“This is where my parents are from, you see. I figured it’s so obvious that it would be the last place Gustave looks. Besides, he knows me as a brunette with short hair. I’m blonde with long hair. It took me four years to put enough money aside, and I even wore a wig around him for almost a year before I ran. I’m Corinne DuBois, American ex-pat, who is in France to take art lessons and work in a cafe on a work-student visa. Again, it’s so obvious that he wouldn’t even think to check. He’ll assume that I’ll never want to paint again.
“But I did a lot of bad things. I have cost art dealers and art collectors millions of dollars by creating copies of famous paintings. I have even forged your paintings.”
She was silent, and she waited for Paris to say something. To ask a question. To rage at her.
Something.
But he was quiet.
“So, your real name is Genevieve?”
“Please don’t ever call me that. I chose my name. I’m Corinne now. I have no idea if Genevieve was the name my parents chose, or if it was Gustave. I need to go by a name I picked. DuBois was my mother’s maiden name. That much I know. But I took the Americanized spelling with the capital B. Again, I’m banking on it being too obvious for Gustave to think that it’s me behind the name.”
Paris had still not spoken a word. He wasn’t even holding her hand anymore. He stood, and Corinne really thought that he would walk away and never speak to her again.
He did the very last thing that she expected.
He dropped down on his knees at her feet.
“Corinne,” he finally said, taking her hands in his. “I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say. You did nothing wrong. You were raised by a master manipulator. In captivity.” He growled the words like it hurt for him to say them. “You never wanted to forge those paintings.”
“But I sort of did. It felt nice to know that I could. That I was so good, that I could copy the great painters of history enough to convince professionals.”
“Okay, fine. But, did you want to? Did you rejoice in the fact that museums and private collectors were going to be robbed?”
“Well, no.”
“And what would happen to you if you stopped doing what Gustave wanted you to?”
Corinne looked away. She didn’t want to think about that.
“He killed your parents, Corinne. He could very well have killed you too if you had refused him. You were sixteen the first time you did a forgery. Do you think you had any power over the circumstances? No. You didn’t. You were a kidnapped child, just trying to survive. I need a second, okay? Not because I am mad at you. Not because I hate you. I just need to process the fact that my mate was kept under lock and key and used all of her life. If I don’t get my shit together right now, I’m going to punch a hole in the wall.” He sat on his heels and kissed her forehead. “Give me a second.”
Corinne nodded, but she really wished he would stay. That he would hold her.
She needed Paris.
Chapter Sixteen
Paris
Paris went to the en-suite bathroom in Corinne’s bedroom. It took all of his self-control not to slam the damn door behind him, but he didn’t want to upset Corinne. None of this was on her, but there was a rage coursing through his veins, and he didn’t know what to do with the emotions.
While he had been creating paintings, and living his easy, privileged life, his mate, his Corinne, had been a prisoner. She had literally been raised in captivity.
He understood the expertise in her brushstrokes now.
It had taken him hundreds of years to perfect it, but Corinne had been raised to paint. It was a wonder she still wanted to paint at all. He wasn’t sure that he could have looked at another brush, if he had been made to live in the same circumstances.
Corinne was much stronger than him.
His mate, the mother of his children, was made of steel.
Not only had she survived in captivity, but she had painstakingly prepared an escape. It had been four years of careful preparation, while she sucked up to her captor. The man who had killed her parents, and the only guard that had taken care of her.
Paris wanted to rip Gustave Comtois limb from limb for what he had done.
He didn’t care about the forged paintings.
That didn’t matter.
Corinne hadn’t had a choice. She had done what she could to survive.
And what the hell was he doing, pacing the bathroom alone instead of telling her all of this?
He stalked back to the sitting room, startling Corinne. He pulled her off of the couch and held her close to him. He couldn’t hold her tightly enough. He wanted his embrace, his love, to erase all of the trauma that she had been raised in.
“I promise you, love. You will never have to survive again. You’re going to live free now. I am going to make sure of it. I am so sorry for what you have been through. It’s over now.” He looked down into her face. “I am so proud of you. For planning the escape and for doing it all on your own. Shit, Corinne. You are the strongest person I have ever met.”
She frowned. “What?” She shook her head. “You’re not mad?”
“How the hell could I be mad? Your parents were kidnapped and then killed. That means you were kidnapped, and then held captive by a psychopath. There is no way I am mad at you. I am mad at the asshole for doing that to you. I’m mad at all of his guards, who didn’t help you. I’m mad at myself for not finding you sooner. You had to save yourself, my beautiful, strong Corinne. And that kills me. It kills me that I wasn’t there for you.”
“You didn’t know I existed.”
“Right, but now I do. There is no way in hell Gustave Comtois will ever get his hands on you. Do you hear me? You’re safe here. With me. I’ve got a contact with Interpol, and I’ll call her to let her…”
“No!” Corinne cried. “I’ll be arrested for forgery.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. There’s no way. You were a kid, and then you were an adult held captive. None of this is on you. Besides, if the agent can arrest Gustave, then we won’t have to worry about him anymore. You won’t have to look over your shoulder all of the time. You’ll be free of him. For real, this time. I won’t have you worrying that he’ll come for you or our kids.”
She nodded. “I thought you would take back all of the mate stuff you said.”
He took her in a tight embrace again, and he spoke against the soft curve of her neck. “There is no taking back the mate stuff. That’s not how it works. We are soul mates, destined for each other. You’re mine, Corinne. I would sooner cut off my arm than never be with you again. It’s going to be all right.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He pulled away. “I’m going to warn you, love. Things are going to get a bit complicated now. I will have to get you some security, and you will hate it. I want to make one thing clear, you are free. You are not my prisoner. But I need to know you’re safe, or I will go crazy. I don’t want to trigger your past or make you upset, but there are things we need to do now, to ensure your safety.”
“Okay?”
“The first is that you have to quit working at Gateaux.”