The Palace (Chateau Book 4)

by Penelope Sky

  Melanie lifted her gaze and looked at Magnus as she ate. “Is Raven okay? You two left suddenly.”

  Magnus didn’t look directly at her. “She’s fine.”

  She drank from her wineglass, her eyes still drilling into his cheek because she was desperate for her answer. “You’re lying. You and Fender make the same face when you do that.”

  Magnus turned and looked at her, his eyes darkening in annoyance. “I’m not lying. She’s fine.”

  She wouldn’t let it go—like always. “Maybe now she’s fine, but she wasn’t.”

  I didn’t want to spend any more time talking about that infuriating woman. “She wasn’t feeling well. Supposedly.”

  Melanie set down the glass and ignored the gourmet food in front of her. Every glass of wine she drank was from a vintage bottle, and my staff always took care of every single need she had. She swam in a big pool in a palace, and sat in the lap of a man who adored her. Why did she care if Raven was okay after she’d made her feel like shit? “Please tell me.”

  Magnus exchanged a look with me before he answered. “One of my old lovers said something to her.”

  “What?” Melanie asked.

  He shrugged. “That she doesn’t understand why I left her for someone much less attractive, basically. Which is completely untrue. She just said it to start shit.”

  Melanie erupted like a volcano, dormant one moment, then explosive the next. “I’m gonna knock that bitch out! Who the fuck is this skank?” She had more fire than she’d ever had before, grew angrier than I’d ever seen her.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle because it was amusing coming from her. Never heard her say anything like that, even when she was jealous of the women I’d been with. “Come on. She’s right. Stasia is sexy, and your sister is a swine.” She could pretend she didn’t see it, but I didn’t buy it. Melanie was the pretty sister. Period.

  Melanie turned to me and gave me a look I’d never seen before. Never once in our time together had she been angrier than she was right now, with fire in her eyes and my body as the kindling. She was still for a second before she pushed off me and got to her feet.

  I was cold the second she was gone.

  Then she shook. Shook hard. Shook like she didn’t know how to channel so much rage.

  She made her move. Her palm slapped across my face so hard that an audible smack echoed across the grounds. It was packed with more strength than I would have thought her little body could ever produce. The blow had so much momentum that it made my head turn slightly. The sting was profound the second her palm collided with my face. “Don’t talk about my sister like that, asshole.”

  When I turned back to look at her, my eyes were filled with surprise.

  There was no remorse on her part.

  Melanie marched back to the estate, her legs moving quickly because she wanted to get away from me as fast as possible.

  I watched her go and didn’t follow. My hand rubbed my cheek as I glanced at my brother, who looked completely shocked. But I brushed it off and dropped my hand because I didn’t regret what I’d said. “Kinda liked it.”

  When I went to bed, she wasn’t there.

  I undressed down to my boxers then checked the bathroom and the closet.

  She was gone.

  I went down the hallway into her old bedroom and found her there. She was in bed with the sheets pulled to her shoulder, facing the window with her back to me. Her breathing told me she was wide awake but trying to pretend she was asleep.

  I knew her better than she gave me credit for.

  I approached the bed and stood over her, watching her inhales increase because she knew I was there, standing over her, staring her down. My hand went to her arm and gently pulled her toward me.

  Her fire obviously hadn’t died down because she twisted out of the hold instantly. “Don’t touch me.”

  I continued to stand there, waiting for her to turn and look at me.

  She didn’t.

  I didn’t apologize.

  I went around the bed to the other side, so she would be forced to look at me.

  Her eyes narrowed in anger. “Leave.”

  I grabbed the top of the sheets and pulled them down.

  When I didn’t obey like usual, she sat up. “I said, leave.”

  I got into bed beside her and pulled the sheets to my waist. “No.”

  In complete bewilderment, she just stared at me, unsure what to do next now that her power had been taken from her. Then she kicked the sheets off and got out of bed. “Fine. Then I’ll go.” Her feet hit the rug, and she marched off.

  I followed her.

  She looked back at me in the stairway, her eyes vicious. “Stop it.”

  I kept going.

  She went into my bedroom and shut the door in my face. She locked it too.

  That was cute.

  I stepped back a couple feet then slammed my body against the door, breaking it clean off the hinges. I stepped inside and ignored the debris underneath my feet.

  She looked at the door then my face, her eyes wide in disbelief.

  I walked toward her. “Where you go, I go. So pick a fucking bed.”

  Her blue eyes were livid. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths. The anger was too much for her to process, and she had no idea what to do with it. My behavior had never instilled this level of rage, and her loyalty to her sister was the only explanation for it. “I want you to leave.”

  “No.” I stepped closer to her, ignoring her fury and approaching without caution.

  Smoke was practically coming out of her ears.

  I stood in front of her. Stood over her.

  She reverted to her previous behavior and slapped me again.

  I turned with the hit, aroused when I should be furious. She’d never been disobedient. She never displayed the qualities I despised. But when she did, I liked it.

  “Don’t talk about my sister like that again.” Her eyes shifted back and forth as she looked into mine, her anger still rampant as if that last slap still wasn’t enough to cool her rage.

  I didn’t understand why it mattered what I said. I spoke the truth. Melanie was beautiful, and Raven was garbage. She knew it, even if I never said it again. But I gave her what she wanted. “Alright.”

  Her anger dimmed. “Apologize.”

  “No. I meant what I said.”

  Now it flared up again.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. By default, every other woman is the ugliest.”

  “You said Stasia is sexy and my sister is a pig.” She threw her arms down.

  “In comparison. Stasia is a pig in comparison to you too.”

  The anger dropped a bit, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

  Even in her anger, she was beautiful. Breathtaking. I moved in, watching her step back, and positioned her ass against the bed.

  Her hands went to the bed behind her, and she looked up at me with guarded eyes.

  I grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the bed.

  She smacked my hand away.

  My eyes narrowed, and I grabbed her hips and tugged her down, getting her to lie down so I could get her thong off.

  She kicked me.

  “You want me to stop? Tell me.” I pushed my boxers down and let my hard cock come free.

  She continued that vicious stare, but she didn’t say a word. She wanted me—she just wished she didn’t.

  I positioned her hips at the edge of the bed before my hips moved between her thighs.

  She slapped me again.

  My hands reached for hers and pinned them above her head. “Tell me.”

  There was only that furious stare.

  One hand kept her wrists together, and I directed myself inside her, sheathed in her typical wetness. “Fuck, chérie…” I kept her wrists in place because I liked it, and I fucked her at the edge of the bed, moving into her hard and fast, desperate for her the second she’d slapped me across the face.

&nbs
p; She didn’t rock with me, but she moaned against her will.

  My eyes burned into hers as I pounded into her slickness, feeling her tighten around me only to purposely distance herself, like she wanted to resist me as much as she could. She didn’t want to give me that satisfaction. But I already took all the satisfaction I needed. This wasn’t a game to me because I wasn’t a man who played games. “Je t’aime, chérie.”

  She immediately softened at my words. Her hips started to move. Her moans became louder. And she pulled her hands free from my hold and hooked her arms around my shoulders to bring me closer. “Je t’aime, mon amour…”

  My hand reached for her beside me.

  Nothing.

  My eyes opened and saw the sunlight poking through the closed curtains. Bits of dust were in the air. The room was considerably warmer in the morning than it was at bedtime—even with our lovemaking.

  My hand clenched the sheets, disappointed that she’d left me to wake up without her. She made sleep easy. Knowing she was beside me, that nothing could touch her unless it pierced my flesh all the way through first and hit her afterward, gave me a deeper level of peace.

  I would never let anything happen to her.

  Not again.

  I got out of bed and pulled on my sweats.

  The door leaned forward, only attached to the wall by a single hinge. Pieces of wood were kicked to the side so the entryway was clear. She wasn’t in the bathroom, so I went down the stairs and through the foyer.

  “Morning, sir.” Gilbert greeted me, in his full tuxedo with his hands behind his back. “Is there—”

  “Melanie.” I stared him down.

  He was getting better at recovering from my harshness, so he gave a quick nod. “She’s having breakfast on the terrace. Would you like to join her?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded and walked away.

  “Gilbert?”

  He turned back to me. “Yes, sir?”

  “Fix my door.” I walked past him. “It’s broken.” I headed out through the French doors in the rear and found Melanie sitting under an open umbrella, an assortment of breakfast items on the table. Chocolate croissants. Pot of coffee. Vase of pink roses. Savory crepes. Bowl of fruit. More food than she could possibly eat. But that wasn’t the point.

  When I came close, she drew her gaze away from the pool and the acres beyond and turned to me.

  I pulled out my chair and sat across from her.

  Her chin was on her closed fingers, and she watched me with guarded eyes, like her anger wasn’t gone despite all the fucking we’d done, all the whispers we’d shared, all the tears she’d shed. Her eyes dropped back to her coffee, and she brought it to her lips for a drink. She was in a sundress with her bathing suit underneath, sunscreen on her face instead of makeup. The bridge of her nose had a distinct whiteness to it, like that was where she’d slathered on the most lotion.

  She was beautiful—like always.

  I was content just to sit there and stare.

  Our nights and mornings were the best parts of my day. Our nights were filled with a kind of passion I’d never had with another woman. Our mornings were only about need, taking what we wanted before we began our day. Quick. To the point. A good start. I appreciated them both in different ways. So, when I woke up without her, it turned my entire day upside down.

  Gilbert appeared and served me the same crepes. Chicken with asparagus with a creamy sauce on top. A white mug was placed there so I could fill it with coffee. Everything else on the table was communal, so I could grab anything I wanted.

  She drank her coffee again. Took a few bites. Looked out to the gardens of perfectly manicured rosebushes and trees. She looked like she belonged here, like she was born here, like this was her fate.

  Her mood was cold, like she didn’t want to spend her morning with me but wasn’t angry enough to ask me to leave.

  Or maybe she just knew it was pointless to try.

  I ate everything on my plate then had a few pieces of fruit. Sips of coffee happened in between. My fingers rubbed the scruff along my jaw as I repeatedly took in her appearance. My morning should be spent in the gym, but all I wanted to do was see her right away. “I thought we were past this.”

  She turned her chin to look at me, her blue eyes turning a bit sharp. “You called my sister a swine. No, we aren’t past this.”

  “We seemed to be fine last night…” I gave her a slight smile. All she’d had to do was tell me to stop, and it would have been over. But she didn’t. Not once. She got on top of me and bounced on my dick while I gripped her tits.

  Her eyes sharpened even further to points of daggers. “It’s not funny.”

  “Didn’t laugh. I gloated.”

  She rolled her eyes and looked away. “I don’t understand how you can say you love me and then talk about someone I love that way. How would you feel if I said Magnus was hideous?”

  “I’ve always been the better-looking one. No surprise there.”

  “What if I said I hated him—”

  “I hate him most of the time too.”

  She shook her head, releasing a sigh of irritation.

  I’d done worse things, so I didn’t understand why she was so hung up on this. They were just words. Insults. Nothing more. “Chérie.”

  She slowly turned back to me.

  “Tell me.”

  She brought her mug closer then looked down into the fair liquid, coffee loaded with cream and sugar. “I know it bothers her…”

  My arms rested on the armrests, and my hands came together over my lap, just listening.

  “She’d like a boy, but the boy would like me. We’d go out as adults, and if there were two guys, they would fight over me instead of one pairing up with her. She was seeing this guy for a while, and when she introduced him to me, it got weird…and he’d hit on me when she wasn’t around.”

  No surprise there.

  “I think that’s another reason she ran away from me…so she could stop being compared to me. It made me really angry, but I can’t really blame her anymore. I’ve caused her nothing but grief since our mom died.”

  “I disagree. The only reason she’s alive is because of you.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever done for her.” She grabbed her spoon and stirred her coffee, still looking down into the liquid. “Magnus isn’t like that. I can tell when men are attracted to me, and he’s not.”

  Maybe he’d told me the truth. Maybe Raven wasn’t his second choice after all.

  “That’s why I love him for my sister…along with other reasons.” She tapped her spoon against the edge to get rid of the drops before she set it back on the linen. “She deserves to have a man who looks at her the way you look at me. Every woman deserves that. And maybe I’m more classically pretty, but she is more than I ever will be.”

  “Such as?”

  She shrugged. “Smart. Independent. Ambitious. Brave. Compassionate. Full of integrity. Kind…” She drew a deep breath then slowly released it. “All I have is my looks…nothing more.”

  My heart started to increase in pace—because that actually pained me. “She compares herself to you. But you compare yourself to her too. Makes you both miserable.”

  She lifted her chin and looked at me.

  “I wish you saw yourself the way I see you. Because I disagree with everything you just said.”

  She dropped her gaze and dismissed me.

  “I know you killed my executioner.”

  Her eyes lifted to mine instantly, all the features of her face tightening at the accusation.

  “Yes, I know everything, chérie.” I knew everything she’d done in that camp when she’d helped burn it down. “Don’t sit there and tell me you aren’t brave. A woman doesn’t go into a blizzard with her sister, expecting to die, if she isn’t brave. A woman doesn’t love a man like me if she isn’t brave. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

  She was still, emotion moving into her eyes.

&nb
sp; “You’re the compassionate one. She is not.” I shook my head. “Magnus is as guilty as I am, but you understand her feelings—because you’ve gone through the same thing. You love me even when you shouldn’t, and she gives you no compassion for that. I don’t expect her to ever understand me, even if Magnus tells her what happened to the two of us when we were just boys, but I expect her to understand her sister.”

  She remained still, the emotion continuing to rise.

  “Gilbert treated you like shit, but you were kind to him anyway. He was the one who forced you on that diet—and you still didn’t throw him under the bus. And yes, I know about that too. Chérie, I know everything.”

  Her breathing increased.

  “And you forgot one—loyal. Anyone else would cherish their good fortune and live a life of luxury, but you’ve remained loyal to her, through and through. She breathes because of you. She’s gained immunity because of you. She treats you like the villain when you’re the fucking hero, chérie.”

  Twenty-One

  The Louvre

  Melanie

  We went out to dinner.

  The entire menu was in French, but I was able to decipher better than I used to. I was even able to order for myself without getting a weird look from the waiter. A ten-thousand-euro bottle of wine was on the table for us to share. Candles cast a glow throughout the restaurant, which was full of couples speaking to each other quietly, hands held together on the table.

  Fender was dressed in all black with a suit jacket on top, his jawline shaved, his eyes dark. An expensive watch was on his wrist, solid black. He spent the evening sipping the wine, looking at me, eating, and looking at me some more.

  There was never a time when we stepped into a room and his gaze strayed.

  I imagined he never did, even when he was alone.

  His commitment to me was obvious in everything he did, but that didn’t stop women from casting glances his way.

  I didn’t even care. Couldn’t blame them. I didn’t realize men like him existed until I met him. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Brooding. Powerful. Rich. Passionate. Loving. Dedicated. How could a man that desirable be so committed to a single woman?