The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

I thought I was finally going to get what I wanted, but then he shoved me off him to the couch and said, “I’m saving myself for marriage, kotyonok.”

I glared at him.

He thought it was funny.

Frustrated, I got up and sat on the couch across from him. I’d just keep Khaos company. He looked bored with me too, but at least he tolerated my presence.

“You’re cute when you’re pouting,” Ronan said.

I raised a brow. “You’re annoying when you’re pretending to be a gentleman.”

He gave me a heavy look that expressed so much but nothing I could understand.

We hadn’t said a word to each other after that until I noticed we weren’t in Moscow, where I thought we were going. I wanted to know why we were in Paris, though I held in my questions knowing Ronan would probably tell me we were here to see the tourist sites.

A car waited for us after we exited the plane. Khaos jumped into the front seat as soon as Ronan opened the door.

I stifled a laugh. “Looks like you’re in the back with me. I hope it doesn’t tempt your vow of celibacy.”

Ronan gave me a dark look, but he got into the back seat without complaint. While Albert drove us to a top-secret location, I ignored Ronan like he had me, though it became a much harder venture when he rested his hand on my bare thigh and slowly pushed up my dress to see what I wore beneath it. I guessed he’d been paying more attention to me than I thought. He knew what he would find.

Nothing.

Everyone knew thin material equaled panty lines.

Ronan made a rough noise and squeezed my upper thigh before pulling my dress back down. “You’d better pray there isn’t a strong wind nearby.”

“We’re in Paris. I’ll fit right in.”

He wasn’t impressed, so I kissed the annoyance off his lips.

As we drove through the streets of Paris, I sat on the edge of my seat to take in the sights. I’d never been to the city before, and while I was excited to return to Moscow, Paris was an experience I wouldn’t turn down.

A restaurant wasn’t exactly the destination I was expecting. Sure, I was hungry, but I didn’t want to sit and eat without knowing why we were here. Albert stayed in the car with Khaos while I followed Ronan inside. The impatient question was about to slip off my lips, though a woman drew my attention to a seat near the window.

She stared at me, her face as pale as snow. She was beautiful, even pushing into her late sixties and dressed in a drab white uniform that told me she was probably a maid. She watched me as tears spilled down her cheeks.

With an uneasy sensation filling me, I said, “Ronan . . .”

He grabbed my hand and walked us to her table.

“Mon Dieu,” she breathed before getting to her feet and placing her hands on my face. “Si belle. Tellement comme ma Tatianna . . . So much like my Tatianna.”

My chest twisted as the knowledge sank in.

She was Tatianna’s mother.

My grandmother.

She pulled me into her arms and sobbed. The shock faded beneath her soft embrace. All those times I’d dreamed, wanted, needed this familial affection flashed through my mind like still shots, each picture fading away as my chest was sewn back together with a needle and thread. I didn’t even know this woman, but tears fell at the pain of the past and the relief of letting it go.

She pulled back to look at me, wonder glistening in her wet eyes. “You are probably shocked right now.”

Throat tight, I nodded.

“Me too.” She exhaled deeply to compose herself. “Please, sit down with me. I would love to get to know you and answer any questions you have.”

Nervously, I glanced at Ronan, who asked, “Ty khochesh’, chtoby ya ostalsya?” Do you want me to stay?