“You hate me so. Why is this?”
He caught me off guard. “I—I don’t hate you.”
Despite his superior attitude, his eyes were a deep gray and a bit hypnotizing. His cologne came across as warm and sultry, almost tempting me to come closer to catch another whiff.
He traced a line on my face, his touch soft. “No? Then why do you assault me with my own ring?”
“I don’t want it. You had no right barging in here, taking what’s mine and replacing it with yours. Again. Give me my ring.” I held my palm out.
He stood still for a moment, offering me his profile. I was stuck on the curve of his nose, crooked from the beating it must have endured. Who—and how many? He seemed to be a man made up of a few devoted followers and many enemies. I could sense that about him.
Finally, he took my waiting hand, placed the ballerina ring inside my palm, and nicely closed it.
“You need to be mine, angel,” he said, sighing. The scent of coffee lingered on his breath. “Fausti is not worthy of you. He has a kingdom at his disposal and refuses to share it with his queen. Power.Tellement de pouvoir.” He let that thought linger, while he seemed to ponder.
So much power, he had said, almost drunk off the words alone.
“You mean money,” I corrected.
He lifted his hands and then let them fall. “Same thing, is it not?”
Whatever he hinted at didn’t seem appealing. And I refused to play his game. He treated me as though I were a cat and he the master with the toy on the string.
He seemed to sense my refusal and sighed, long and hard. “Denying his true nature is not the reason of my visit, angel. Fausti leaves you with a burning gun, his hands the culprit that turns thepistolettoward your heart.Oui. I am a busy man. I am a successful man. You will not always be available either, but wherever I go, you are welcome. Power ismagnifique. No one will tell you no, least of allmoi. I will fulfill all of your desires. You will be mine. You have become a burning desire.”
Standing, his eyes moved over every square inch of my space. He walked over to the small radio Brando had bought me, fiddling with the dials. A slow, sweet French song was in the midst of playing. A crooked smile transformed his face, before he turned to me.
“Dance with me, angel?”
I looked down at my hand, the ring still hidden in its depths. “No.” I shook my head.
“You will get used to me.” His voice seemed to float, weaving in with the tender voice. “These things take time. Your first always cuts the deepest. I will be sure to heal you.”
“How do you know that he was my first?”
“And only?” He shrugged in that French way. “A well-versed man knows these things.”
“A well-sexed man,” I muttered without thinking.
He looked at me, amused. “Oui.I am that. Better for you, no?” He raised his eyebrows in insinuation. “You should not feel guilty for exploring the limits of sexual gratification. It is human nature. We crave. We give in. Give in to me, angel.”
More than he fascinated me, he amused me. “You want me to marry you? Just like that?”
“Oui. Just like—” he snapped his fingers “—that.”
I laughed so hard that I cried. There was a thin line between sadness and insanity. “What a trip,” I sighed, not even bothering to dry the tears.
“A trip?” he asked.
Yes, a trip.You want me, but I don’t want you, but he doesn’t want me and I want him. I want him more than anything. Still. Even after all that he does to me. His love makes me a damn fool! I had learned long ago why people called it falling in love and not floating in love. The fall brings you to the hard cement for a reality check. Yes, an effing trip!
“Do not cry, angel.” Olivier moved next to me, rubbing my bare arms up and down. He dabbed at my face with his shirt. “Le bleu n'est pas votre couleur, vous le savez?”
“No, blue seems to suit me just fine. It has, for some time.” I sniffled.
“I do not think so. Scarlett is yourcouleur, thecouleurthat inspires passion. This is what yourmère,the famous Maja,has named you for, no?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, not bothering to hide the suspicion in my tone. “Why are you being so sweet to me?” A prickle that started at the base of my neck seemed to skitter down my spine. Not that he had ever been rude, but he had never been so…intimate. I could feel his underlying intentions ready to break the surface.
