Page 84 of Debt of My Soul

Blitz makes a crude joke about him saying the same line to a woman last night and the guys erupt in laughter, me along with them.

She flinches and takes the bottle in her hand but doesn’t bring it to her mouth. She studies me, her lashes blinking a few times as if she’s trying to figure me out. I say a silent prayer she’ll forgo an attitude with me. These men would expect me to do something about it.

Fleur snorts and shakes her head, looking away as she blinks through the tears in her eyes.

There’s nothing I want more than to grab her hand in this moment. To run my thumb across her soft knuckles and tell her this isn’t me, that I’m playing a part.

Would she even believe me?

As the night trickles on, the women are more careless about where they’re lounging. Some sit on the arms of the chairs, and others have been pulled onto the laps of the men near them.

Those on the floor grow louder as the night progresses. Drinks flow freely, and shouts of winners and losers escalate, prompting Darrin to get involved several times.

Fleur’s still standing straight, shuffling on her feet, and I’m sure she’s trying to relieve the pain. After one too many sways, I grab for her, yanking her down on my lap.

She yelps and her spine stiffens when she lands on my leg. With both hands on her waist, I torment myself by moving her closer to my hips until she’s nestled between my thigh and the chair.

The leather groans as she struggles to right herself upright, but I clamp my hands on her hips and hold fast. I reach up, finding the back of her neck. I squeeze only enough to garner her attention, then bring my mouth to her ear.

“Relax,” I whisper. “Trust me.”

She shivers and fights against my hold. When I release her, she springs back, glaring at me. I smirk, then pick a blackjack table to divert my attention to, unable to bear the pain reflected in her expression.

There’s no relaxing for Fleur as the night goes on. She remains wholly vertical, unable to slouch into me, much to my dismay. The only time she’s jostled is when my phone rings. I lift my hips to remove it from my back pocket and the movement effectively slides Fleur further into me. Her cheeks burn red when her hands fumble with my chest, clawing to right herself again.

I check my phone with a smug smile on my face, only for it to die when I see my mother calling. It’s about that time. She’s heard, verified, and now processed the news, I’m sure. Two clicks and I’ve ignored her call, sending her to voicemail.

After tucking my phone away, I glue my hands to the thick arms of the chair in an attempt to keep from touching Fleur. I can’t help it; my body hums with her this near. With each shift, she causes me agony of the best kind. My heart pounds so fiercely I can feel it pulse in my fingertips as if in time with my need to splay my hand across her thigh.

Trip, who arrived later with a new girl in tow, takes Blitz’s seat while he’s pants down in the corner. He leans close. “Trade you for the rest of the night?”

Trade. As if these women were baseball cards. It’s gross and disgusting. One more reason why I never brought a woman around during the past four years. If you don’t claim them, these men have no boundaries. Even with me married to Fleur, the attempts are nauseating. Darrin mentioned they assumed since the marriage was forced, I’d be bored already. Ready for a refresh.

While there’s absolutely no way I’d ever trade Fleur for the night, I take my time answering. I purse my lips, rubbing my chain between my fingers as if I’m truly considering it.

Fleur looks as if she could vomit, her expression sour as Trip lets his gaze linger on her with an obsessive, unyielding intensity.

I bring a palm down, kneading her thigh in his line of sight.

Her legs are smooth, and I relish the goose bumps that flare to life once my fingers spread over her muscles. My hand is large against her petite frame, but there’s something right about it being there. I don’t move it away.

I raise my chin to Trip, who’s staring at me, practically panting like a dog for a new toy to play with. “I think not,” I say.

Trip whines, sucking back the last of his bottle before he reaches out and grabs the new girl. She playfully yells his name and bats his hand away, but the look in her eyes is pure terror.

Fleur looks away, tears in her eyes. She reaches for her wrist, where two new rubber bands sit. I don’t outright look down. I stare ahead, nodding in conversation to something Darrin is saying. But out of the corner of my eye, I watch her pull them back.

Roughly, I clasp her wrist before she can let them snap. Still, I don’t look at her.

Adjusting my fingers, I tighten my grip until she no longer struggles against it. Her gaze burns on the side of my head. I canfeel her ire radiating and consuming, but still, I don’t look at her. And I sit that way for the remainder of the night.

Chapter 33

Fleur

Time moves impossibly slow here. It’s only been three weeks and it feels like three months. I beat my head on the table to pass the time some days. At least that’s what it feels like.

After that night at the gambling place, my interactions with Liam have been … strained. I don’t want to talk to him.

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