“They were what?” He muses, and I want to smack the smirk right off his face.
“They had orgasms… I’m still not sure how…”
“It’s called tantric sex. The mind is powerful. Anything is possible.”
I fidget with the hem of my shirt. “Can anyone do it?”
He laughs. “No. You need a lot of practice.”
“I see.” I pause, biting my lower lip. “How did you find the Brotherhood?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Hayes told me about it. We work together at HSBC.”
I open my mouth as the shock rolls through me. “That guy is a banker? What does he deal with, repossessions?”
Benedict laughs—a loud, hearty laugh. “He’s my boss.”
I shake my head. “What do you do at the bank?” Lily had mentioned it at some point, but I never paid attention. I never wanted to until now.
“Our team works with private assets. Filthy, rich people who want to protect their prized goods and family heirlooms.”
I nod. “Is that what you did in Paris, too?”
He hesitates for a second before answering. “Yes. They transferred me here after everything happened,” he says, looking away.
For the longest time, I thought he’d followed me. I knew he’d remained in the U.K.—even after he stopped showing up on my doorstep. But at the time, with everything still fresh in my mind, I resented him for following me here a year after I was rescued. I wanted a clean break, a fresh start, with access to Paris so I could see Lily and Salem. I wanted to find a place that felt like home, and London seemed like the perfect spot for that.
For so long, the only attachment to my hometown had been Greta, Lily’s housekeeper. We were kindred spirits, and she was the grandmother I never had growing up. After she died, there was nothing to return to. I was an orphan in a sea of people who had families and connections to certain places. After… when I left Paris, Londonbecamemy home.
And then he showed up in my sacred space, and I was angry.
But I was angrier when he disappeared.
Now I realize, he needed a fresh start just as much as me. Auguste washisfather.
I’m suddenly reminded of the care packages. How do you thank someone for caring for you with such unexpected thoughtfulness?He knew all of those things I’d missed. Things that were previously important to me.
“Um . . . thank you for sending all those packages, Benedict. They’ve meant so much to me,” I say, changing the subject again.
He frowns. “So, you finally caught me.” I watch him as he leans forward and spreads his legs, watching me with regard. The room is small, so he’s close enough to reach out and touch me. I focus on the coarse fabric of his pants—ignoring the way the luxurious fabric smooths out his strong thighs, and how it creases perfectly where he’s seated. “I had to bribe one of my American co-workers. He hunts the goods down somewhere in Chelsea.”
“Why?” I whisper. The sound is so small, I wonder if he heard me.
He shrugs and looks away, a frown on his face. He’s deep in thought, and it takes him a minute to answer me. “There is a saying in French—I cannot translate it properly to English. But it goes something like this. Cherish the ones that heard you when you never said a word. That’s how I felt. Though you always ignored me, I knew deep down that you did not hate me. I knew your silence was not coming from a place of hatred.” He stops and looks at me, his soulful eyes finding mine. A flush creeps up my neck and onto my face as his pupils darken slightly. “I was willing to burn myself alive if it meant keeping the light inside of you going, Evelyn. I still am.”
I place my hands on either side of me, prickling irritation beginning to curdle inside of me. “How come you never told me any of this?”
He shrugs, rubbing his jaw with his hand. “I tried. For months. But it got to the point where I felt like I was hindering your recovery. So, I walked away.”I met someone.
His words are like a punch to the gut. Which do I believe? I take a deep breath and blow it out. I’m about to reply when a knock sounds, and a woman rolls a lunch cart in, handing us a couple of menus. I open it in front of my face so that Benedict can’t see the flush that’s begun to creep up my chest and neck.
We purchase our lunch and Benedict orders us cocktails. I excuse myself and let myself into the bathroom as quickly as I can. After splashing my face with cold water, I brush through my hair and apply a bit of tinted chapstick to my cheeks and lips. I stare at my reflection, wondering what Benedict sees when he looks at me. I’m plain, with pale skin and red hair that’s currently blonde. I don’t have the luxury of interesting freckles or crystal blue eyes. Mine are dark blue, almost grey, and I’m average height. Compared to other girls, I’m kind of ordinary.
“Lunch is here,” Benedict calls from the other side of the door, causing me to jump. I take a few calming breaths, curling and uncurling my fists slowly as I calm myself down.
I can do this.
He’s like all of the other men.
