The Boss (Chateau 3)

Fender sat at his desk, making phone calls, working on his laptop, so comfortable with my presence it was like I was absent.

When the fire died down, Gilbert entered and quietly fed the fire with more logs.

He didn’t look at me.

When he brought lunch, Fender received his tray first at the desk. “Anything else, sir?”

Fender’s eyes remained glued to his screen. “No.”

Gilbert nodded before he turned around and crossed the room, his shoulders still low, his eyes hollow. When he returned with my tray, he set it down without making eye contact with me then departed without a word.

He didn’t hate me.

He was just heartbroken.

I closed the book and stared at the food he’d brought me, having no appetite because my hunger had been replaced by guilt. My fingers traced the edge of the pages of the closed book as I stared.

“Chérie.”

I lifted my gaze, not realizing Fender had moved to the couch across from me.

He stared me down, shirtless in his black sweatpants, his bare feet on the rug. His stare was endless and depthless, like he could do this for hours, days, an eternity. “What is it?”

I moved to the plate that held the tea sandwiches, one of my favorite items that the chef prepared. I set it on my thigh then picked up the freshly made bread without a crust and brought it to my lips for a bite. “Nothing.” I’d been quiet and withdrawn for two days, unsure what to do with the information Gilbert had revealed to me.

“I don’t trust people who lie to me.”

I stopped chewing at the assertion and lifted my eyes again.

His stare had darkened with sheathed ferocity.

“I just… It’s been over a week since you said you would remove my sister.” My first impulse was to lie because the truth wasn’t an option.

His anger slowly defused, and he accepted my lie as truth. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

My eyes focused on his face as my heart clenched with a jolt. “You are?” Being reunited with my sister was what I wanted more than anything. Knowing she was safe, even as a prisoner, was better than her working in the snow, being the target of the executioner and the guards who despised her.

He gave a nod so subtle it was hard to catch.

“Thank you…” The end was near. My sister would be here, her hands in mine, her arms around me. I was so deliriously happy by the image in my mind that my eyes actually watered. My hand returned the half-eaten sandwich to the plate, and I set it on the table.

He didn’t give another nod.

My spare time could be spent with her in the guesthouse, talking the way we used to, reading together, just being together in the same room. My mind drifted away into memories that hadn’t been formed, the two of us eating on the patio deep into spring, swimming in the large pool on the grounds in summer, living a luxurious life.

“How’s your French?”

My eyes immediately shifted back to him, my heart tightening for a whole different reason.

He didn’t blink, his eyes shifting back and forth as they pierced into mine, penetrating my mind for the information he wanted.

That was what he wanted me to understand.

He wanted me to know how he felt.

What would happen once I understood? What would he expect from me?

My words broke the silence. “He taught me a few more things. We watched a soap opera, and he translated for me.” I held his gaze and waited for him to catch my lie like he did every other time.

His eyes continued to drill into me, piercing the surface and digging deep inside.

I held my stance, controlled my breathing, and hoped Gilbert hadn’t already told him the truth.

Because I’d be screwed.

A full minute of tension passed. “Your French better stop sucking soon, chérie.”

I stepped out of the office to use the restroom, but I had an alternate agenda.

I located Gilbert in the grand foyer, speaking to a housekeeper in French, giving orders that implied he was dissatisfied with her work. When they were finished, he turned around and halted when he came face-to-face with me.

There was anger in his eyes, out of his control, and then it dimmed to unbridled pain. He inhaled a deep breath, getting a hold of the reins connected to his heart. When he spoke, he had a controlled voice that hid his resentment. “How can I serve you, Melanie?”

Gilbert and I were never close and we would never be close, but his sadness hurt me. I was the reason his heart had been broken, having something that he could never have, that no amount of affection and loyalty could earn him. “Can I speak to you in private?”

He immediately glanced down the hallway to where the office was located to make sure we were alone. He gave a subtle nod toward the drawing room and closed the door behind us. It was full of stocked bookshelves and a seating area for entertaining. He pulled a book off the shelf, to cover his ass if we were caught. “Yes?”