Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 Read Free

want— I can’t believe—”
    “Kara didn’t say a word, except that you’d had, let’s call it un mauvais moment. A bad experience. I did that digging on my own, so you’re free to hate me for it if you like. But I would still like you to tell me.”
    Moira pushed up and away from the couch to pace the room, wishing she hadn’t let Kara convince her to wear either the stilettos or such a skimpy dress. But it was Justin’s name and not the clothes that made her feel naked.
    “I’d rather not talk about it. If you’ve already done the digging, why should I dredge it back up?”
    “À cause de, it’ll give you control. And maybe, it’ll make you a little less broken.”
    Such a simple statement, but it resounded in her core. Control. Yes, she wanted control over this, over life. But still. Her response was a whisper. “Less broken is still broken. You can’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again, not with words, not with anything.”
    “Tell me, ma chère.”
    She shivered at the quiet command and exhaled loudly before beginning. “Justin was the last boyfriend that Kara didn’t find for me. I met him my senior year at Washington and Lee. He was smart, good-looking and funny. And he was a complete psychotic bastard. He’s currently a guest of the Virginia Department of Corrections’ James River facility for rape and murder. I’m sure you know all of that. Thankfully, the news mostly kept my name out of it. Though I think Kara’s family had more to do with that than any kindness on the side of the news services.”
    “Rather a coup, since it was a fairly high profile case. Especially as, if I understand correctly, you almost didn’t survive. Raped, beaten. Two broken ribs, a broken arm, internal bleeding.”
    Moira snorted. “Yeah. Survivor isn’t the term I’d use. And don’t forget the whole ‘can’t ever have kids’ bit. It’s a major selling point.”
    Adrian raised his eyebrow. “You lived. You moved on.”
    “Not to hear Kara talk. But yes, I’m alive. I moved on. I did the therapy, put my life back together.”
    “But you don’t live.”
    Moira hesitated. She didn’t know why she was even talking to him, but something about Adrian made it easy. “No. I’m not living. I can’t seem to figure out how. Men either don’t look at me, or see some porcelain doll, ready to break. Especially next to Kara, who’s so vibrant. She lives. I only go through the motions. What are you, anyway? Some kind of therapist?”
    She leaned on his desk, distantly admiring how neat and orderly everything was, and waiting for the lecture she knew must be coming.
    “Call me a student of human nature. Therapists are imbéciles.”
    Moira let herself smile at that. She’d thought the same thing, often enough. Not that the therapy hadn’t helped. But a person could only hear how she had to move on and start living again so many times.
    “What if I told you I could give you what it is you’re missing?”
    She froze. “My uterus? The piece of my soul he broke? Those are irreplaceable.” She sighed, a quiet but bitter sound. “I’m sorry. I’d say, I’ve heard it all before, and suggest you not waste your time. Like I said. I’m one of the broken ones. I don’t get the prince or the happily ever after.”
    Adrian laughed. It wasn’t the reaction she expected, and it startled her. “I sincerely doubt you’ve heard this before. And the truth is, I won’t give you anything. Mais, I will teach you to take it, if you like.”
    Moira wasn’t sure she trusted herself to breathe. Instead, she stood up as tall as her five foot three inches would allow and crossed her arms over the skimpy black dress. “I don’t believe you.”
    “Let me prove it.”
    She stared hard at him, trying to decide how to respond. “Take what? What is it you think I’m missing?”
    Adrian smiled, his eyes full of challenge. “Control.”

Chapter Three
    Moira kicked off her heels and walked slowly back to the couch.