French Kiss (Decadence Nights Book 2) (21 page)

“We’re not done.”

“Yes. We are.” She moved toward the door, but without support her rubbery legs wouldn’t hold her and she lurched forward, catching herself on the back of the couch. Her hand came up to her forehead as though she could physically stop her mind from spinning. Not only was the influx of information too much to absorb, but worst of all, if it were true, it meant she didn’t know the first thing about the man she’d been married to for eighteen years.

Fingers curled around her upper arms, as he came up behind her. She stiffened at his touch and tried to pull free, but he was having none of it. One arm slipped around her waist, as inflexible as iron while he guided her to a seat. “Sit,” he ordered in an implacable tone that brooked nothing short of full compliance.

She did so because she was afraid if she didn’t she would fall at his feet. It ended up a close call as she collapsed onto the couch with a little bounce.

“It seems Derek’s operation in Houston has mysteriously continued after his death. Except, whoever took over isn’t quite as adept at covering their digital footprint as he was. We’ve been able to track the email communications, electronic funds transfers, and data sharing to one server.”

“And you think I have something to do with it? That I stepped into Derek’s spy shoes?” She couldn’t control the short burst of unamused laughter, or the touch of hysteria that tinged her voice when she continued. “That’s rich. I can barely run payroll and print invoices. Your intel is wrong, Mr. Durand.”

“I’m Arturo, Mari, that hasn’t changed. This is a shock, but we’ll get through this.”

She didn’t answer, only glared at him through narrowed eyes, not sure what he was talking about or why he cared what she called him. There was no ‘we’ anymore; they were through. He’d played her in more ways than one and now that his cover was blown, he’d catch his spies or arrest her, but either way, he’d move on, and somehow, so would she.

“Believe me when I say I don’t think you have anything to do with this, and haven’t since day one. You were used as a pawn.”

“Funny, that seems to be a trend. I must have ‘sap’ tattooed across my fucking forehead.”

“Enough. I know this is difficult, but please attempt to be civil.”

She resisted the firm command in his voice, somehow putting on a tough exterior even though she was devastated and wanted to crawl in a corner and cry away her pain. “If you don’t think it’s me, you must have other suspects, or you wouldn’t be telling me all your secrets. So, arrest the bastards and be done with it. Be done with me and leave so I can wallow in my own stupidity.”

“It isn’t stupid to love someone who is lying to you.”

The irony of that statement had her snorting at his gall.

“
Merde!”
His explosive curse was followed by a smattering of staccato French as he surged to his feet and began to pace. One of the first cracks she’d seen in his calm, secret agent demeanor. Her decimated heart lurched to life as she watched him move, first, because he was hot, as always, and second, his impassioned response gave her a glimmer of hope that he might actually care. Before she could pick apart her feelings in depth, he turned, his eyes which currently were more gold than green were blazing.

“One of the many differences between me and Derek Hoffman is that I’m trying to save your stubborn ass. Further, I can’t leave you alone, Mari, nor do I want to. But we’ll deal with that later. Right now, we need to address why we were able to track the communications back to your shop and your computer.”

“What!”

He took a steadying breath as he nodded grimly. “We have a timeline dating back to right before Derek’s death. It stopped for a while, but activity has picked up again in the last year, peaking in the last few months.”

“That’s impossible. No one has access to my work computer except me, Adri, and Derek, and he’s dead.”

Saying nothing, he stared at her, waiting.

“No. Not Adri!” What else in her life could turn to crap?

He took a seat beside her again, shooting her an impatient glance when she scooted away. In a much calmer voice, he continued, “I’m afraid Adriana is up to her neck in these dealings.”

“She’s my best friend, she wouldn’t…”

“How did you meet?”

She froze, a look of dawning clarity coming over her face. “Derek hired her to help manage my shop.”

Again, he said nothing letting her draw her own conclusion.

“No, that was years ago.”

“Years for her to dig in deep and for her lies and manipulations to take hold.”

She took a deep breath to deliver her protest, but he held up his hand and she snapped her mouth shut. “Please try to see the facts for what they are, Mari, without the emotion.”

He held up a key.

“What is that?”

“I found it in your safe.”

“You searched my business and broke into my safe? Is that legal?”

“Yes, we had the appropriate federal warrants. I found this at your house, however, after Adri couldn’t get in your home safe when she tried this past weekend, but I did. I need to know what it goes to.”

“That’s where you went.” Barely audible, her whisper was shaky as the enormity of what he was and what he had done sank in. “I was your urgent business.”

“Mari,
ma petite
, listen—”

“You’ve had me watched,” she accused in disbelief.

“Yes. I put you under surveillance, for your protection more so than anything else. And we have been watching Adri, your other employees, your house and business when you weren’t there. I’ve been doing what’s necessary to clear you name.”

“Including fucking me.”

The anger flashing in his eyes almost made her turn and run, but she stayed resolute, her back rigid like steel as she stared back at him, accusingly, her heart aching. Seconds passed and he didn’t move, except for the muscle twitching in his jaw.

Finally, when he broke the awkward silence, his voice held an odd, yet gentle tone. “You’re not hearing me right now. In the end, when you are exonerated, I hope you see I had nothing except your best interests at heart. Let’s focus on that now, shall we?” Again, he held up the key. “Do you know what this goes to?”

She extended her hand for it, palm up, bracing herself against reacting when his warm fingertips brushed her skin. After she examined it, she nodded. “This is to our safe deposit box at First Federal.”

“Get your purse. We’re going to see what was so important that Adriana, your trusted friend, practically ransacked your house to find it.”

“I think I’d like to go on my own, Mr. Durand.”

“No fucking way. And if you call me Mr. Durand one more time, I’ll really give you something to be pissed at me over. Get your purse.”

Silently fuming, she stood and swept her clutch off the floor where she’d dropped it. When, she didn’t have a clue. Struck with one bombshell after another, she wasn’t surprised.

He was waiting at the door for her when she got there and took hold of her elbow, as personal with her as he was before.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I will, and often.”

“Not likely, buster. We are so through.”

He moved in close, towering over her as he pressed her against the entryway wall. His head lowered and she could feel his warm breath on her face. The flutter in her belly that began whenever he was near was accompanied by a sudden wetness gathering between her thighs. Even when she was angry, he had this effect on her. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb firm beneath her chin to hold her where he wanted her. When she looked up at him, his determined green eyes snapped with emotion.

“We are not through, Marilee. Not by a long shot. I love you. After, when we have time to reflect, we’ll talk it all out. Until then, you are under my authority and protection. You’ll remain so while we exhaust every possible avenue to prove your innocence. That means you do what I say, when I say and I expect you to do so with respect and none of this newfound tendency for cursing. It’s not like you and isn’t becoming. Are we clear on this?”

The little stirring of hope over his “I love you” was not enough to overcome the blows of the last hour. Her mouth opened and on the tip of her tongue was a scathing response.

“Think wisely,” was his warning, his fingers tightening fractionally on her chin as he read her intention easily.

Not quite as foolish as she had been acting, she shut her mouth and looked away.

“Smart girl.” He then lowered his head to place a soft, brief kiss on her lips. “Let’s get this done.”

He released her and stepped back. When he opened the door, she swept through without revealing that her insides were a mess of quivering nervous doubt. As they stepped into the elevator, his hand at her waist, she watched the numbers overhead as they descended, his words from earlier replaying in her head. “Listen to what I have to say before you react,” he’d said. Like hell. The marble statue that stood in the fountain in the middle of the grand Four Season’s lobby would have flinched at the shocks he’d delivered.

The elevator dinged as the door slid open to the sound of trickling splashing water and creamy white steadfast marble. She laughed, unable to help it, drawing a quick glance of concern from the tall, powerful man at her side. She ignored him, content to keep the irony of her thoughts to herself. Besides, it was that kind of day.

* * *

Cool and distant, Mari treated him like a stranger on the ride to the bank. Once inside, she warmed up, but not toward him, instead flashing her smile at the young assistant manager while continuing to freeze him out. She’d been hurt, and was reconciled there was more to come when they learned the contents of the safe deposit box. So, he’d give her that play, but his patience wasn’t unlimited.

Responding to Mari’s attention, Dustin, the assistant manager, was solicitous, expressing concern for the pretty widow, at one point becoming daring enough to try to keep him out of the room. Arturo simply stared at him, silently intimidating until the younger man had swallowed, come close to pissing himself, and backed down. With Arturo sending his best dominant glare Mari’s way, she wisely decided to relent, but not before getting in another dig, telling Dustin with a warm hand on his forearm, “It’s all right. He’s big, scary, and not too bright, but he’s my security guard. A necessary evil, I’m afraid.”

When he smiled like a lovesick teen at her touch, she sent a smug glance Arturo’s way, then followed the young banker into the vault with row upon row of double lock boxes. After they both used their key, Dustin withdrew the long metal box and led them to a nearby room set aside for customers to take care of their business in private. Arturo gritted his teeth as she smiled her thanks at the dreamy eyed kid, who couldn’t be past thirty, when he pulled out her chair and set the box in front of her.

“Please, take as much time as you need,” he said as he boldly laid a hand on her shoulder. He removed it just as quickly when Arturo moved closer, clearing his throat in warning. “Uh, yes,” he stammered as he retreated. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Thank you so very much,” Mari replied sweetly, but the door had already closed behind him.

Arturo didn’t hesitate, leaning over her shoulder as he placed his hands flat on the table, effectively caging her body with his own. “I know what you’re doing,
petite
, and understand your need for a little payback. Let me advise you to stop, as my forbearance is wearing thin. If you test me further, I won’t hesitate to bend you over right here and spank your naughty ass until it’s red hot.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have the right. Not anymore.”

“I believe I made it clear at the hotel that I do,” he growled, his head dipping close to her own, his lips finding the sensitive bend where her neck met her shoulder. He nudged her collar aside and opened his mouth over her soft skin. His teeth came into play, nibbling lightly until she squirmed in her chair. Having proved his point, he lifted his head ever so slightly. “I propose an end of hostilities until we have solved this mystery.”

“Yes,” was her breathy reply. “I agree. I want answers.”

“As do I.” He straightened, gliding his hands up her arms to curl over her shoulders. In his mind, an end of hostilities in no way equated to hands off or precluded a well-planned seduction. He smiled determinedly since she couldn’t see. “Open the box,
petite
, and let’s see what other twisted shit your late husband left for us to deal with.”

With trembling fingers, she inserted the key and lifted the lid. Inside the long box was a flash drive and nothing else.

* * *

She stepped into his suite, hearing the door close and the snick of the lock behind her. Biting her tongue to keep quiet, she stuck to her plan. Don’t argue with the man, keep out of reach, see what is on the flash drive, and get out of there as fast as she could.

He brushed by while shrugging off his suit coat, draping it over the back of the couch after he did so. Her eyes followed him and the way his body moved beneath his dove gray dress shirt, the muscles flexing subtly. He was sleek and graceful, despite his size, like a big jungle cat. And just as lethal.

Dragging her gaze away, she took in the elegant suite, memories of the first night she’d spent here flooding back painfully. Heartache and bitterness warred within her as she looked at the lavish décor with new eyes. A suite at the Four Seasons, a Porsche, designer suits, and a membership at a premier and very exclusive BDSM club, none of which came cheap; the British government treated their agents well it appeared.

“Stop lurking in the doorway and come over here,” he said without looking at her, moving instead to the desk where a laptop sat open. The screen flashed with a touch of his finger and was followed by rapid tapping on the keys, he inserted the flash drive into a port on the side, then he turned his scrutiny on her.

She shrugged, feigning indifference as she stepped into the living room and began wandering around as if she didn’t have a care. He folded his arms over his chest and cocked that annoying brow, which told her she didn’t fool him. Still it was better than quaking like a timid mouse in the corner. She was trying on a new, bolder, tougher persona after deciding that the submissive act after two decades wasn’t doing a thing for her.

Stopping at the sofa table, she picked up a folded card. It offered free in-room massages.

“Once we’re done here, I can offer my personal services for that amenity.”

She snorted as she promptly set it back down. Not if he was the last sadistic dom on earth.

“We’ll see,” he said knowingly. Then he waved his hand, indicating the high-back upholstered desk chair he’d pulled out for her. “Come over here and have a seat.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“And I’d prefer you stop being so stubborn. Unless you have superior eyesight, you aren’t going to be able to see the screen from across the room.”

She twisted her mouth, hating that he was right and stomped over to him, glancing up at him for the briefest of moments before lowering herself stiffly in the chair. He leaned over her, arms bracketing either side of her, once again trapping her with his own body.

“Perhaps I need to define the meaning of truce for you,
ma soumise
.”

“Unnecessary, sir,” she replied. “And I am your submissive no longer.”

He hummed in response as he planted one palm flat on the desk, the other working the wireless mouse. This close, his scent—Ungaro III, a French cologne he’d told her when she’d asked about it last week—surrounded her. Not overpowering, and when mixed with his own clean, masculine scent, on his heated skin, it became a light, woody, spiced fragrance that reminded her of each time they’d played at the club. The moments of intense passion, delicious pain, and the tenderness that followed. And the aftercare she resisted so vehemently at first, but in the end melted into and enjoyed just as fiercely as the scene itself. She would never smell that haunting scent again and not think of him. To be safe, she vowed silently that cologne and aftershave were permanently off her gift-giving list.

A few clicks later, a password box appeared on the screen.

“Any ideas?” His question, said in a soft voice, ruffled the hair at her temple ever so slightly.

“No.” Her reply came quickly, in a dry croaking sound, but it was true. Derek took care of the bills and all of their personal business, after his death, their lawyer tripled her hourly billings just getting her access to everything. It hadn’t penetrated at the time how utterly controlling that was. If he’d had any forethought or truly cared about her if something happened, he would have made sure she knew about all of that stuff, account numbers, security questions, passwords. She frowned, more proof he was hiding things, for a very long time, and she never really knew him at all.

“Are you with me,
chérie
?” His velvety smooth voice was warm with concern, despite her outward mien of aloofness. She steeled herself against the comfort of his strength and nearness. He’d lied to her, like Derek. Okay, to a lesser degree than the selling of government secrets to terrorists, so not quite like Derek, but still...