Page 77 of Outcast’s Vow

“Maybe if you treat me right,” she purrs. “We’ll see where the night goes.”

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

God, she’s got me.

“I’m always indulging you, Highness. What more can I do?”

Sylvie leans back and smirks.

“Indulge me now,” she commands.

“With what?”

“Open up for me. Tell me about your family. We didn’t get far enough the other night.”

I lean back as well.

Oh, she wants a bite?

“That was smooth,” I compliment. “I commend you.”

“Yes, I thought it was, but you can’t change the subject,” Sylvie says. She’s sensing blood in the water, and she wants her fill. “Tell me about yourself, Baptiste. I want to know about you. No more deflections.”

“Can I trust you?” I ask her. “I’ve got things I haven’t said to anyone else.”

“I’m your wife, Baptiste. If you don’t trust me, then this arrangement isn’t going to work.”

“Arrangement?”

“That’s how you’ve described what we have, isn’t it?”

Sylvie reaches for her bag, pulling out her lipstick, and applying it with a graceful flourish as if the move is a punctuation mark. She’s like a sleek homing missile, aimed at blowing up my defenses.

“You really want to know, don’t you?”

“Too long I’ve wanted to know how you tick, husband,” she says, her red lips pouting.

“But I don’t open up,” I reply quietly. “That’s not how I work. I’ve stated that enough times.”

My wife’s eyes are unflinching.

“Tell me about yourself, Baptiste. I’m not asking.”

I see genuine kindness in her eyes as she looks at me across the table.

But opening up would feel unnatural. There is a lifetime of defenses I have to lower.

“What do you want to know?”

“Your parents. Your upbringing.”

“You want my Forbes entry?”

“I want more than your biography. I want what you tell no one else.”

I take a moment before I dare speak.

“I never really had a father,” I finally murmur. “He left just after I was born. I was raised by a single mother.”