Page 59 of Her Cruel Empire
“To new experiences,” I say.
“To new experiences,” she echoes, clinking her glass against mine.
After dinner, we walk along the Seine, with Leon keeping a respectful distance. The city glitters around us, golden light over ancient stones. Robin stops at every bridge, every view, marveling at the beauty of it all.
“I used to dream about this,” she says, leaning against the railing. “Walking along the Seine at night, feeling like I was in a movie.”
“And now?”
“Now I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.” She turns to me, her face serious. “A much better life.”
I’ve given women any amount of jewelry. I’ve bought them cars, houses, art. But I’ve never seen gratitude like this—pure, unguarded, real.
“Robin,” I start, but she’s already moving closer.
“I know what this is,” she says softly. “I know it’s temporary. But right now, in this moment, I’ve never been happier.”
She kisses me then, soft and sweet and tasting of wine. I let myself sink into it, let myself pretend that this could be more than a handful of days, more than a transaction.
When we break apart, she’s smiling. “Come on. Show me more of your city.”
Mycity. As if Paris belongs to me. As if I could give it to her if she asked.
And I see now why Uncle Stefan encouraged me to come here. Paris has been my one weakness, a place of terror and sorrow. But seeing it with Robin has swept away the shadows and made it magical once more. My father loved Paris. It was why he always insisted on coming to Paris himself, even though Stefan was technically supposed to handle European meetings. Paris was where he honeymooned with my mother, and he confided in me that coming there with me was a way to remember her.
And now coming here with Robin has been a way for me to rememberhim.
We walk until late, her hand in mine, and I find myself laughing at her observations, her questions, her complete lack of cynicism about the world. I haven’t laughed like this in years.
“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks as we make our way back to the hotel.
“You,” I say, and it’s the truth.
She stops walking. “Eva...”
“Don’t.” I touch her face, memorizing the feel of her skin. “Don’t say anything else.”
She nods, understanding. We both know this is dangerous territory, these moments of honesty between us. But neither of us seems capable of stepping back.
Back at the hotel, I plan to devour her. To lose myself in her body, to take and take until I remember why I bought her in the first place. I head to the bathroom to prepare myself, to gather my composure.
But when I emerge, Robin is face-down on the bed, completely unconscious. She’s still in her dress, one arm dangling off the side of the mattress. Her breathing is deep and even, punctuated by soft little snuffles that shouldn’t be as endearing as they are.
She sleeps like the innocent she is. Like someone who’s never had to sleep with one eye open, never had to build walls just to survive. Like someone who believes the world is fundamentally good.
I stand frozen, watching her. She’s so innocent. So trusting. So completely unaware of the darkness that follows me everywhere.
I can do anything, go anywhere. I hold the world in the palm of my hand, and yet right now, I envy her. I envy her ability to find joy in simple pleasures, to trust so completely, to sleep the sleep of the blameless.
I cross the room and carefully remove her shoes, setting them aside. She doesn’t stir. I pull the duvet up over her shoulders, tucking her in like a child.
For a moment—just a moment—I consider sliding in next to her. I’ve never slept in the same bed as one of my lovers. Never let anyone that close. And as Robin’s breathing evens out again, I force myself to step back from her.
Tonight was so perfect. I don’t want to spoil it.
But the idea is so tempting…
Chapter 21
