Page 9 of Into the Woods

“Suck,” I command, searching her face.

Cold.

Distant.

I remind myself that this is just another transaction, but deep down I know that’s a lie. Nothing with Winnie could ever be boiled down to just a business deal; she’s had my heart firmly in grasp since I found her in the woods that very first time. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

A thousand thoughts flit across her eyes in the matter of a heartbeat: anger, anxiety, interest. The only thing missing is desire.

Instead, I’m met with a touch of fear and a healthy dose of uncertainty before she finally gives and complies.

Fucking beautiful.

As her lips close around my thumb and her tongue hesitantly flicks at the tip, I twist my lips into a smirk. For the love of fucks, she is magnificent. Sweet and sultry, but all kinds of innocent girl next door. I could have so much fun playing with sweet littleWinnie L’Ourson. Too bad she’s supposed to be just a means to an end.

She releases my thumb, leaving a slash of bright red that matches her creamy lips rings my digit, and she scrapes her teeth along the calloused skin.

I fight hard to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine at that show of rebellion and strength. Yeah, I think I’m going to have a little bit of fun with her before I’m done with her. The fight for power will be hot as hell, and I could use the distraction.

“What happened to you? You were so…so…”

I huff a laugh. “You were a child; you had no concept of what I was then. This is who I’ve always been. I was born into this shit.” I slide my hand to the back of her head, fingers twisting in her silky hair. I want to gather those golden locks into my fist and fuck those bee-stung lips until tears run down her face for real, because the tears glimmering in her eyes all day have been fake as fuck.

Even from a distance, I could see the way she fidgeted and shifted her weight, the way her gaze wandered during the service touching on everything but the shiny flower covered caskets holding the only family she had. Each time she glanced at her phone and sighed it was obviously from boredom. Winnie was not at all the mourning, devoted daughter and not a soul who knew the truth of the L’Ourson family would question that.

“You just saw a different version of me.” I invade what’s left of her personal bubble. “You got the watered down, politically correct version. Reality is much darker, scarier than the kid I was when I was with you. But this is it, Winnie. This is who I am. And I have a job to do, expectations now, that would make your head spin. And honeybee, you’re caught up in the middle of it all.

“Now, you’re going to have to pull up some of those fake tears you’ve had on the edge through this circus, and I’m going toconsole you and get us the fuck out of here so we can discuss the full situation, and how to get your debts cleared?—”

She pushes against me, curling her fingers around my lapels. Whether it’s her intent or not, she’s putting on a pretty good show for the handful of others loitering over the grave. “They are not my debts. My parents?—”

“Debts of the family, Winn. Consider it part of your inheritance. What was theirs is now yours and time is of the essence.” I pull her close, tucking her face tight to my chest, until there’s nothing but a breath of air between us. The scent of her perfume is intoxicating. Sweet and simple.

To anyone else, I’m sure this looks like nothing more than a tender moment—a heartfelt consolation of the grieved—but her proximity has my mind reeling. My head spinning.

I shake off the haze of her and lay out what’s about to happen. “You’re going to hold tight to me as we walk to my car. Then, when we’re tucked safely in the backseat, we’re going to discuss the terms of your repayment. Understand?”

Stress. Anxiety. Fear, or likely all of those combined have her standing rigid against me, her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. And every single time she inhales and then lets that breath go, her tits brush against my suit jacket and I curse the layers between us.

“Do you understand me, Winnie?” I demand, allowing enough space for me to stare into her eyes.

Winnie reaches back and clings to Tru’s hand, steadying the tremble as fear and anxiety push her timid little friend toward the brink, but her sanity is not my concern.

“Yes.” The reply is small and almost as shaky as the hand she holds. “But Tru—she can’t drive. I have to take care of her. We’ll…we’ll follow you.”

I don’t know if she actually believes the lie spilling from her lips, maybe she really intends to follow through, but my father didn’t raise a fool.

Nope. And her friend is of no consequence to me right now.

“Teague,” I bark, knowing he’s close, waiting for orders. “Bring Winifred’s car and her little friend to the house. Set Miss Cochonette up in a guest suite.” I slide my hand into Winnie’s coat pocket, extracting her car keys. I toss them to Teague and latch onto Winnie’s wrist, tucking it securely around my elbow. “Miss L’Ourson will be coming with me.”

For every step I take, Winnie rushes through three, practically jogging to keep up with me as I approach the blacked-out town car.

I wave off my driver and open the back door, guiding Winnie in and following closely behind.

“Home,” I command sharply before hitting the button to raise the privacy screen. My driver may work for me, but he’s owned by my uncle, and I don’t doubt for a minute that anything of importance discussed in his presence will be reported to Alain Robicheaux at the first available opportunity. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way. I paid for my mistake once, I don’t plan on testing the veracity again.

“Christophe, please.”

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