I stare in silence. I’ve never met anyone like him before. Somehow, I already know, I never will again.
I can still see the way he stormed into the room, how he lifted my attacker with ease. The way the man’s body crunched against the wall from broken bones.
“What do you think he did to him?” I whisper.
Gwen looks away. “I think that’s something we’d rather not know. But suffice it to say, he won’t be coming here again.” She forces a smile, then gives me a curious look that quickly grows concerned. “I’m worried, though.”
“Why?” I ask, as Joëlle and Gwen share a look.
“Well,” Gwen says, sitting up in bed. “You see… Monsieur has a bit of a… reputation.”
“As in, everyone does exactly what he says at all times?” I ask, because I definitely could see myself falling under that spell.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, I hate the thought of anyone telling me what to do. On the other… if I were the focus of all that raw, potent masculinity…
“Well, that’s obvious,” Gwen says with a huff of laughter. “But… no. It’s more than that. You see, he showed you concern right now, but don’t mistake that as kindness.”
My heart sinks.
“Oh, God, no,” Cosette agrees. “Definitely not.”
It felt like kindness. It’s been a long time since anyone’s been kind to me. It’s not the nature of this business. “Why not?”
Cosette grimaces. “Because that’s not the kind of guy he is, babe. He’s… how do I say this? He’s a bit of… well… he’s sort of crazy.”
I laugh, thinking she’s teasing, but when no one else does, I go quiet. I suddenly realize something. “Uh, do you think he’s tapping this room?” I whisper.
Gwen smiles. “No, we have privacy in our rooms, though he absolutely has every other main location under surveillance.”
“I see.” I tap my chin. “So… hmm. What makes him crazy?”
“He’s… well, obsessive,” Gwen says.
“Like, the kind of guy that will check to see if he’s turned the stove off ten times before he goes to bed?”
“No, no, not like that,” she says in frustration, biting her lip. She takes a deep breath. “When he zones in on something or someone, they become a… fixation to him. Almost like an addiction. I’ve heard tell when he was a child, he collected everything, and I mean everything, that had to do with Napoleon.”
I laugh nervously. “Well, children do strange things.”
“Right,” Gwen says. “But it was more than that. When he… gets fixated on someone or something, he makes it his. He once saw a rare Lamborghini, one of only three made in the world. He decided he had to have one.”
“So? That’s not too weird.”
“It was owned by the Prime Minister, Nicolette,” Gwen says, as if that explains anything. “And when he didn’t take Monsieur’s offer of five million dollars, he was mysteriously assassinated a few days later. And guess who now owns that car?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s crazy. It must’ve just been a coincidence.”
Joëlle blows out a breath. “Maybe so, but we’ve all heard stories of the way he is.”
“He’s had multiple offers to buy this place, but he’s turned every one of them down.”
“Just… suffice it to say, you do not want him to have his sights set on you.”
“Okay, so you guys are kind of scaring me,” I admit.
I still feel the warm brush of his thumb on my cheek. Maybe I’m hungry for the tender touch of someone who cares, but it felt so damn good I’m having a hard time reconciling the image of the gentle giant who checked in on me with the vicious killer who threw a man against a wall and then did who knows what to him.
But I can’t let them scare me. They’re being a little overprotective, I reason.
“So, okay, he’s an obsessive sort of guy. I’m not really sure why you girls are so afraid of that. What else is it?”
Gwen sighs and leans forward. “Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“Gwen, obviously she doesn’t,” Cosette says. She turns to me with a pained look on her face. “Monsieur doesn’t let things go. He’s like a pit bull. He won’t… well, release you…”
I laugh and roll my eyes, but I’m faking it. “Okay you guys, you’re freaking me out here. I’m not that special. I’m not that important. I’m just a girl–”
“Monsieur Gerard rescued you from being assaulted. He saved you. In his mind, that probably makes you his. We saw the way he looked at you.”
I turn away and look out the window. “I don’t think so.”
Cosette groans. “Nicolette? You may not see it now, but you will. You’ve just become his latest obsession. Watch it happen.”
“We should send her away,” Joëlle whispers, paling. “I have family north of Paris. We could fly her—”