The Camp (Chateau 2)

“What’s the fee?”

“No fee.”

He slowly turned his head to look at me.

I kept my eyes ahead.

“How did you manage that?”

I shrugged. “Persuasion.”

He faced forward and drank from his glass again. “I’m impressed.”

I wanted to earn back his favor, to erase the shame I had brought to our family name. I’d made him look weak in front of his men because he wouldn’t kill me. I wanted to make up for that—to everyone. “With the new production schedule, we’ll make fifty percent more than we were before on a regular basis. I’m trying to figure out a way to secure more, but it’s complicated.”

He took another drink then wiped his mouth with his hand. “How are the men treating you?”

I wasn’t a snitch, so I kept my mouth shut. “Fine.”

“Negotiating that increase in product will increase their salaries, so they must have granted you some forgiveness.”

Not even a little bit.

“You’ve definitely earned some from me.” He turned away from the window and looked at me.

I turned to meet his gaze, to look my brother in the eye, seeing the brown eyes and facial features that were bestowed upon us both.

“How’s the cunt holding up?”

I knew exactly who he referred to. “I wouldn’t know.” I had no interaction with her, and when I wasn’t with her, I didn’t think about her.

He seemed to believe me, either because he had a source on the inside keeping tabs on me, or because my word was still good enough. “I don’t understand your fascination with her. Melanie is beautiful, petite, quiet…and she’s the ugly one.”

I gave no reaction to his words. I didn’t even respond because I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that I disagreed with that statement entirely. Beautiful women were plentiful for powerful kingpins like us, but there was something about Raven that attracted me beyond the physical desires of the flesh. Melanie never registered on my brain because she blended in with everyone else. But Raven was a bright and shiny beacon that I could see even with my eyes closed.

Fender took a drink of his scotch then looked out the window again, like he didn’t expect me to explain. He just wanted to insult me, to insult my choices on another level. When footsteps sounded behind us, he turned to look.

I did the same.

Melanie stood there in an expensive blue dress with earrings dangling from her lobes, her hair pulled back elegantly. Her skin was slightly tanned, as if she’d been lying by his pool for several weeks. Her makeup was done in a sultry way, like she was ready for a photo shoot rather than an evening around the estate.

Fender didn’t tell her to leave. He stared at her then raised his hand, silently beckoning her close with his fingertips.

She obeyed.

I hadn’t expected to see her there because Fender hadn’t mentioned her. When he went to take Raven away after the fire, he must have taken Melanie for himself. The request I’d made was now void because of everything that happened.

His arm moved around her waist, and he looked at her in a way I’d never seen him look at a woman before. His hand gripped the material of her dress in a tight fist, a possessive hold. He corralled her to him, bringing their lips close together so he could look at her like a priceless piece of art that he owned. He switched from French to English. “A glass of wine, beautiful?”

“Please,” she whispered.

He gave her a soft kiss before he released her and walked away.

It was completely out of character to retrieve something himself instead of asking his butler to do it.

Melanie came closer to me, glanced over her shoulder to see where he was, and then loosened her closed fist to reveal a small piece of white paper. “Give this to my sister.” She spoke in a whisper, her voice shaking like she was afraid she would be caught any second.

I stared at her coldly.

“Please…”

“No.” I owed her nothing.

She grabbed my hand and shoved it into my fingers. “Please…” Her eyes watered, like this note was life and death. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but please. She didn’t want to hurt you like that, but she couldn’t live with herself, knowing those girls were still there. Trust me…it killed her to do what she did. You meant a lot to her.”

I kept my fingers clenched in a fist so I couldn’t take the paper.

“Have you seen her hands?”

My eyes narrowed at the question.

“The wood from the roof was on fire, but she still pulled it off you. She’s got third-degree burns because of it. She saved you. The executioner stood in her way so she couldn’t get to you, but she didn’t run. She fought for you.”

I remembered being knocked out, but I had no recollection of anything else.