10

He gestured at the small spread of food. “Eat, ma petite. And bon appétit.”

I expected to croissant to be hard and stale—as badly preserved as the rest of Francois’s home, but the pastry flaked pleasingly under my fingertips. Despite myself, my stomach grumbled and my mouth watered.

Francois smiled. “You haven’t been eating enough.” He pitched his voice low, concern in his eyes as his brows drew together. “I hoped the answer was company. So—” He clapped his hands. “We eat together. Bon!”

He punctuated his sentence with a wide, benevolent smile, and it changed his face, ushering away the scary monster I absolutely knew him to be. He reached for a pastry of his own, his hand brushing against mine, and he stilled, his eyes fluttering closed. I jerked away and he set his croissant on his plate.

“I don’t usually partake.” He made it sound like a confession. “My sustenance doesn’t come from food… Father doesn’t approve.” Then he seemed to shake himself or press the rest button. “But you, you ma petite, you will change everything.”

I paused my chewing, the croissant like ash in my mouth at his words. I didn’t want to ask what he meant. I probably already knew. But I simply couldn’t help it. “How do you mean? Don’t you have guests very often?”

It was like the most dangerous of games, pretending to be something I wasn’t, layering innocent questions into complex mazes designed to lead to a destination I didn’t know the location of, and all while fear almost paralyzed me.

My smile was fake and still, my eyes possibly a little too bright as I focused on blinking tears away.

He reached for my hand, his hold gentle but possessive. “But you are more than a guest. You are my savior, my bride. You will return my royal house to its full potential.” His eyes shone with something suspiciously like pride, and as he spoke, his fangs descended.

I pressed back against my chair, sucking in a quick breath.

“Don’t be afraid,” he crooned, his thumb smoothing small circles on the back of my hand. “I long for you. It’s only natural that you should see how much.”

I shoved another bite of croissant in my mouth and nodded, ignoring the prickling of my eyes. An ice-cold wave of horror washed through me, leaving me numb and weighting my limbs.

“Soon, ma petite, soon you will know pleasure like you’ve never experienced. I will take you to my bed and worship you, and you will want for nothing more.”

His dark promise filled me with dread, and I looked at my hands so he didn’t see my revulsion. He was clearly unhinged if he thought abduction was the start of a meaningful relationship.

But had Nicolas really been any better? Okay, so he hadn’t abducted me—but I’d signed his contract under duress, and his end game was the same as Francois’s.

Me.

In his bed.

At the thought of Nicolas’s bed, my pulse spiked, and Francois laughed.

“Ah, you feel it too.” He raised my hand to his mouth, his lips lingering on my skin as he drew another inhale. “I will give you everything you so clearly want. I’d stay with you longer but I must go to my restaurant and talk to my staff, prepare them for your future role at my side.”

My chest tightened and I couldn’t draw a breath or speak, but he took my silence for compliance as he smiled again and offered me a small bow.

“I’ll see you very soon, I promise,” he said. “À très bientôt.” Then he swept his arm wide, encompassing the room in a grand gesture. “Bonne journée, ma petite.”

With another smile, he left the room, but the lock still clicked into place behind him, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.

He’s wished me a good day, but how could I have that as his prisoner, knowing what he intended? Weariness claimed me, and I curled back up on the bed and drew the heavy, musty comforter over me.

 

   

“Get up.” The quiet, rough voice was accompanied by motion as someone shook me awake. “Get up. You’ll wake the master’s temper if you’re late.”

For the second time in my day, I scrambled from the bed and stood dirty and crumpled in front of the person who’d entered my locked room. And this person wasn’t Francois.

Perhaps she could help me.

I clutched to the sudden hope that she could help me escape.

“Come with me.” She grasped my wrist, her firm hold crunching my bones.

“Ow!” I yanked away and her face paled, her deep-brown eyes widening as she glanced around.

“Shh!” she hissed. “We’ll both be in trouble.”

“Not as much as you will be if you bruise me.” I didn’t know that for sure, but I was confident enough to speak the words. If she wasn’t going to help me escape, she should at least fear hurting me.

Her grip loosened. “You’re to come for a shower and a change of clothes.”

Relief at the idea of being clean mingled with fear. “Where’s Francois?” I didn’t want him anywhere near me while I was naked.

“The master, Prince Francois has sent word that he will join you later.”

I relaxed a little. Perhaps I could spare two or three minutes to shower in the knowledge he wasn’t nearby. The woman—one of Francois’s staff members, probably, but I hadn’t met any of them before—led me down a corridor where more wall sconces glowed with weak light and heavy tapestries hung on the wall. They were all gray with dust.

“The master has requested you make use of his bathroom.” The woman threw a door open and gestured me into a masculine bedroom. The wood was so dark it was almost black, and gray sheets were stretched across the bed. As if it was habit, the woman with me straightened them, although the bed was already perfectly made.