Page 153 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Three more slams and she comes apart in my arms, moaning, clamping hard, while I find the strength to pull back one last time before ramming into her. And finding my own release, I spill inside my woman.

Our bodies are covered in sweat as we breathe heavily, and she wastes no time in kissing me again, locking us in the softest embrace while thunder continues to boom outside.

My life has been a storm.

But I finally found my peaceful shore.

And I’ll do anything to keep her.

Chapter Seventeen

“Can a heart that’s bled so much it no longer wishes to feel anything… love?

Or is it too damaged?

In the war between the past and the future, who wins?

What’s stronger?

The call of revenge decades in the making,

or the person consuming your every thought and breath, making you mad with just the thought of leaving them?”

Penelope

Penelope

Wrapping my hands around the steaming mug, I take a large sip, welcoming the warm sensations in my throat as the wind blows over me, billowing my hair back.

Leaning back in my chair outside the busy restaurant located in the center of the city, I drink in the beauty surrounding me and smile.

Despite the place having enormous space inside, most people prefer to sit at the round tables on the terrace and enjoy the view while birds chirp nearby as they sunbathe in the trees.

A white-and-pink color scheme dominates the space, inviting you to relax. Small flower arrangements stand in the middle of the table, filling the air with pleasurable scents. Expensive china glistens under the sunlight while the silverware shows my reflection; that’s how spotless it is.

The design and architecture of the building make it one of the most beautiful restaurants in the town with a mile-long waitlist that’s almost impossible to get on.

Servers pass by in a blur, doing their best to deliver the orders as fast as they can, while people engage in heated arguments or erupt in laughter every other minute.

My phone dings loudly, and I glance down, grinning when my father’s name flashes on the display.

I sent you the tickets. Check your email.

Putting down my hot chocolate, I reply.

Hello to you too, Dad. We won’t come. I really wish you’d stop spending so much money on those tickets.

Instantly, he answers, and I wince.

You’ve been married for a month! You will come to France this week, or I swear to God I will come to Chicago myself. This husband of yours has kept you hostage long enough.

He has a very important project. I promise we will come as soon as possible. And you can’t fly, remember? Your doctor told you not to.

My usual excuse doesn’t fly with dad this time around, not that I blame him. I married a stranger miles away and refuse to visit him, no matter how often he’s asked. If it wasn’t for his heart, my dad would come and rip Remi a new one.

As it is, he already dislikes him.

He’s a billionaire with all the resources. This has gone on long enough. You might show me all the pictures and claim you’re happy, but until I see it with my own eyes, I will not rest. You have until Sunday evening; otherwise, I’m coming to Chicago, everything else be damned.

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