All Chapters of Too Tender For The Tycoon's World: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

right in his office, in the place where royalty had once sat. “Figure it out, Bastien.”I arrived at the private estate outside of Paris, armed guards behind the gate like they always expected trouble. I checked in with the guy in charge, and they radioed in my presence to the man of the house—Fender.I sat in the car for a while as I waited for an answer, unsure if he would agree to see me without warning when we barely knew each other. It was at least ten minutes before the gates opened and they allowed me through.I’d never waited for anything, but I waited for Fender because he was the best lead that I had.The valet took my car, and the butler escorted me into the study, a place that smelled like cigar smoke because the scent had been absorbed by every piece of furniture and the curtains for decades.I sat there, a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo on the coffee table next to a small vase of pink roses. The house was quiet like no one was there, but the place was three stories an

She stroked my hard jawline then dragged her hands down the ink over my neck and palmed my chest, touching me like she could feel the fire against her fingertips. Her lips were parted and her tongue was slightly visible, as she panted through the pleasure between her legs and the pain from my grip around her throat.She guided my face to her mouth so she could kiss me, and that was when I released my grip on her throat. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” She said it between kisses, melting into me like we were both streams of lava from the same volcano merging together.I knew what I had to offer, but women rarely complimented me, choosing to play it cool and feigning indifference as if that would capture my attention more than honesty. But Fleur wore her heart on her sleeve, told me her thoughts when she had them, didn’t play it cool at all—and that was fucking refreshing.But I was the one with the spectacular view, her tits beneath me, her toned legs open to accommodate me, her little pussy fu

Adrien started to pace slowly, his dark wedding ring still on his hand, his handsome face forlorn in defeat. He stopped at the window and dragged his fingers across his jawline. I expected him to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stared out the window I’d stared out so many times, and then he walked out.Days passed, and the numbness in my veins continued to spread. Rejecting Adrien over and over had taken its toll. Even though I’d moved out because of his treason, I had been in shock for weeks. I’d sat by the window and cried my heart out. Sometimes I’d wondered if Cecilia was lying because she had an ulterior motive, but Adrien confirmed his infidelity, so it was true. The last person I’d expected to hurt me had hurt me the most.And then I moved into the next stage of grief—anger.It was easier to be angry than to actually feel the sting of his deceit. It was easier to hate him than to think about how good it felt for him to fuck her and think he got away with it. It was e

BastienShe lay in my arms for a while until she fell asleep, her head against my shoulder, the rain continuing to splatter against the windows. I looked out into the night and just enjoyed the sound, savoring the peace that hardly ever visited me.I scooped her into my arms and put her in bed before I covered her with the sheets. She didn’t wake up, just like a child that was tucked in for the night. I turned off the lights and walked out, making my way down to the bottom floor and out through the double doors.A man in a raincoat leaned up against the wall of the café across the road. Another one was seated on the outdoor patio of Nelson’s, the restaurant on the other side of the walkway. I didn’t wear a coat and I embraced the rain, loving the way it felt against the back of my neck, the way it smelled, the way it made the asphalt glisten, something only a real Parisian could understand.I walked up to the man in Nelson’s, and he worked so hard not to be suspicious of me that I imm

I sat there and drank my wine, listening to the chef yell at the staff because he yelled at everyone. He was a good cook, so I let him run his kitchen however the fuck he wanted. L’Ami Jean was an old establishment, one of the oldest restaurants in the city, even before the Second World War. I bought it because I wanted to keep it exactly the same forever. History and legacy were important to me—and not just because the blood of the nobility ran in my veins.Minutes later, my guest joined me, wearing a pea coat like a goddamn pussy. He barely looked at me before he took a seat across from me, dark hair and eyes, an ugly scar over his left eyebrow where a hook had dug into his flesh years ago. He looked at Manuel and ordered him around like he was his own employee. “Make me a drink, son.”Manuel looked at me.I nodded.Manuel poured him a glass of wine before he set it on the table.He took a sip before he finally looked at me. “Butcher.”“Darius.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Hop