13. 2
“Yes.”
I gave a slow nod, unsure how to handle this. “I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think I can make it?—”
“Cut the shit and be straight with me. I’m inviting you to a party, and you’re acting like I’ve got a gun to your head. Do I bullshit with you?”
Stuck in the headlights of his stare, I just stood there.
“Answer the question.”
“No.”
“Then don’t bullshit with me.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he managed to be absolutely terrifying anyway.
“I don’t want to make it awkward, but…I just can’t afford that right now.”
His eyes narrowed like he didn’t understand.
“I can’t buy a dress or heels right now. I know how these parties are, and I don’t have the means. I have stuff back at the house, but if I try to get it before the divorce, Adrien will be vindictive and stop me because he’ll know I’ll be using the stuff with you. And the last thing I want is for you to buy me anything?—”
“I’m your man. I’ll buy you whatever the fuck I want.”
A flush entered my cheeks, warmth and terror mixing together to form a cyclone in my heart. Never in my life had I been so scared of a single man, scared of the power that burned right at his fingertips. “That’s the second time you’ve said something like that.”
“Like what?”
“That this is more than casual.”
His blue eyes were locked on my face with a hint of viciousness. It was just a stare, but it was threatening, like he was sizing up an opponent rather than looking at the woman he was bedding.
My voice trembled from that ferocious stare. “Look…I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I moved out of my husband’s house two months ago. I’m not even divorced yet. I’m in no place to be anything more than…casual.”
He continued his ruthless stare, not blinking once since this topic had been broached. His arms remained crossed over his hard chest, the biceps of his arms enormous bulges under his dark ink. He didn’t say a word, but his silence was loud enough to be present in the conversation.
“I just…want to make that clear.” From the first time I’d seen Bastien, it’d been a whirlwind of passionate nights and heated kisses and ass-grabs. It was exactly what I needed right now, but I didn’t want anything more, not when my heart was still broken, not when I couldn’t imagine giving my heart to another man after what Adrien had done to me.
His head remained cocked and his eyes intense.
I waited for him to say something, and I swallowed the tension down my throat.
He continued to look at me, his thoughts a mystery, his reaction restrained. “Okay.”
“I can’t see myself in a relationship for a very long time.”
“Okay.”
Something about the way he spoke made it seem like his words were hollow, like they were meaningless. “What does that mean?”
“I said okay.”
“But the way you’re saying it… It’s like you’re dismissing me.”
He continued his hard stare.
“You mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to mislead you.”
“Okay.”
“You’re doing it again. It’s like you don’t believe me?—”
“He hurt you. I get it,” he said. “You need time.”
He seemed to accept what I said, said what I wanted to hear, but there was something to his tone, to his stare, that made me feel otherwise. Like my words made no difference whatsoever.
He pushed off the desk and walked around it to open one of the drawers. He grabbed a wad of cash rolled up in a rubber band and set it at the edge of the desk. “Buy whatever you need.”
The top denomination was a five-hundred-euro bill and there had to be at least twenty bills in the roll, so it must have been about ten thousand euros—just sitting in one of the drawers in his desk. Not even locked up in a safe. “I can’t take your money.”
He stared me down, a slight look of annoyance in his gaze. “You can take the money and save me a shopping trip—or you can be stubborn and waste my time.”
My eyes shifted away when I couldn’t handle that stare.
He took the wad of cash off the table and walked over to where my purse sat on the armchair. He dropped the money inside then headed back to the bedroom, a muscular behemoth who made the floorboards creak under his weight. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”
When I woke up the next morning, he was already out of bed.
I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was noon.
I left the bed, used the restroom, and then found him in the sitting room, already dressed for the day like he’d completed his workout and showered while I slept like a baby. He was in an olive-green long-sleeved shirt and black jeans and boots—fucking delicious as usual.
“Morning, sweetheart.” He sat at the dining table, drinking a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. He patted his thigh for me to take a seat.
I smiled then dropped onto his lap, circling my arm around his neck before I kissed him. My shirt rose up my thighs, and his fingers grazed over the bare skin that was exposed. “Morning.”
“Hungry?”
“Assume I’m always hungry until told otherwise.”
He smirked, the morning light making his blue eyes shine. “I want to show you my favorite spot.”
“I find it hard to believe there are better pancakes out there.”
“You’ll have to be the judge of that.”
I got dressed and did what I could with my hair. My makeup had turned into a mess, so I washed it off and chose to have a clean face instead. I wondered if I should pack a bag whenever I came over here, but that felt too serious when I’d just told him I only wanted casual. Dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday, his driver took us to the restaurant in the 10th arrondissement and pulled up to the curb.
I read the sign out front. “Holybelly. I think I’ve heard of this place.”
“It’s an American breakfast joint.” He got out first and held the door open for me. “The French do everything better—eat, drink, fuck—except breakfast. The Americans take the gold for that.” He led the way, entered the restaurant first, and grabbed us a booth.
The place was packed with people. Not a single table was empty. I sat across from him, a bit self-conscious that I didn’t have any makeup on. It was different when it was just the two of us in bed or at his dining table. But in public, I felt like a slob. At least I’d brushed my teeth with his toothbrush. When he saw me do it, he just smirked and continued whatever he was doing.
He seemed to notice my mood because he asked, “Something wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I grabbed the menu and looked at the options. They had a sweet stack, pancakes topped with fruit and their homemade whipped cream, and they had a savory stack, pancakes topped with fried eggs and bacon. Everything looked good.
“Sweetheart.” He didn’t raise his voice, just changed his tone.
My eyes flicked up to his, seeing his hard stare. “I feel a little weird without makeup on…” I always wore makeup when I left the house unless I was depressed. When Adrien and I first separated, I didn’t have the drive to put any effort into my appearance.
“Why?” He cocked his head slightly.
“I just…look better when it’s on.”
“I’d fuck you either way.” He sat forward, his elbows on the table as if he didn’t need to look at the menu. He gave me that same intense stare that he did from the other side of the bar, eye-fucking me right on the spot.
The waiter came over and took our drink order. I got a coffee and Bastien did too.
We were left alone again, the tension still there even though the conversation had died away.
“Is this where you usually bring your girls?”
“My girls?” he asked.
“You know, the girls who stay until the next morning.”
He smirked like I’d told a joke rather than asked a serious question. “No. I come here with the boys.”
“You come to brunch…with a bunch of guys.”
“Why is that hard to believe?”
“Brunch is a girl thing, isn’t it?”
“Good food is good food. We usually meet up once a week, on Sundays. Talk shop.”
“That’s pretty cute.”
“Cute?” he asked.
“A bunch of guys meeting up on Sundays for pancakes. Pretty cute.”
He smirked again, his stare lingering on my face. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“What kind of ideas could I get?”
“I don’t do threesomes with men.”
“That’s not at all the idea I had,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m not interested in threesomes either, especially when I have you.”
His smile faded, and he gave me that hard look that had become his signature stare.
The waiter returned to our table to take our order, his long, curly hair pulled back in a bun.
“I’ll do the savory stack,” Bastien said. “She’ll take the sweet stack with a side of eggs and the baked beans.”
“You got it, Bastien.” The guy took the menus and walked off.
“Did you just order for me?” I asked.
“Trust me, sweetheart.” He took a drink from his coffee, his elbows on the table, the sunlight coming through the window behind me and striking his handsome face. Then he returned to his favorite pastime and stared at me like I wasn’t a person, but a painting on the wall.
I watched the people in the restaurant for a while, and when I looked back at him, his stare was still on my face. He was comfortable in the silence, content just sitting there with me like we’d known each other forever rather than the blink of an eye. “What’s the gala for?”
“Networking.”
“Doesn’t the Senate see each other all the time?”
“Not necessarily. President Martin will be there as well.”
“As in, the president of France?”
“Yes.”
“You know him?”
“Oh, I definitely know him.”
I didn’t get starstruck and I didn’t think of the president as a celebrity, but I had no idea what I would say to him if I met him. Didn’t follow politics. Barely understood the parameters of the Senate. I was too busy with my own shit to care about law and legislature. “I’m surprised they want to socialize with you publicly.”
“You know what they say…hide in plain sight. You could look corruption in the eye and have no idea it's corruption’s gaze you meet. The public interacts with my world on a daily basis, but they’re none the wiser.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“It’s our job to govern our citizens. It’s also our job to protect them. I like to think we do both—and make something for ourselves in the process. Instead of spending tax dollars sending the police after criminals they can’t possibly arrest, it makes more sense to profit from it. And those tax dollars go back to the citizens.”
“Well, some of it does.”
A slow smirk moved over his lips. “Yes. Some.”
“Do you pay taxes?”
“Not from the tariffs I collect. But I pay taxes on the revenue earned from my businesses, like the investment company.”
“How many businesses do you own?”
“Many.”
I understood his wealth and his power, but I didn’t understand how someone so young could have accomplished so much. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.” He didn’t ask the question in return, either because he already knew or because he didn’t care.
“That’s a lot to accomplish in thirty-three years.”
“Well, I’ve been in the game for a long time.”
“Ten years?” I asked. “That’s still not that long.” If he’d started in his early twenties, he was probably too young and immature to seem like a real threat to other men.
“It’s been more than ten years,” he said quietly. “It’s been my whole life.”
There was so much packed in those words, an epic tale I would probably never hear.
“Authoritarianism, rulership, power…it all runs in my veins.” His eyes flicked past me to the door, and that hard expression slowly softened like he recognized someone who just walked inside. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Two guys approached our table, both looking at Bastien like they knew exactly who he was. “You come here without us now?” The guy was tall with dark hair, fit and muscular like Bastien and just as arrogant. “I see how it is.”
“I don’t remember getting an invitation from you,” Bastien fired back.
“We were in the neighborhood,” the other one said, a tanned guy with jet-black hair. “And we were hungry.”
The first one looked at me, and after a long stare, he looked at Bastien—full of accusation.
“Luca, this is Fleur.” He nodded toward me.
Luca gave me a nod. “I’ve heard nothing but good things. Very good things…”
Bastien ignored him and introduced the other guy. “Gabriel.”
“Nice to meet you both,” I said, a little intimidated by these two equally strong and attractive men.
“Since you’ve got a booth, and we aren’t waiting fifteen minutes for a table—” Luca moved to my side of the booth to take a seat “—we’ll join you.”
Bastien snapped his fingers. “Get your ass up. You aren’t sitting next to my girl.”
He did it again—called me his girl.
Luca raised both hands in a form of surrender and left the booth.
Bastien took his place, sliding into the spot next to me and dropping his arm over the back of the booth on top of my shoulders.
The two guys slid into the leather seat across from us.
There was an awkward pause, both of them looking at me like they’d never seen a woman before.
I grabbed my coffee and took a drink.
Bastien broke the tension. “How’d it go last night?”
“Squealed like a pig,” Luca said. “Like they all do.”
“Hector Turner is the one who closed down the port,” Gabriel said. “People are saying he lost his mind because someone murdered his daughter, and he refused to let business resume until they found the killer. He wanted to put a target on the killer’s back, but he just put the target on himself.”
I had no idea what they were talking about, but they spoke freely in front of me, like I would never talk or I was deemed trustworthy.
“Heard about Peter,” Luca said. “His family put the house on the market and fled for Albania.”
“Good,” Bastien said. “They aren’t welcome in my city.”
“Martin is gonna snap,” Luca said. “I hear his collar is getting tighter by the day.”
“This city ain’t that big,” Gabriel said. “Especially for someone as big as Godric. He’s gotta be somewhere?—”
“Then why don’t you find him?” Bastien snapped.
A heavy tension fell across the table. Both men stared at him but said nothing.
The waiter returned when he noticed the guests and took their orders. It did nothing to break the tension at all. Even when he returned with the coffees, the discomfort was taut like a tight rope.
“Look,” Luca said gently. “You didn’t hear this from me…”
Gabriel released a sigh, as if Luca had just lit a firework.
“But some think you can’t find Godric because…you don’t want to.”
Bastien released a laugh, but it wasn’t a cute, playful laugh. It was dark and threatening, clipped and angry. “Like I would ever protect someone I hate so venomously.”
“They say blood is thicker than water,” Luca said.
“Put some red dye in water, and it looks the fucking same,” Bastien said. “You can tell whatever asshole company you keep that I’m not protecting him. And you better not tell me who said that, because I’ll fucking kill them.”
I knew it wasn’t an idle threat, not the way normal people teased each other with that phrase. This was completely real.
Luca stared at him for a moment. “President Martin.”
The table fell into another bout of silence, but this one was heavier than all the others. A standoff happened between Bastien and Luca, both of them staring at each other and having a silent conversation.
The waiter arrived a moment later and placed the enormous platters of food in front of us, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a scoop of baked beans. The hash browns were compacted into a ball rather than rolled flat, but they still looked good.
“Enough shop talk,” Bastien said. “Let’s fucking eat.”
“You guys met at Silencio?” Luca asked, his attention on me.
“I’m a bartender there,” I said. “Well, I was.” On Monday, I would report for my new job at nine in the morning. It’d been a long time since I’d been up that early. I needed clothes for it, but I really didn’t want to interact with Adrien at all.
“Where do you work now?” Luca’s plate was completely empty because he ate every little piece, every damn crumb. They both ate like Bastien, like they were starving at every meal.
“Some investment company,” I said, not wanting to admit that Bastien had hooked me up with the job.
“Some investment company?” Gabriel said with a laugh. “You don’t know what it’s called?”
“I gave her a job at the office,” Bastien said. “You fucking pricks.”
“Just trying to get to know your girlfriend a little better,” Luca said.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bastien said.
I was both relieved by that interjection and simultaneously disappointed. I walked that line every moment I was in Bastien’s presence. I’d never wanted a man more in my life, but that also marked him as the single most dangerous person in the world. The man who could burn down what little foundation I had left.
“Pussies have girlfriends. Men have women—and she’s my woman.”
He claimed me in no uncertain terms right in front of his boys. It was a turn-on, made me want to jump his bones right there in the booth, but I kept my eyes on the table and tried to be invisible. The warmth in my belly was quickly replaced by ice-cold fear.
Luca stared at Bastien for a long time, and a silent conversation passed between them.
What I wouldn’t give to know the details.
The tab came, and all three men threw a hundred-euro-bill into the pile, even though brunch couldn’t have possibly cost that much.
“We’re going out tonight,” Luca said. “You in?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Bastien said.
Luca scooted out of the booth first. “Nice to meet you, Fleur.”
“You too,” I said quietly.
Gabriel gave me a nod before he walked out with Luca. They stepped onto the sidewalk, and then a black SUV appeared just like Bastien’s. They disappeared from the curb and drove down the street.
Bastien pulled out his phone and texted his driver. “Ready, sweetheart?”
“Sure.”
He opened the door for me and stepped onto the sidewalk, sunshine visible between the buildings because it was a cloudless day, unusually warm for the spring. When he stood next to me, he was like the Eiffel Tower and I was the Seine. His friends were guys I would hit on in a bar, but they didn’t hold a candle to the man beside me, with blue eyes that were warmer than a summer evening.
“Your friends were nice.”
“They were assholes, and you know it.” He looked down the street and saw his driver coming around the corner. “You want to come back to my place, or should I drop you off?”
It felt like a trick question. Was he inviting me back to his place to be polite, or did he actually want me there? He said he was honest to a fault, so I just asked. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to fuck me then take a nap with me.”
I never had to wonder what he was thinking because he just told me—and that was refreshing. “Sounds good to me.”