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)
Sylvain hauled her close, and her words ended in a gasp.
"Yes or no, Liana. Do you trust me or not?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, yes—"
Sylvain didn't wait for her to finish speaking, already reaching out to rip the gargoyle clock off the wall—
There you are.
He switched it off...and darkness swallowed everything up.
Chapter Fifteen
"RÉVEILLE-TOI, MA PETITE." Wake up, little one.
The voice is soft and familiar, its sound gently luring me into consciousness. But it still takes a while before I can manage to open my eyes. And a few more moments before my vision clears, and I see my husband's handsome face staring down at me.
"Ma petite?"
His face is so...clean. No dirt, no cuts or bruises. Nothing that would indicate how we've been abducted, drugged, and chased until we end up...here.
And that's when I realize I have no idea where we are.
"W-Where are we?" I'm lying on a medical bed, and there are all sorts of tubes connecting me to machines that beep and hum in a steady rhythm. This has to be some sort of medical facility. Right? This means we're saved. Right?
When I start to sit up, my husband is swift to assist me.
"Slowly..."
I look at him searchingly. "You still haven't answered my question."
"Because I thought you'd have more fun figuring it out yourself."
"Figure what?"
"Think about it," Sylvain says softly.
My head starts to hurt as I retrace our steps through my memories. Before waking up here, I remembered the darkness swallowing our world whole, seemingly triggered by my husband grabbing that gargoyle-shaped clock...
"You switched it off," I whisper.
"I did."
His gaze bores through me as he says this. It's as if he's willing me to keep pushing the limits of my thoughts, my imagination. It's as if...as if...
My eyes widen.
Surely...it can't be?
But when I look at Sylvain, and my husband nods as if he's read my mind.
C'est impossible.
How can all of it not be real?
And I only realize I've blurted the words out when my husband holds up a small USB drive between his fingers.
"AI ran the whole thing," Sylvain murmurs. "And so everything that happened between us...stays between us."
"But your friend..."
A faint grimace crosses my husband's features. "Calixte says I should've figured it out from the start. That I should've known better than to think he'd be inclined to spend millions of dollars just to knock some sense into my head...and make me realize I'm in love with you."
I can only smile. Whoever Calixte is, I think he and I are going to get along great. But then I remember someone else who's involved—or I thought was involved—and my smile fades. "Sylvain? What about—"
"Giancarlo Marchetti?"
I nod.
"He's not our enemy. He never was. And he authorized Calixte to use his image for the test."
"And my...brother?"
My husband's jaw clenches, and I just...know.
"He's gone," I whisper. "Isn't he?"
"Je suis desolé, Liana."
My heart aches at his confirmation. Even though I know next to nothing about Viktor Biancardi...he's still my brother. And I wish I could've met him, even just once.
"I'm sorry I never got to tell you about him," Sylvain says tautly. "I promised him years ago that I'd take care of you. But I chose to stay away. I didn't think—"
I throw my arms around him, and my husband stops speaking.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I whisper. "You came at exactly the right time." And someday soon, I pray I'll be able to tell Sylvain why that is.
But for now?
"I've just realized something," I say in a small voice.
Sylvain stiffens. "What is it?"
I inch up, my lips brushing his ear, and just as my husband jerks at the contact, I tell him one of the best things of all about this.
"I'm still a virgin, monsieur."
Epilogue
BEING THE QUEEN OF the catacombs is a harder role than I ever imagined.
The underground palace pulses around me, bodies swaying to music that vibrates through limestone walls. From my perch on the mezzanine (the same spot where Sylvain fell in love at first sight, fyi, even if the silly man continues to deny this), I survey the kingdom I never wanted but have somehow come to love.
My husband sits beside me, one hand resting possessively on my thigh while he discusses something with Noel. And since all they talk about these days are boring stuff like numbers and more numbers, I simply tune them out and focus on what's happening below.
Ooh, target spotted!
I know that man. Or rather, I know what he's managed to get away with, and how many people he's hurt because of it. That watch on his wrist would be so, so easy to—
Sylvain squeezes my thigh, and when I look up, and my husband arches a brow?
Oops.
I blink at him in sham innocence. "Oui, monsieur?"
But sadly, he's not fooled at all. "Behave, ma petite."
I sigh. Busted again. I really was an idiot to think being a queen would be a lot more fun than being Paris's most successful pickpocket.