Page 72 of Purchased

“Cake in the kitchen, obviously.”

* * *

Armand

It has never occurred to me before that all this digging into her past could actually hurt Beatrix. I never thought about the fact that she’s not ready to share, or even think about what happened. I took all that information in the file because I decided it was mine, and I was entitled to know.

I have treated her like her past is a puzzle that can be solved with therapy and pressure, and nothing good has come of it. I have driven her to have a nocturnal breakdown.

To say that I feel guilty is an understatement. I have been so selfish, so demanding. I have insisted that her trauma is mine to know because I wanted to verify her virginity like some kind of medieval monster.

Strange that Volkov didn’t point that out along with all of my other faults, but the man obviously has his blind spots.

“I am sorry,” I tell her. “I’ll never ask you another question again.”

She nods with a mouthful of red velvet cake, her fork poised over a dark chocolategateau. When she can speak, she says very little.

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll send Volkov home. I don’t think he is doing either one of us any good.”

She smiles. Her eyes sparkle, and the smile gets a little wider. “Can we…”

“No, we’re not going to kill him, no matter how satisfying that might be. You and I are going to take a break from slaughtering people for being inconvenient or annoying. We’re going to live proper lives. We’re going to get married.”

“You still haven’t proposed,” she says.

“I haven’t? It didn’t count in front of the gendarmes?”

“No,” she giggles.

It is good to see her feeling better, to know that I can make her feel better after having spent so long making her low-key miserable.

“I suppose I’ll have to get onto that,” I say.

“Yes,” she grins at me. “I suppose you better.”

* * *

The next day, I handle business as I promised.

“We’re not going to do therapy anymore, Mr. Volkov. I will pay out the rest of your contract.”

“I see, and what precipitated this?”

“She’s started to have dreams about the past. Nightmares, really, and I don’t want to contribute to them. Her past isn’t mine to delve into.”

“I didn’t come here to delve into her past. I came here to help the two of you…”

“We don’t need help. I’m going to propose and we are going to get married.”

“So you’re going to cover up all the unresolved trauma with a wedding.”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like a flawless plan.”

Sarcastic asshole.

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