Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Agitation now colors Sylvain's voice, and underneath it, a pain that calls out to me.
Because I'm in love with him.
There's no hiding from this now.
Even though it doesn't make sense...
I love him, and so his pain is my pain, and that's why...
"I trust you with my life."
His jaw clenches as I say this, and I have an awful feeling that he wants to believe me...but doesn't.
"I hope you mean it."
Si seulement...
If only I could find the courage to give him the words.
Oh, if only I could.
We enter the warehouse, the massive door groaning on its tracks as Sylvain slides it open just enough for us to slip through.
It's completely dark save for the slice of sunlight coming from outside, and then that's gone, too, with the door automatically sliding shut behind us.
"Sylvain?"
I can't even see my hand in front of my face.
A second later, light flares into life, but what my husband holds in his hand is a lighter, not a cellphone.
Classic.
The small flame illuminates Sylvain's face from below, casting dramatic shadows that make him look like a man with the face of an angel...but the heart of a sinner.
"Something's wrong," he says tautly.
What does he mean—
No. No. No.
I smell it before I see it.
Gas hissing from somewhere in the darkness, its scent familiar because once upon a time, his men used the same thing on me, too.
This can't be. No. Not again.
Darkness rushes up to claim me, and the last thing I see is Sylvain trying to reach me in time.
But he's too, too late.
Chapter Eight
SYLVAIN CHECKED HIS watch as he leaned against the marble pillar, the cold stone seeping through his jacket while he waited for Liana to change into the dress he had provided. The courthouse was nearly empty at this hour: a few cleaning staff, the night guard dozing at his post, and Judge Grimault waiting nervously in his chambers.
A part of him was still questioning his sanity. Was this truly what he wanted? A hastily-arranged wedding ceremony, expedited by the use of favors and bribes, and an empty government building for a venue, with its hallways perfumed by stale coffee and floor polish.
But when he thought of the other alternative, which was to simply let her walk out of his life...
Non.
And so he decided to make a call. If this marriage was for better or worse, then so be it.
One. Two. Three...
It was on the fifth ring that his call finally connected.
"This had better be important." The voice that answered was low and cultured, but edged with something dangerous. The voice of a man who made a living from killing both kings and traitors.
"Dauphin. I need a favor."
A pause, calculated rather than surprised. Calixte Romano—known in darker circles as Dauphin Tueur, the Prince of Killers—wasn't a man who received unexpected calls at four in the morning.
"It's late notice, Sylvain." The words were neutral, but the subtle emphasis on his name was a reminder that Calixte knew exactly who he was dealing with.
"For which I apologize." Sylvain kept his voice even. "But I need you to come up with a series of tests."
There was a soft sound in the background, the soft click of keys as Calixte started working on his laptop. Typical. The Prince of Killers was not one to waste time, even in conversation.
"What's the objective?"
"To determine my wife's loyalty. And if she's suitable...considering my line of work."
Another pause, longer this time. "One of Viktor Biancardi's secret half-sisters."
Sylvain wasn't surprised that Calixte knew of his blood debt to Biancardi. They had access to the same resources, and often crossed paths when working undercover, despite answering to different government authorities.
"Will that be a problem?" Even with his attention focused on their conversation, Sylvain noticed one of the janitors doing his best not to look his way, his mop passing over the same spot repeatedly. Sylvain made a mental note to have him checked. It was likely nothing, but one could never be too certain. It was why he had survived this long.
"Non, ce n'est pas le problème." There was a nuance in Calixte's voice that hadn't been there before. "Though marrying Biancardi's sister... an interesting choice."
"I don't need your approval, dauphin."
"You've never needed anyone's approval, Sylvain. That's what makes this call... intriguing."
Sylvain disliked the way Calixte's words were proving to be a puzzle to him. Marriage to Eden had clearly changed Calixte. The Prince of Killers had never been an open book, but now, he was just plain...unpredictable, dangerously so.
"Tell me," Calixte continued, the sound of a pen scratching against paper audible in the background, "what sort of tests are you envisioning?"
"Something comprehensive. Loyalty, intelligence, resilience under pressure."
"And what happens if she fails?"
"She will remain in my possession." On this part at least, Sylvain had no doubts. He only had to imagine Liana leaving him or being taken away by someone else, and he was ready to burn the entire world just to have her back.