“I never should have married her,” I admitted. “It wasn’t the right thing to do.”
From the minute I saw her, Darla plagued me like a disease I could not eradicate. I went over every minute we spent together in that room, wondering about this gorgeous, soft, quirky woman who’d addressed me as Master, teased me about my dick being too big and even called me beautiful. Her compliment held no ulterior motive, just sincerity. She was a breath of fresh air compared to the vultures in my environment who’d only ever regarded me through lenses of envy or lust.
I was hooked after one taste of Darla Ivy Hill.
I possessed her body, yet I longed to hold her soul in the palm of my hand to see if it reflected the loneliness in mine—to see if its curves would mold to my jagged edges and fill the void that’s been growing inside of me since I first picked up a gun at thirteen to kill a man.
“You’ll see soon enough this was the only way,” Yves amended, drawing me out of my rumination. “Now that you’re married, your image will be impeccable, the family will be dealt with, and Mayor Hill and the MPD will no longer meddle in our affairs. Darla may have been caught in the crossfire butc’estla vie. If not for you, her mother would have pawned her off to another man for the sake of political gain. And, despite your roughness, no one will treat that girl better than you. I know it in my heart, Zeno. You’re not as much of a monster as you’d like to believe. Life formed you into who you are, but you still have so much to give.”
I didn’t like this open vulnerability.
It made me feel raw. Especially when Yves glanced at me the same way he did when he found me in the alleyway, lying in a pool of my own blood, desperately hanging on to the fringes of life.
“She’s here against her will,” I whispered a truth we already knew. “Fuck, I never wanted this for her.”
“Then show her,mon fils, how you can give her everything she’s ever wanted. Be the man—the husband—she needs. Prove to her that you were the right choice, even if she wasn’t the one to make it.”
It was too early for a drink, but the vexation sizzling under my skin almost had me reaching for the whiskey decanter before noon. “How can I show her?”
I felt like a teenager confiding his first crush to his father and I hated it.
Yves smiled patiently. “You already started showing Darla. You stood up for her when her mother rudely tore her down in front of us. You bought her a sports car simply because she wished for one. You did all these things because this is how you show care and love. Through actions. Not words.”
Love?
Yves had lost his mind.
“I don’tloveher,” I said vehemently, spitting the word like it was something foul. “I desire her. You know well enough I have never been in love with a woman in my life.”
“Hm,” he said smugly, hinting there was a first for everything. “And now you’re purchasing your wife’s novels so you can read and appreciate her mind a little more.”
I stiffened. “How do you know that?”
Yves smirked and gestured to something behind me. “I caught the reflection of your laptop screen in the window. I also did some digging and found out she’s an author. Céline read one of her books. Said she writes some of the most breathtaking erotica—”
“We are not having this conversation,” I cut in so I didn’t lose my breakfast. Knowing Céline, she probably asked Yves to recreate certain scenes. Hopefully this time they’d shut their damn doors because Ben, Éva, and I had caught them doing the deed last time and it was quite traumatizing. “What I’m trying to convey is…Darla will always hate me for what I did, but living with her would be more bearable if she hated me less.”
“Please, I see the way she looks at you and hatred is not what I’d call it,” Yves scoffed. “I also see the way you look at her when you think she isn’t looking.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I snapped.
It was too early for a drink, but not too early for a cigar. I reached for one and lit it, while Yves threw his head back and laughed his belly-deep laugh. “Ah, Zeno. It’s starting.”
“What’s starting?”
“Youare starting to fall for her.”
“Andyouneed to get the fuck out of my office.”
He laughed some more but sobered up when he noticed my thunderous expression. He sighed and reached across the desk to unwind my curled fist. “For once in your life, stop playing the villain and be the hero in Darla’s book, Zeno,” he murmured. “Show your sweet wife that you are worthy, that you are enough, and that you can be everything she wants and needs. Show her the tenderness you keep buried within your heart—the one you only allow your family to witness. Let her fall for you, Zeno, and be there to catch her when she does.”
Based on this morning’s discussion, I could tell Darla slightly regretted last night—something that really made me want to punch a wall—so the way I saw it, this marriage was doomed from the very start.
There would be no falling.
And there would be no catching.
“As much as I appreciate this Hallmark moment, there’s an important reason why I called you here.”