13. Leia

Chapter 13

I watched Nicolas walk his friend across the room. Friend. They'd seemed closer than friends. His girlfriend, most likely. And that was shit. I swallowed a mouthful of whatever alcohol the bartender had provided for me and grimaced. I shouldn't have cared, but I did, and that particular truth was a bitter one.

But if Nicolas already had a girlfriend, what the hell was I doing here, being paraded around like a fucking dress-up doll and introduced to his family? And what the fuck had that been in the car on the way over?

My cheeks flamed at the memory, embarrassment stronger than desire now. How many times was I going to let Nicolas leave me to my own devices while he was off taking care of whatever business he had going on? Family business, actual business, personal business… It didn't matter. I didn't need to be there for any of that shit. It was just a power play, and I was getting damn tired of it. I slammed back another drink. I didn't even know who the bartender had set it out for. That didn't matter either—as long as it burned my throat on the way down and made my eyes water.

I watched Nicolas and his friend where they were on the other side of the room. She was perfect. The epitome of gorgeous—even with my hair and makeup and a personal stylist, I couldn't rival her. I didn't have a cute little French accent, for one thing.

Nicolas stepped closer to her, and I didn't need to see what happened next. I looked away, a sudden mess of wounded ego and hurt pride as he bent his head toward hers. I'd thought he was giving his kisses to me, but maybe I'd thought wrong.

Holy shit, of course I'd thought wrong. No one took possession of someone for a month—especially someone who'd categorically stated she wouldn't put out—and didn't seek attention elsewhere. Our arrangement didn't mean anything to him. I'd been foolish to think otherwise, even just for a moment.

Didn't mean I had to watch, though.

I slammed my glass down on the bar hard enough to rattle the other glasses sitting nearby before I surveyed the room. I'd never been to a party like this one, where the guests were refined and genteel, where laughter tinkled rather than boomed rowdily, and where the music was twiddly notes on a piano or violin rather than pounding from a jukebox or someone's cell phone and speakers.

My dress was something else, too. I'd never been this dressed up. I wasn't like the women Nicolas was obviously used to. This was a big deal to me—I looked like something out of a fairytale. And I was here in this wannabe-castle with a whole group of people I had nothing in common with, but I could definitely still walk around the room and enjoy myself. I'd never get this opportunity again.

I started moving slowly, almost creeping around the edge of the room like I was afraid to be there, like I shouldn't have been there, but then I gave myself a shake. Hell yes, I deserved to be there. I'd fucking been claimed to be here as part of a gambling debt. If Nicolas didn't want me to mingle, he shouldn't have brought me. I didn't need to sneak around in the shadows.

A warning about shadows lurked in my mind, but as quickly as I thought it, it was gone.

I lifted my chin, avoiding eye contact with every crazy in this room who seemed determined to look at me—I certainly got more attention from the party guests than I got from Nicolas, which was both interesting and even more of an ego crusher.

But I was more than happy to show him how little I needed his brand of attention, where anything else going on seemed to be more interesting than spending time with me.

"Hello."

I looked around at the first person who'd dared speak to me. Up until now, I'd only been watched, like I was the mouse in a room full of hungry cats all content to bide their time. The man looked vaguely like Nicolas in the same way Jason did, all broad shoulders and self-confidence, but he smiled more easily, a huge grin already on his face as he looked at me.

"I'm Sebastian Dupont." He held his hand out, but when I put mine in it, he drew my fingers to his lips instead of the greeting I expected. His mouth brushed my knuckles, and my skin flushed with heat. "I'm Nicolas's younger, far more desirable brother." He dropped his voice conspiratorially and winked.

I giggled, startled and surprised at his bold flirting after Nicolas's hot-or-cold attitude. "Pleased to meet you," I murmured, not quite holding his gaze.

"And it's truly a great pleasure to meet you," he replied, and his broad chest swelled as he inhaled deeply. "Nic appears to be otherwise engaged."

He made a vague gesture of his hand in the direction of where Nicolas had taken his friend, and I fought the sudden surge of rejection that gripped my chest.

I hadn't been rejected. I'd been brought as arm candy only, and he could talk to anyone he wanted. Even if I seemed to be the arm candy Nicolas sometimes wanted to fuck. I ignored the little voice in my head that pointed out that arm candy actually belonged on someone's arm, so maybe I wasn't even that, and returned my attention to Sebastian and his apparently permanent grin.

"Can I step in for my shockingly inattentive brother and offer you a tour of the house?" He held his arm out for me to take. Oh yes. This brother seemed to know about arm candy, too.

I hesitated, but only for a moment before I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, the same way I'd allowed Nicolas to escort me into the house. And I ignored the cramp in my stomach. I'd wanted Nicolas to show me the house, really, but that was stupid. He didn't need to include me in his life, and I was really only being nosy. Anyone could show me around. Perhaps I'd even pick up some tips for the eventual refurbishment of my own home—something that would have made Mom proud.

"Thank you." My voice was still low, and when I chanced a glance at him, he was gazing down at me with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

Then he blinked and it was gone, so maybe I'd only been projecting what I actually wanted to see on Nicolas—which was definitely an idea I needed to get out of my head, or this would be an even harder month than I'd originally anticipated.

Sebastian and I walked around the edge of the room, almost sticking to the same shadows I'd stepped between originally. I glanced around, searching for Nicolas, but I didn't see him. He was probably still talking to his friend. I pushed away the tendrils of jealousy that teased me, and clutched Sebastian's arm a little tighter, not drawing away when he covered my hand with his own, his movement nothing but proprietorial.

As I continued to look idly between the faces of the party guests, content for Sebastian to steer us in whatever direction he chose, I caught the gaze of Nicolas's uncle, and his features eased into a frown, a small line forming between his brows as he glanced at his nephew by my side.

I looked away. He didn't get to frown at the nephew showing me around when the nephew who'd brought me here apparently hadn't received good enough tuition on date night etiquette.

We walked out of the ballroom into a wide hallway not dissimilar to the one in Nicolas's home. Everything was hardwood or veined marble and reeked of class and culture.

"This is the salon." Sebastian indicated a double doorway to my left, and I glanced inside, taking in a slice of vintage French culture.

Huge, heavy velvet drapes hung ceiling to floor at numerous windows, and there were several small seating areas creating intimate spaces in the massive room. A grand piano took up deceptively little space in one corner, and there were candelabras on console tables and vases of brightly colored fresh flowers on other surfaces.

"It's beautiful." A little fussy and old-world for my tastes, maybe, but I could definitely appreciate the old money present here.

"A little old fashioned, perhaps." Sebastian spoke as if he'd read my mind and chuckled. "But if you like this style, there's definitely a room I want to show you."

He steered me toward a staircase, even grander and with more of a sweep than Nicolas's—and it made mine look like nothing more than a rickety ladder someone had propped against a wall. When we reached the foot of the stairs, I stopped.

"Where are we going?" I still had enough self-preservation not to be led to a strange man's bedroom.

He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. "Where would you like to go?"

As I hesitated further, he relaxed into a friendly grin.

"There's a sort of private gallery upstairs. Almost a museum." He shrugged. "I just thought it might interest you, that's all." A disappointed light entered his eyes. "We can go and check if Nic has finished reuniting with Aurelia instead, if you prefer?"

"No, I don't prefer." I tightened my hold on Sebastian and stepped onto the first tread. "I don't see any point in interrupting Nicolas and his friend."

And that much was true. Plus, the idea of facing the two of them, of potentially inserting myself where I really wasn't wanted, made my stomach lurch.

"If it's any consolation at all, I think Nic is crazy to let you wander around the party alone. I wouldn't let you leave my side if I'd brought you." Sebastian's voice was low, perhaps a little too close to my ear, but a frisson of pleasure skipped through me at the idea someone saw worth in me where Nicolas clearly didn't. Sebastian walked across a wide corridor toward a darkened room, and tugged me playfully toward him before flipping on the light. "I promise you're still within screaming distance of the party."

I relaxed at his teasing words. I was here as Nicolas's guest, this was his brother, their uncle had seen us leave the ballroom. It wasn't as if I'd been taken to the second location by a serial killer.

"Ta-da!" Sebastian flung his arm out with a flourish as we entered a room lined with shelves and filled with glass display cases. "The gallery," he added unnecessarily, and I smiled.

"Really?"

He chuckled. "Really, truly."

I let go of his arm as I wandered farther into the room, my attention caught by thick pottery urns that were cracked into several pieces. The designs were basic and faded.

"These look very old." My fingers hovered above the case, but I didn't even touch the glass.

"There's jewelry, too." Sebastian led me to another case filled with beaded necklaces and bracelets and intricately woven collars, peppered with much smaller beads.

"Wow. How did all of these things get to be here?" They honestly looked as though they belonged in a real museum.

Sebastian's lips quirked. "Father was quite a collector. He was a connoisseur, an antique expert… And also, I guess he was just a packrat. Once he owned something, he couldn't bear to part with it."

Private collectors were a thing, and they definitely seemed to like to hoard rather than let everyone enjoy things in a public gallery, so it didn't seem so unreasonable to think Nicolas and Sebastian's father might have been one of those people.

However everything had arrived here, he was either very wealthy or had criminal connections. Probably both. A shiver rippled through me at that last thought. Maybe there was something wrong with this whole family.

This room certainly lent credence to the idea that I should find out what Nicolas was hiding, and after his continued mixed signals, it was in my best interest to not let this full month play out.

Except…except something in me wanted to stay. Like something was tugging me to stay… Or making it harder for me to want to leave, overriding all of my common sense. Shit. I'd miss him. Would he miss me after the month was over?

Horror expanded in my chest—I wanted to mean something to Nicolas, and that was stupid, so escape by any means was my only option before my ridiculous crush became a problem.

Because I did. I had a crush. And I couldn't let it continue. So I'd find out what I needed to know and pray it was enough to end the contract.

But I didn't ask Sebastian any more questions in case I received answers I didn't want to hear. He'd been right. We were still close enough to the ballroom that I could hear strains of music, and I relaxed a little as he beckoned me deeper into the room.

"Come and see this." He stood in front of a display case that was lit from within.

It held a silver comb that some aristocratic lady of Europe must have taken great delight in weaving into a fancy hairstyle. The comb shone under the lights, but it was so old that several of the teeth were missing.

"There's quite a legend attached to this piece," Sebastian said, watching me carefully as he spoke. "You believe in fairytales?" But his gaze remained serious, considering, waiting for my reply like it was important. "Want to hear one?"

I nodded, although there didn't seem to be too much anyone could say about such a fragile looking antique. It was probably an old family piece.

"Well… Once upon a time…" His lips quirked again, that expression of his now a familiar one, but his gaze remained serious.

I let myself lean forward a little, studying the comb as he talked.

"This is a very old hair decoration. You'll notice the inscription along the top." Sebastian brushed his fingers over the case, directly above the accessory, directing my attention to the piece. "La beauté est eternelle. It means beauty is eternal, and family legend says the comb was once enchanted by a witch to allow whoever wears it to remain beautiful regardless of their age." His voice lowered, taking on a seductive note. "Queens have killed for the chance to possess and wear this comb."

"Killed people?" I laughed lightly. "Good thing it's only a story."

His breath fanned across my neck, and I froze. He hadn't been this close to me when he started talking, and I hadn't heard him move. When he breathed again, the sound almost a low groan, a memory stirred, a sense of déjà-vu. Not like I'd been here with Sebastian before but that someone else—someone truly unwanted—had breathed against my neck.

I cleared my throat and straightened, attempting to step aside with purpose and dignity, even as my mind flashed through the possibilities. Could I still hear the music from the ballroom? Which route around the display cases and fragile items would take me to the door quickest?

But I didn't get a chance to even finish my thought or form a plan. As if he'd sensed my thoughts, Sebastian grasped my wrist and spun me to face him then backed me against the wall, his movements so fast, everything blurred. I struggled against him, but he took both of my wrists into his hand, his grasp bruisingly tight as my bones ground together. He leaned against me, aligning our bodies so there were no gaps between us as he dropped his head to the base of my throat.

"You smell amazing," he ground out as he rolled his hips against me. "How does Nic stand it? I was going to be nice, you know?" His tone became almost pleading. "Let him have you. But I don't know if I can." He clutched me tighter.

When I froze—everything inside me still, so much that I didn't even draw breath—Sebastian moved back far enough to meet my eyes.

His gaze glittered with menace and his mouth suddenly looked way too full. "I think you might be too good to pass up."

His voice was thick as he lowered his head toward my neck again, and I inhaled a deep breath because I needed to scream.

I had to scream, to do something. I couldn't just freeze.

"Let her go." Nicolas. His voice boomed across the museum room. "Step away, Sebastian."

Sebastian, still bent over my neck, sighed. "Oh, Nicolas. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time." But he shuffled backward, away from me, watching me the whole time, although I refused to meet his gaze. "You really need to pay more attention, though, Nic. And maybe I should act faster in future."

I looked at Nicolas, still so aware that Sebastian was much closer to me than I wanted, and Nicolas held out an arm toward me.

"Miss Boucher." He didn't smile. His expression didn't change at all, and I planned to walk toward him, dignity intact, head held high.

But I didn't. The moment I registered my name on his lips, I ran to him like I'd escaped the gates of hell, and I crashed against his body, shaking as he wrapped an arm around me to hold me closer to him.

For a moment, we just stood while I waited for my heartbeat to slow and my breathing to return to normal. Nicolas didn't do anything but remain slow and steady, firm and immovable for me to rest against, a protective arm around my back.

From somewhere behind me, Sebastian groaned quietly. "And the rear view is delectable, too."

Nicolas stiffened, each of his muscles tensing, and I glanced up at him.

"May we leave?" I was no longer in the mood for a party. I couldn't relax if I was trying to avoid Sebastian, and I felt weak and stupid.

Somewhere in the past few days, I'd lost myself. Where was the kickass bar owner from Baton Rouge who took shit from no one? But I didn't have too much time to ponder that before Nicolas nodded.

"Yes." He grated out the words. "We're leaving."