Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Gross,” Kim says, wrinkling her nose. “But hey, Julien. Cool house.”
“Thanks, and you’re looking good.”
“You like my new accessory?” She does a little spin with the chair.
Valentina takes Kim and pushes her to the door. “That’s our cue to head out.”
“Don’t rush on my account,” Julien says, but he doesn’t sound like he means it.
I say goodbye to the girls and promise to meet up with them in a little while. I help Kim get into Valentina’s truck, and once they’re heading out, I meet back up with Julien in the front room.
The space is empty like all the others, but it’s closer to being finished. Built-in custom bookshelves, a working fireplace with a vintage mantel made from local tiles, and a gorgeous rug covers the polished hardwood floors. Julien pulls me into his arms and kisses me right underneath the recessed lighting.
“How’s she doing?” he asks softly, one hand patting my ass. Even still, the man can’t keep his hands to himself.
“Good, I think. She took a few steps earlier and I cried.”
“That’s great. The steps, not the crying.”
“Yeah, well, Valentina told me to knock it off, so I’d better pull myself together.”
“You’re alright, baby. Don’t let Val get to you. I should’ve killed her when I had the chance.”
I smack his arm and shake my head. “Not funny.”
“A little funny.” He pulls me tighter against him and kisses me deeper and slower. I stay right there in my happy place for a few moments before he pulls back again. “I have two surprises for you.”
“Two? What did I do to deserve two surprises?”
“Everything. And nothing really.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out plane tickets. “We’re booked to visit France in two months. We’ll stay for a while, until this house is finished or until you’re sick of staying in five-star hotels and having mind-blowing sex, and then we’ll come home.”
“Sounds like we’re staying in France for a while.”
“That’s the goal.” He tucks the tickets away again.
“What about the second surprise? You said there were two.”
He laughs, steps back, and begins to unbutton his shirt.
I tug at my hair, watching as he reveals his bare chest.
“Well, I mean, I guess we can have sex if that door locks, but that’s not really a surprise—”
“Mon minou,” he says softly, directing my fingers down his chest, directly over his heart.
Where there’s a new tattoo I’ve never seen before.
My mouth opens in surprise.
It’s the outline of a sleek cat with my name in black down the center. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed it among all the other ink on his skin, but now I can’t see anything else.
Mon minou, my name, right above his heart.
“When did you do this?” I whisper, gently touching. It looks very fresh.
“Last night. I’m surprised you didn’t notice this morning.”
My cheeks turn pink at the memory. “We were busy. And I don’t think I saw much of your chest.”
“True. You were busy facing away.”
I lick my lips and lean forward to kiss the tattoo. He lets out a low rumble before fisting my hair and pulling me against him. He holds me like that, and I feel his heart beating beneath me, beneath my name permanently inked into his skin. Our lives intertwined, joined together, made unassailable.
“Just don’t expect me to get one,” I say, grinning slightly.
“No? I was thinking my name in script on the small of your back.”
“Oh, God. You want your name tramp-stamped on me?”
“Better than across your forehead, which is my second option.”
“Monster.”
He holds me tighter. “No, baby, I’m just kidding. Keep that lovely skin of yours flawless.”
“Well, maybe a little something. When we’re in France.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “We’ll discuss that later.”
“Getting all controlling on me already, huh?”
“Only because you like it. We both know I’d let you do almost anything you want.”
“True. You spoil me. What a bore.”
He growls, pulls my hair, and buries my mouth in a searing kiss. “The door locks,” he says with a vicious smirk. “And you need to be punished.”
Which is exactly what I want.
Epilogue
Pascal
Each step fucking hurts.
Not like it felt good before my bastard grandson shot me in the goddamn knee. I’m old, damn it, much too old. My hands shake as I haul myself from the living room, walking down the old, creaky halls toward my bedroom in the back of the house. The smell of the sea wafts in through the open windows. I hear my guards laughing down in the courtyard. They’ll be smoking and drinking by now. The lazy assholes. I need to find better men, but things aren’t good right now. Maybe next month.
I lower myself down into my easy chair. My bed’s unmade and messy. Pictures of my father, my mother, and all my brothers and uncles line the dresser. I talk to them sometimes. The habits of an old man. The sound of the ocean lapping at the cliffs filters in with the breeze. The moon’s full and it’s dark. I should sleep, but I don’t sleep much these days.