Page 72 of Outcast’s Return
He doesn’t say anything.
He breathes in. I hold my breath.
We don’t break eye contact.
Oh.
We could kiss now. We really could do it.
He’s leaning in...
But I see the debate raging inside.
I would let him kiss me. God, I actually would. I want this.
But could he permit himself?
Fabien pulls away before that question can be answered. His hand leaves mine.
“But that time’s over, Angel.”
And then he steps back, and regret floods my body.
I did this. I made him like this.
Angel.
From his mouth, that word cuts now like it used to heal. Was its use habit or cruelty or something he can’t stop?
“I’m going to bed,” Fabien announces quietly before I can even get another word out.
Then he walks back to the bedroom.
He was so close to kissing me. I felt it, and then he retreated. I want to scream at him and yet be held by him at the same time. I don’t know whether I want to slap him or kiss him.
And it hurts like hell.
DAY FOUR
27
FABIEN
He’s already at the private members’ club when I arrive.
I step through the front doors, giving my name to security, but the men here already recognize my face. No one gets into this elite joint without a reputation. The air is heavy with the stench of cigars and aged scotch. Oil portraits of wizened men perch ominously on the walls, watching over their former domain. Velvet drapes frame the windows, sealing off the noise and the life from the outside world. Patrons lounge in leather chairs, indulging in expensive liquor and reading newspapers from around the world.
But me? I care little for this level of secrecy or grandeur.
The man I’m here for is sitting by the fireplace, his back straight. Posture immaculate. Calm and confident. A man in his element. He’s chosen an empty corner of a quiet building, perfect for a meeting. Perfect to exchange dark secrets.
“Good morning, sir.”
Cromwell Auclair looks up at me, barely moving. Like a snake slowly scenting prey.
“Fabien,” he purrs. “Please take a seat.”
He gestures to the leather chair opposite.
