The Palace (Chateau 4)

Oh my god.

He lifted his gaze to me. With a hard stare and a depth to his eyes, he grabbed my left hand and slid the ring on to my finger. “Now you’ll be Countess Baudelaire—my countess.”

The ring was snug on my finger, and the second it was in place, it held a weight I could barely carry.

He pulled his hands away and waited for my reaction.

I looked down at my hand, seeing a diamond that belonged in a museum, seeing a history so rich and deep. My thumb brushed over the diamond, a rock that could easily cut me if I weren’t careful. I lifted my gaze and looked at him again, realizing he’d never asked me to marry him.

He just told me that I would.

There was a short moment of euphoria, because everything about this proposal was perfect. The scene. The ring. The man. It was a Cinderella story, but instead of a prince, I got a count. I got a palace.

But it wasn’t enough.

I slipped the ring back off my finger.

There was a subtle change to his expression, but that slight difference conveyed so much.

“How can you expect me to say yes?” With the ring in my fingertips, I stared at him.

He was quiet, moving his hands back to the pockets of his slacks. His eyes were trained and steady, focused on me, like the barrel of a gun pointed at a target.

“I—I can’t.” I held the ring back out to him.

He didn’t take it.

I continued to hold the ring in front of me.

He didn’t move.

“I’ll say yes—if you free the girls.”

His answer was immediate. “No.”

He’d put his heart on the table, and I leveraged that against him as best as I could.

“You have no say in how I run my business. Nor will you ever.” His voice remained low, but it was so hard and callous.

I looked at the ring again, seeing a future I still wanted, inexplicably. “Then release my sister.” My fingers moved the ring back over my knuckle, the weight back in place.

His eyes glanced at the ring on my finger before he looked at me again.

“You said I’m loyal. So, you can’t expect me to marry you while my sister is in that godforsaken place. Let her go—and I’ll marry you.”

His stare was endless. Hostile. Annoyed. Furious. A breath escaped his lungs and made his nostrils flare. But slowly, he let all of that go. He came back to me. He drifted back to the moment we shared. “Alright.”

Rose petals were on the bed. White candles glowed on every surface, filling the room just the way they did at the Louvre. The door had been fixed, and a line of red petals led to the bed.

I moved forward, constantly aware of the weight of commitment on my left hand.

Clothes dropped behind me.

My heart raced. It was the same room, same kind of evening, but tonight was different.

My life was forever different.

A powerful arm slid over my stomach and pulled me into his bare chest, his head dipping to kiss my exposed neck. He sucked the skin as he bunched the dress in his grasp, treating the designer dress like a dirty rag. His hand moved up and cupped my ass, his breaths moving straight to my ear.

I closed my eyes and felt my insides melt.

He whispered into my ear, “You will give me strong sons. You will give me beautiful daughters. You will be my one and only until death takes me. My countess.” His hand pulled down the zipper until the dress came apart and slid to my feet. His kisses turned more heated, his hand dipped into the front of my panties and rubbed my clit as he devoured me, his lips growing harder, more aggressive.

I held on to his arm for balance and writhed at his touch, my hips rocking to press into his fingertips because it felt so damn good.

He brought me to the edge before he removed his fingers.

I exhaled in frustration, but I knew he only stopped because he could give it to me better than that.

We made it to the bed, his body crowding me on the mattress, and after my thighs were separated by his narrow hips, he slid inside me, eyes on me, possessing me with more than just his touch, but his mind, body, and soul.

With his eyes on me, he made love to me.

Over and over.

Telling me he loved me. I was his one and only. Till death do us part.

My eyes opened to a view of the windows.

Sunlight didn’t break through the gaps in the curtains like every other morning.

Because it was noon.

I was immediately aware of my left hand because of the brand-new weight I’d carry for the rest of my life. My hand lifted to my face, and I looked at the oval-shaped diamond, the rock that was so big you wouldn’t be able to miss it if it fell on the ground. It shone in the light, a million little prisms with every slight movement I made.