From the little girl with mischievous eyes to a woman with nothing but fire in her heart—she stole me first, and that’s the truest truth of this thief’s heart.
We sit for several moments just listening to the noises of the night, the sweat drying on my skin as I breathe in her scent again and lift my eyes to her.
“Juniper,” I grin, my eyes half-mast from exhaustion. “You are aware, Trésor, that gin is made of juniper berries, right?
“Don’t flatter yourself, Frenchman, that’s pure coincidence. I’ve been wearing it since I was sixteen.”
“It’s not a coincidence,” I run my hand down her wings, her eyes hooding a little more with each caress. “Nothing about us is a coincidence. You should know that by now. Life may have a fucked-up sense of humor for pairing us together, and all outside forces may have deserted us, but if there was ever evidence of two people fucking fated to be together, star-crossed or not, it’s us.”
We stay silent for several minutes on the verge of sleep until the crunch of gravel sounds from the driveway. Cecelia spikes to life, and I tighten my arms around her to keep her from springing from my lap.
“It’s okay. We’re expecting company.”
“It’s close to three in the morning. Who is it?”
I nip at her lips as she pushes at my chest, impatient for an answer.
“Our ride.”
Tobias slides into a freshly tailored Tom Ford that arrived sometime after I slept by way of bird messenger, no doubt for this very reason. He tugs the cuff of the shirt to button it, his eyes catching mine in the mirror before a smirk graces his face. I’m turned on beyond comprehension as he surveys me in nothing but my black lacy bra and panties while I run a hot iron through my hair. I’m indecisive at the moment on whether to fuck him or kill him, but I’m pretty sure this will be the norm as long as we’re together.
But the reason for my fraying nerves at this moment is because I’m readying myself to travel to D.C. to meet. The. President.
He played me, yet again with his plotting and scheming, making more plans I wasn’t aware of, and disguised it as a ‘surprise.’
“This isn’t deception,” he assures me, his voice even. “This is my plan B, my Hail Mary.”
“It feels a lot like manipulation. And you have yet to tell me what’s going on.”
“You locked the door on me,” he says, gathering his cufflinks, “so I’m opening a window.”
“Meaning?”
“You’ll know soon enough.” My eyes drift down to his fingers as he secures his cufflinks and lifts a brow. “Is your hair supposed to be smoking?”
I pull out my hot iron and am relieved to see my hair didn’t come with it.
“Stop distracting me,” I snap.
His lips twitch. “Trésor is cranky when she hasn’t gotten her full eight hours.”
“Don’t blame it on sleep deprivation, Frenchman, I haven’t had a full night in weeks.”
“Those were moans that kept you awake, not objections.”
“You smug bastard.”
“Ton salaud.” Your bastard. He moves toward me, the fit of the suit enough to have me salivating. Though he’s denied it, he’s still every bit the arrogant King I fell in love with. The buzz in my veins no longer exists due to gin or the endless orgasms from hours earlier.
It’s him.
This buzz is all him, us.
He reaches me in two confident strides and slowly lifts the form-fitting dress I chose from the hanger, unzipping it for me to step in. I do before he pulls it up and lifts my hair to press a kiss to the nape of my neck.