Chapter 26

The biting wind lashes my face as I throw open the doors of BSUA and step into the dingy shelter, a trail of dead brown leaves following me inside and littering the wet floors.

A pipe burst a block away, sending grimy, malodorous water down the streets. The driver had to make a few maneuvers around the block to find a place to drop me off.

“I’m so sorry for being late!” I wheeze at my girlfriends and Cole, who are gathered in the lobby and have already started wiping down the shelter during the BSUA’s quarterly volunteering day.

Because asshole Bob is too lazy to hire a proper cleaning crew to keep BSUA up to code.

One day, he’ll get one too many violations and then where will these poor animals go?

“No worries. We’ve been getting to know Cole over here.” Millie giggles as she ties her dark brown hair into a messy bun. “Do you know he and Tay both like carrot cake and horror films?”

Grace grins and nods. “They also both love ballet and prefer the mountains over the beach.”

“Right. Cole thinks Tay’s piercings are fascinating .”

“Totally, Millie! I forgot he said that!” Grace squeals, a devious glint in her dark blue eyes that frequently appears violet under certain lighting.

Cole snorts as he mops the puddles on the floor, no doubt from the busted pipe. He shakes his head, clearly amused at the girls’ antics .

Taylor rolls her eyes and sighs. “You guys need to stop trying to match make me with any available men you see just because you guys found your happily-ever-afters.”

She throws her dirty rag over her shoulder, clearly not caring about ruining her gray oversized sweater. “I don’t need men in my life. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Sneaking a glance at Cole, she shrugs. “Sorry, dude. No offense to you, but I hate blonds.”

Millie and Grace let out a collective sigh, clearly crestfallen at their failure at matchmaking our remaining single friend in our girl group.

Cole snickers. “None taken.”

Taylor turns around, her face twisted in a dark scowl, and mutters under her breath, “Plus, one fucking annoying blond asshole is more than enough.”

Grace and I exchange a glance, and I cock a brow. Taylor’s hatred of Charles Vaughn is very obvious. He’s well-mannered, mature, and gets along with everyone, but for some unknown reason, he and Taylor have been oil and water ever since they met.

After putting my purse and coat inside a dingy metal locker in the back room, I rejoin my friends as we wipe down empty cages on the side of the shelter not currently occupied by animals. The acrid smell of dirty water mixing with cleaning agents is enough to make my stomach turn.

“So, how’s life going, Mrs. Anderson…or should we call you, Your Majesty, since you’ve conquered the frigid king?” Grace nudges me and I feel a heat blooming on my face.

“You can call her Your Grace too. She’s technically a duchess now.” Millie cackles and the two give each other a high five.

“Hold on a sec,” Grace muses. “No, not yet! Linus is still alive—technically, he’s the duke and Maxwell is a marquess.”

“Oooh, marchioness? So, what do we call her, my lady?”

“Beats me—I learn all my stuff from Regency romances and BBC shows.”

The girls guffaw and Grace laughs so hard she wheezes like a banshee.

“Har. Har. Har. You two are stand-up comedians now, aren’t you?” I mutter.

Cole sidles up next to me and helps me move a table so I can reach the far back of the space.

“But seriously, how are things going with you and Maxwell? With all your gala planning and work, we haven’t hung out recently. Is he treating you well?”

“You’re going to let me stuff you with my cock and fill you with cum, aren’t you?”

My heart palpitates at the memory of his words in the shower three weeks ago. How he used my body for his pleasure. How he manhandled me to succumb to his will.

How much it hurt after the lust faded when I realized he didn’t kiss me or caress me and how impersonal it all felt—like he was holding a big part of himself back.

Since then, he’d come to my room once a week, usually late at night, sometimes after I’d drifted off to sleep. He’d be coiled with energy and tethered power, the intensity radiating off from his imposing frame in spades.

He’d rouse me from my sleep with his hands on my ass or back me against the wall if I was awake. Then his talented fingers would find their way between my legs as he pinned me in place and surrounded me with his strength. He’d play my clit like it was an instrument he had mastered, getting me off in a matter of minutes.

Then he’d turn me face down, slide his thick cock inside me, and rut against me until he came, all the while whispering dirty and degrading words about breeding and getting me pregnant that felt like a love language.

He’d never look me in the eye.

We’d still have our clothes on the entire time.

And he still wouldn’t kiss me .

It hurt more than I cared to admit as I laid in bed afterward, reminding myself to lie on my back, as if that’d help my DOR situation and getting pregnant.

Despite how impersonal the sex feels, I can’t stop my body from coming alive near him, from wanting him, from craving him and the pleasure he gives.

I can feel the connection between us, even if he tries his best to deny it.

“God, look at that blush on her face. Revolting,” Taylor mutters, but her lips are twisted in a small smile. Cole stiffens next to me and throws me a glare.

Guilt pinches me from the hurt and unsettling anger on his face. But what can I do? I’m not in charge of what comes out of my girlfriends’ mouths.

Fanning my face, I let out a half-hearted chuckle. “You girls, it’s not like that.”

“You just got redder!” Millie squeals.

Cole whips his towel on the cage, the loud sound startling me, and abruptly stands up.

I furrow my brows and he returns my gaze with a glower, his nostrils flaring.

“Excuse me, ladies.” He strides out of the space.

“What’s going on with him?” Millie asks, her brows pinched.

Groaning, I bury my face into my palms. I’ve never told them I suspect Cole has a thing for me, so they’ve always assumed he’s just a friend from the shelter.

What a mess.

“So, are things really going okay between you and Maxwell?” she asks softly, sincerity brimming in her voice.

“It’s complicated.”

He has a wall around his heart that’s more fortified than Fort Knox. Intimidating. Impenetrable. But I know there’s a heart of gold behind those stormy moods and fiery gazes .

“You know, Ryland was complicated too. I think as Andersons, they had a lot of pressure growing up. The world was watching their every move, waiting for them to make a mistake.”

She pulls me up from the floor after I finish wiping down the scuff marks and helps me put the table back in place. “They also went through a lot of traumas when their mom died and with the curse and everything.”

Millie gives me a sad smile, like she knows exactly what I’m going through. “We may think the curse is baloney, but they’ve been raised to believe it…for generations. It’ll take time to get through to him, Belle. That is, if you want to.”

My eyes burn and my nose twitches.

I do. I very much want to. I want the gentleman from the races, the blistering kisses we’ve shared before, the late night pastrami and rye.

“Aww, sweetheart.” She pulls me into a hug as an errant tear slips out and I curse myself for crying over the infuriating man who gives me emotional whiplash and makes me feel far too much.

“My offer to kick his ass still stands,” Taylor mutters, tossing her towel on the ground and patting my back.

“We’re here for you whenever you need us. There’s always a guest room for you at Steven’s and my place if you want to take a break,” Grace murmurs.

Swiping my arm over my tears, I dole out a watery smile. “I-I’m fine, really. It’s just…trying for a baby with a man who makes me feel everything is so hard. Harder than I expected.” I swallow and heave out a ragged sigh. “But I knew what I was getting into. He’s keeping his boundaries, and I just need to work on mine.”

“You don’t need to continue the arrangement, Belle. If you need money, I can lend you some, no strings attached. I can also ask my brother to help too—I think I can persuade Emily to invest in McKenzie Atelier. We can fund your fertility treatments and everything,” Millie offers, referring to her billionaire brother, Adrian Scott’s wife, Emily Kingsley, who is a powerhouse businesswoman and a fashionista on top of that.

I shake my head. I don’t want to muddle our friendship with financial matters. Things rarely end well in those situations. And I meant what I told Maxwell in our first meeting at The Menagerie. My parents would’ve arranged a marriage for me to another man if I didn’t marry him.

And even after everything, I still rather it be him.

The man who has given me unforgettable adventures, who has decorated my room in atrovirens and Frida Kahlos. The man who looks at me with reverence in the gallery, the man I catch sneaking Silas treats despite grumbling about the dog ruining everything.

The man who makes my heart flutter in his presence.

Deep down, I wonder if I’m in way over my head. If my traitorous heart can separate matters of the flesh and love.

“I have it handled, girls. Don’t worry about me. Plus, my baby will have good genes. Those Andersons are smart and hot.” I wink, hoping I sound believable and clear my throat. “Anyway, I’m going to run to the basement to grab some dog food for the kennels. They were running low when I checked earlier. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for their response, I walk past the girls, eager to escape the topic and the turmoil of feelings it elicits inside me.

The swirling thoughts accompany me as I reach the narrow stairs, dimly lit by a flickering florescent light. A fresh wave of dizziness hits me, very similar to how I felt when I saw Duke Silas’s portrait in the gallery, and I grip the railing for support while the spell passes.

I’ve been feeling out of sorts these days. I don’t know if it’s the stress of the situation or a lingering illness I can’t shake. If this keeps up, I’ll need to call my doctor.

After a few seconds, I feel much better and continue down the stairs.

A cloying stench reaches my nostrils and I notice the floors are wet with bits of dead leaves and black sludge sticking to the cement steps .

Darn it, the flood must’ve made its way here too. I hope the food stocked in the basement is still good. If not, I’ll need to make use of Maxwell’s resources to replenish the supply because Lord knows I can’t count on Bob to do that for the poor animals.

My attentions are so temporarily distracted by my thoughts that I don’t notice anything unusual until the door suddenly creaks open behind me.

“Who’s there—ahhh!” I scream as a solid mass knocks into my back and I lose momentum, my boots landing on the wet steps, only to slip and slide.

Everything happens in a blur and I tumble down the stairs, the impact wrenching the air out of my lungs as my body hits the cement.

A blistering pain explodes in my head, my vision darkening at the edges.

Everything hurts.

My ears ring and I taste a bitter, metallic liquid on my tongue.

So much pain.

I see a faint, tall shadow approaching me.

“H-Help me,” I whimper. “P-Please.”

My breathing feels labored. My vision is dizzy and my eyes are heavy.

“Stay away from him,” a ghoulish voice rasps in my ear. “Stay away.”

I succumb to the darkness.