Étienne’s fitful cries cease the moment he’s in my arms. My eyes burn as I hold him to my chest. For months it was just him and me, and now I don’t get to see him as often.
His eyelids close and I lower him back into the crib, watching him sleep as a tear runs down my face and hits his crib. The sound of Luc rising from the chair fills me with dread, and then his warm hand slides over my shoulder.
“You’re a good mother.”
You don’t deserve to be a mother.
“Thanks.”
The tiny bump of affection fades as I remember Frank’s anguished face. I need to get out. I don’t want to be trapped in this house forever.
I step back, wanting to get away before I realize how much I long for him to just wrap his arms around me.
A hand around my waist snatches me, and a flash of desire hits my core. I grab his hand and throw it off me.
“Claire.”
I throw him a withering look as I walk out of the nursery, desperate to get away. The fucking bastard isn’t far behind. He grabs my arm and yanks me.
“Will you fucking stop?” I scream to his face. “I’m tired of being manhandled!”
I stop at the look of devastation on his face. There’s no tension, not a hint of a smirk. I always loved his eyes. They were so big and dark. I could always tell what he was feeling, and the only time they ever looked sad was when he talked about his parents.
They look sad now, too.
“Why did you lead me to believe you were some bitch who tried to take my son away from me?”
The plan I’m brewing in my head cracks with the sound of his voice breaking.
“I wanted to leave you, anyway. What did it matter?”
I still want to leave you.
His mouth hardens. “You’re not leaving, Claire. I fucking mean it.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m not the same guy you left behind. I don’t know what I’ll do if you take my son away from me again.”
Bastard.
I turn away from him, but he still hasn’t let go of my arm, and suddenly his hip bumps against mine and a rush of energy moves from my chest to my throat. Delicate fingers sweep up my neck and his eyes won’t let me go. I can feel my heartbeat somewhere in the back of my throat as he gives me that shit-eating grin that always made a ball of heat in the pit of my stomach.
“We both made choices. I understand why you did what you did. Maybe you just wanted to fuck around with a bad boy, but then you got pregnant and here we are.”
“Here we are.” I wanted to throw some heat into my voice, but all I manage is a whisper.
He touches his smirking mouth to mine and I exhale into his lips. Fuck me for feeling relief when he finally breaks the tension between us. He kisses me with a painful slowness. I want him to hunger for me.
Don’t feel anything. Don’t touch him. He’s not good. He’s not good. Stop it.
Don’t feel. I might as well stop breathing.
I wrap my arms around his neck, digging my fingers into the hard muscles of his back as he squeezes my waist. He pulls back with a small growl, his breath gusting over my lips.
“You’ll learn to love me. At least, you’ll love our kids.”
“Kids?”
My insides freeze as his chuckle shakes through my body. “You didn’t think I’d stop at one, did you?”
He kisses my frozen lips. Kids. With Luc. “I can’t imagine a normal family life if I’m wearing a dog collar half the time.”
“When we’re married, you won’t need it.”
Then he gives me another kiss on my cheek and steps aside, laughing to himself as he descends the stairs.
* * *
Étienne howls as I carry him in my arms, attracting all sorts of attention as I blaze down the streets.
When we’re married.
When. Not if.
He’s insane—I’m convinced of it. I could have dealt with the crazy-hot, humiliating sex and the collars and having a mobster for a baby daddy, but I can’t fucking deal with marrying him. No. I won’t go back to worrying about whether he’ll come home alive every night, not to mention the threat against my own life. The longer I stay here, the more I’m at risk.
I reach a pay phone at the end of the street where Frank told me to wait. Jesus Christ, this is dangerous. I shouldn’t have done this. They could be waiting for me anywhere.
I look down the deceptively quaint street, the trees quietly stirring, cars sitting idly. Any one of them could be holding one of Johnny’s crew.
“Shhh.”
I bounce Étienne in my arms, trying to still his cries. His screeches grate against my ears and I duck between two houses, walking down the gravel path to a shady area where it’s less exposed.
“Please shut up!”