Dark Carousel (Dark #30) - Christine Feehan Page 0,51
You’ve already broken every single one of your rules. You don’t sleep with a man casually, and you’ve already slept with him.”
Charlotte ducked her head. Genevieve wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. She even nodded a couple of times to indicate to her friend that she heard and agreed. “I know,” she admitted, and risked a quick glance at Tariq again.
He had his head turned, looking back at them as if he knew what Genevieve was saying to her. The expression on his face made him look dangerous.
It is the beginning of us.
She took a breath and pressed her hand to her suddenly churning stomach. It was a declaration inside her head. A decree. A red flag in the mind of a modern woman who would define him as a textbook dominant stalker type. His voice was implacable. He had flicked a glance at Genevieve that frankly chilled Charlotte.
Bella said something and he instantly turned his attention to the child, crouching down to her level, circling her with one strong arm and nodding his head at something she said. “Of course I can take you out in the boat, but not tonight, my little Bellarina.”
His name for her sent Bella into laughter, which made Lourdes laugh. Charlotte had wanted this for the child. She was naturally upbeat and happy, but the events of the last few months had taken a toll on her.
“Stop looking at him as if he’s the greatest thing in the entire world and start listening to me,” Genevieve insisted. She put a hand on Charlotte’s arm. “You’re getting in over your head. We met the man last night under extreme circumstances. He was heroic and gallant standing up for us. He offered a place to stay and I have to say the accommodations are perfect, and the security seems tight, but still, Charlie, we just met him. I don’t know what happened after I went to bed, but it happened fast and that means he’s a very smooth operator with the emphasis on very.”
Why do you allow her to go on and on? You know we are good. I am not the man she claims I am. Send her away.
Charlotte risked another glance at him. He wasn’t looking at her this time. He had taken the girls to the small playground on the property and was pushing them on swings. His home had everything they could possibly need—or want. Although his jaw was set and he looked dangerous, his voice was gentle as he answered each child when she shouted orders to him. There was even a note of laughter in his voice as the girls continued to yell for him to push them higher.
She sighed. She was going to have to answer him and that meant speaking intimately, on that strange pathway that he’d evidently forged between them. She knew every time she used it she was bound closer to him. She didn’t understand it and when she was apart from him, it didn’t make sense to her, but the connection between them was stronger—and better—than anything she’d ever shared with anyone. When he was touching her, holding her, it all made sense, but then logic and reasoning crept in when he wasn’t right there.
Tariq, what can I say? Everything she says to me is the truth. She’s my friend and she’s trying to look out for me. As my friend, she should point these things out to me. That’s what true friends do. They try to keep you from falling too hard.
Do you believe I would hurt you? Break your heart? Sielamet, you are everything to me. I would never harm you. It is impossible for me to do so. I know this happened far too fast for you to believe strongly in it or in me, but you promised to give me a chance.
She was in his mind and there was something there, a hint of danger, of warning she couldn’t quite catch, as if she was missing a very important piece of a puzzle, but it was so small it seemed inconsequential. Whatever it was made her uneasy.
I’m giving us a chance. I’m still here. If I didn’t plan to give us a chance, I would have already packed up Lourdes and we’d be gone.
She had nowhere to take her niece that was safe. Nowhere. They had enemies, and they had no idea why. A serial killer and three stalkers who went around staking their victims, so they were serial