DAGGER #3
While all eyes were on me, the only ones I cared to notice were Maelle’s. She was standing behind a long zinc bar, and Rémy was beside her. When our eyes met, I raised a brow, then looked from her to him and back again. She shrugged once.
Bertrand cleared his throat and greeted the customers, first in French and then in English.
“Hello! Thank you all for visiting Domaine Valais today. I hope you’re enjoying our award-winning wine and plan to purchase several cases for the holidays.”
The talk picked up again, and the customers returned to their tastings. Bertrand walked through the crowd of mostly women, shaking hands and charming them.
I weaved my way through the throng too, though not to speak with anyone but Maelle.
“Hi,” I said, leaning in to kiss her. Rather than land on her mouth, my lips met her cheek when she turned her head at the last second. “How has your morning been, mon feu?”
She smirked, much like she had on the morning when she witnessed me coming out of Magnolia’s room.
Little did either of us know how much our world would change in the following hours.
Now, more than a month later, when I closed my eyes, I could still see Maelle’s hand sticking out from beneath the rubble.
I had the same thought now as I did every other time I relived those moments. Thank God she was alive.
“And who is this?” a woman who sounded American asked Rémy as she nudged her friend, and both looked me up and down like I was a prime piece of beef.
“Ladies, I regret to tell you that the man you’re gaping at is off the market.”
“Why? Is he gay?” asked the second woman.
Rémy chuckled in a way that sounded polite rather than amused.
“Far from it. He’s engaged to my cousin, Maelle.” He motioned to her. “Who, as a matter of fact, is the daughter of the man who owns Domaine Valais. She and her fiancé are visiting for the holidays.”
“Shame,” the second woman muttered.
“Engaged ain’t married yet,” the first woman countered.
Under different circumstances, I would have done a couple of things.
One, charmed them out of their bad behavior.
Two, if I found either or both of them remotely attractive—which I didn’t—I would’ve taken a seat, consumed as much wine as they were drinking, or more, then returned to wherever they were staying with them.
But that wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore. In fact, never again. Whether Maelle ever lowered her guard enough to let me in or not, the idea of the nameless, meaningless sex I used to revel in turned my stomach.
I leaned in closer to Maelle. “Take a walk with me?”
“And leave your adoring fans so soon?” she said quietly enough that the women couldn’t hear her. “They are not the only ones, you know?”
I didn’t need to glance around the room to sense most of the women in it were either openly gawking or sneaking looks at me. I was used to it. Not only that, but for most of my life, I’d used it.
“You’re the only adoring fan I have any interest in,” I said, kissing the skin beneath her ear.
“Stop it.” She said the words, but her body leaned into mine.
“May I have your attention, everyone?” Rémy said in a loud voice. The room quieted, but some conversations continued. While he waited, he said something I couldn’t hear to two of the women also working behind the bar. They left through a set of doors.
“We are celebrating a very important occasion here at Domaine Valais today, and we want you to share in it.” The two women returned with several bottles of sparkling wine and began opening them while Rémy poured into tasting glasses.
Bertrand picked up on what was happening and made his way to the bar. When Rémy handed him a glass, he turned to face the room.
“We have very happy news to share,” he said. “Please join me in toasting the happy couple. Many congratulations to my daughter, Maelle, and best wishes to her fiancé, Killian Rourke.”
While those in the room raised their glasses and offered their sentiments, my fists clenched as I wondered if Bertrand’s words were a slip or if they were intentional.
It was customary to congratulate the groom for convincing the woman to marry him and to wish the bride well.
Reversing it implied she was the one who ought to be grateful.
I hoped Maelle was unfamiliar with the custom, but when I saw the lines around her eyes as she studied her father, I knew she’d learned it the same way I had.
“Let’s go,” I said, taking both of our still-full glasses and setting them on the bar. When she turned around to leave through the side door, I followed with my hand on the small of her back.
Whether or not Bertrand’s words were meant to be a slight, I didn’t care. I handed the disrespect back to him on the way out.
“He won’t be happy that we left,” Maelle said as we walked the pathway to the chateau.
“I couldn’t care less whether your father is happy or otherwise,” I muttered. “In fact, I’d prefer it if the wanker was downright miserable.”
When I glanced up and caught Maelle’s smile, I knew I’d done and said the right thing. That alone made me feel far better than a hundred other women attempting to catch my eye.