Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kara rolled herself up in the bed sheets and scooted up against the headboard, watching Lucas with wide eyes as he paced before the bed. Her body still ached and tingled from what they’d just done and Kara couldn’t describe a more delicious pain.
She could still feel the teasing prickle of his beard against her skin as well as the resulting effect between her thighs.
She’d never experienced anything so powerful and deep and… freeing. It was art.
As she watched him, her heart rose in anxiousness and she began to tug at her fingers as they rested above her drawn-up knees.
He was angry.
When it was over, Kara had still being floating down from the mystic heights Luc had taken her when Luc had ripped himself out of her hold and silently put on his pants with jerky movements.
Why was he so angry? She’d never done that sort of thing before so she didn’t really know what she’d done wrong, if she’d done anything wrong in the first place. She worried her bottom lip over the question when a thought occurred to her. She’d been bad at it, hadn’t she? And now he was regretting it.
Kara swallowed the lump of nerves that weighed down on her chest and blinked to hold back silly tears. Lucas could regret it all he wanted, she didn’t care! How dare he?
She hadn’t ask him to do that to her, to make her feel that way, had she? Of course not!
And now, because of him, she knew what she was missing! Gah! Damn it all to hell.
He might be all rich and powerful when she was born poor, but Kara didn’t care. Who her parents were didn’t define who she was and when she looked in the mirror, Kara saw nothing less than one as precious as a queen.
Deep inside, she was the priceless gem that she knew Lucas could never find in the experienced, rich actresses and models he probably dated. How could they be even half the woman Kara was when they hadn’t felt even half the things she’d gone through?
With a royally raised chin, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, mummified by the bed sheets and refusing to bend over to pick up her clothes scattered about before him. Why, it would look like she were bowing before him! And being the Queen she was, she’d bow before no man.
The first step in the bed sheet wrap was restricted, but Kara ignored that she’d have to take the tiniest steps to make her escape when what she really wanted was to run madly out of the room. She held her head up highly and proudly, ignoring that deep inside, she felt nothing but proud, ignoring that very deep inside, she wanted curl up and cry. Shit.
Luc stopped pacing at the corner of her eye and turned to watch her leave.
Kara tensed and tried to walk faster without making it look like she was running away. If only she could get away before he spoke to her.
A feeling of real panic mounted at the thought that he’d call out to her any second then and want to talk while she was such a mess inside.
But Lucas didn’t say anything.
He studied the stiff manner she walked quickly away, her shoulders drawn tensely, her fingers clutching at the bed sheets and her face pale. She didn’t look at him nor speak to him and he was glad. He didn’t know what to say to her.
Lucas grimaced as she left the room and closed the door behind her, not even slamming it as another woman would do.
Certainly as he deserved.
With a huge exhale, he sunk onto the bed and pushed his fingers into his hair, holding them there.
The room carried their scent. His and Kara’s. Reminding him ruthlessly of how careless he’d just been.
What the fuck had he just done? He wasn’t supposed to go through with it. He wasn’t supposed to take it there, dammit! This complicated everything.
God, the way she’d looked at him after. Like he’d just landed from heaven with a pair of fucking sparkling wings.
She’d truly been untouched. But, obviously only in a sexual manner. Lucas was certain that Kara knew every other filthy trick there was to know in her world of theft and exploitation. It had left him stunned that for all the time she’d been with her father in his rat hole of a kingdom, she’d remained untouched by a man.
And he’d been the first. The first to fuck Markov Vilmont’s daughter. Lucas snarled in disgust. Why the hell had he been unable to control himself? What was so damn special about Kara? Nothing! Just because he had a most irritating desire to protect her and tuck her away in a place where she’d be only his, where he’d be free to hold her all day didn’t mean she was special. She was just another woman, only she was the heir to an empire of blood and murder. He stood and paced across the large room, jaw clenched in suppressed energy.
She’d been upset after. He’d seen it when she was leaving. She’d looked like he’d just pierced her with a flaming sword right through the gut and Lucas didn’t want to care, but fuck if he could stop himself. Her mouth had drooped sadly when her eyes searched his face looking for reasons for his obvious anger. In the end, Luc was sure she’d blamed herself because of her inexperience with men.
He hadn’t corrected her, hadn’t held her with sweet words of reassurance.
What was the point? To make her feel better? To make everything okay again? There was no point in it because despite the pain cutting through him like a chain saw, Lucas still fully intended to send her back to her father.
He swallowed and grabbed a shirt, shrugging into it. She could go back to daddy dearest and figure her life out. Far away from him and his. That way, he wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying trip in his heartbeat every damn time she smiled at him or laughed or touched him or when her emerald eyes turned ocean green in the sun or when she just fucking breathed!
He was getting rid of her and he was getting his normal self back.
Damn, to think that he’d wanted to help her. What on earth had come over him? Lucas Cartier wasn’t the man who forgave someone who robbed him just because they were a girl with green eyes.
He was the man who flicked his wrist and sent blood flowing at the mere whiff of betrayal, it was why he and Sauvage had been partners for so long. Any threat outside the circle got no mercy, plain and simple.
So why had he treated Kara like she was the antidote to his poison?
*Because she is…*
The thought was unwelcome and Lucas shut it down immediately. His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. Good. Her food was here.
Leaving his bedroom, he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, unintentionally slowing when he reached Kara’s door.
Lucas told himself to keep walking, but still he found himself leaning into the door, listening for sounds inside. What he heard tore him apart.
His hand came up and laid silently against the door as her stifled sobs reached her through the wood.
Fuck. He jerked his hand away from the door like it had burned him and stalked away down the hallway.
His mouth set in a hard line and his eyes turned into cold, grey steel as he pressed the button to let the delivery in. This wasn’t him. Feeling this pain and this helplessness inside just because she was crying. It wasn’t Lucas Cartier. He hated that he felt guilt. It ate away at him to the bone and left him fighting off self-hatred.
He’d made her cry.
A sudden burst of anger flowed through his veins. Why was she behaving like he’d done the ultimate evil towards her when she hadn’t bothered to tell him who she really was?!
Lucas felt like an idiot. There was a time when he’d foolishly thought that he might’ve been in love with her. How fucking pathetic she’d turned him. And with nothing more than a little act of innocence and a green eyed wink.
Well, the game was up. He wasn’t anybody’s fool.
With a hard set jaw, he went to open the front door for the pizza where the delivery boy was probably drenched to the bone.
The rain beat rhythmically against the roof and Kara listened to every pitter patter. Her breath hitched after every third heavy patter.
Her left cheek lay, rosy from crying, against a thick white pillow and the white fur duvet covered her till over her ear, leaving her face out and the burst of black hair tumbling down over all the white.
Kara listened closely to the rain, ignoring the voice that had finally gotten more power to speak. That voice had been quiet for a long time.
It had been the voice that had agreed with her step-father when he’d called her a worthless bastard. It had tried to convince her to believe the other learners at school when they called her names. It told her “You know they’re right. There’s a knife, just end it. You don’t need to live. Nobody loves you.” Kara had always been strong enough to block it out.
She wasn’t her mother, Tabitha Rhodes or her father, Markos Vilmont. She was Kara Kingsley. And like her maternal grandmother, Donna Kingsley, she was a fighter. Kara had always been a fighter.
The rain sang its woeful song and silent tears coursed down her face.
She’d always been a fighter, until Lucas. Lucas who, beating every scumbag in Rein, including her own father, had managed to reawaken that voice that told her she was nothing.
A distant rage coursed deep inside her, but Kara didn’t feel it over the sadness. She tucked her legs up higher, comforted by the feel of the cotton of her comfy pajama pants against her legs.
A quiet knock sounded on the door. Her eyes dragged slowly to stare coldly at it, knowing who stood behind it.
When she remained silent for over two minutes, it finally swung slowly open, revealing Lucas who held three boxes of pizza in one hand.
Their eyes met and they stared at each other, neither smiling nor glaring.
Kara didn’t need to show him her anger. She felt it, knew it was there and that was enough for now. Later, she’d splash it out onto a canvas.
He walked in and raised the pizza boxes. She looked at the boxes remembering when she’d had pizza for the first time at her cottage. He’d fed it to her with his own hand.
Then he’d gone on to put her favorite movie on so she wouldn’t be embarrassed about what happened between them.
Her eyes sought his out and she held his gaze. He’d comforted her when they came for her that night. Protected her, then fed her again which was the best part.
Sadness rose up inside Kara as she watched Lucas put two boxes down silently and turn to leave.
“What happened?”
Lucas froze at the sound of her voice behind him. It sounded raspier and he knew it was because she’d cried. Because of him.
No. Because, she’d chosen to lie about who she was.
Reassured, he turned around to regard her coldly.
Kara saw the steel in Luc’s eyes as he stood tall beside the bed and her heart sank. He hated her.
“What do you mean?” he asked, not answering her question.
She stared up at him in disbelief.
“What did I do wrong?!” He flinched when she said the words in a voice deepened by tears. “Why are you suddenly treating me like crap?”
Luc forced himself to not become overcome by his own emotions. Like he’d trained himself to successfully perform in countless business meetings, before many enemies, he schooled his features, controlled his expressions.
But, unlike those other times, now within Lucas reined chaos. His heart was beating at a hundred miles per hour. Damn the bloody organ, it had become too unreliable since she’d come around. But he was sending her away, wasn’t he? Then surely once she was gone, he’d get himself under control again.
Easily, he shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t even know what you mean.”
Kara frowned, her eyes glistened, but even if her heart stupidly ached, she forced her chin up.
Queen.
“I gave myself to you. You act as if it was nothing,” she said in a cold, clipped tone.
Luc felt his body warm at the reminder and reacted harshly to contradict his attraction to her.
Staring at her coldly, he tilted his head. “Well, maybe it was nothing. Goodnight.”
He ignored the harsh gasp that dragged air into her lungs and walked out of the room.
Kara sat statue still and stared at the closed door, feeling nothing but the hatred that was rising inside her.
Slowly, she sunk back against the pillows, eyes wide and glassy.
It was nothing to him. Okay. She swallowed and nodded dazedly. It was okay that she meant nothing to him, she didn’t care. Kara ignored the actual pain that tore at her, urging her to curl into a ball. Stubbornly, she remained easily sunk back against the pillows, waiting out the pain.
It would fade and when it did, she’d get back up and move on. Lucas Cartier didn’t own her soul, just her heart and she’d get it back.
Kara nodded, in agreement with her thoughts even as tears coursed down her cheeks. It was okay. Soon she’d get out of there, she’d sell paintings to people and she’d go home. When she got back to the USA, she’d be okay. Lucas wouldn’t be there, her father wouldn’t be there, it would just be her and her art. No man to ruin things for her.
The reasoning comforted Kara greatly and she drew the cover up over her head, ignoring the boxes of pizza sitting nearby.
The scent she’d once found mouth-watering now only made her stomach churn. She wouldn’t touch it. It wasn’t like she’d never slept with nothing but hunger in her stomach before.
Turning on her side, Kara closed her eyes. Tomorrow, she’d leave.
Lucas was oblivious to her train of thought, consumed by his own. She had too much power over him, he thought as he sank into his home office chair.
Too much power. He rubbed a hand over his beard, eyes glaring into the darkness of his office. The curtains behind him lit up when the sky outside flashed with lightning.
She made him feel things that were unlike him, she made him get angry when he could easily control his temper before, she made him react to her until he couldn’t control his own body anymore!
And all she was, was nothing but a thief from Rein, daughter of Markos Vilmont. Lucas nearly growled from rage.
Then his hand was reaching for the telephone, fueled by anger. He knew what he was doing, he was in control and this was for the best. He couldn’t let himself go like that.
The phone rang as he held it to his ear and Luc waited for response. He didn’t wait long.
“Allo? C’est qui?” came the reply in French, but he knew the tongue that spoke it wasn’t a French tongue, so Luc didn’t entertain it.
“Get me Markov Vilmont. Now.”
A pause and then there was a scurry of movement sounding in the back until another voice came through the receiver. A voice, cold and void of true emotion.
“Vilmont. Who am I speaking to?”
Lucas felt his body tense like he was about to throw a punch, but he stilled himself.
“Lucas Cartier. I have something that belongs to you.”