21

“Never forgotten.” Nicolas spoke in a hoarse whisper then cleared his throat, his face tense, anguish in the depths of his eyes. He clasped his hands and tightened them until his knuckles whitened, like he was seeking to control something I had no knowledge of. “It was my fault. It was my fault, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it up to you, if you’ll ever forgive me… If you’ll ever trust me again.”

I almost laughed at his words.

He couldn’t have been farther from the truth. If anything, I trusted him more now. He’d rescued me and asked for nothing in return. Not my blood, not my body, not a single promise of anything between us.

There’s been no mention of the contract. Nothing.

All he’d done was care.

Care. Nicolas Dupont had cared for me.

And I cared for him.

“La Petite Mort…”

His jaw tightened as the words left my lips, and his pupils dilated.

“Your casino… Do you need to go there?”

He laughed and looked away for a moment. “I’m certain it’s still standing.” He leaned forward a little. “Dens of inequity rarely fall. To be honest, it almost runs itself.” Then he waved a hand. “That, and Ben requires very little sleep.”

I laughed, the sound soft, and Nicolas smiled in response.

“It’s good to hear you laugh.”

I glanced off to the tightly closed drapes. “I guess I’ve been processing. I’ve had a lot to think about.”

“I know. And you don’t ever have to tell me about any of it, but I’m available to listen if you ever want to talk.” He shook his head, pain flitting over his face, his mouth a grimace of frustration. “I never should have taken you to The Neutral Zone. I just… I…” He gave a dark chuckle. “Would you believe I was trying to keep you safe at my side?”

“Yes.” My answer was short and automatic because I did believe that. Above anything else, I believed Nicolas would have tried to keep me safe.

His eyes widened like I’d surprised him but he nodded again. “I thought if you were at my side, people would know not to harm you. I thought I could control things—everything. And I thought I could do a deal with Francois to buy us some time—”

“How long did you want to buy?” There were still things about this situation I didn’t understand.

He closed his eyes. A long blink. A pause. Like he was considering whether to say the next part or not. Then he blew out a breath. “A month.”

“You only wanted to protect me for a month?”

He nodded, but remorse played around his mouth, stealing some of his usual confidence. “That’s what I told Francois, anyway. But it was a lie. I lied to myself, even. I want to protect you forever, and I can’t stand that I failed you. I almost… Francois could have—”

I stood then knelt at the side of him, my chin almost resting on his thigh. “But you didn’t. He didn’t. I’m right here.”

“But I don’t understand. I don’t understand why he didn’t…hurt you.” Nicolas’s voice faded away on those last two words.

I shrugged. “Sometimes he was more predictable than others, more logical.”

“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous.” Nicolas fidgeted, picking at loose threads only he could see on the arm of the chair.

I captured his hand in mine and he exhaled a soft gasp at the contact.

“And you couldn’t have predicted that danger. I don’t blame you, Nicolas Dupont, so stop blaming yourself.” I pressed his hand to my cheek, basking in the connection between us.

His eyes softened, the gray becoming almost liquid, swirling like mercury. “I’ll try.” Then he shifted, not quite drawing away. “I need to talk to Chef, see what he has on the menu for you this evening.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely, whatever it is.” I let his hand go so he could reach for his phone, reluctance slowing my movements.

But before he drew away completely, he slipped a lock of hair behind my ear and smoothed the rest of my hair from my face, the same gesture he always used when he tucked me in, and a feeling of security surrounded me.

I was truly safe in this house, with this man, and I wasn’t locked in this room. His quiet presence let me know I was free to leave these four walls any time I wanted because he wouldn’t let anything happen.

 

   

Chef delivered our meal personally, although he didn’t come into the room. I hadn’t seen anyone else yet. Just Nicolas because other people felt like too much to handle. There was too much risk to assess, and I couldn’t do everything all at once, so I controlled my environment as best I could, and Nicolas provided that space for me.

“It’s jambalaya,” Nicolas announced as he lifted the lid on a serving platter. “You’ll never have tasted a jambalaya like this one—it’s another of Chef’s specialties. And I hope you’re hungry because either Chef thinks you’re cloning yourself up here or there’s a Hansel and Gretel thing going on that I don’t know about.”

I laughed as I slid into a seat opposite him. “I’m sure I’ll like it very much. Everything Chef makes is amazing.”

We’d slipped into an easy routine of eating together. Well, I ate, and Nicolas took a few token mouthfuls to give the impression he was eating with me, but he got blood bags delivered after I fell asleep most nights. I had a vague memory of seeing him with his cup in his hand one night while he sat next to me, keeping watch.

Standing guard.

Nicolas glanced at his dish and speared a piece of chicken with his fork. Then he held it out to me, his hand cupped beneath it.