Page 87 of Outcast’s Vow

“No... I...”

She cuts me off.

“You can’t see it? We are a team, husband. We support each other. We should do everything for each other. I have your last name now, so I have to honor that name.”

I run a hand through my hair.

“So you’re saying you helped me? That you thought you could just sweep onto my chessboard and win my games for me?”

“Yes, Baptiste. I didn’t just think I could. I did.”

No one has ever done anything like this for me. No one has ever looked out for me like this. And Sylvie did it all unprompted.

No, no, no.

This couldn’t be love. Surely not.

I drag a hand through my hair again. God, I’m rattled. I’m actually fucking rattled for once. Then the clarity hits.

I focus on Sylvie. She’s watching me right back.

I step toward her, my leather jacket rustling. She put her head on the chopping block for me? Plotted ahead? Moved like a military tactician?

For me?

Holy shit. She could be a better chess player than I am. And she needs to hear it. She needs to see it.

Because, if she doesn’t, then I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.

“You think you could go behind my back and do that for me and believe I wouldn’t notice?”

Low. Quiet.

Apprehension flickers across her face. She stiffens.

“Yeah.”

The word escapes her lips without her usual sassy confidence. She’s cautious now. Wary of what I might do next.

“Do you want to be rewarded for your effort?”

Sylvie pauses again.

“Yes. I do. In fact, I would like that very much.”

I lower myself to my knees in front of her.

Slowly. In devotion. Because this is no longer about control. This isn’t me taking a prize.

This is acknowledgment.

And it startles her.

“Stay still, wife,” I growl. “Open your legs. I want to show you how thankful I am.”

33

SYLVIE