12

I stopped, my heartbeat nearly in my throat as my dress seemed to cinch tighter around me.

Francois emerged from the mystery room, closing the doors tight behind him. He wore a suit, less flamboyant than his usual style, and something more modern suited him, the clean lines revealing his broad shoulders and hugging his trim body. His tousled hair shone under the low lights, and when he grinned, he looked every inch the handsome date.

“Ma petite.” He held out an arm, his hand open for me to take. “You look ravishing in that dress, just like I knew you would.”

The maid gave me a small push in Francois’s direction, and his eyes flashed as he looked at her.

“Leave us,” he commanded. His eyes blazed red, and his fangs descended as he looked at the maid. “No one touches my bride in that way.”

She gasped quietly and bobbed a quick curtsey. “Yes, your highness.” Then she fled from the room like Francois had just released the hounds of Hell to chase her.

After she’d gone, he approached me, his steps careful. He reached for my hand and lifted it to his lips, lingering over the kiss like he always did. Then he turned my hand and pressed a second kiss to the inside of my wrist, lingering there, too.

I drew my hand from him, a forced giggle covering the bolt of fear that shot through me. I wanted to wipe the lingering feel of his kiss away but didn’t dare.

“I like your little teases, ma petite. Our first time together will be so much sweeter for this temptation, and I will show you the very depths of pleasure.”

He drew my chair out like he had at breakfast, and I focused my attention on the long banquet table where only two places were set, neither at the head of the table.

Francois noticed my curious gaze and gestured to the large chair. “Father can’t be with us, I’m afraid. I’m sure he’d pass along his regrets.” His mouth twisted slightly as he spoke and his eyes clouded.

Then he shook his head and seemed to snap out of it, his eyes clear as he focused on me. “At my request, the chef at the restaurant has taken the liberty of preparing every dish you appeared to enjoy when you dined with us.” As he spoke, a hunched over, gray-haired man wheeled in a small trolley bearing a range of covered plates. “This is Tolley, the Ricard family butler.”

I nodded toward the man, but he didn’t look up from his task as he transferred the plates to table.

The dishes he uncovered were familiar ones Nicolas had recommended I try on our… Well, it had felt like a date when we started, but apparently it had been some sort of business meeting with Francois.

“Nicolas saw you that night?” My voice came out soft and uncertain.

“Mais oui, ma chèrie. We had much to discuss. As it turns out, he’s a man who doesn’t keep his word.” Francois shrugged. “But no matter. I’ve benefited the most from his treachery.”

When he slid a glance down my body this time, it lingered at the scoop neck that revealed the top swells of my breasts, and lust heated his gaze.

“Do you think we can go to the restaurant again? Maybe together? I tried to see some of the city, but I don’t remember much of it. I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans.” Maybe if I could get outside Francois’s home, I could escape. Perhaps even contact Nicolas. He’d get me back to Baton Rouge.

So much more than I imagined hinged on his answer. I might actually get outside if I could manipulate him well enough. Francois himself could facilitate my escape.

When Francois didn’t reply, I swayed leaned forward, revealing even more of my breasts for his perusal.

“It could be like a date? You could show me around.” I held my breath. I couldn’t overdo this. He needed to trust me to allow me out.

“Non. Impossible.” His expression hardened, his jaw tightening, his eyes turning cool. His voice rose as he spoke his next words—the same commanding tone he’d used with the maid, only I wouldn’t have the opportunity to flee. “You are my bride now, and you need to forget the outside world. I am everything for you.”

4

Nic

I

 closed the door to the safe house and locked it behind us. Then I ensured the thin, white drapes were tightly closed as I left the French doors open to the balcony. They fluttered in the breeze, and the sound of the French Quarter drifted into the room.

“Hey, man! Why you shutting out the view?”

I shot my most withering glance at Jason, and Seb held up his hand.

“Manners in front of your king,” he spat.

For a moment, Jason’s eyes widened. Then he chuckled. “Shit.” He looked at me. “Did you compel your brother to be your guard dog?”

I sighed. “I don’t have time for your bickering. You know exactly why the drapes are closed. We can’t see out, no one can see in.” For good measure, I switched on the ceiling fan, the low sound it produced helping to muffle our chat. “This isn’t exactly a conversation we want anyone to be aware of, right?” I hardened my gaze, looking at each man in turn. “If anyone is having any second thoughts at all, now is the time to voice them. And then you’re on your own getting back to Baton Rouge—hitchhike, for all I care.”

Only one thing mattered, and that was Leia. My chest ached and I rubbed absently over my heart.

I was met only with silence, and I glanced around the safe house Kyle had arranged. “Who the hell lives here anyway? Someone’s granny?”

We were in a room that resembled a Victorian parlor—complete with thick, floral wallpaper, heavy velvets with too much fringing, and lace tablecloths and doilies.