Her smile widens when she sees me, waving like I’m her whole existence.
“Asher!” She squeals. Fuck. She’s still got that high-pitch tone.
“Is that Camille Laurent?” Khloe bumps my arm. “Oh my god, she's so pretty.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re cuter when you don’t talk.’
Atlas chuckles. “Be nice. You know how this works.”
Yeah, I know exactly how this works. Camille's family runs half the underground operations in France. Her mother and my father have been in business for decades. This is some archaic, bullshit arrangement I never agreed to. An alliance sealed with my life.
“Asher!” Camille rushes over, and before I can sidestep, she throws her arms around my neck. Up close, she smells as she looks. Expensive and over-done. “I've missed you so much. I saw your latest competition, you were amazing.”
“Thanks.” I peel her off me, taking a step back. “Didn't know you were into snowboarding.”
She laughs, her voice grating through my body like nails on a chalkboard. “I'm into you.”
Atlas chokes on a cough behind me to hide his laugh. Asshole.
“Behave.” My father brushes past us all, being sure to keep a lingering eye on me for a second longer before heading straight for Camille’s driver.
Coeur-de-Pierre is a postcard from hell. Stone buildings, narrow streets, a church steeple piercing the gray sky. Beautiful from a distance.
But I know this place is rotting from the inside out. Every smile hides a threat. Every handshake is a deal you didn't know you were making. People here don't live; they survive, clawing at each other for scraps of power. Power for what?La Maison du Malwas built here, but its evil wasn't bred here. We just come back every year and pretend to remember our history. My father talks about me stepping up soon, taking over his role. I can't think of anything worse than turning into him.
“Come on,” Camille tugs at my sleeve. “Everyone's waiting.”
Fucking great.
We pile into the waiting cars, Camille dragging me into hers. Her blonde hair falls perfectly to the side of her face as she tosses it over her shoulder. Coeur-de-Pierre may be lifeless, but we feed it well. The people here thrive. They're just the worst parts of humanity.
Camille slips onto my lap, and I lean back, my hands resting neutrally on her hips.
Her arms hook around my neck. She's grown since I last saw her. Filled out. If she was my type, I’d say she was perfect. She isn’t.
“We're to get married one day, Delacroix.”
I give her nothing, my eyes dropping to her lips.
She rolls her hips against me, desperate for a reaction.Anything.
Nothing.
It takes more than a pretty face and a good body to get my attention.
“Are you going to marry me one day?” she bats her eyes at me as if that shit would work.
No.“Yeah.”
It's what I've always been told. It's part of the plan.
She kisses me. I feel nothing. A void. No pull, no spark. She's just a reminder of the prison waiting for me after graduation.
The town rolls past the windows. Cobblestone streets, ancient buildings with shutters the color of dried blood. Locals pause to watch our motorcade pass. They know who we are. Everyone here knows.
Camille won't shut up. She's rambling about the charity gala her mother's hosting and the dress she bought for me to see her in.
I tune her out, focusing on anything but her.
