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"They're a close-knit family," Emilia explained, "And our mother-in-law is nuts."
"I like her."
"Yeah, me too, now that she's on my side. That woman is dangerous when she's not," Emilia told me. "You've married into a family where we take care of each other. You need something; all of us will show up."
I'd never had that, and something warm opened up inside of me at that thought—that I'd have a family, a real one. Right now, I had a megalomaniac criminal as a father who wanted to use me to elevate his position in sketchy business dealings.
"I feel lucky." I watched Duncan banter with his parents. I'd never seen him like this, with his guard down. It was always up, but apparently, with family, he was…just the way he was with me when we were alone, I realized. No harsh lines. No steel and iron.
"Oh, I think Duncan is the lucky one," Emilia remarked.
I'd worried unnecessarily about mycheapapartment and table setting.
The Archers were warm and accepting, and none of them made me feel like my apartment was too small or my food too simple. Several bottles of wine were opened and drunk, and all the food was eaten—and at the end of the night, I felt wrapped up in all things good.
As Thierry left, he gave me a hug. "You did good, Els. You did real good. I like them for you."
When we were in bed, Duncan thanked me for making his family mine. I fell in love with him some more. My baby and I were going to be safe and happy. The universe had finally smiled at me.
Chapter 18
Duncan
"I'm nervous about the reception," Elsa said as she lay with her head on my shoulders, her fingers making patterns on my chest.
I'd never held a woman like this after sex, not in a long while, not since university. It was surprisingly pleasurable. Contentment flooded through me. Would this be the same with any woman, or was Elsa unique? I knew she was. There was an innocence about her—a positivity that came from naiveté that was unusual in the world I lived in.
"Why?" I stroked her back, sliding down, down, down to cup her ass. I couldn't stop touching her. Whether a caress or just an arm around her, I felt like I needed the connection to keep me grounded.What the fuck?
"I don't likehisworld. I don't like the men. Mamman never let me go for any of his parties or celebrations," she continued.
"Then why do you put up with him? Why do youlistento him?” If she was so distant from his world, why on earth was she still in his grip?
She chuckled. "No one says no to Jean-Luc Moreau. I know that. Mamman knew that. If I don't play along, he'll force me. Regular people do his bidding, Duncan; I'm his daughter; you think he'll let me get away with not following his orders?"
My hand stilled. I heard the fear, the uncertainty in her voice—but a chilling thought ran through me as I remembered Dom's words. I didn't know Elsa. And she'd just said she did what her father wanted her to do. Was her doing me something he'd ordered her to do?
"Is that why you came to me?"
She lifted her head, and I saw the confusion in her eyes. "Quoi?"
"Your father has been trying to get me to do business with him for a long time and—"
She moved away from me and sat up. Her breasts were illuminated by the streetlights filtering through her cheerful curtains.
"You think he asked me towhoremyself with you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You didwhoreyourself, Elsa. You told me you were an escort breaking into the business. I left you a fucking tip after we were done." I kept my voice calm and cool, though something inside me felt like it was twisting with rage, burning with an unfamiliar intensity.
She put a hand to her mouth, and I saw her eyes flood with tears.
Fuck!
"I didn't even know your name," she breathed, "just your room number."
"Elsa, I live at the Ritz; it's not hard for anyone to figure out my room number," I chided. I sat up and leaned against her headboard.
She looked horrified. "You think Papa asked me to…to—"
