Page 17 of A Royally Fake French Menage
“Or two, or three.” Daphne, a dark haired Medusa simpered from Genie’s other side.
“Oh, do tell, ladies. I’m always up for a little education.” Genie winked at me.
I sipped my champagne and said nothing.
“Well, a French woman uses her tongue on…everything,” Daphne proclaimed, aiming, I suspected for shock value.
“And she always…swallows,” her counterpart offered as Genie finished her flute, timing the comment to perfection.
Still, Rippton had better seductresses than this lot, and as Genie pinned me earlier in the day, I was bored.
“Mademoiselles,” I murmured. “If my stepmother wanted to marry me off to the local courtesan faction, all she has to do is ask.” Both women stared at me with a renewed speculative fervor in their eyes. Even Genie watched me with a degree of caution. I smiled broadly. “The answer will always be a resounding ‘no’. Goodnight.” I nodded to them and drew Genie out of the ostentatious, stifling ballroom.
My breath came a little harder as we hit the stairs. I stopped, gripping the banister tight.
“Are you alright, Barclay?” Genie laid a hesitant hand on my sleeve. “I know this isn’t a real date, but if you need to talk, I’m a blank ear. Your secrets have nowhere to go. I don’t know these people, nor do I care about any of them.”
Her blush pink lips parted as if she would say more but the longer I waited, the more strained the silence between us became.
“I don’t doubt it.” I sighed and raked a hand through my hair, mucking up the styling but it wasn’t like it mattered in this place. “I can’t deal with being back here. My father, mother… They’ve been erased from this place. I never should have let her stay. Monique, I mean.”As if there’s any doubt aboutwho. “We’re only here because I needed to make an overdue appearance that I’ve avoided for the past two years plus, electing to spend my hours in the US and ignore my responsibilities to these people.” I gestured to the staff with their stiff backs and starched uniforms floating about and serving as needed.
Like Jacques, here without me all this time.
Anger burned within me that he stayed. Damnit, whydidhe stay? Out of some misplaced sense of loyalty? Hope? So much good it’s done him. I’d bet everything I have that the last years under Monique's reign have been anything but prosperous. Only the ironclad contracts myself and my father’s lawyer drew up kept her from pilfering everything.
“Fucking gold digger," I muttered. “Not you,” I added hastily when Genie raised a querying eyebrow.
“They look…neutral,” Genie said carefully after a moment’s thought, apparently electing to ignore my outburst. “They don’t appear unhappy exactly, but also I don't believe that they’re okay with how she manages them. And she must be crippling your bank account with this bullshit, unless you have guidance in place for that, too.”
I smiled. Genie read the situation perfectly within seconds.There’s that business brain in play that I knew I would love.“Indeed. Now tell me how you managed to get that gown into your pretty little carry on? Is it bigger on the inside?”
Genie gave me a startled laugh. “Nerd. And the bag, or the dress?”
“Clever girl.” I leaned down to kiss her in full. Soft lips parted beneath my urgency, letting me in as pure desire shot through me in an instant hit of a drug bearing her name. I slid my tongue along hers, seeking some assurance I wasn’t alone in this catastrophe of a visit. “May I take you upstairs, Miss Lockwood?”
Genie pulled back, breathless. “Are you asking, Barclay? Or demanding?”
I bared my teeth. “Tell me what you need and I’ll provide it as a thank you for dealing with my family bullshit, and mine.”
“What I need is to see you happy.” Her hazel gaze searched mine.
I drew back, dropping my hands. The moment I released her, I felt empty. An abyss fell between us that I dared not cross. Or was too cowardly.
“That’s not how this works,” I said, slightly unsteady on my heeled boots. “We agreed it was pretend.”
“I’m human, Barclay,” she said with no small amount of exasperation. “I care about the man kissing me.”
“Not the deal,” I snapped, and sucked in a long breath. “Can I tuck you in? I might go for a walk.”
Across the fields, into the forest. Over the river and never stop.
Or enter the labyrinth and scream myself hoarse, as I'd done a dozen times or more before.
If I cupped my hands over my mouth, I’d learned those screams couldn't be heard from the house. Otherwise, more than one person lied to me.
Genie’s chin tipped up, her cheeks flushing, and not in the way I liked. Her eyes glossed with a sheen of unshed misery. “I can find the way to my room, thank you my lord.” She fucking curtsied flawlessly for me and darted up the stairs like Cinderella running from the ball.
Only I wasn’t the one left holding a glass slipper. I glanced around for Jacques’s support, but he was nowhere in sight. Hell, I was left holding nothing at all, only my battered pride in the house I was born in, feeling so out of place after my absence that I wished I’d never come home at all.
