Page 184 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

“It’s not me you need to make things right with. I know you’re a fucking asshole. But Isla…? You’d better show her how much she matters, prove your love, reassure her she’s not competing with a woman who died years ago.”

Fist still at the ready, twitching, he pauses.

“If you don’t get her back, there is no us either.” His words are a vow, a challenge, and his eyes burn with the same fire I feel in my chest.

It won’t be easy. But after everything I put them through, I don’t deserve easy.

“Understand?” For deadly effect, he repeats himself. “If you don’t get her back, there is no us either.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Dorian

Dear God.

Have I ever done anything more important than this?

The Garden District’s morning light filters through ancient oaks, and Spanish moss sways as I step onto the crushed oyster shells leading to Vignette.

My heart hammers, not just from the humid late summer air but from Brennan’s words last night.

As long as I live, they will remain seared into my soul. “If you don’t get her back, there is no us either.”

Nous. No triad, no future, no redemption. Everything—my love, my life, my chance to be more than the controlling bastard I’ve been—rides on this moment, on proving to Isla I see her, hear her, love her for the fire she is.

That day at Vignette, she’d lit up at the sight of that opal, la Flamme Cachée. She’d been captivated by Théo’s story of it belonging to a French courtesan, a British duchess, then a New Orleans voodoo priestess.

And? I’d simmered with impatience with the amount oftime she’d spent with it. Instead of getting her a stone that called to her, I was obsessed with her having a diamond as a status symbol, and more, as evidence to the world that she was mine.

From the beginning, I’ve been an asshole to the woman who was forced down the aisle into the arms of a man she didn’t know. Into a life she never wanted.

The gate opens with a silent glide, and I stride up the stone path, focused on my goal.

This is about more than the opal. It’s about proving I’ve changed, that I’m willing to listen to Isla’s needs, her wants, the things that call to her.

Securing the gem is only the first part of the mission. Probably the least important, if I’m honest.

My money doesn’t impress her.

She needs me to swallow my pride and open my heart. Those are the things that will matter to Isla.

Théo Duplantier opens the door before I can knock, his bronze skin gleaming in the nine a.m. sunlight, his silver curls glistening. His linen waistcoat is tailored to perfection, and his smile is sharp and knowing. “Monsieur Vale.” He tips his head to one side. “I knew you’d return.”

“Did you?”

“La Flamme Cachée was meant for her. I anticipated you’d want it as an anniversary gift.” He tips his head to one side. “Or as an apology. Since you’re only recently married…” He trails off.

How does the damn man know so much?

He steps aside, gesturing me into the parlor, where midnight-blue velvet drapes frame tall windows, and crystal chandeliers cast prisms across the polished wood floors and the glass cases that glow like altars to his exquisite offerings.

His assistant joins us, offering refreshment. “Champagne? Whiskey?”

Two days ago, I would have taken the whiskey.

But I’m a changed man. “Café au lait, please.”

The assistant quietly slips from the room.