Lowering his head to my ear, he says in a low voice, “Just follow my lead.”
Embarrassed about the room’s attention on us, I pull away to take my seat, but he holds me back.
“For the record, Zoe, you’re a little uncultured, but you’re not uneducated.”
Raphael clears his throat. My cheeks are hot when I take my seat. Cecile sits as straight as a statue, her eyes on her plate.
I don’t know how I get through the three hour-long, five course ordeal. The only people who speak to me are Maxime and Sylvie. The rest pretend I don’t exist. Still, they speak English, which leaves the two older men mostly quiet. The afternoon is a disaster. It was a mistake to bring me.
When the table is cleared, we move to the lounge for coffee. Noelle carries in the tray I’ve prepared.
“Oh, dear,” Cecile says, eyeing the tray.
Noelle giggles.
I look between them. “Is something wrong?”
Sylvie snatches up the sugar pot. “Nothing.” She disappears down the hallway and returns with a silver pot filled with sugar cubes.
“That’s such an Anglo Saxon thing,” Cecile says.
Hadrienne lights a cigarette. “Don’t get me started on the clothes.”
Maxime stands. “Emile, Hadrienne, thank you for lunch.”
“You’re leaving?” Hadrienne asks. “Already?”
Maxime takes my hand and helps me to my feet. “We have a long way home.”
It takes almost thirty minutes to say goodbye, and by the time we get in the car I’m emotionally exhausted. I don’t want to repeat one of these lunches any time soon.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Maxime asks as he turns the car onto the coastal road.
“It was nice meeting Sylvie.”
“I’ve been busy with work, but now that the deal’s done, we’ll go out more.” He takes my hand. “I promise.”
I give him a sideway glance. “You don’t have to make an effort. It’s not like we’re dating.”
“I said I’d look out for you if you behave, and you’ve been behaving very well.”
I scoff. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Don’t spoil it now.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
He smiles. “What has been going through my little flower’s mind?”
“I want to learn to speak French.”
He raises a brow. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Will you teach me?”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I can do better. I’ll get you a tutor.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Why would you do that for me?”
“Because I can. Why do you want to speak French?”
I shrug. “Because I can.” So that no one can talk about me behind my back ever again.
His eyes darken but the humor remains in his voice. “You and that sassy mouth of yours. I can think of ways to tame it, and I’m not going to hold out until we’re home.”
Clenching the wheel with one hand, he pulls down his zipper with the other and frees his cock. Seeing him so hard for me just from a game of words makes me horny and wet. When he cups the back of my neck, I go down on him willingly, swallowing him like he taught me. I swirl my tongue around the head and suck until my cheeks hollow. He curses, saying filthy words in French. I don’t need a tutor to understand those. I take the power he gives. I own the groan that erupts from his chest. I own his release.
Chapter 22
Maxime
I watch Zoe through the open door of the dressing room while buttoning up my shirt. She sits in front of the dresser, applying her makeup. Her hair is twisted on her head in pretty curls. She’s wearing a red dress with black heels, and the diamonds I gave her in Venice as a gift to commemorate our first time shines in her ears. She’s a vision. It’s hard tearing my gaze away to fit my cufflinks.
I check my watch. We have an hour before the dinner. It’s a charity event to raise money for cancer research. I hate these galas, but I’m hoping it’ll do Zoe good. She objected, said she didn’t want to go, but she needs to be around people.
Now that the Italian deal has been negotiated, I can focus on her again. I feel both lighter and heavier. We need the alliance with the Italians. It gives us access to their infrastructure, a broadened scope to move our diamonds safely, while the tax they’re paying to ship from our port doesn’t hurt, either. We’ve been at war for too long, wiping out each other’s men and resources. Hence, the deal is a good thing. Complicated, but good. It’s going to require some finesse in the foreseeable future. In the short term, it means I can spend more time with my flower.
Yesterday’s lunch didn’t go as well as I’ve hoped. The men owe Zoe the respect she deserves as my lover. It’s an unbendable rule. However, I didn’t foresee how the women would react. I can’t really blame them. Of course, they’d frown upon her sharing my bed. Mistresses are a common occurrence among the menfolk in our circles, but you don’t bring them to a family lunch. A charity event, yes. A weekend in the Bahamas, definitely. While mistresses wear diamonds and sip champagne on yachts, the wives are home raising their cheating husband’s kids. I’d hoped Maman would’ve been more open-minded, if not for Zoe then for my sake, but I’d misjudged my mother’s tolerance and Catholic values. For as staunch as her values are, her tolerance is low.
I still don’t know why Alexis didn’t show. If I haven’t fucked Zoe from the minute we got home to sunrise, I would’ve called him. He’s probably scheming behind my back like he tried to weasel his way into the Italian deal. Taking my phone from my pocket, I send a text to Gautier, telling him to tail my brother and find out what he’s so busy with that’s more important than a family lunch. For all the times the married men in my family have entertained their lovers on exotic islands and faraway dream escapes, they don’t back out when there’s a family lunch at home. Another one of our unspoken rules.
“I’m ready,” Zoe says.
I lift my head to look at her. The breath is knocked from my lungs. The dress clings to her body, accentuating her curves. The gown was my choice. I know she hates it, but she has no idea what a knockout she is with her slender neck and the milky skin of her shoulders exposed. There’s a flush on her cheeks again since she started taking long walks outside. Her skin and eyes glow, the freckles on her nose like a dusting of golden stars. She’s the epitome of innocence and purity. Only, I know she likes sex both sweet and rough. I know how to read her, how to give her what she needs, and I burn with satisfaction knowing I’m the one who corrupted her. Her moans and dirty little acts are all mine.
“I don’t know about this,” she says, smoothing her palms over her hips. “I really don’t like these formal parties.”
I take her wrap from the chair and drape it around her shoulders. “So you’ve said.”
“I should stay. I’d rather watch a movie here where it’s warm.”
“Not an option.” Hooking my arm through hers, I lead her downstairs. “I want to show you off.” Every man in Marseille and to the ends of the world needs to understand she’s mine. No one will ever stake a claim on her again, no man in the mob, and no man outside of the families. No one will be foolish enough.