is that when I thought I loved Marine, I was just in love with the intrigue, the forbidden, the adoration, and, of course, the sex.
When I first met Sadie, I expected it to be more or less the same thing.
I was ready for it.
Yes, she was different, but more than that, she made me feel different. But I didn’t know what it meant, what it could mean. I always thought in the back of my mind that no matter how passionate our lovemaking was, that’s where it would stay. In the bedroom. And when it was her time to go, I would be prepared and ready. That she would fly away, and I would chalk it all up to an American girl I knew once.
But that wasn’t the case at all. By the time I invited her up to Paris, I knew I had it bad for her. That I was in deep, like it was a place I couldn’t escape, and if I did, I would be on my hands and knees.
That’s where I am now.
On my hands and knees.
My heart belonging to her.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I was so wrong about love, so quick to avoid it, so effortless in passing it off.
But that was never the true me.
Only with Sadie have I finally felt my mask slip away and the shackles falling off my feet, no longer tying me to the person the world needs me to be.
Just the person that I need myself to be.
The person she needs me to be.
I love her, and that has changed my whole world at a time when my whole world has just changed.
It makes me realize the lengths I will go to protect us, to keep her safe.
I don’t want to go to the office today. I don’t care a bit about the heat or the traffic or even the reporters who are more on my trail these days because of my father’s death and the recent announcements in the company. None of that really matters now.
I just don’t want to be away from her.
And yet she made me promise to see Seraphine, and I do love my sister. I’ve felt nothing but guilt at the position I’ve put her in, knowing I’m lying to her, knowing she doesn’t understand. She thinks I’ve turned on her. She thinks I’ve become one of them.
When I get to the office, narrowly missing a downpour, I’m surprised to see that everything looks exactly the same. I would have thought that when Gautier finally got his bloody hands on it, he would have changed buildings, changed logos, changed staff.
But when I walk inside, all the familiar faces are there: Nadia the receptionist and a bunch of people who work for marketing and sales and the different departments. There are some people who look new, but in a company like this, it’s always growing.
I do have to say that the vibe has changed.
Though it may still be a mixture of white and black and glass, all the calm elegance is gone. It seems tainted somehow, like if I looked closely enough, I’d see shit smeared in the grooves.
“I’m here to see my sister,” I say to Nadia, watching her carefully. Though they’re always overlooked, the receptionists are often the backbone of the company, the skeleton off which everything else hangs.
Nadia’s eyes seem to swell with relief when she looks up at me.
That is not a good sign.
I should never be anyone’s relief.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she says to me quietly, her smile wavering. “When I heard the news . . .”
“The good news, you mean?”
My uncle’s voice booms across the office, rich as a barrel of tar.
I meet Nadia’s eyes for a second, and there’s a flash of pure fear in them. Fear that she’ll lose her job for no reason, fear that there’s worse.
I try to convey that everything will be all right.
But I can no longer make promises.
I’ve handed this man the reins.
I turn to face my uncle and offer up the fakest smile I can muster.
“Uncle,” I say to him.
My uncle isn’t an ugly man. In many ways he resembles my father—not as tall, but still of athletic stature. His chin is more pronounced, enough that I think it bothers him, but his hair is thick and dark, black as night, with only the tiniest wisps of gray at the temples, and I don’t think he’s ever touched a box of dye.
His widow’s peak is commanding, and