Creatures ok anthology, p.18
Creatures of the Dark Anthology, page 18
“But I thought…”
He shook his head. “Look, I don’t have time to explain all this to you. It’s not your job, anyway.” Glancing up, he must have seen her pursed lips, because he added, “I know we haven’t talked about your role here yet. I thought maybe I could introduce you to our housekeeper? She’s the one who helps my mother handle all the household stuff.”
Christine’s glowing mood faded a little. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Is that what you had in mind for me? Housekeeping?”
He nodded. “It’s what works best.”
“And if I told you that I wanted to learn about the shipping business?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and she knew what his answer would be before he even said it out loud. “Not right now. I barely have a handle on all of this myself, and training you would take too much of my time.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, but it’s not like you have a business degree. We’d need to start with the basics…”
She got up from her chair, trying not to let her anger show, still hearing the echo of her mother’s voice: Ladies don’t show emotions in public. “That’s fine. I’m sorry for bothering you.” She tossed the apple core in the waste bin at the door, her throw so hard the basket rocked back and forth. She had her fingers on the door handle when she stopped, taking a deep breath through her nose. Then she whirled back to him.
“You know what? It’s not fine.”
Alexandre’s head snapped up; he’d already dismissed her from his thoughts, engrossed in yet another report. “Hmm?”
“I said, it’s not fine. I don’t want to just do housekeeping things. I can help with them, yes, and I’d love to meet your housekeeper, but it’s not what I want to do. I thought…” She paused, flinging her arms out to the sides. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought it would burst through her ribs—she was taking such a gamble, standing up to him. But if she didn’t do it now, if she accepted the role he’d planned for her, she’d never get the chance to do what she loved. And she loved numbers. They spoke to her in a way that words never did, which was why she was now completely stuck, unable to express her wishes.
Alexandre was looking at her like she’d grown another head, probably shocked at his meek little bride making demands. “Christine, I don’t know what you…”
“Let me finish,” she interrupted, trying to keep her voice from trembling. This was important, damn it, and she would have her say. Whatever he did next, at least it wouldn’t be for her lack of trying.
“I would like to learn. My father never let me attend university, that’s why I don’t have a degree. Not because I’m some spoiled rich girl. I wanted to study mathematics, you know?” She stopped herself, a knot forming in her throat at the memory of that particular conversation. She’d begged, she’d pleaded, and her father had laughed at her dreams.
She wouldn’t beg now. She wasn’t that meek eighteen-year-old anymore. When a chance to escape her old life had presented itself to her, she’d taken it. And now she would make the best of it; she was married, after all, and this was her new home. With her chin high and her voice thick with emotion, she added, “I think that if you let me, I would be better at business than you.”
Alexandre’s eyes went wide at this. “What are you…” he started to say, but she rolled over him, terrified that she’d burst into tears if he rejected her again.
So all she said was, “Your numbers don’t add up. Either you’re doing it all on your own and you have no idea what you’re doing, or your bookkeeper is scamming you. If you want my help, all you have to do is ask.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, tucking her trembling hands in her armpits. She’d just stood up to her husband. She’d stood up to him and told him she knew better than him. Truth be told, she was running away, too terrified to stay and find out what an angry Alexandre might look like.
And she wished, hoped with all her heart, that she hadn’t made the worst mistake of her life by marrying him.
Chapter Twelve
Alexandre
It took him the better part of two hours to confirm that Christine was right. The numbers on his report didn’t add up—and he had no idea why.
The report in question had been prepared by a company in Saguenay that the clan paid to file all their taxes, keep track of the shipping numbers, and generally take care of anything number-related. That they’d let slip something so massively wrong through their fingers was both worrying and infuriating.
Was the accountant skimming money from them? Had he discovered that the Thibaults weren’t as powerful as they once were, and thought this wouldn’t get noticed? It rankled that if it hadn’t been for Christine, Alexandre would have continued to trust the reports, wouldn’t even think to double-check them—that was why he paid the service.
Clearly, he would have to check and recheck every person on the Thibault paycheck. His father might have kept a tight rein on the clan and its various ventures in the past, but everything was disintegrating now that Adèle was missing. And Christine hadn’t been wrong—Alexandre didn’t have a clue what he was doing.
Which…was an unpleasant thought.
Groaning, he rubbed his palms over his face, then stood from the desk, and several vertebrae popped when he stretched. He would have to track down Christine, apologize for being a first-class ass, and beg her to check the rest of the accounts from past months with him. It had taken her less than two minutes to spot the discrepancies.
Why had he gone and told her that she’d be doing the housekeeping? If his sister was there, she’d kick his butt for assuming a woman only wanted to keep house. But to be fair, during their short interviews before the wedding, she hadn’t given him any indication that she was interested in anything but being a good wife and bearing his heirs. They would need to have a long talk about expectations in the near future.
But first, he had a money leak to plug.
He’d never thought he would regret giving his wife flowers, but he suspected the whole apology thing would go over better if he had the morning’s scarlet bouquet handy right now. Instead, he made a detour to the kitchen next door, where his mother was busy preparing lunch along with the village’s main cook.
He kissed his mother on the cheek and asked, “Do we have any of those honey cakes left?”
His mother pointed to the pantry and continued kneading a smooth dough that smelled like yeast. Alexandre raided the large tin box and found a wad of paper towels to wrap the pastries in it.
“Your Christine has…a strong voice,” his mother remarked.
Alexandre looked up, a flush creeping up his neck. “You heard our argument?”
She snorted. “The walls really aren’t that thick, chéri.” Nodding at the paper-wrapped bundle in his arms, she asked, “Are those a peace offering?”
He nodded reluctantly. “I may have…messed up a little.”
“That’s an understatement,” she said mildly, pinching a piece of dough from the lump and plopping it into her mouth. “Are you sure you got enough cakes?”
Her chortle followed him out the door, and he had to remind himself that leaders of important shifter clans did not stomp their feet, even if their mothers suddenly changed allegiances.
***
Tracking down Christine proved to be more difficult that he’d anticipated. He’d assumed she’d go straight back to their cabin, since she didn’t know her way around the village and had no acquaintances there. But her scent trail wound in and out of trees, down footpaths, to various cabins and back. It was remarkable how far she’d come in the two hours since she’d whirled out of his office.
When her scent trail joined that of his cousin, hackles rose on Alexandre’s neck, and he growled, startling a pair of young moose shifters into a clumsy dash into the trees. Tabarnak, he’d have to track them down later and explain that their clan leader didn’t mean to eat them for lunch. But he needed to get to Christine first.
Who knew what kind of poison Calvin was feeding her? In her anger, she might be receptive to hearing ugly stories about Alexandre and his family.
He picked up his pace, nearly running down the path, trying to keep the honey cakes from spilling out of their wrapper.
And there they were, Calvin pointing at the school while Christine stood several feet away from him, nodding at whatever he was telling her. Alexandre took a deep breath when he spotted her, a powerful sense of relief washing over him—she was okay, and most importantly, she was still here. He hadn’t scared her away with his backward attitude. Until this moment, he hadn’t allowed himself to articulate the possibility that she might, in fact, decide that this marriage wasn’t worth the hassle and just leave.
But she was here, beautiful as a fresh spring day, her hands clasped in front of her, her back and shoulders straight, showing no outward signs of anger. He reminded himself that she hadn’t seen him yet.
He approached them with slow steps he deliberately made louder than usual so they noticed his approach. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a flash of relief passed over Christine’s face at the sight of him—which made him consider several murderous plans for his cousin. What had he been telling her for Christine to be this relieved?
Coming closer, he smelled the air, distinguishing her sweet flowery scent, yes, but also an undertone of nervousness. Her social skills were superb, so none of it showed on her face, but there was a definite reluctance in her stance and the way she immediately moved toward Alexandre.
It also made him want to crow in delight that she sought comfort with him even though they’d had a fight. Maybe he’d misunderstood the entire thing and she wasn’t as furious as he’d thought?
But no, when she took his arm, she stealthily pinched his side in the process, and he had to fight to suppress a wince. Clearly, they had a lot to talk about.
“Cousin,” Calvin exclaimed, watching them with an avid gaze. “How great that you dropped by. You really shouldn’t let your young bride wander around the village all on her own. She might get lost.”
“How lucky that you found me, then,” Christine answered, her smile polite but disinterested. “Calvin has been explaining about the leaking school roof,” she told Alexandre.
Sure. The bastard. Zeroing in on the one thing that made the current Thibault leadership look like a bunch of incompetents.
“We’re working on that,” he muttered through gritted teeth, and his cousin grinned at his discomfort.
“Of course, of course!” Calvin clapped him on the back, and if Alexandre hadn’t been holding the honey cakes, his cousin would have lost his arm for it. “You two should come to dinner tonight,” he added, “Nathalie is dying to meet you, Christine. You know, she was Alexandre’s first love.” He winked at her like this was some naughty secret.
“Erm,” said Christine. “That’s nice.”
Alexandre just barely resisted the urge to shift and wallop his cousin. “We’re having dinner with my parents tonight.”
“Another time, then,” Calvin said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go now.” He snatched up Christine’s hand and bowed over it, then darted away before Alexandre could smash his nose in.
His retreating form got lost in the trees, and suddenly they were alone, Alexandre’s rough breathing the only sound beside the chirping of birds in the treetops.
“Well, that was interesting,” Christine said, moving slightly so they stood face to face.
Alexandre groaned. “I’m sorry you met him when you were alone. He lives to stir up sh—I mean, trouble.”
She looked amused at his attempt to correct his language while she made toward a weathered bench that stood next to the path. “What’s his deal?”
Sitting next to her, Alexandre laid the honey cakes in his lap. He didn’t want to talk about his cousin. He wanted to apologize to Christine, feed her cake, and coax her back to their cabin for some cuddling…and maybe more. But if they were going to be open about everything, if their relationship was going to be an equal partnership, he had to get the secrets out of the way.
“He’s the reason I had to marry in a hurry,” he told her. “With just enough Thibault blood to call himself a potential heir, he’s been making trouble for me ever since my sister disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” she gasped. “I thought…” She paused. “Well, I don’t know what I thought. What happened?”
So he explained how his father’s ideas of pure shifter blood had caused his twin sister to abandon everything she’d been used to—her birthright, her family, her brother. How Adèle had picked an unsuitable man and their father had refused to even meet him, and Adèle, stubborn as she was, had run away from home instead of fighting for her clan.
He shrugged, trying to pretend that it didn’t still sting after months had passed. “And we haven’t heard from her since. She’s very good at hiding, Adèle.” If she didn’t want to be found, there was no way in hell anyone could track her down. “So in truth, I’ve married you under false pretenses.”
Christine quirked her brow. “How so?”
“If she ever returns, the leadership of the clan will go to her.”
He expected her to throw a fit at this, to rail at his betrayal, to demand a divorce, but his bride surprised him once again. He suspected she would be surprising him a lot in the future. She took his hand and intertwined their fingers. “I don’t care about that, Alexandre. I’m sorry she left.”
He opened his mouth to say something clever about it, then closed it again, swallowing past a suddenly tight throat. Finally, he squeezed her fingers and murmured, “Thank you.”
She leaned in and peered into his lap, like maybe she’d noticed his discomfort. “Do I smell honey?”
“Oh, yeah.” In his hurry to show her his loot, he nearly dropped the cakes to the ground. Christine caught a stray one and bit off a healthy chunk.
Alexandre found himself staring at her mouth, mesmerized by the tiny crumb that clung to her bottom lip. Lifting his hand, he swiped the pad of his thumb over it, then took hold of her chin, gently holding her in place as he lowered his lips to hers.
“Mmph!” Christine scooted a foot back, nearly toppling off the bench. Her eyes flashed, and she pointed a finger at him. “No kissing until we talk.”
He heaved a great sigh like this was a big imposition, but the fact was that she was right. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. You were right about the numbers. My accountant has some explaining to do.”
Her concern over this—and her complete lack of triumph at his apology—told him he’d made the right decision by confiding in her. “Do you want my help?”
Alexandre smiled. She didn’t ask if he needed her help, they both knew he did, but whether he wanted it. “Yes. That—I’d like that. I’ll need to go over every report, god knows how far back, and check everything. I could use your math superpowers.”
Chewing on the cake, she grinned at him. “Superpowers, eh?”
“You’re going to have to explain things to me. Slowly. With lots of colored diagrams.” He was grinning back, and suddenly everything was okay. Yes, they would need to figure out their daily lives and duties, but he had a good feeling about this. About her.
But when she gulped down the last of her cake, she sobered up. “Listen, about your cousin. You’re aware that he’s bad-mouthing you to other people?”
Alexandre closed his eyes for a moment. “No. Yes. I mean—I know I’ll have to deal with him eventually, but so far, he’s been harmless. I’ve just had so much to do that I let his shit go on unchecked.”
“It didn’t sound that harmless to me.” She was studying him closely. “Are you afraid that he’d win if there was an election?”
His first impulse was to deny it, to shout that he was the rightful heir and everybody knew it, but honestly, he wasn’t sure of much these days. So he shrugged, gazing out into the forest, where cabin upon cabin held his clan, his people, whom he needed to lead and protect. His desire not only to hold the job but do it well was a double-edged sword. Some days, the weight of it was crushing.
A small, warm hand slipped into his, and he glanced at Christine to find she had sidled back up to him. She was watching him with serious blue eyes, chewing on her lower lip.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ll help you if you let me. I’ll get to know your—our—people. Everything a clan leader needs to do.”
He pulled his hand from hers and slung his arm around her shoulders to tug her closer. “Thank you.” Kissing the top of her blonde head, he inhaled her fresh, sweet scent, then stood and pulled his t-shirt over his head.
Christine went wide-eyed, looking around in a panic before she mouthed, “What on earth are you doing?”
Toeing off his shoes, he went to work on his belt buckle. “Come running with me.” He dropped his jeans and stood in front of her, hand extended in an invitation. She would either follow him, trust him, or not. Her city life likely meant she didn’t do this often, but out here, the lack of city infrastructure was outweighed by one important feature: freedom to run.
When her lips quirked up in a reluctant grin and she ran her gaze up and down his nearly naked body, a surge of triumph and excitement coursed through Alexandre. And when she stood and placed her hand in his, he whooped and pulled her close for a hard kiss. Peeling her hands away from his naked chest was the hardest thing he’d had to do, but he wanted to show her around, to take her swimming to his favorite lake, to show her where the wild bees had made a hive this summer.
He wanted to show her his world, and he wanted her to like it. Maybe she would end up loving it as much as he did and be happy here. And he found that he wanted that, that he would move heaven and Earth to make sure she was satisfied.
Afraid she would see right through him, he dropped to all fours and shifted, letting that shimmery warmth travel over his body as his human skin morphed to black fur. She followed suit, taking off her clothes in record time and shifting into a beautiful, sleek black bear. He sniffed at her briefly, getting used to her other scent. Then he bumped his head into her side and took off into the trees. Numbers could wait. His cousin could wait. Right now, he was going to enjoy a day in the woods with his beautiful wife and pretend he didn’t have a care in the world.
