Page 11 of The Devil of Hollywood

“Perhaps. But if he doesn’t? What will you do if he’s serious about this threat?”

Elliot did look over at me then, but it was fleeting. The questions weren’t just to make me think. He wanted me to take in the entirety of the situation. They were questions for an heir. For a leader. Sure, my brother would lead my family, but I was about to help lead and create my own. One of French nobility. I had to be ready for anything, and I was.

“If he comes after me, we’ll both do what we’re meant to. It’s that simple. You’re not the only one who has been trained for the worst. I can handle anything. I’m not afraid.”

“I know.”

Shark.

Power.

Heartless.

I was made for more than ruling corporations. Decency didn’t exist when you were raised to dominate and lead. That came in many forms: control, silence, words… pain. My mother taught what had to be done. She ingrained the necessities so deep inside my brain, it’s all I knew. Threats were tolerable but never overlooked. Violence was not acceptable. Drawing blood equaled death. An attack promised annihilation. Loyalty was the only thing that mattered. The LaRoes were not to be messed with. We’d made that clear generation after generation, and so had the Allards, my soon-to-be family. I had a reputation to uphold. I had bloodlines to make thrive. Nothing was going to come in the way of that. I trusted Elliot. He may have been only one person, but he was lethal with more than just a weapon. He was a weapon. But so was I.

The elevator dinged, and the double doors opened. I took quick steps, feeling Elliot mirror every one of them. We were in sync with him just off to the side at my back. We were but inches apart. The automatic double doors opened, and Elliot scanned the surroundings as I slowed, letting him step ahead to pull the door open and scan inside. Within seconds we were headed back to the hotel. Back to Penny and what I prayed was a much-needed vacation. I wasn’t betting on that as I pulled out my ringing phone and took in the number on the screen.

Shit.

I took a deep breath, straightening my shoulders as I hit the button.

“Bastian.”

“Mon amour, how are you?”

He wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t use the term of endearment if he was. I forced a smile, willing the cheerfulness in my tone.

“I’m doing wonderful. I just closed a big deal and am headed back to my room. How are you? Is everything okay?”

“I’m great. Everything is well.”

My mouth parted as I blinked through the long pause. Was he going to continue? Or…

“Oh.” I shifted in my seat. “Good. I’m glad all is well.” Still, he was silent aside from the soft footsteps in the background. “Bastian… is there something you’d like to talk about?”

A pause. “Yes.”

More silence. Awkwardness? Or was that just me feeling like my skin was crawling? After more time, nervousness had me shifting on the seat, but was that also a tinge of relief? Of… liberation at the hope that he was about to break things off between us? I shouldn’t feel excited about possibly being dumped so soon before our marriage. My parents would be upset. My mother would be pissed after all the hard work and planning she did to set up this match.

“Bastian, you can tell me anything. We’re a team, remember? We talked about this. We promised over everything, we’d have honesty. You have to be honest with me and tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I know. I’m trying. I really am.” His French accent thickened through the emotions, but I couldn’t quite decipher what they were. It wasn’t dread. Nervousness? Impatience? “Marian, I’ve been secretly working with your receptionist. I⁠—”

“Cassandra?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m in Miami. In… the hotel room next to yours.”

My lips parted. Words were lost as I mindlessly stared out the window. Emotions collided, warping within me until I wasn’t even sure what I felt. Was I angry? Happy? Just surprised and slightly shocked that he’d even made the effort? Or was this a bad thing? Was he here to end things in person?

“You’re upset.”

It took a moment for me to process his statement.

“I’m not upset, Bastian. I’m just confused.” I shifted, not able to sit still. “Are you here…” I stopped, trailing off. “Are you here to break off our engagement?”

“Break off—No. No, quite the opposite. I’ve been giving the two of us serious thought, and we never really got to know each other as well as I would have liked. As well as you deserved,” he corrected. “I’m self-absorbed; I know that. Between duties and obligations and⁠—”

“Mistresses?”