Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark) (36 page)

All while keeping something from me. The comment from Frederick, the tension echoing in Q’s limbs. No wonder he’d been cagey whenever I tried to watch TV or go online. He’d hidden all the news from me. He also downplayed just how dangerous it was to have people know the truth.

Foreboding sat like a heavy smudge on my heart.

This is too much!
All of it. I needed to know the truth. How much jeopardy was he truly in?
He needs to stop being so damn blasé.

“Can you be serious for one second?” I hadn’t been cross with him before but his smug grin really flipping annoyed me.

He laughed, throwing his head back, elongating his perfect neck. My mouth went drier than a desert.

Holy hell, how was I supposed to concentrate when everything about him exuded raw sex?

His gaze locked on mine. “What seems to be the problem?” Reeling off on his fingers, he said, “It can’t be the fact you’ll never go hungry, or cold, or homeless. It can’t be the fact you’ll always be safe and be able to afford the best protection and healthcare. And it certainly can’t be the fact that you can use that money to help others.” Rolling his eyes, he smirked again. “God, you’re acting like I made you sign a death sentence and not a life
improving
sentence.”

Swivelling in my chair, holding onto the cushioned arm rest as the plane banked suddenly, I said, “You don’t get it. You’re giving away half of the money that’s rightfully yours, and you’re treating it like it’s nothing.”

And hiding your safety from me.

His eyes flashed, losing his mirth, trading it for his well-known aggression.
“Ça y est tu peux passer au dessus.”
It is. Get over it.

“No. Not until I’ve processed it. Don’t you understand I’d won the lottery by finding you? That all my wishes were granted when you fell in love with me?  How can I justify being a billionaire in monetary worth, when I’m already
beyond
wealthy by having you?” My eyes burned as tears puddled from nowhere. Damn, I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to appear weak. I didn’t know how to formulate my real concerns because I didn’t even understand them myself.

My real fear stemmed from Frederick’s veiled comment.

“They’ve saved your business but taken—”
Taken what? How soon? I couldn’t stomach the thought of Q being hurt.

Q frowned; he lost the edge of anger, confusion filling his gaze. “Tess—it’s because of those reasons why I gave you the money. I’ve never trusted anyone to use my wealth in the same way I do. I never had the urge to share that responsibility. It’s
because
you love me that you’re perfect to accept the weight of the Mercer fortune.”

I looked out the window again, swallowing the lump that had the audacity to choke.
I’m afraid I’m not worthy of all of this. I’m afraid life will expect me to pay another toll, and I’m terrified I won’t be able to afford it.

Q pulled his legs toward him, stretching to wrap a fist in my hair.

My heart flurried as he gently but firmly tilted my head to face him. “What’s this really about,
esclave
?” His eyes searched mine, and I knew he’d never understand.  I’d agreed to marry him. By that alone, I would’ve spent my life surrounded by wealth because I would spend it surrounded by Q. It made no difference.

But my real terror was the prick of instincts honing in on things Q kept hidden.

Oxygen caught in my lungs. I’d been planning a lifetime together, so why did I suddenly have the horrible notion Q planned for much less?

Q’s face was cast with shadows as the plane pierced clouds, blocking out the view of the disappearing French countryside. “
Peu importe ce qu’il y a tu peux me le dire
.” Whatever it is, you can tell me.

I shook my head, swallowing my tumultuous concerns. He didn’t need to know I guessed something was amiss—not until I had concrete evidence and could demand an answer.

Resting my palm on his warm thigh, I said, “It’s fine.
I’ll
be fine. Thank you. Thank you for trusting me with everything that you are.”
And stupidly planning for things I won’t let come to pass.

Q’s jaw clenched and for a moment I worried he wouldn’t let me hide the truth, but then his hand dropped from my hair, brushing against the ‘Q’ branded into my neck. The skin was no longer painfully sensitive; I shivered at the soft caress.

“You still don’t get it.” He shook his head, eyes alive with vitality and connection. Bowing his head, he brushed his lips against mine. “You may have become richer in bank balance—but Tess…you made me richer in my heart. And that’s fucking priceless.”

My body gave way from substance to molten, and I arched my chin to kiss him. I wanted to shed my skin and fly. I wanted to free my soul, so Q could see just how much I loved him. My note wasn’t enough to describe how much he’d changed my life. He was more than healing acid—he was my blood. We shared the same heartbeat and if he died I had no doubt my life would cease, too.

Q’s eyes drifted closed. His tongue licked my lips, changing the kiss from sweet to sultry. He gathered me in his arms, bruising my spine with his fierce embrace. His taste drugged me. All I wanted was to be naked and beneath him.

Safe. I wanted to be safe.

Breaking the kiss, I whispered, “Where are you taking me this time?”

Q laughed softly. “Always so inquisitive.” Kissing the tip of my nose, he murmured, “I’m taking you on that date,
esclave
. Our very first one, and I expect to get to second base.”

I moaned as his hand cupped my breast, rubbing his thumb over my nipple. “You’re already at second base.” My breath was as soft as the wispy clouds outside.

His mouth trailed along my jaw and down my neck, licking exquisitely softly. “So I am.” His touched turned firm, massaging my breast, unfurling desire in my core. “Stop being so damn easy to seduce.” Teeth replaced his tongue, turning soft to sharp.

“I can’t help it. I’m completely helpless against the man I’m going to marry.”

His arms banded tighter; a low growl bubbled from his chest. “Fuck, I love hearing you say that. Say it again.”

I smiled, shivering in his arms. “The man I’m going to marry.”

“And after we’re married, how will you address me?” His lips trailed fire over my collarbone.

“You’ll be my husband. My
maître
husband.”

He bit me, his large body trembling. “I like the sound of that.”

My insecurities broke my self-control. “And you’ll be mine forever, Q. Won’t you?”

He pulled back, scowling. “A marriage
is
forever,
esclave
.”

I nodded, forcing my eyes not to show my true concern.

A marriage maybe forever, but a human body was not. And Q seemed to think he was immortal.

But I knew the difference. I’d hurt him. I’d scarred him.

The invincible master bled…he could be killed.

Rome.

A honeymooner’s dream. Or, in our case, a crescent moon.

My mouth fell open as Franco opened the car door, granting me his large hand to climb out of the vehicle. Someone needed to slap me. I’d left reality and stumbled straight into the pages of my own fairy-tale.

The hotel soared upward as well as outward. I couldn’t see where it ended or begun—arched windows with Juliette balconies stood like perfect soldiers in a battalion of architecture. Pillars and porticos with dark brick, alabaster marble, and a red carpet leading to a lobby accepted me like royalty. And through the green-tinted glass of the entrance, the largest tiered chandelier I’d ever seen screamed fortune. The hanging crystals looked like an upside down wedding cake—if such a cake existed with fifty layers and thousands of jewels, all hanging from a colossal ceiling with Pegasus, Hercules, and Zeus immortalized by the finest painting imaginable.

Zeus’s lightning bolts struck guests milling below, while cupid and his fellow cherubs shot heart-arrows like rain.

A party of three ladies entered the lobby, ignoring me on the curb gawking like an idiot. Each woman had a model-perfect Italian man trailing after her—their arms full of Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Prada bags.

Franco’s finger pressed beneath my chin, snapping my jaw into place. “Showing your tonsils to the clientele isn’t the best first impression.”

I shook myself, waking up from the stupor of obscene wealth. I pointed at the ceiling where the lights spilled onto the night-shrouded sidewalk making me feel like an imposter for ever thinking I could stay there. “Look at it. It’s breath-stealingly beautiful.”

“No, that’s you. This is just a cleverly designed hotel meant to lure men like me to spend exorbitant amounts of money.” Q brushed against my shoulder, glowering at Franco for touching me.

A look flashed between them, adding to the smudge on my heart, stealing some of my wonder-filled joy.

Franco’s eyes were flat and distrustful of everyone in every direction.

Pretending to be oblivious of the building tension, I said, “That may be so, but…Q. This isn’t even our honeymoon, and you’re spoiling me rotten. How will you top this when we finally get married?” Another question formed on my tongue, but I swallowed it back.
Exactly how soon will that be?
After Q’s rush to get me hitched, he’d gone ominously silent on the subject.

Q looked over my head at Franco. “Check us in. You know what to do. We’ll head straight up.” With a quick scan of the street, Q grabbed my hand, dragging me from night-time to glowing lobby and toward a private elevator at the rear.

A man in a tailored tuxedo bowed as we pushed the up button and waited beside a flower arrangement that looked like a living fountain of orchids, lilies, and ferns.

“
Ciao
, Mr. Mercer. Very pleasant to see you again, sir.”

Q nodded, taking in the man’s shiny black hair parted to the side, his white gloves clasped in front of him, and the spotless presentation of a body well-maintained for a man in his late fifties. “
Merci
.” His tone was cool and clipped; his body vibrating with a new rigidity I grew to recognise as self-preservation.

The lift arrived. The man climbed inside and pressed the necessary floor. The doors closed, sliding upward to our floor. “Your room is available, as always. Would that be all you require, or should I have some canapés and champagne sent up?” The man smiled first at Q, then me. His eyes brightened as he took my hand, planting a dry kiss on the back of my knuckles. “
Mi scusi
. Sorry, madam. Excuse my rudeness. I am Alonzo, designated butler for all VIP guests.”

Q tugged me away, planting himself between me and Alonzo. “Thank you for your service, but we won’t be needing—” Q cut himself off, a calculating look entering his gaze. The lift came to a stop, its doors opening to reveal thick white carpet and matching ivory floral arrangements at regular intervals along the long corridor. “Tess, head down to the left. Give me a moment.” He shoved me forward, giving me no choice but to stumble off the elevator.

The doors shut, leaving me stranded, gaping like a fool.
What the hell?

Should I wait? Should I obey? I had no clue which room was ours and judging by the fancy keypads on each door it wasn’t a key I needed but…a fingerprint?

Did Q chose this hotel for opulence or security?

Just as I took a few hesitant steps down the corridor, the elevator doors opened again and Q strode out, collecting my elbow as he prowled over the carpet.

I looked over my shoulder but didn’t see Alonzo. “What are you up to?” I asked, letting Q propel me forward.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He wrenched me to a halt, slammed his thumb against the small screen above the door handle, and opened it when a light flashed green. Pushing me inside, illumination automatically flashed on, drenching the huge open-plan space with warmth. Massive abstract artwork framed the walls while floor to ceiling glass brought the postcard perfect view of Rome into our bedroom.

Fountains and cobblestone streets looked magical in the rising moonlight, while men and women held hands, making their way to dinner.

Q came up behind me, slinking his hands beneath my grey angora jumper. I tensed, expecting him to spin me around and pounce. The bed beckoned, raised on a two-step pedestal with the most incredible painting of pinks and oranges above. Rose petals were strewn across the snowy sheets.

My morbid thoughts turned the petals to blood. I quickly checked over my shoulder, making sure the door was closed.

Then the view disappeared as Q wrenched my jumper over my head, and unhooked my bra, all within a second of each other.

I slapped an arm over my exposed breasts, very aware of the lights being on and no curtains drawn, but Q spun me, grabbed my waist, and unceremoniously threw me over his shoulder.

“Q! What the hell are you—”

He spanked me, letting his fingers explore the seam of my jeans. Not saying a word, he stalked into the bathroom. The minute he carried me inside, he plopped me onto my feet, and unbuttoned my jeans. My eyes snapped shut as his knuckles grazed my clit, tugging on the thick denim until they rested at my ankles.