Chapter Seven

C l earing the sleep from my eyes, I stretch out in bed, my latest dream coming back to me in flickered images before it plays out for me. They say dreams are a way for your subconscious to process things you attempt to avoid in waking hours. After years of recalling them, this I wholeheartedly believe. Last night I dreamed of the sun, but it was close, so close I could reach out and touch it. But the heat wasn't scorching. It was a welcoming warmth. It wasn't far, just a few steps out of reach. And then the clouds moved in seconds before bursting. I could feel the cool spray on my face just before a rainbow appeared in the distance. A few more steps and I could have reached them.

In a blink, it was gone, and I lay alone in the clearing, looking up at a lifeless sky. It was then my mother called out to me on the wind, to come home, but I ignored her pleas, searching for my missing sun.

A tear threatens as I toss the covers away.

Opening the French doors to my balcony, the morning greets me, a whisper of wind whipping through my hair as I welcome the new summer day. If there's one thing I'll miss about living in Roman's mansion, it's the view.

It's the swish of water below that draws my attention to the pool. Powerful masculine arms wade through the water, causing a small, but strong tide in his wake. I hadn't noticed it before when he'd rolled up his sleeves, but the answer is clear as to why the markings weren't there now as I take in the deeply etched raven's wings inked along his shoulder blades, confirming his place in the royal lineup. I wish so much that I could rip them away, or somehow disfigure them. He's not worthy of having two brothers, blood-related or not, who are solely devoted to him.

And the added insult is that he's magnificent; rippling muscle and smooth skin as he glides through the water fluidly, his muscular legs propelling him across the pool. I take a minute to admire him as he turns to do another lap, his back coiling while the water cascades down his athletic frame.

Powerful, formidable, intimidating. He's a heartless, soulless predator.

And now he's invading, intertwining our lives just to prove his point that, temporarily, he owns me.

One of three phones rings where it sits on a waiting towel at the edge of the pool. I recognize two of them as the same model of the burner phones Sean used. I hear a faint "Oui?" before I make my way down to him.

By the time I get poolside, Tobias is furiously barking orders and cursing in a mix of English and French. I tentatively listen as he speaks with his back to me and can't make out much aside from the fact he's angry. His foreign tongue fluid, thick, sexy, enticing. His back goes ramrod straight before he turns to see me standing there, shamelessly eavesdropping. Snapping one last order, he cuts the call, discarding the phone next to the others before stretching his arms out on the side of the pool.

"Sounded serious."

"And what is it you think you heard?"

"Le pleck, le spit"—I upturn my nose and school my features in my best imitation of a French snob—"le plah, le bark, more spit, and merde."

We glare at each other for a second before he throws his head back and laughs. I completely ignore my urge to smile at the sound of it, instead crossing my arms and cocking my hip. "I'm not fluent. Yet . But watch your back, Frenchman."

His laughter slows and he shakes his head, a chuckle sounding just before his eyes roam me in amusement.

"So, what crises are you fighting today?"

"Don't concern yourself."

"I'm not concerned, but I am curious as to why you're here, again. Do you not have a home?"

"Plenty of them."

"Then why take up residence here?"

"Just taking advantage of my position. You should as well. The water is warm." He eyes me in my boy shorts and a cami.

"I'll pass. Seriously, can't you take your problem solving somewhere else?"

"There are two types of ways to handle problems," he starts, and I roll my eyes dismissively.

"Great, another lecture."

"And two types of people," he goes on, completely unfazed. "There's the one who will walk past that offending piece of lint or paper on the floor every single day and tell themselves they'll get to it. And those who will pick it up the minute they spot it. They'll figure out where it came from, trash it, and forget it was ever there. But, for the ones who walk by it every day, it will become a problem. It will start to fester. Another something they'll have to get to. Another pea on their plate. They'll start to look for it, its presence a nuisance, and tell themselves they'll get to it tomorrow. Until one day, it's more of a crisis of conscience than a pea."

"Let me guess. You don't have any peas on your plate."

One side of his mouth lifts in contempt before he speaks through thick lips. "I fucking hate peas."

"It's a piece of lint."

"Only to the person who picked it up."

"Confucius says ‘pick up lint.' Got it, any more wisdom you'd like to impart before you depart ? Can I count on your sudden and unwanted appearance every day now as well?"

"You can count on me being where I need to be until our business is concluded."

"Whatever. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do than let you dip your finger in my head and stir."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss what I'm offering, Cecelia. We could learn from each other."

"You mean you can poke and prod me for more intel on my dad? Yeah, I'll pass."

"I know plenty, but the devil is in the details. Know your opponent."

"I'm not interested in learning more about you."

"The look in your eyes declares otherwise."

He doesn't smirk, not a hint of smugness in his tone, leaving no room for debate. Maybe he can sense my attraction just as easily as I can detect his. Just another reason he's the bane of my existence.

"You're a beautiful man, Tobias. I don't deny it. I'm sure you've used it to your advantage, and often."

He propels himself toward where I stand on the opposite side of the pool, his arms cutting through the water with ease as he zeroes in on me. Lust coats me from head to foot, but I don't make a move, nor do I bristle when he lifts himself from the pool, water flowing down his muscled skin as he towers above me, purposely invading my space. Seconds tick past as he sheds water, dampening me in more ways than one while my nipples draw tight. He misses nothing, his eyes dipping to my chest before they slowly lift back up to me.

"You want what I'm offering. You're just too stubborn to ask. It's on the tip of your tongue, so ask."

"I want nothing but your absence."

He draws closer, cold droplets of water pelting my chest and legs.

"You want my trust. That is something that I can't give you."

"From you, I want nothing," I turn on my heel and he grips my wrist to stop me.

I glare up at him as he blinks down at me while soaking my tank and shorts.

"I can't trust you. That's the miracle you seek. But it's far too expensive, and you can't afford it. But we can learn from each other."

"And what exactly is it that you think you can teach me?" I lift my hands and slide them along his shoulders and down his body, raking my fingernails over his damp skin, satisfied when I see him tense before I slowly lift my eyes to his. He grips my hands and squeezes them before releasing them.

"Like I said, we can learn from each other."

I scoff. "And what exactly is it that you think you can learn from a pea?"

There's a distinct shift in his gaze that has me hesitating before I dismiss it. This is just another head game I'm not willing to indulge him in. "You can't afford me either, Tobias. You're incapable of obtaining my kind of currency."

Tension coils in my belly as our breaths mingle.

"You have questions. Ask me, Cecelia."

I avert my gaze ignoring the surge in my veins. One second passes and then another as he leans in on a whisper.

"My proposal has nothing to do with the look in your eyes, but if I touched you, right now," he drawls out thickly, "the way you want me to right now , you wouldn't refuse me."

"Your game is becoming predictable."

"Yeah?" he whispers, "Maybe I'll up it." He leans in, his warm breath heating the cool drop of water at my nape. "Ask me, Cecelia."

I turn my head to keep him from reading me further.

"Have it your way."

The phone rings on the other side of the pool and we both glance in its direction before he turns back to me.

Shoulders tense, he steps out of reach and heads toward his phone as I head for the house. He's already snapping into his phone by the time I make it to the door. I don't have to look back to know his eyes are on me. I can feel the blaze from feet away.