Out of Control (Untamed #2) (6 page)

Of course, I had no idea where I was going to go. I’d have to go back to the apartment to get my stuff—god willing Lucien would be long gone to work by then—and I’d need a place to put it all. A hostel perhaps until I could find something more permanent.

Fuck, this day was looking to be even worse than yesterday.

If that were even possible.

I stalked toward Dare and he glared for a moment before moving aside. Brushing past him, I almost lost my grip on the sheet, but grasped it tighter, pulling it around me with my other hand.

As I was about to storm into the bathroom, he spoke. “There’s an apartment in this building.”

“What?” I whipped around to face him again.

“It’s available,” he said, almost reluctantly. Because he didn’t want to piss me off or because he didn’t want me living in his building? I didn’t know, and frankly, I didn’t care. “I could talk to the owner and get you in. You need a new place to stay, right?”

“I don’t need your fucking charity, Dare. I can figure things out on my own.”

I rushed into the bathroom and tried to slam the door as hard as I could, but he moved in after me and held out his hand to stop it midway.

“It’s not charity.” His voice floated through the slightly ajar door, low and tight. “It’s the right thing, and you know it. You can’t live with that creep. You need a new place and there’s one here. Take it, Reagan. I won’t offer again.” Releasing the door, he turned and walked away.

And left me all alone.

Again.

When I pushed open the door to La Période Bleue that afternoon, Lucien’s crooked smirk greeted me as if nothing at all had happened last night.

“
Bonjour, chérie!
I did not see you this morning. Are you alright?” He actually had the audacity to look concerned. I put my palm on his chest and stepped out of reach as he leaned forward to try to press his cheek to mine in a
bise
greeting. His eyes widened for just a moment before narrowing at the insult.

Whatever. Douchebag.

“
Je vais déménager,
” I said.
I’m moving out.
“I just thought you should know.”

His face hardened slightly, and his eyes flicked to the door behind me as it opened.

“
Bonjour!
” he called out to the young couple who’d walked in. “
Un moment.
”
Just a moment.
Then he focused on me again, stepped forward and slid his fingers around my elbow, pulling me with him toward the office. “We should talk about—”

Yanking my arm from his grasp, I glared at him. “It’s done. Leave me alone.” I nodded toward the customers. “Go. You have work, and so do I. I’m going to scout. I’ll be back when I find something suitable for the gallery.”

Then I turned and walked away, ignoring his shocked expression. I didn’t have to make nice with Lucien. That wasn’t what I was here for. He didn’t deserve it anyway.

Out on the street I took a deep breath, the scents of late spring flowers filling my lungs. Feeling just a little freer again, I started walking. The farther I got from the gallery and Lucien, the better I felt and the easier I could breathe.

Of course, this was just one problem solved. There were many more to go.

But what was that saying? One day at a time?

Damn it. I wanted it all accomplished in one day.

But I didn’t live in that kind of world anymore.

That was my parents’ world—as long as you were willing to pay enough, you could just snap your fingers and get a list of wishes fulfilled in a single day. Any problem could be solved in the time it took to sign a check. Hell, with my father’s money, he could even make the problems vanish. Like
that
.

He’d even done it with things I didn’t necessarily consider problems.

As if on cue, the pocket of my jean jacket shuddered as my phone vibrated. I didn’t even bother looking at it. I knew what awaited me. There were a couple of texts from Archer—the closest friend I had, but most of the buzzing was due to the countless voicemails I hadn’t listened to yet—every single one from my parents. I’d left a parting note for them that explained my intentions for the summer, packed my bags, and gotten into a car to the airport. No goodbyes. Nothing.

They never would have let me leave if I’d told them what I was doing, that I was choosing my own path for once. They would have found a way to blackmail me into staying. They always did.

Right now, the only way to truly make it was to do it on my own, using my own money. And it looked like I was going to have to do this the hard way—one single, slow day at a time.

“Cecily Annabelle Edwards,” a woman’s sharp voice cut into my thoughts and I looked up to see a mother and her three children coming out of a fenced-in schoolyard. The two older ones crossed the sidewalk in front of me and marched straight into the Bentley waiting at the curb, but the smallest girl had frozen at the sound of her name. The woman gripped her arm and pulled, causing the child’s face to twist in pain.

“A lady does not ever sit on the floor, Cecily.” She spat out the words as she dragged the child toward the open car door, the little blonde girl’s perfectly polished Mary Janes scraping the pavement as she tried to keep up. “What will people think? Only the homeless sit on the ground.”

“I was just playing, Mama.”

“I couldn’t care less what you were doing. Your father and I do not pay good money for you to attend a prestigious American school and embarrass us by acting like some uncivilized degenerate. When will you learn?” She pushed the girl into the car, stepped in herself, and shut the door.

Chills ran down my back. The woman had been coiffed to perfection. Her clothes were expensive and immaculate. Her tone cold and harsh. She was my mother. A carbon copy.

I watched the car pull out into traffic, saw the little girl’s face—heartbroken, ashamed—as it went by. She looked at me with big doe eyes and I smiled sadly, hoping she’d know that someday it would be okay.

Someday. Yes.

But someday could be a lifetime away.

After a full afternoon of traversing Paris and taking note of a few possibilities for Sabine’s gallery, my feet ached and my bruised knees were sore.

And I still had to unpack all my stuff in my new apartment.

When I’d come out of the bathroom that morning, cooled off and calmer, I’d found Dare in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. He just looked at me as I stood in the doorway, not speaking, not offering me anything. Not even a cup of tea.

Once upon a time he would have had a steaming mug waiting for me.

Obviously, the fairy tale had ended. Without the happily ever after. And I was stuck standing in the doorway still pissed, but needing his help.

Fuck. Me.

“Okay,” I’d said.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“I want the apartment.” What I really meant was,
I NEED the apartment.
But part of me didn’t want to admit just how desperate I was for Dare’s help. Not after the way he’d acted. I crossed my arms and noticed his gaze flick to my chest. Which just made me think of last night and spawn a whole new set of knots in my stomach. I did not want to be thinking about last night. Ever, if I could help it. “So who do I need to talk to?”

He put his cup down on the counter and motioned for me to follow.

We left his apartment, and walked down the stairs to the ground floor. He knocked on the door closest to the front entrance of the building. A crooked old woman opened it, her face lighting up at the sight of Dare. She immediately reached for his shoulders as he leaned down to press his cheek to hers—first on the right, then the left—and spoke to her in fluid French.

Holy shit. Dare was speaking French? When did that happen?

The language sounded delicious on his lips, the words sliding smoothly out of his mouth and surrounding me in the vestibule. I wanted to breathe them in, soak them up. God, it was getting me hot just listening to him.

And that was exactly what was not supposed to be happening. I remembered his words clearly.
Mistake,
he’d said.
Won’t happen again.

Just like that my head was clear, my mind feeling the hard edge of anger.

Won’t
happen
again
. You bet your sweet ass it won’t happen again.

Dare gestured at me, and the woman looked over with so much warmth in her eyes I almost had to take a step back.

“
Bonjour,
,” she said, “
Je m’appelle Anais.
”
I’m Anais.
Then she took my arm and led me back up the stairs to the door across from Dare’s.

My eyes flew to his, but he was purposefully not looking at me. Live right across from him? And if the layout of this place was anything like his, it meant we’d be sharing a wall, too.

My heart hammered in my chest and my palms began to sweat. I didn’t know if I could do this. Be
this
close to him. Because, come on, this was a little much. I’d figured seeing him again would give me the closure that everyone always boasts about, but living right next to him was more than I’d bargained for. Much more. When he’d said there was a place in the building, I was thinking
somewhere else
. Another floor. Waaaay down the hall. Definitely not THIS close.

Oblivious to my panic, Anais unlocked the door and led me through the apartment, her silvery-white waves catching the morning light spilling through the windows. The place was fully furnished with a tan, overstuffed couch, a few Kandinsky prints on the walls, a kitchen that would get no use since I couldn’t cook, and a tiny little bathroom just like Dare’s. The bedroom was airy and bright.

It was so fucking perfect.

I had to take it.

I mean, obviously I
had
to take it because I couldn’t live with Lucien and I had nowhere else to go, but I HAD to take it.

As for Dare being right next door? Well, I guess I’d have to ignore that. And hopefully eventually learn to live with it.

He’d gone back to his apartment while Anais and I settled on rent—she’d agreed to just below my monthly maximum, thank god. Once I’d received my set of keys, I’d gone back to Lucien’s, packed up my few things, and brought them all over. I’d just dumped them in the living room, changed my clothes and left.

But now I was back in my new apartment—tired, sore, in need of a shower and food.

And ready to get my life back on track.

Again.

Three hours later, I was lying alone in the dark, desperately trying not to think about the feel of Dare’s hands roaming over me, his tongue teasing my most sensitive places. His touch was imprinted on my skin. Every time I closed my eyes I was back in his bed, writhing in pleasure, throbbing with want.

Every time I opened them, I was alone.

So fucking alone.

Sleep was never going to come at this rate, so I got up and pulled out my bag of tricks. A couple of pills worth of relaxation and half a bottle of wine to wash them down still didn’t erase Dare from my mind. If anything, I was feeling even more riled up. I could practically see him hovering above me, his eyes glinting in the darkness so full of raw need and pure greed.