Chapter 110 110
Aurélie POV
“Off the bed, Dominique,” I say, my tone firm as I fix him with a pointed look.
He climbs down reluctantly and plops onto the edge of Delphine’s bed, irritation rolling off him in waves. I step up onto his bed, clutching the empty toy box Delphine has just handed me. In her attempt to be helpful, she had dumped every single toy onto the carpet no sorting, no restraint. Of course, she’d chosen the glittery ones. The kind that cling to fabric and leave their sparkly fingerprints behind long after they’re gone.
I suppress an eye roll. Of course.
“Well? Are you getting it or not?” Dominique’s voice drags out impatiently after I’ve been frozen in place for what must be several minutes.
The spider.
It’s still there.
Watching me.
Waiting.
“Dominique, stop,” I scold him, my nerves already fraying just as the spider moves.
A squeal escapes me before I can stop it.
“What’s going on?”
His voice cuts into the room without warning. That voice. The one that raises goosebumps along my arms and makes the fine hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
“Mummy’s trying to get the spider,” Delphine begins helpfully.
“Trying?” Dominique cuts in sharply, not even letting her finish. “She’s been standing there forever. Just get Uncle Fabrice already.”
The jab isn’t just aimed at Delphine it lands squarely on me.
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, forcing calm into my voice. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
I don’t want Damien to see us like this. This moment is too raw. Too exposed. Too unguarded.
“That’s quite a big one,” he says, already stepping closer. “Here… let me do it.”
I move to step down from the bed, but he’s suddenly in front of me, blocking my path. Our eyes meet, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe. I shift further up the mattress, preparing to climb past him but he doesn’t give me the chance.
His hands settle on my hips, steady and warm, and before I can protest, he lifts me effortlessly and sets me back on the floor.
My breath catches.
His hands don’t leave.
His thumbs brush the bare strip of skin exposed beneath my top, slow and absent-minded, as if he isn’t even aware he’s doing it. A shiver races through me, my head tipping back slightly as sensation blooms where his touch lingers.
He’s touched me more in the last few weeks than he did in the entire two years of our marriage.
The realization hits harder than the contact itself.
Without waiting for me to recover or object he climbs onto Dominique’s bed and reaches for the spider with bare hands. I wince, my spine prickling at the thought of it crawling against his skin.
“Do you want to see it?” he asks, thrusting his closed fist toward me.
I shriek and jump backward instinctively, earning a low chuckle from him. He doesn’t linger on my reaction. Instead, he strides to the window, opens it, and tosses the spider outside.
“See? All gone,” he says lightly, smiling down at Delphine, who has slipped her hand into mine.
“I said to leave it alone,” Dominique mutters from the bed, sulking.
“Dominique, it was upsetting your sister,” I begin gently
“Then tell her to get her own room!”
The roar from my four-year-old son catches me completely off guard. Before I can respond, he shoves past me and storms out, thundering down the stairs.
“Dominique!” I growl after him, anger flaring hot and sharp. I’d given him too much leeway lately, excused too much. That ends now.
He hadn’t always been like this. He used to be calm. Patient. Especially with Delphine.
Enough is enough.
I turn to Damien and find him watching me intently, something unreadable in his gaze.
“What?” I whisper.
“Nothing.”
“If you’ve got something to say,” I press, “then say it.”
“Oh, there’s plenty to say,” he murmurs.
His hand rises to my cheek, cupping it gently, his thumb stroking soft, slow arcs against my skin. He catches a few loose strands of hair that have fallen across my forehead and tucks them carefully behind my ear.
A noise downstairs breaks the moment.
It’s enough.
It gives me the excuse the space I need to step away.
Being this close to him is dangerous.
Because when I am, I forget my rules. I forget my resolve. I forget my own carefully repeated mantra.
When he looks back at me, a faint frown creases his brow at the distance I’ve deliberately placed between us.
And I know he feels it too.