His eyes were open and cold, bringing the camp right into my bedroom.
“Fender.”
“Getting yourself nearly killed is an unforgivable offense. And no, I’m not over it.”
I wouldn’t apologize for it. “I don’t know what you expect me to say—”
“What do you want from me?” His fire rose, like I’d just drenched him with scotch.
“I…” I really didn’t know what I wanted from him.
“You demanded my attention…for that?” His eyes seared me, like I’d committed a terrible sin. “My time is valuable. Don’t waste it again.” He turned around to depart.
“Wait.”
He ignored me.
“Fender.” I grabbed on to his arm. “Please.”
He didn’t yank it out of my grasp, but he didn’t turn around either. He halted in his tracks, giving me another opportunity to speak my mind.
I rested my forehead against the back of his arm and closed my eyes, feeling his warm skin, thinking of our nights together and the comfort it brought me, even when it shouldn’t. “You’re all I have…”
He was still, letting me hold on to his arm, letting me rest my lips against his skin. “I’m not ready.” He pulled his arm free from my grasp and walked out, leaving me alone, the shadows closing in and hiding the beautiful moldings, the fine furniture, the golden sconces, and bringing me into a dark cabin without a fire to keep me warm.
Ten
Small Talk
Fender
My presence at the camp was about accountability.
The real work took place in Paris, with my men, distributors, logistics, dinners with the people I paid to look the other way. That was where my most important work happened. The only pleasure I took in the camp was the unbelievable landscape. Quiet. Isolated. Timeless. It was a place very few people had ever seen.
My week had been spent running a drug empire.
It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to see Melanie. I also didn’t have the time. And I was unwilling to make the time after what she did.
I pulled up to the front of my estate and handed the car over to the valet before I approached the open doorway where Gilbert stood, hands behind his back, his appearance immaculate as ever despite the late hour.
“Welcome home, Your Highness.” He gestured for me to step inside before he shut and bolted the door behind me. His shoes tapped against the hard floor as he followed me. “A brand-new bottle of opened scotch is in your office. The dinner I served this evening is still fresh if you’d like that as well?”
“No.” I walked into the main sitting room, which I rarely used unless guests were present.
“Of course. I’ve also given Melanie a tour of the house and grounds. I was thinking—”
“We’ll speak tomorrow.” I took the stairs without looking back.
Gilbert’s voice reached me from the foyer. “Of course. Have a good evening.”
I made my way to the third floor and approached my bedroom door, which was open. I stepped inside and shed my clothes, tossing them on the floor for Gilbert to fetch tomorrow while I was gone. My gun was placed on the dresser, and I loosened my watch and set it next to it.
“Always be aware of your surroundings.”
I didn’t flinch as I pulled out my phone and set it on the dresser. A slight smile slid on to my lips as I dropped my jeans and walked across the room in my boxers. Thinks she caught me off guard. Cute. “What do you want?” I moved to the flask at the bar and poured myself a glass of scotch so I could take a drink before bed, get that burn in my veins so I could skip the nightmares tonight.
When she didn’t answer, I looked at her, where she sat on the couch. The second Gilbert told me he gave her a tour of the house, I knew she’d be waiting for me. A week had passed, and we hadn’t had any interaction.
She was in a black nightgown, her curled hair pulled over one shoulder, her makeup still on. One strap gently slipped over her smooth skin, falling to her elbow. She didn’t seem to notice, her brilliant blue eyes on me, even brighter than they used to be with the dark smoke around her eyes. She was a beautiful woman naturally, without a drop of makeup to accentuate her features, but with a face full of makeup…there were no words. She looked photoshopped even though she was real. She would be the item people envied me most for. It wouldn’t be the money, the power, the whores—it would be this single woman. My woman. “You didn’t keep your promise…”
I watched the resentment in her eyes, the disappointment. A life of luxury wasn’t enough—not without a critical component.
Me.
I entered the living room and lowered myself onto the couch across from her, a coffee table between us. I set the glass on the surface, my elbows resting on my thighs, leaning forward as I examined her.