by Penelope Sky
I turned the knob and let myself inside.
He was staring at his laptop, his fingers gliding over the touch pad as he scrolled through a page he read intently. Shirtless, with his big arms on the table, he didn’t notice my entrance, or if he did, he assumed I was Gilbert to feed the fire.
I approached his desk, my feet quiet because I’d ditched my heels in my bedroom.
When I was right in front of him, he lifted his chin with a look of indifference.
I could tell that he expected Gilbert because his face changed the longer he looked at me, as if it made him physically angry to see me. His jaw tightened like screws that were twisted farther to the right even though they were already tight. His eyes darkened to coals. The veins in his arms protruded even more.
“I’m sorry to disturb you—”
“Then don’t.” He straightened in his chair, pulling his arms off the desk as he leaned against the back. His arms fell to the armrests, one elbow bent as his closed knuckles pressed against his cheek.
“I just want to talk—”
“I hate talking.”
“You didn’t hate it with me…” My fingers came together in front of my waist, interlocking to stop the fidgeting.
His eyes narrowed like that made him angrier. “I hated it then too. Trust me.”
My eyes dropped to his desk, this attempt at conversation pointless. “I’m sorry…about everything.”
His stare remained as cold and intense as ever.
“That probably doesn’t mean anything to you—”
“It doesn’t.” He was still and lifeless like a winter morning. He’d once had a beating heart, but now he was made entirely of stone.
“It’s been weeks, and you still won’t even talk to me. If you hate me so much, why don’t you just throw me out?” I didn’t want to leave. I had nowhere to go. I didn’t want anyone else but him. And he was the only viable option to get Raven out of that camp.
He didn’t answer the question.
“How am I supposed to prove anything to you if you won’t even look at me?” My eyes suddenly filled with warmth, a warning of impending tears. I’d been lost until I came here, and now I was here, but I still felt lost. I gave a quiet sniff to try to suck back the wetness, but it didn’t work.
He used to soften at my tears. Now there was nothing. “If you expect my anger to thaw so quickly, then you really don’t understand how deep your knife went. You fail to grasp the significance of your betrayal. I’m not a man who grants forgiveness. I’m a man who grants death. You should be grateful that I still have no desire to ever hurt you.”
Tears broke free and dripped down my cheeks. “You’re hurting me right now…”
Eight
Winter to Spring
Fender
I came into her room every night and took her the same way.
It was quick, just to get off, and then I went to bed.
Words weren’t exchanged.
She didn’t try to talk to me. She just let me be.
I was in my office on the phone when Gilbert entered. “We aren’t taking more partners right now. Period.” I hung up then looked at Gilbert, annoyed that he stood in front of my desk in expectation when I was on the phone. “What?”
“Melanie just left. Wanted me to give you this.” He placed a piece of paper from her notebook in front of me.
I stared at him blankly, but then I looked out the window, as if expecting to see her walk past. My hand grabbed the note and read her feminine handwriting.
I can’t prove something you won’t allow me to prove.
I’m sorry for everything.
-Chérie
I got to my feet and tossed the note aside. “When did she leave?”
“A few minutes ago—”
“Tell the men to keep the gate closed.”
Gilbert looked bewildered by the order. “Sir? I thought this was a good thing—”
“Do as I say.”
“Of course.” He stepped away and spoke into his intercom. “Quincy, don’t open the gate.”
I marched around the desk and prepared to go after her myself.
Gilbert turned back to me. “The cab just pulled away, sir.”
I stared at him blankly, unable to believe she’d just taken off like that. She’d left me once and it hurt. Now that she’d left me again, it just pissed me off. “Bring the car around.”
I pulled up to the curb of her apartment building and ignored the people who stared at my car.
My boots thudded against the stone as I entered the building, up the hardwood of the stairs, and the sound of my beating heart matched the thudding. The fury was barely contained in my tight fists.
I arrived at her apartment, tried the locked handle, and then broke through the lock when I shoved my shoulder against it with a single push.
The door flew open, revealing Melanie on the couch with her bag beside her. She didn’t flinch at the sound, as if unsurprised. The windows showed the lights of the city and the apartment across the way, hitting her face with the right light to show her glistening tears.
I’d come here to scream at her.
But like always, those tears made me go still.
I pushed the door shut behind me then entered her small apartment. There was a drop of blood on the wall where my man had been slain with a knife by that obnoxious bitch. There were coffee mugs on the counter beside the sink. A couple blankets were thrown over the couches. To her, it had been home. To me, it was a dump.
She didn’t belong in a place like that.
I stared at her from the kitchen until she lowered her gaze to her lap and wiped her tears away.
I moved into the living room and stopped near the couch where she sat. An ambulance passed on the street below. Then a car pulled up to the intersection, playing loud and obnoxious music. There was no silence.
Silence was a luxury.
After a quick scan of the apartment, I dropped my chin to her.
And stared.
She gave a quiet sniff.
“I have more important things to do than chase you down.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“What did you expect me to do?” I stared at the side of her face, my gaze burning into her cheek, irritated that a woman so beautiful was sitting in an apartment that didn’t complement her appearance. She deserved a fucking tiara and a crown.
“Let me go.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t look at me. You don’t…even like me.”
I stared at her for a while before I lowered myself to the armchair, sitting at the very edge with my arms on my thighs. My hands came together as I looked at her. I waited for her to meet my eyes.
She wouldn’t. “I want the man that I remember. Not this version of you.” Her voice came out as a whisper. But then her voice grew louder, full of offense. “I don’t want to be fucked like a whore.”
Her request made the anger dump into the atrium of my heart like blood from the lungs. “You’re not in a place to make demands—not after what you did. I’m entitled to my anger. I’m entitled to treat you however I damn well please.”
She lifted her chin and looked at me, her eyes red because she’d cried during the entire cab ride. “Then I don’t want to go back with you.”
My visage didn’t change, but her declaration made me feel the same bout of loss as when she’d left the first time. It hurt me—again. It hurt me, when I’d thought she couldn’t hurt me anymore. “You don’t expect winter to thaw into spring in a moment. It takes time, a very long time, for the snowcaps to melt and flood the rivers. I’m a man of the elements. You should manage your expectations. A mountain won’t move just because you wish for it to move.”
Her fingers continued to fidget, but she didn’t drop her gaze. “It’s been three weeks. No sign of movement. No sign of future movement. It’s impossible for me to make amends or prove my feelings if I can’t even speak to you. You don’t want me there. It’s
clear.”
My anger increased because her awareness was nonexistent. She had me in the palm of her hand—and she didn’t even know it. “If I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t have welcomed you into my home. I wouldn’t come into your bedroom at night. I’d visit my favorite whore instead. I wouldn’t drive all the way here. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now at all, looking at you the way I always have, since the moment I first saw you. I kept my promise to you even after you broke your promise to me. You’re alive this very moment, when anyone else would be dead. I don’t want you there…” I shook my head. “You insult me. You fucking insult me.” I rose to my feet and moved to the door, expecting her to get off her ass and follow me.
But she didn’t.
I turned back around and gave a deep sigh of annoyance.
“You have to try… Otherwise, I won’t come with you.”
I bent over backward for this woman. I destroyed my self-respect for this woman. There was no request I wouldn’t honor. Anything she asked of me, I would give it to her. It was fucking pathetic.
Almost made me walk out for good.
But I’d lived a life without her…and it was unbearable.
Obsessed. Addicted. Infatuated.
Haunted. Bewitched. Possessed.
This woman was the fucking air to my lungs.
So, I caved—again. “Alright.”
I drove her back to the palace.
Gilbert greeted us with disappointment, taking her bag with a sigh, as if he’d hoped she would never step foot in this place again. He could barely tolerate her when things were good. I imagined he was worse now than he’d ever been before.
“Gilbert.”
He halted and turned back to me. “Yes, Your Highness?”
I just stared him down because he would understand my silence better than my words.
He gave a slight nod then carried her bag to her bedroom upstairs.
I turned back to the office. “I have shit to do.”
She looked around the foyer, the gold sconces, the floral wallpaper and the portraits on the wall—like she’d never seen it before. “Can we have dinner together?” She looked at the floor, expecting a no before she heard it leave my lips.
I stared at her fair cheek, the blush that highlighted her prominent cheekbones, that gave her a deeper level of beauty. The answer that came to mind stayed there and never left my lips. “Yes.”
The anger was impossible to release.
Not when I was this enraged.
But it was a necessary sacrifice to have the one thing more profound than my hate.
My chérie.
I stepped into her bedroom and found her at the dining table near the window in her living quarters. Her makeup had been refreshed, and she was in the designer clothes I provided.
Gilbert had her tray set up in front of her, and then he did the same to mine.
I approached, my bare feet moving across the hardwood floor and then the thick rug. My mind was more focused now that the scotch had been siphoned out of my diet. Didn’t need it as a form of pain management.
There was nothing to do for the anger, unfortunately.
I sat in the chair across from her, feeling so much rage for what she’d done, but that slowly tapered off the longer I looked at her.
Her beauty dulled the fury.
Gilbert removed the silver lids to our platters then left us to enjoy our dinner.
Melanie stared at me without touching her silverware, her eyes slightly soft, as if she couldn’t believe I was actually there with her. Gratitude. Joy. A lot of different emotions moved across the surface of her eyes.
It was real.
Raven was always the wedge between us, but now that she had been permanently removed from the situation, she shouldn’t cause any more problems. I wasn’t sure what made me hate her more—destroying the camp, or taking Melanie away.
Melanie grabbed her silverware and started to eat.
I dropped the linen napkin in my lap, sliced into the tender meat, and ate in silence. My arms rested on the table as I chewed, looking across the table at the woman in front of me, the living portrait that could entertain me for hours.
“So…how was work?”
I chewed my food slowly, recalling the remains of the camp, a pile of burned ash. Smoke had lingered in the sky for weeks, making it hard for the men to breathe as they worked to rebuild from scratch. The entire organization had been compromised for months because everything went to shit. “It was fine.”
Her eyes darkened slightly, like she knew that work would always be a touchy subject. “How long will you be here?”
“No idea.” I cut into my food again and took another bite. Even if I knew when I was leaving, I wouldn’t tell her. She might reduce my anger with her appearance, and she might soften my heart with the words she said to me, but there was nothing she could do to earn back the trust she’d pissed away.
She stopped asking questions and ate in silence.
Silence. My preferred form of communication.
I stared at her as I ate my meat, her appearance matching the one I’d stored in my memory while she was gone. The whores I’d bedded didn’t compare to her. They did whatever I paid them to do—and I still couldn’t get off the way I had before. Once I pictured Melanie instead of them, the sex became good, but it still fell short.
“I got a job at a café.” She pushed her potatoes around with her fork.
I stared as I chewed.
“I wasn’t very good at it.” She released a chuckle that came out like a rushed breath. “The manager was a nice guy and didn’t fire me, even though I was slow and most of my drinks were wrong.”
“He wasn’t a nice guy. Just wanted to fuck you.” I’d tried to think of her as little as possible after she left. When the dark thoughts broke through the barrier of my scotch, when I’d wondered where she slept at night, if another guy got to fuck her while I lay there in the dark alone, then I would drink more.
She kept her eyes on her plate and continued to push her potatoes around.
I didn’t ask because her answer didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything. If I didn’t get the answer I wanted, it would just make me angry, and I was already angry enough.
She took a few bites of her food, her eyes downcast.
I kept eating, still wanting to reach for a scotch that wasn’t there.
With her eyes still down, she spoke. “I wasn’t with anyone…” Even though that was a huge relief, I continued to eat with the same stony expression.
“Were you with—”
“Yes.” I didn’t tell her it was unsatisfying. I didn’t tell her I pretended she was the woman underneath me. I wanted to hurt her—and I hoped it did.
She went back to pushing her food around, like she didn’t have an appetite.
Good.
When dinner was finished, I rose from the chair and turned to depart. There was tea and desserts, but I didn’t enjoy either of those things.
“Wait.”
I stilled by her bed but didn’t turn around. Her black bag was still there, sitting on top of the duvet cover.
She came up behind me, her hand touching my arm. Her fingertips weren’t as soft as they used to be, like her working at the café had callused her rose-petal skin. When I didn’t turn away, she came closer, resting her forehead against my bare back.
I stood there and felt her hands grip my triceps, her forehead against my back.
She straightened then turned me slightly, getting me to turn around the rest of the way and face her.
With my arms by my sides, I stared down at her, unsure what she wanted from me. I wasn’t in the mood to take her to bed.
Her hands gently slid down my arms as she looked at my chest and stomach, admiring my appearance like another woman hadn’t gotten to enjoy it in her absence. She moved farther into me, her hands slid to my biceps, her eyes lifting to mine. Her lips parted as she breathed quietly, her eyes now on my mouth.
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She rose on her tiptoes and kissed my jawline, her soft lips like pillows against the hard bones in my chin. She moved to my mouth, kissing the corner, giving me a gentle swipe of her tongue.
My exterior was impenetrable. If she wanted more from me, she’d have to try harder than that.
She brought her face close to mine and stared at my lips, her eyelashes moving down her cheeks, her plumps lips ready for a kiss. Her nails dug into me slightly before she leaned in and pressed her soft mouth against mine, closing her eyes, feeling our lips touch.
My eyes remained open, my lips still.
She rested them together for a long time before she pulled away slightly. But she tried again, tucking her bottom lip between mine, exhaling a quiet breath filled with longing. Her nails dug into me deeper, just the way they did against my back.
My mouth remained lifeless.
She lifted her eyes and looked at me, her lips just a hair away from mine. “Je t’aime…”
Against my will, I inhaled a deep breath.
She moved into me once more, her hand cupping my neck, and she pressed a harder kiss to my mouth.
My eyes closed, and my mouth moved with hers, fire between our lips. My mouth took hers slowly, tasting the rain off her rose petals, inhaling her scent for the first time. My tongue reached for hers, and they met in a beautiful dance we’d shared a thousand times. It felt the same as it always had. Passion. Desire. Heat.
She pulled her lips away and looked at me, her nails slowly releasing my flesh. Her blue eyes showed everything that I’d just felt, that the heat burned her insides too. Her mouth moved farther away as she took a knee in front of me.
Another breath of air was sucked into my lungs automatically. My hands tightened into fists. My dick throbbed in my sweats because he wanted to feel the lips I’d just kissed.
She got to both knees on the rug then hooked her fingers to the insides of my bottoms and slowly dragged them down, letting my cock come free.
My face might be stoic, but my dick gave me away.
Thick. Hard. Long. Drooling at the tip.
