It was my turn to look away, glaring at the countryside and the glittering yellow sunshine. Snow still lingered in ditches and valleys but overall, winter had been too kind. A few leaves still clung to branches, and the occasional rustle of mice and voles spoke of an existence refusing to die even with temperatures teasing with freezing.
If nothing perished, nothing could be reborn.
The same mistakes and hardships would linger.
“Q…” Tess stole me back to her.
Gritting my teeth, I tore off a piece of fresh baguette. “Fine. You have my word. By the end of the week, I’ll tell you.”
If you don’t figure it out before then.
Tess was the most inquisitive and determined person I knew. She’d probably already guessed what my problem was. She could most likely put it into words far better than I could.
In a way, I wanted her to.
Maybe then, I could understand what the fuck my issue was.
THE LAST WARMTH of sunshine faded as we drove up the incredibly long driveway of Castelnaud-des-Fleurs. The Castle of Flowers.
Anyone with an income as sizeable as Q’s could rent this private estate—costing a small fortune for a few days’ stay.
I’d found it thanks to the contacts Q had made in the property world where he’d earned most of his wealth. We regularly brushed shoulders with building officials, high-powered governors, and businessmen with money and power.
Those same businessmen were on a secret list that Q and I’d compiled of known sex offenders and traffickers. I might have found my happily ever after, but I hadn’t forgotten my vow to help others. Along with our charities and regular donations to the families we’d already saved, we kept track of underground dealings and recent sales of women. Including a new trafficking ring that’d opened in Europe called the QMB—the Quarterly Market of Beauties.
Q had enlisted spies to watch and report. He wouldn’t let it go on for much longer before he slaughtered those doing the buying and scavenge for those who had been sold.
We weren’t bound by propriety and paperwork of the law.
We didn’t stand by and let such evil occur.
Q didn’t tell me much about what he arranged, or how far he had them punished, and I didn’t ask. That day he’d found me in the warehouse and wrenched the heart from the man who’d broken me had shown just how dark I truly ran.
I didn’t squirm when Franco told me exactly what Q had done after Frederick carried me to the plane. I didn’t gag when he spoke of the gore, or lament and ask why Q had been so savage.
Instead, I thanked him. From the bottom of my soul. He’d only done what that bastard deserved, and I wouldn’t ruin his gift and sacrifice by ever being weak. Q could kill every last trafficker with his bare hands, and I would stand beside him with a rag to wash away the blood. I would spread my legs for him even while he smoked with sulphur from the gun he used to exterminate such vermin.
Did that make me a monster, too?
Yes.
And I accepted that wholeheartedly.
Turning off the ignition, Q gave me a gentle smile. Whatever violence that we’d given into in the barn was sated and whatever shyness and unwillingness to talk from our picnic had been shoved away to discuss at a later time.
He would tell me.
I trusted him.
And I didn’t care what it was, I would do it. Because that was what our marriage was. He took, I gave. I asked, he gifted. We were on a never-ending tug of war where we each took turns to win. But there was no losing. We had far too much happiness to ever lose.
“Thanks for giving me time, Tess.” He grabbed my hand from my lap and kissed my knuckles. “Je ne vais pas te torturer beaucoup plus longtemps. Jete le promets.” I won't torture you much longer. I promise.
I smiled, tracing his five o’ clock shadow with my eyes and lingering on his lips. “Oh, you can torture me anytime you want. Just not with secrets.”
A smirk appeared. “You’ve brought us to a castle for a few days. I’m sure they have a dungeon and some apparatus we could find a new use for.”
“I don’t think they had pleasure in mind when they cooked up the rack or whatever else those medieval heathens invented.”
“No, but that’s how history works. They create something for one purpose, but the future finds new uses. Better uses.” Unfurling my fingers, he leisurely inserted my index into his mouth.
I shivered as the hot wetness of his tongue shot directly to my pussy.
How does he do that?
How had he somehow not only captured all my senses but became the ultimate puppet master on my body, too?
“Ah, you’ve arrived.” A moustached butler appeared from the massive gothic front door, peering through the car window.
Q bit my finger before relinquishing my hand. “That’s your cue to behave.”
I giggled. “Me behave? I don’t know what you mean. I’m the perfect example of behaviour.”
He snorted as he climbed from the Aston Martin and slammed the door. His eyes danced with danger. “That’s only because they don’t see what I see.”
The butler snapped his fingers, summoning a chauffeur to drive away our car. I didn’t need to ask if they’d take care of the remains of our luncheon in the boot or if our belongings and friends had arrived.
In a place like this, things ran effortlessly—oiled by the perfection of money.
Looping my arm through Q’s, I inhaled the tantalizing scent of his coat. “What don’t they see?”