Free 1939912059 (R) by Delilah Marvelle Page B

and slit the throat of the Republic.
    He leaned toward her and corked the brandy, knowing he had to focus on her and not drinking. He set the flask beside him. “So what made you want to be an actress?”
    She returned her gaze to the fire, her slim finger absently tracing the hem covering her feet. “Why did you want me to tell you that I loved you? Knowing it was a lie?”
    He scrubbed his face in exasperation. Him and his misguided fantasies. “I just like feeling I belong to someone. Women have a tendency to flock to me for all the wrong reasons, and I wanted to pretend I found the right one.”
    Her lips parted. “I see.” Averting her gaze, she chewed on a nail. She kept chewing.
    “Are you hungry?” he softly chided.
    She gave him a withering look, dropping her hand. “No, I— You baffle me.”
    His chest tightened. “How so?”
    “With your talk of wanting to be with someone, why settle for a mistress? Why not marry?”
    He shifted, sensing she was probably probing for what chances she had. Like women always did. “Marriage is not for me, dearest. It would complicate my life.”
    She snorted. “How does marriage complicate a man’s life? It really only complicates a woman’s life. She becomes his property, bears his children and is his life-long servant to all his needs.”
    “Not true.” Tapping at his chest, he humbly confessed, “If I were to marry, I would become the servant. Which is why I will never do it.”
    She squinted. “What do you mean?”
    He lifted a brow. “What is this? Are you hoping to be my wife? What happened to all that talk of men being disgusting, wanting nothing but food, wine and poom-poom ?”
    She eyed him, her pale cheeks flushing. “I hardly find you disgusting.”
    Uh-oh. This one had just elevated him above the male population. Which meant she would expect him to leap higher than his boots would allow. He swiped at his mouth. “I ask that you not place such lofty expectations on me. I disappoint enough people in my life.” Or what was left of them.
    She searched his face.
    He reveled in those sultry eyes that didn’t look real. As fiery and stubborn as she was, he was surprised he had been able to seduce her. Either he was that damn good or she was that damn naughty. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Ever.”
    She pinched her lips in an attempt to hide a smile. “Do you always flatter women after you seduce them?”
    “Only if they are worthy of it.” He tilted his head. “You never answered my question. Why did you want to be an actress? Hm? When did that start?”
    She set her chin on her hand. “When I visited my cousin in Paris at the age of twelve. He let me sing for a crowd opening night. My parents about boxed his ears bloody when they heard of it, but it was the most glorious moment of my life. When my boots touched the apron of that stage, I knew it was what I was destined for. I, with but a song, was in command of more than their eyes. I was in command of their minds and their hearts. I was able to make them believe I was more than the mere daughter of a butcher. That I was, in fact, born a queen.”
    He knew she was perfect for what he planned.
    She was the stronghold he had been looking for who defined everything bourgeoisie.
    With her on the stage of Théâtre Française , the epicenter of all life and gossip in Paris, she would have access to all sorts of people. Bourgeoisie and Legislative Assembly members alike. And if he was having trouble breathing around her, he could only imagine what this siren could do if they formed an alliance. Men always put their cocks first.
    He was proof of it.
    Grabbing up his flask, he uncorked it. He took another swig of brandy and draped an arm over his bent knee. “Allow me to get to the point of what I really want from you.”
    “You mean sex was merely you getting started?” She smirked. “Do go on . Make me an offer.”
    He held her gaze, taking another swig of his brandy. “I will