roved over her beautiful face, noting everything about her, even the slight evidence of the dark circles that were forming beneath her eyes. She was exhausted, and she was trying to champion it out by not complaining.
She merely nodded with half-lidded eyes. “You’re here; that’s all I’ll ever need.”
If she wasn’t so haggard, I would have showed how those words affected me and my loins, but I had to set that aside for a later date. There were important things I had to discuss with Julien.
After bending down to kiss her forehead, I whispered, “May you have the sweetest dreams, ma belle. Je t’aime.” By the time I was done saying those words, I wasn’t surprised to find her fast asleep.
I stared down at her sleeping form, full of wonderment and overwhelming love. Then I reluctantly dragged myself out of there and immediately went to seek Julien, who was at the bar in the process of making himself a drink.
“We have a problem,” I uttered before giving him a nod, wanting a drink for myself.
“How exciting, and here I thought life was becoming a bore.”
Ignoring his blatant sarcasm, I downed the entire drink that he handed me in one go, savoring the steady burn of the alcohol.
“Constantin came to see me. Unfortunately, the bastard had some interesting news to share that came with a hefty price tag.” The cost didn’t matter. What I loathed was the man himself.
Setting my thoughts of the rotten man aside, I told him my uncle’s story before weaving back towards Isobel’s history and how, in the most fucked up of fucked upness, hers was intertwined with mine.
Julien’s immediate suggestion was to take Isobel to New York with him tomorrow. He had a point, but at the same time, I argued that it might be best to face Benedikt and negotiate a way to get out of this mess without hurting Isobel.
So we went on, discussing the best route to take, hoping to accomplish both.
“I love you, Isobel.” Whatever happens, know that I love you until the end.
My body ached to be inside of her, but I persevered by seeking the bathroom and giving myself a cold shower. I didn’t let up until my body was manageable, and my cock wasn’t raging hard.
Exiting the bathroom, I strode into the walk-in closet and pulled out boxer briefs. Normally, I detested such whilst sleeping, but tonight wasn’t about me. This was about Isobel. I had to control my instincts, which were to ravage her body until I was exhausted. And by slipping next to her without anything on, I might be more than tempted.
Slipping into the bed, I let out a contented sigh as I pulled her body against my own. The very feeling of her warmth against mine meant everything to me. This was how love was, and I didn’t want to ever let it go.
Moments later, I groggily woke to the sight of Isobel straddling me, fucking my cock to her heart’s content. She moaned and panted with her hair unraveling around her, looking like the beautiful siren she was. There was no sight more stunning than the woman who owned my heart using me with gusto because she simply couldn’t resist me. Well, the feeling was bloody fucking mutual.
No woman, upon vague recollection, fucked hard the way Isobel fucked me.
Afterward, I submerged back to unconsciousness with a smile on my face. So much for restraining myself. The joke was on me.
Pieces of heaven surely were found each time I was with her, in her arms, loved by her and no one else.
This fight would all be worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hugo
