by Calia Read
I love Étienne more than anything in the world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. It doesn’t matter how angry I get with Étienne. Or how angry he gets with me. Life is greater with him.
With a deep moan, Étienne tilts my head to the side for better access. I could stay here all day kissing him, wrapped in his arms, but there’s a lot that needs to be addressed.
“Étienne, wait,” I say breathlessly. My hand finds its way between our closely pressed bodies, and I push back against his chest.
Reluctantly, Étienne moves a fraction of an inch. Hunger gleams in his green eyes.
I pat his chest and take a deep breath. “I think we need to talk before this—”
“If the next words out of your mouth are sorry, I’m gonna stop you there.”
My lashes flutter against my cheeks, and I stare at him speechlessly.
He exhales. “I’m sorry. For everything I did. I hurt you beyond reason, and I’ll never forgive myself. I can only promise you I’ll never betray you or take you for granted again. I know it might take some time to earn your trust back, but I’m willin’ to wait.”
I need to tell Étienne to stop. But I never do because his words are soothing. I think my heart needs to hear them far more than I ever realized.
I shake my head. “Étienne—”
“I called off my engagement to Scarlett,” he cuts in.
My fingers curl around the material of his shirt. “What?” I ask faintly.
“A week ago, Scarlett and her father came here for dinner. I knew I couldn’t go through with it. After dinner, I told Jack I couldn’t marry Scarlett.” Étienne’s words come out hurried. A few times, he stutters over them like a nervous teenage boy as if he’s afraid of what my reply will be. It’s a swift change from the arrogant façade the world sees. This side is endearing and has a slow smile creeping onto my face.
Abruptly, he stops speaking. A frown causes his brows to slant low. “Why are you smilin’? What are you thinkin’? Are you with someone? Am I too la—”
To hush him up, I place my index finger against his lips. I move my hand away and tilt my head back to look at him. “Because you don’t need to give me an explanation. All I need to hear is that you and Scarlett are no longer.”
A look of relief crosses his face. He gives me another breathless kiss before he pulls back and then kisses the tip of my nose, my forehead, and cheeks. Before his lips have a chance to journey back to mine, I pull away a fraction of an inch.
“We need to talk.”
Étienne groans and lets go of me. He backs away and itches the upper corner of his left brow. “That is never a good sign.”
I follow him, my hand wrapping around his forearm. “It’s not what you think.”
An eyebrow raises as he looks at me. “Is that so? Because I’m thinkin’ you uncovered more information about my family. Who is after me now? Do you know when I’ll die?” he says deadpan.
“I didn’t look you up in the present day. I didn’t want to see how your life turned out with Scarlett,” I confess. “It was easier to focus on my family. More importantly, I focused on Emmeline.”
At that, Étienne winces. “And what did you find on Emmeline?”
“We’ll get to that later. Right now, we need to talk about something equally as pressing. Something that ties into Emmeline.”
“All right,” Étienne’s drawls out slowly.
“I have time traveled to your era four times. And I have gone to the present day three times. Each time away from you was worse than the last, but it made me think. What does each journey have in common?”
“What?”
“We critically alter time. To us, it may not be significant, but we’re inadvertently reshaping our lives. I’ll keep time traveling until we figure out a way to stop it.”
“And how do you suppose we do that?”
I take a deep breath. “We let history run its course.”
Étienne stands up straight. “What do you mean?”
“I have to pick a time to stay in, and once I do, I need to stop fucking with history and time itself. I can’t tell people what will happen because no one is able to predict the future. What happened to Belgrave two years ago? I saved you and Nat, but I severely impacted my family’s lives.”
“So if you’ve found terrible information from your time, you can’t say a word?”
I wring my hands together and nod. “Yes. Which brings me to Emmeline.”
“What did you find?”
I look at Étienne, letting him see the anguish in my eyes and how much this has been killing me. “I know how Emmeline, my great-great-grandma, is going to die. I found her death certificate.”
“How does she pass away?”
“Head injury from falling off a second story balcony.”
“In Charleston?”
“No. New Orleans.”
“When does she die?”
“That depends. What’s today’s date?”
“Wednesday, March 18, 1914,” Étienne replies immediately.
I exhale. “Her date of death is listed as March 26.”
Étienne stands up straight. “We have to get on a train and find her. We—”
“We can’t. Don’t you get that? We’re trying to play God when we have no idea what we’re doing!”
“We can’t just sit back and do nothin’.”
“Don’t you think I know that? It’s killing me not to say something!”
Étienne drags his hands through his hair and looks at the ceiling before he sighs and looks at me. “Do you believe she accidentally fell off the balcony?”
“No.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course not. But I’m afraid to do anything that will take me away from you again. I can’t be without you.”
Étienne opens his mouth, but I quickly speak up. “I’m willing to bet you making the decision to call your engagement off with Scarlett played a huge factor into me coming back.”
“And what about you? You had no role?”
For a second, I hesitate. “I found the picture of you, Livingston, Asa, and Edward.”
Étienne’s eyes widen. “In front of Belgrave?”
“In front of Belgrave,” I confirm.
“You don’t believe the picture led you back?”
“I’m not saying it didn’t. But we can’t ignore the glaring facts in front of us, and that’s why we have to be conscious of every action we make.”
Étienne closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t respond, but he knows I’m right. After a few seconds, he sighs.
“Serene. I love you.” His forehead touches mine. “I’ll find a way to make us stay together forever. I swear it. But first, we need to do somethin’.”
My heart sinks because does any good sentence ever start with but? Not that I can think of.
“What?” I ask cautiously.
“We need to go to New Orleans.”
I step out of his arms, so I can see the look in his eyes. “What? No. We can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Because if we go, I know I’m going to try to intercept what’s going to happen to Emmeline!”
“You want answers from Asa, correct?” Étienne says patiently.
I nod.
“He’s in New Orleans. And talkin’ to Asa won’t change the trajectory of time. Here’s your chance to speak to him.”
Biting down on my lower lip, I mull over his words. He has a point. Since the moment I arrived back in Charleston this second time around, I’ve been on the hunt for Asa Calhoun to find out what he meant in his letters. I had a better insight into Emmeline’s world, thanks to the letters that Allie provided me, but I think Asa was referring to Emmeline’s past when he said she was in danger, not the life she created once she arrived in the States the second time around.
Étienne knows I’m dying to get answers to my questions. He knows it, and he’s using it against me. “Fine
. But”—I hold up a finger—“we speak to Asa, and that’s all. We can’t fuck with time, Étienne.”
A half-smirk appears on his face. “You speak so eloquently, Serene.”
“Stop trying to change the subject and promise me that you won’t interfere with time.”
His smile fades as he stares at me.
My hands grip his forearm as I stare at him pleadingly. “This is our only way to be together. It’s messed up. It’s selfish. I know all of that. But I love you, and I can’t be without you.”
Étienne closes his eyes and breathes through his nose before he gives me a brief nod. When he opens his eyes, I know he’s going to agree with me. He hauls me into his arms and kisses the crown of my head. “Of course, I agree. I’ve lost you too many times. I have no desire to lose you again.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful we’re on the same page. “Thank you.”
That night, I have to pretend I’m not seeing Étienne for the first time in days. In Étienne’s case, it’s been five weeks.
I feel the weight of his stare burning through my skin, curling around my bones and piercing my heart. Clothes Madame Bourgeois fitted me for remained at Livingston’s home after I left. Étienne had them sent to Belgrave and placed in the Pepto-Bismol room. Within thirty minutes of my arrival, I was sweating bullets in my dark green turtleneck and jeans. Much to Étienne’s dismay, I shed the “snug shirt” and changed into one of the dresses.
It was a pale blue dress with quarter-length sleeves. The silver under-bodice had an intricate floral pattern with beads sewn onto the bodice to add beautiful detail. The color of the flowers on the hem of the dress matches the under-bodice, and when I walk down the hall, the material of my gown brushes against my ankles.
Delicately, I pick up a small portion of the gown so I don’t trip walking down the stairs.
Ben doesn’t lift a brow when he sees me approaching the first floor. And if me in different clothes is shocking to him, he doesn’t let it show.
Stepping onto the first floor, I spot the sun setting through the windows. The sky is a beautiful medley of colors. I know if I step outside, I’ll hear cicadas and the occasional tree frog. If I was to walk down the driveway and approach the pond, insects that only come out at night and reside near the water would grow louder.
For some, the noise is jarring. To me, it’s soothing. A comforting hug from Mother Nature if there ever was one. The lights in the foyer are turned on, illuminating the high ceilings.
Right then, Étienne steps out of his office. He closes the door behind him and turns toward me. Straight away, Étienne’s eyes widen as he takes me in. He holds out his hand for me to take, and together we walk toward the dining room. The table is set for two. We make the long trek to our seats. Étienne pulls my chair out. Holding my dress to the back of my thighs, I sit down while Étienne sits to my left. Servants begin to bring in plates filled with a colorful array of food: poached salmon, green peas, creamed carrots, and rice. The smell has my stomach growling. Cups are filled with water and champagne. I grab my napkin and drape it across my lap.
Bon appétit. Dinner is served.
As we begin to eat, a silence descends in the dining room that only amplifies the tension between Étienne and me. It’s weird not to see Nat or Livingston sitting across from me, chatting up a storm or hearing their banter. On top of that, I feel as though I have to hit the ground running and save Emmeline. I forget this era is now my time. It’s going to take some time for that to sink in, but it will. Until then, it’s strange to be sitting here, quietly having dinner without a care in the world.
And every time I lift my gaze, I don’t have to worry about encountering the heartbreaking picture of seeing Étienne with Scarlett. She’s gone. Instead, a pair of green eyes meet mine. Hot and all-knowing. He slowly chews his food, but he realizes the same thing I do. Nothing prevents us from being together. No one is standing in our way.
It’s taking all my power not to jump onto the table, crawl toward him, and wrap myself around him like a coiled snake.
Keep it together, I tell myself. Wait until after dinner.
I wonder if there will ever be a time when Étienne and I don’t attack each other with our hands and lips? If there will ever be a time we’re not frantic and reckless? What would it be like to make love to Étienne slowly? The image of him languidly rocking into me flashes through my mind.
My grip tightens on the fork. I wiggle uncomfortably on my seat and take a drink of water and tell myself to get a grip. I need to calm down and pull myself together.
“Have you heard from Nat?” I ask.
“I have. She seems to be enjoyin’ her honeymoon although I don’t think the adjustment to her new home is going as seamlessly as she’d hoped.” Étienne finishes his sentence by staring down at his plate, his brows forming a deep V. There was apparently something in the telegram he couldn’t figure out.
“What did she say in the telegram to make you think she’s having difficulty adjusting?” I ask.
“She told me how beautiful Savannah is but remarked that in the short amount of time she was at Brignac House, she concluded it was very loud and brimmin’ with people.”
I smile knowingly. “Ah, the mother-in-law.”
Étienne drops his fork and leans in. “Did my sister say somethin’ to you?”
“Before she married she did, yes,” I confess. “It was nothing terrible. She mentioned she didn’t think Matilda cared much for her. I suggested Oliver’s mom just needed to get to know her.”
Étienne nods and takes a long drink. “I’m glad she was able to open up to you.”
The conversation comes to an end. I know the only way to break the growing hunger for Étienne is to keep talking, but it’s as if my tongue has become three sizes too big for my mouth. Clearing my throat, I look away from Étienne at the table and blurt out the next thing to pop in my mind.
“How is Livingston?”
“Livingston is Livingston.” Étienne sighs.
“Still a man whore?”
At that, Étienne chokes on his water. Automatically, his hand goes to his throat. He likes to believe he’s used to my terms, but sometimes they take him by surprise. It’s always entertaining when they do.
He stops choking, but his eyes are watering a bit. “Yes, he’s still a...man whore.”
I smile down at my plate. “Good to know. Are we going to tell Livingston I’m back?”
“We will,” Étienne says slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “Not immediately.”
With my elbows on the table, I lace my fingers together and rest my chin on top of them. “Oh, and why is that?”
“Because I want you to myself.”
His confession sends a shot of pleasure through me. I look at him from beneath my lashes and find his green eyes fixated on my face.
It’s getting harder and harder to remain calm and collected. My brain feels as though it’s short-circuiting. Rational thoughts fly out the window, and my heart beats in tandem to the syllables in Étienne’s name.
E-ti-enne.
E-ti-enne.
E-ti-enne.
“Finished eatin’?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I drop my fork before Étienne can finish his sentence. “God, yes. I finished fifteen minutes ago. I’ve just been going through the motions.”
“Bedroom?” The deep rumble of his voice makes my heart hammer.
I stand and give him a wink. “Last one’s a rotten egg.”
I don’t take a step out of the dining room before Étienne’s hot on my heels. In his wake, his chair tips over. Smirking, I look forward—but don’t stop walking— and hold my hand out for Étienne. His hand swallows mine whole as we hurry down the hall. As we enter the foyer, Ben’s no longer standing by the doorway to see Étienne and me behaving like two giddy teenagers.
I can’t stop the broad smile on my face as we rush up the stairs. Reaching the second landing, Étienne removes his hand from mine. Befor
e I can object, I feel his hands on my waist. He allows me to continue to lead the way to his room, but apparently, I’m not moving fast enough because one second, my feet are on the floor—his arms banding around my waist—and the next, they aren’t. His long legs eat the distance to his room. He keeps one hand wrapped around my waist and opens the door with the other. Once we’re inside the bedroom, I slide down his body. It’s impossible not to notice how his dick brushes against my hip. My feet touch the floor as my fingers hook inside the waistband of Étienne’s pants. One swift tug and he careens toward me. I welcome him with open arms. His hands cradle my face as he kicks the door shut behind him. It’s one thing to know I can’t keep my hands to myself and a whole other to see Étienne is just as ravenous as I am.
We walk backward toward the bed. Étienne’s tongue glides along my lips. My mouth opens. I gently suck on his tongue, angling my head this way and that while he breathes deeply through his nose.
I feel the mattress touch the back of my thighs. Étienne’s powerful frame hovers over me. With his arms bracketed near my legs, he dips his head and kisses me, causing me to tilt my head back. He uses the angle to his advantage and intensifies the kiss.
Take it slow. Take it slow.
But I’m like a kid in a candy shop, and Étienne’s the best piece of candy available. I want to lick, nibble, and suck on every inch of him. My hands begin to work on the buttons of his shirt. I’m making good time and am on the third button when Étienne kneels in front of me. The sudden absence of his lips and positioning of his body causes me to stare at him in shock. Boldly, he stares back.
His hands curl around my waist. I expect them to drift farther south, yet they remain still. His whole body remains still. Solemn green eyes are fixed on my face. What’s running through that mind of his? I’m tempted to ask because his brain is always running. However, I don’t want to talk. I want to feel. I want to touch. I want the knowledge of knowing he’s physically next to me.
