Page 50 of Dimistrios's Bought Mistress
Something that, until this moment, he had not realised just how vital it was to him.
Arielle.
He heard her name echo in his head. Felt emotion knife through him, like a dagger thrust, but he pulled the blade from himself. He had to focus only on what he had to achieve. By any means necessary. By staking what he was now prepared to stake. By reminding himself about who he was.
I am the Wolf. And I do not lose.
He watched her face and saw the frown form above her eyes.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘It’s very simple,’ he said. His voice was calm. Very calm. The way he was at the gaming table. Preternaturally calm. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
She looked at him. He still could not read her expression. But he could feel her hands in his. They felt cold. Inert.
‘Why?’ His earlier question to her echoed back to him.
‘Because we’re good together. And I want that to continue.’ He pressed her hands, still cold, still inert. His eyes locked on to hers, willing her to accept what he was saying. ‘Arielle, I don’t want you to leave me. I want you to stay with me. I want you to want to stay with me. So, I want you to have something you want.’ He took a breath, looked right at her. He wanted to make it clear to her what he was prepared to stake. ‘If I give you themas, give you back your home, the home that was taken from you, will you stay with me?’
She stilled completely.
Then he felt her slip her hands from his. Step back.
And what was in her face he could not understand.
Nor bear to see—
Arielle sat, her eyes closed, as the Eurostar sped towards Calais, and she could only urge it on desperately.
Lest she detrain at Lille and head right back to Paris.
To Lycos.
Her throat closed. Tension wracked through her, along with misery and unhappiness.
And so, so much longing. Longing to undo what she had said to Lycos. To unsay the words. The words she had delivered like the stab from a knife. She heard them again now, all of them. Each one cruel and heartless. And true.
But there was no taking them back. Just as there was no way to deny the implication of what he had said to her.
Or the price she would pay for it.
He would be buying me.
Because what else would it be? He was offering her the one thing in the world she wanted so, so much.
But to accept it for such a reason? To accept it at all—
She heard her own voice, recoiling.
‘You can’t mean that. You cannot possibly mean that. How can you even think it?’
He’d sounded bewildered as he’d riposted.
‘But it’s what you want. You’ve said it a hundred times!’
And then her own voice vehement in protest.
‘Of course I can’t accept it! And for such a reason—’
