Better man lesser book 2, p.2
Better Man (Lesser Book 2), page 2
“Check under the desk.”
I gave a quiet hiss as I jerked my eyes up.
In his signature sweatpants, he stood in the doorway, his hair slightly ruffled like he’d rolled out of bed just to come down here. But his eyes were wide awake, furious. Dark and hot like freshly brewed espresso, his look could kill.
My hands moved underneath the desk until I felt it, the cold sting of metal. I yanked it loose from the Velcro that kept it hidden out of sight.
He moved to the desk, empty-handed but just as much of a threat.
It was a handgun, so I clicked off the safety and pointed it at his chest.
He stopped at the desk, both hands planted on the wood as he leaned forward, powerful eyes burning me all the way through. Without hesitation, without an ounce of fear, he looked at me head on, like a bullet to his chest would simply bounce off. “What are you waiting for?”
My hand shook as I held it, like I was the one being held at gunpoint.
“Camille.”
Once I shot him through the chest, I could hobble on outta there without being stopped. I could take one of his cars and drive away, never looking back. But then Grave would track me down eventually, and I’d be right back where I started. Plus, if I shot Cauldron, he would be dead…and I didn’t want him to be dead.
I should after what he did to me, but I didn’t.
“This is your brilliant plan?” he asked coldly. “Break in to my office and steal my gun, just to give up? Come on, shoot me.”
I lowered the gun.
“I said, shoot me.” He grabbed my wrist and forced the gun at his chest.
I gave a scream and yanked it back, sick to my stomach that the cold metal of the barrel touched his warm skin, skin I had kissed and touched.
“Shoot. Me.”
“No.” I tossed the gun across the desk, where it slid over the surface and fell to the floor. My eyes stung because I was on the verge of tears, my heart traumatized by what I’d almost done. When I pictured the bloody wound in his chest and his dead body on the floor, I nearly had a panic attack.
He stared me down for another moment before he retrieved the gun from the floor and set it back on the desk. “Don’t touch my guns unless you’re going to use them. Otherwise, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?” He’d looked at that gun head on, with no regard for his own life. Where did he get that courage? That bravery?
“I didn’t.”
A long silence ensued. I stared at him, my eyebrows slowly rising up my face.
He stared back, devoid of all emotion.
“What are you saying? That you—you wanted me to kill you?”
He held my stare for a while before he came around the desk and pulled my chair back. He kneeled and secured the gun back in place with the black Velcro. “I guess I wouldn’t have minded it.”
FOUR
CAULDRON
She didn’t join me during mealtimes. Didn’t come out of her room. A week came and went, and the only evidence she was still in the house were Hugo’s reports. There were no more notes in the wastebin, so I had no idea how she felt.
She would have taken that shot if she really hated me.
Roger came by to check on her ankle, and he said it was healing nicely but would require more time.
Camille was still in the house with me, but she was out of my life, and the bite of loneliness really stung. My time used to be occupied with work and whores, but now I didn’t care about either.
My mission to make Grave suffer couldn’t have gone better, and the high was potent—but also brief.
A piece of me seemed to be missing. A piece I didn’t even know was there in the first place. Lounging in my chair, I looked out the window over the grounds of the front of the house, my laptop and work ignored.
Then I heard the clank of clutches. It grew louder as she approached the doorway. I turned to see her appear beyond the double doors, wearing high-waisted linen pants with a ruffled top that showed her belly button piercing.
I watched her enter my study then sit down in one of the armchairs facing my desk. Slightly out of breath, she leaned the crutches against the other chair. After that night with the gun, she hadn’t left her room, so this was the first time we’d come face-to-face. Her hair and makeup were done, and with the little bit of belly she showed, she was appealing. In nothing but a baggy shirt with her hair in a messy bun, she was intoxicating. But right now, she looked stunning. Maybe it was the dry spell talking, but I’d never wanted her more.
Powerless to act on it, all I could do was look at her.
Her eyes avoided me for a bit, either because of my hungry stare, or because she struggled to find the words. “My ankle is a lot better.”
That was the last thing I expected her to say. “I heard.”
“I can almost put my weight on it.”
“Good.”
She looked at a couple paintings on the wall before her gaze shifted to mine. Once she looked at me, there was a noticeable tightening of her body, all the muscles contracting at the same time. Couldn’t tell if it was in disgust or longing. “I thought we should talk.”
My elbow propped on the armrest, and my folded knuckles slid underneath my chin.
“You really intend to keep me here forever?”
It was a heavy question, so I continued to stare.
“Seems pointless to me. We’re down the hall from each other but practically strangers.”
“A stranger wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.”
“Okay, not strangers. Enemies.”
“An enemy would have kept firing until the barrel was empty.”
“Okay…then I’m not sure what we are. There’s no reason to keep me.”
Couldn’t disagree more. “When you first came here, you asked me to kill him.”
“I remember. What’s your point?”
“I’ll do it.”
Both of her eyebrows moved up her beautiful face. “What?”
“I’ll kill him. You can walk out of here as a free woman.”
She considered what I said for a long time. “What brought this on?”
“It’s headed in that direction anyway. He’ll kill me to get you back, so I’ll kill him first.”
“But he’s your brother—”
“He’s a worthless piece of shit. That’s what he is.”
Her eyes flicked away at my anger.
“I’ll kill him, and you’ll be free. But I want something in return.”
Her eyes moved back to mine, the surprise unmistakable.
“You.”
Emotions passed across her gaze, none of them readable. “You just said it’s coming to a head anyway. I don’t need to cooperate.”
“You want me to release you so you’ll be his prisoner instead?” I challenged. “I imagine you must be tired of changing hands by now. Impossible to chase your dreams with an invisible leash around your neck. You need me to kill him, just like you originally wanted, and I’m willing to do that if you give me what I want.”
Now that fire erupted. “You already had me, asshole. Look how that turned out.”
“I want you still.”
She abruptly turned her head away, as if insulted.
I stared at the side of her face, seeing the mix of anger and hurt, all caused by my insatiable need for revenge. “We have a deal?”
A quiet sigh escaped her lips, her eyes still elsewhere.
“Your feelings for me haven’t changed.”
Slowly, she turned to look at me, her eyes drenched in gasoline and hungry for a match. “Trust me, they have. Just because I didn’t shoot you doesn’t mean I forgive you. Doesn’t mean I want you in my bed ever again. Doesn’t mean I would ever care for you the way I once did. You had all of me, Cauldron…all of me. Even if I agree to this, it would only be a sliver. I would be back on the clock, paid to pretend to feel something when I feel nothing at all.”
I suddenly felt winded, as if an invisible fist had just punched me right in the stomach. I did my best to keep a straight face, keeping my hand of cards close to my chest where she couldn’t see. “You want to know the worst part of all this?”
Slowly, her rage softened from a boil to a simmer, but she could crank the heat back up in a flash.
“That I’m so desperate for revenge, but even when I get it, I still feel numb. It’s as if it never happened. The high was so exhilarating, but it burned out…just like that. Now I want another hit because I don’t know what else to do. I know full well his suffering won’t make mine any more manageable. So, I betrayed you for something that didn’t even really matter in the end.”
Her eyes were locked to mine like she repeated those words in her head.
“I’ve been so angry ever since I can remember that I don’t even know how to live. My entire purpose in life is to hurt Grave and my father. It’s consumed me. Despite what you think, I’ve grown to care for you, but that didn’t stop me from throwing you to the wolves.”
“I thought you said your father is dead?”
Anger swept through me. “Dead to me.”
“Then it sounds like you meant what you said, that I could shoot you and it wouldn’t have mattered.”
After a long stare, I gave a shrug. “I’ve come to the sad realization that my life has no other purpose. It’s always been about revenge to the exclusion of all else, even sabotaging my own happiness. Even now, it gives me sick satisfaction that you’re here and Grave can’t touch you, when all I should feel is remorse for what I’ve done to you.”
She held my gaze and didn’t speak, her eyes absorbing my words.
“So I’m offering to kill him for you—if we can be what we once were.”
“We can never be that again,” she said quickly.
“As long as I have you in any capacity, we have a deal.” My fingers rubbed along the scruff of my jawline, feeling the coarse prickle of the skin as I grazed the area with my fingertips. I waited for her answer, hoped that my offer was too enticing to ignore.
After what felt like minutes, she gave a nod. “Okay. When will you kill him?”
“When the moment is right.”
“That could be years.”
“More like months.”
“You haven’t killed him so far. How do I know you’ll ever do it?”
“Because it needs to happen anyway. It’s the only way I can move on.”
She studied me, searching for a hint of a lie. “And when he’s dead, I’m free to go.”
“Yes.”
After long consideration, she nodded. “Okay. We have a deal.”
FIVE
CAMILLE
I actually felt sorry for him.
Which was stupid, because I should only feel sorry for myself.
I only agreed to his terms because there was no other option. I would always be a pawn these two men would fight over, so until one of them was dead and the other let me go, my life would never be my own. Finding a husband and a quiet place to start a family would be an impossibility.
But even on the best of terms, that still felt like an impossibility.
Would a man ever love me after he knew my past?
Would I ever love a man after my heart was so irrevocably broken?
Was I the stupidest person alive for actually thinking that Cauldron could be that man?
Yep. 100%.
Wouldn’t make that mistake again.
A physical therapist came to the house to help me work on my ankle. It’d been nearly two weeks since I’d actually used it, and the muscles seemed to have forgotten how to work. It was a lot of stretching then short walks. The swelling had gone down and the pain was gone, so it was tempting to do more, but being disabled for a few weeks taught me to fight the impulse.
Once my exercises were done, I made it downstairs and used my crutches to approach the pool deck. Fall had just begun, but it still felt like summer. Hot and humid. Not a cloud in the sky. I sat on the top of the steps and set down my crutches before I slid into the pool. The buoyancy of the water allowed me to stand upright without assistance, so it was nice to enjoy some independence, even if it was attenuated.
“How does it feel?”
When I turned around, I spotted him stepping into the pool in black swim trunks. His muscles were thick and swollen, like he’d hit the weights that morning and was still tight from the workout. His skin was beautifully tanned, like he spent his time lounging around the pool instead of working in his office all day.
He moved into the water until only his chest was above the surface. “Your ankle.”
I forgot the question he’d just asked. “Feels normal again. But the therapist said I need to take it easy for another week.”
“I’m sure that’s a struggle.” A slight smile moved on to his lips, a ghost of a boyish grin. “You never listen.”
“Well, I want to make sure I do this right so I don’t have to use those crutches any longer. All the chafing is giving me a rash under my arms.”
He came close to me but left a foot of space between us.
I didn’t want him any closer than that.
His dark eyes shifted back and forth between mine, reading my energy like an email on his computer. He moved away to the edge of the pool, leaning against the wall and resting one arm over the pavement. Hugo appeared and placed a tray at the poolside with a couple drinks then disappeared.
Cauldron grabbed a glass and took a drink. It looked like scotch on the rocks. The other was a pink drink, fruity, with a yellow umbrella. He picked it up and held it out to me.
Ain’t going to say no to that.
I took it from his hand and sipped it, tasting the mix of guava and pineapple juice along with the smooth tequila. The back of the pool had a stone seat that spanned the entire wall, so I took a seat and crossed my legs. The depth of the pool never extended more than five and a half feet, so I could tiptoe around without getting my hair wet.
He stayed in his spot, drinking his scotch and looking over the lush grounds.
We were quiet for a long time. So quiet, it seemed like he had no intentions when he joined me.
A part of me wanted him to leave because I couldn’t really relax whenever he was in my presence. It was like a gentle electric current humming in my veins. It wasn’t enough to shock me, but enough to make me uncomfortable. “Don’t you have work to do?” The words burst out abrasively, far harsher than I meant them to.
If he was offended, it didn’t show. After a beat, he turned to look at me. “You want me to leave?”
“I just… You’re usually in your study so…”
“Thought I’d take a break.”
I continued to stare, unable to deny his handsomeness but still despising his soul. It’d been weeks since he broke my heart, but I was still in fragile condition. I wasn’t just hurt, but humiliated. Didn’t know how I could ever let my guard down again. Didn’t know how I could be intimate with him and feel safe.
He held my stare before he grabbed his glass and finished off the scotch. It wasn’t even noon yet. He always drank like that, having the occasional iced tea over lunch. I could never tell when he was drunk. Unless he was always drunk. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He returned the glass to the tray and exited the pool.
My eyes stared at his muscled back as more became visible above the surface of the water. More lines. More segments of muscle carved by strength. Wide shoulders narrowed down to slim hips and a tight ass shaped by his wet swim trunks. His feet touched the pool deck, and the water splashed down around him. After he grabbed a white towel off the table, he dropped his swim trunks right on the deck.
I couldn’t look away.
The soft towel dried him everywhere, moved behind his neck, into his short hair and over his ass, as well as between his muscled thighs. Then he tied it around his waist as if he’d just gotten out of the shower and walked inside.
I knew that little strip show was intentional. No doubt about it.
Bastard.
“Mr. Beaufort requests your presence over dinner.” Hugo stood in my doorway, polite in tone but hostile in stare. He wouldn’t dare disobey his master, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed treating me with the same respect as Cauldron.
I continued to spend my time in solitude, unable to write notes out of fear of their discovery. It made me feel alone. But the stranglehold of solitude was never painful enough to desire his company. His knife went in so deep, I was convinced the tip was still in place, pressed so close to my heart it nearly pierced it. “I’ll take my dinner in here.”
“He said he would join you if that were the case.”
Just like when I first came here, Cauldron pressed up against me harder and harder, infecting my space until he was fully in it. His patience had run its course.
“The dinner would be better served at a dining table anyway.”
Like I cared. “Fine.”
Hugo left my bedroom.
I threw something on, then used my crutches to get downstairs. The wrap was off my ankle, and I could not only put weight on it, but use it fully, but I still had a few more days before the crutches could be abandoned altogether. Slowly, I made it downstairs, the gentle tap of the crutches the soundtrack of my life over the last couple weeks.
He sat alone at the dining table, candles aglow and flowers in full bloom. In a short-sleeved black t-shirt with his arms resting on the surface, he watched me enter the room with his dark and intelligent eyes.
When I approached the table, he pulled out the chair for me.
I sat down and leaned the crutches against the chair beside me.
Hugo immediately poured me a glass of wine and left us to enjoy the soup he brought. It was always a three-course meal at dinner time. A small soup. A salad. And some kind of meat with green vegetables. Lunchtime was always casual, a single plate with a few items on top. “Do you always eat like this?” I asked.
After a spoonful, he answered. “It’s the only way to dine.”
