9. Fleur
Chapter 9
Fleur
When we walked into Holybelly, Luca was already there, in sweatpants and sneakers and a pullover sweater. His expression had been neutral until he realized I was there, and then his look soured noticeably.
Bastien held the door open for me then greeted the waiter, someone he seemed to know well enough to embrace with a hand-grab and a one-armed hug.
I moved to the booth and slid across from Luca. “Morning.”
He gave me a nod in acknowledgment and drank from his coffee.
Bastien continued to talk to the waiter, a friendly but heated exchange about the last Manchester United game.
“What are you getting?” I asked as I pulled the menu toward me.
“Food,” he said like a smartass.
I should keep my cool to earn his favor, but I’d never been good at that sort of thing. “I’m a lovely person, you know.”
“Yeah?” He grabbed the handle of his coffee mug and took another drink.
“What’s your problem? You think I’m not good enough for your friend?”
“You dumped him, didn’t you?”
I felt betrayed that Bastien had told him, but I knew it was a reasonable thing to share. “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”
He took another drink of his coffee then looked at Bastien, who was still locked in a debate over a game I didn’t know he’d watched. He must have left the bed after I’d fallen asleep. Luca gave a sigh then turned back to me. “You want me to be straight with you, sweetheart?”
“You aren’t my man, so don’t call me that.”
He smirked slightly. “In case you haven’t noticed, Bastien has put all his chips on you.”
I didn’t know what I’d done to earn such devotion from a man who could have any woman he wanted. Models and actresses, women ten years younger than me and infinitely more flexible.
“Until I see the same from you, I’m not going to like you.”
“Until you stop being a judgmental prick, I’m not going to like you.”
Instead of snapping at the insult, his eyes narrowed—and he gave a slight smile.
“I wouldn’t be here, stuck looking at your asshole face, if Bastien didn’t mean so much to me.”
The smirk remained, like my insults were comical rather than threatening. “And how much does he mean to you?”
I shouldn’t answer the question, not when I’d only come down here to have breakfast, not face an interrogation. “He means so much to me that I’ve forsaken all my principles and my fears and my sanity because I can’t walk away from him. I’m not ready for a relationship when I’m not even divorced, but I’m in one because I’d rather heal with him than lose him. I’m terrified of his world and the danger in the shadows, but I’m far more afraid of a safe existence without him. You say he’s put all his chips in, but he’s not the one who has anything to lose. I’m the one betting my life savings. And I’m betting it all because he’s the most exceptional man I’ve ever met. I’ve known him for such a brief amount of time, but I somehow believe every word out of his mouth, every promise he’s ever made to me—even though I’ve already heard those promises in the past and watched them shatter at my feet.”
His smile was long gone, and he just listened, his attention at its highest level.
“And Jesus Christ, he’s fucking hot.”
He smiled again, but this time, it was genuine, like I’d actually pierced his stone outline and hit him somewhere underneath. He grabbed his mug and took another drink, letting my words slowly dissolve and disappear into the quiet until they were gone.
Bastien finished up with the waiter and slid into the booth next to me. His arm immediately dropped over the back, touching my neck as he picked up the menu that held the specials. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?”
My eyes were still on Luca. “The sweet stack.”
“Good choice.” He set the menu down and looked at Luca across from him. “You?”
“I’m gonna try the special.”
“I’ll do the same. Are you going to eat all those pancakes?” He directed the question to me.
“Yes,” I said. “Get your own.”
When Bastien smirked, he was even more handsome, as if he needed any help in the looks department. “I respect that.”
“I do too,” Luca said before he took a drink of his coffee.
Bastien seemed to pick up on the tension between us because his eyes shifted back and forth. “I left you alone for two minutes, and you already got into it?”
“Yep,” Luca said, his hand still on his mug. “But it was a productive two minutes…because I kinda like her.”
Bastien turned his stare on me, affection in his eyes. “Yeah? What did you say?”
“Well, she said I have an asshole face, whatever that means, and called me a judgmental prick.”
“That’s all true, to be fair,” Bastien said.
Luca smirked. “Fuck you, man.”
“My woman says how it is,” Bastien said with a shrug.
“And everything else she said…” He shifted his stare to me and raised his mug. “We’ll keep that between us.”
We returned to his apartment after breakfast, and Bastien clearly already had plans for what he wanted to do because he threw me on the bed the second we walked in the door. Instead of asking me to do the things he wanted, he moved on top of me and did all the work, fucking me savagely like it’d been too long since his last release.
Then he just left me on the bed and walked into the bathroom to shower without saying a word.
I listened to the water fall as I lay there for a while, the sunlight coming through the windows because the curtains were parted. The clouds passed, and the light flooded the bedroom for a few moments, bringing a warmth that nearly pulled me into the clouds of dreams.
I joined him in the bathroom, a six-foot-something god standing in the shower rubbing a bar of soap all over his body. When the water streaked down the rivers between the muscles of his abs, chest, and arms, it shone, making his muscled mass more distinct. His ink glistened too, and I was reminded just how hot he was…like I’d somehow forgotten.
His eyes moved to me through the glass as he continued to wash himself. “Come on.” He nodded for me to join him behind the glass, a shower with two showerheads.
I undressed and left my clothes on the counter around the bathtub then joined him under the water. My eyes closed as I tilted my head back and let the warmth stream down my body.
His soapy hands gripped my tits and massaged them with the soap, his chin down and his eyes soaking in the curves of my body like he hadn’t just taken me roughly as soon as we’d walked in the door from breakfast.
How did he desire me so deeply when he could replace me with someone younger? A woman who was a zero or even a double-zero. I wanted to voice my curiosity, but I was afraid that I would plant the idea in his head and this erotic fairy tale would be over.
His eyes lifted to mine, like he’d somehow felt my change in mood. “What is it?”
“How do you do that?”
He smirked like he knew exactly what I was referring to. “Quick reflexes won’t keep you alive, not when you have to react to something without notice. It’s intuition that saves your skin, detecting the threat before it’s fully formed. And I know you well enough now to feel your changes in mood as they happen. So, what is it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You want me to be honest with you? Then be honest with me.” He didn’t say it with a tone of anger, just a calm simplicity.
My eyes dropped to his wet chest, the fair skin obscured by dark ink, a man who was covered in layers of muscles. “Sometimes I don’t understand your fascination with me, is all.”
“Really?” He gave me a quick look-over, tits to pussy.
“Well, you could have a woman ten years younger, and her tits would be even better.”
He cocked his head slightly, and his eyes narrowed just a smidge, like he was truly surprised by that response. “I remember who I was at twenty-three. I had to grow up fast, but even then, I was still a child in many ways.”
“I don’t see why that matters.”
“Because a twenty-three-year-old woman is too young for me.”
“To fuck?” I asked incredulously.
His eyes narrowed farther. “You think all we’re doing is fucking? I made it clear?—”
“This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
He seemed on the verge of getting angry, but he swallowed it back and kept the calm. “Help me understand.”
“Look at you.” I gestured from his shoulders to his fat dick between his legs. “You could have anyone, have as many girls as you want at once, and you’re choosing to spend your time with me, a woman about to be divorced and almost thirty. It just seems a little unbelievable sometimes.”
He stared at me long and hard, the sound of the falling water fading out in the tension. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“I’m not crazy?—”
“You’re fucking crazy. Crazy to let that asshole steal your confidence. Crazy to let that idiot strip you down to a hollow shell of insecurity. Let me tell you something about men, sweetheart. They cheat because they cheat. It’s as simple as that. His gaze didn’t wander because you were less than, because your ass wasn’t hard enough or your tits weren’t perky enough.”
“I appreciate that, but that has nothing to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with it. Because there’s no fucking way that a woman who looks like you could possibly question her worthiness otherwise. Why would I want a woman ten years younger than me when I can have you? A woman who’s intelligent, experienced, speaks her mind, whose sass hits harder than a goddamn bullet.” He grabbed me by the throat like he was about to slam me to the floor. “ Y ou’re. Fucking. Crazy.” He squeezed me before he let go. He turned off the shower then stepped out, pulling the towel off the rack and drying himself quickly.
I followed him and stood on the bath mat, soaking wet because I didn’t have a towel.
He tossed me his when he was finished.
“Look, I just mean?—”
He turned back to me, sexy with his damp hair a mess from the towel. “I thought we were done with this.”
“I just think someone like you would be one of those guys who never wants to commit or settle down because you don’t have to.”
His furious eyes stared into mine like I offended him.
“That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re right. That’s exactly who I was.” His eyes remained on mine, still furious and hard in intensity, like he was about to snap and scream at me. The silence trickled between us, but instead of letting the intensity disperse, it only got worse. I saw a slight tremor in his body, a tightness in his neck that nearly snapped the cords under the skin. “Until I met you.”
A wave of raw emotion swept through me, a combination of so many different feelings that I couldn’t tell them apart. I was touched by the words and the affection packed behind them—and I was fucking scared.
“You asked me, sweetheart.”
“I said I’d rather not say, and you pushed.”
“You want honesty, and that’s a two-way street.”
“I know what I said?—”
“Ask me how I feel about you.”
“Bastien, this is going way too fast?—”
“It’s going exactly the pace it’s supposed to,” he said. “Now, ask me.”
I knew what he would say, and while those words would bring me unimaginable joy, they would also bring a vulnerability I couldn’t handle right now. I was becoming thinner, weaker, and more transparent by the day—and infinitely more fragile.
When he knew I wasn’t ready, he turned away and walked out of the bathroom.
Once I was alone, my breaths grew deep and labored, the danger gone but the fear profound. I waited a minute or two before I stepped into the bedroom, seeing him dressed in only his sweatpants. Sunlight continued to come through the open curtains and highlight the elegant bedroom fit for a ruler.
He stepped into the other room, probably to sit on the couch and watch TV.
I didn’t know if I should get dressed and leave…or stay. He seemed to have shut me out, so I wasn’t sure. Instead of getting dressed and making assumptions that might piss him off, I approached him on the couch. “Should I go?”
He didn’t look away from the TV, which was on now. His muscular back was to me, the dark ink a distinct contrast against his fair skin. His body was still, like it didn’t draw breath the way mine did. “I never want you to go, and you know that.”
The weekend came and went, and I was back to the daily grind of a regular person. Being at my desk before nine, eating my lunch by myself, walking home at five, sometimes in the rain.
It was tense between Bastien and me after that fight, if you could call it a fight. That seemed to be the number one cause of strife in our relationship, him wanting to hit the gas while I wanted to hit the brake.
But I didn’t want to hit the brake. I just didn’t want to go a hundred miles an hour.
However, Bastien had been in the driver’s seat from the beginning—and he wouldn’t give up the wheel.
It’d been a couple days since I’d seen him. I’d spent the entire weekend at his house, so I didn’t expect a sleepover for a while. He probably had work that needed his attention, details he didn’t share with me because I’d rather not know. But he texted me every day, several times a day. For a man who’s never been a boyfriend, he knew exactly how to do it. When we were apart, I didn’t worry about what he did behind my back. He must get offers left and right, but I wasn’t scared he would cash one of them in. Maybe it was because I trusted him without even realizing it.
When I got off work on Wednesday, I texted Adrien. Can I come by?
His dots were immediate, something that hadn’t happened during our marriage. Hours would pass before I’d get a response from him. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I wasn’t needy and insecure—not like I was now.
Another thing I liked about Bastien. I never had to be needy and desperate for his attention or validation because he gave it before I had to ask. He let me know every day that I was the one woman on his mind. He was always available for my texts and calls, anytime—day or night.
I appreciated it more than words could say.
Yes, I’m home.
Okay, be there in ten.
I’m excited to see you.
I rolled my eyes before I pocketed the phone.
Ten minutes later, I arrived at the house that used to be mine, the smell exactly as I remembered, everything feeling familiar and foreign at the same time. Our wedding picture used to be on the wall in the entryway, but I noticed it was missing.
Adrien joined me a moment later, his eyes lit up like stars at the sight of me. He went straight for me, opening his arms to hug me.
I stepped back. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He stilled, all his joy quickly erased by confusion. “I—I’m sorry.” He took a few steps back, his mood noticeably souring when he didn’t get what he wanted.
I looked at the wall where the picture had been, its absence noticeable because of the empty space. “Looks like I’m not the only one ready for a new chapter.”
His eyes followed mine. “It’s not what it looks like. It fell and broke. I’m getting it reframed.”
“It just fell?” I asked skeptically. “An invisible earthquake came through?”
He sighed. “I didn’t take it down, Fleur. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased that you’re offended by the thought of me taking it down. That means there’s still something here.”
“You misunderstand me. If you’re taking down our wedding photo to hide it from the women you invite over but you won’t give me a divorce, that pisses me the fuck off. Don’t make me jump through hoops, Adrien.”
“That’s not what’s happening.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” I wasn’t going to argue with a liar. “I need that divorce.”
“Our next mediation is in three weeks?—”
“I want it now,” I demanded. “No more games. No more procrastination. Just give me the fucking divorce.”
He watched me for a while, a blanket of fear masking his face. He swallowed before he spoke. “What’s the rush?”
“That’s my business.”
“Are you going to marry this guy or something?”
“Adrien, we aren’t getting back together. Do you understand that? Because I don’t think you do.”
He continued his stare, looking dead behind the eyes. “I told you he’s not good for you.”
“You were supposed to be, and look how that turned out,” I snapped. “Whether Bastien is in my life or not, I’m never going back to you. So stop with the games, and let’s just finish this.”
“What’s the rush?” he repeated.
“I said it’s none of your business.”
Despite his best efforts to appear calm, he lost his footing. “Did he ask you to marry him?”
“Adrien.”
“Answer me.”
“I’ve gone into this relationship with Bastien with restraint, and I don’t want to feel restrained anymore. I don’t want to be married anymore. I want to be divorced, I want to put this behind me, and I want to be fully invested in my new relationship. But that’s hard to do when I know I’m technically married to you.”
“It’s hard because you still feel something for me.”
“Trust me, that’s not the case,” I insisted. “I want to close this chapter in my life and open a new one with Bastien. The relationship is new and I’m in no hurry to rush to the finish line, but I want to be ready for when that moment comes.”
All he could do was stare at me, his deepened breaths visible as the discomfort took hold. He looked more forlorn than when I moved out, when he’d told me there had been more women than Cecilia. He knew he was about to lose me for good, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Fleur, I don’t want to lose you.”
Maybe I was crazy, but in that moment, I actually pitied him. “Adrien, I know it’s hard to let go, but I’m already gone. Even if I wanted to forgive you and work on the relationship, I can’t.”
“Why?” he whispered.
I thought the reason was obvious. “Because I’m in love with someone else.” They were words I couldn’t even admit to myself, and no way in hell could I ever say them to Bastien, not when he would swallow me whole. But I could say them to Adrien because…he needed to hear them. He needed this truth, no matter how painful, for closure.
He clenched his eyes shut like that would somehow block out the sound of my words. His face was already pale when it was normally tanned, but now he looked on the verge of being sick. It reminded me of the way I’d looked when Cecilia told me about his infidelity, how I’d looked every day for a month when I lived in that small apartment and cried myself to sleep every night. This moment should taste like vindictive revenge, but it was so bland I couldn’t taste it. The last thing I wanted was to inflict that kind of pain on anyone, even him.
It gave me no pleasure, none at all.
He finally opened his eyes again. They were slightly wet from the tears he tried so hard not to shed in front of me. “I’ll do it.” He spoke so quietly, his words were barely audible. “Whatever terms you want, I’ll give them to you.”
“Thank you, Adrien.” The defeat meant the world to me, the war finally over. I’d left this house almost four months ago, and when I’d walked out with my bags, I assumed I would be miserable for a very long time. I assumed it would take years to put myself back together, and by then, the dating pool would be empty and I would die alone. Never did I expect the most remarkable man to walk into that bar and change the colors of my life from black-and-white to glorious Technicolor.
I opened my arms and hugged him tightly, and for the first time, I felt only love for him. I let my anger and resentment dissolve in the air around us. I let the past remain in the rearview mirror. Instead of eviscerating him with the talons of my heartbreak, I chose to comfort him as a friend.
He squeezed me hard and rested his chin on my head, giving a heavy breath that was full of both joy and pain. “I love you, Fleur. Always will.”
I’d just gotten home from work after buying a baguette at the bakery. I had an assortment of cheeses that I’d picked up a few days ago from Le Grande épicerie and they were still good, so I made a snack in my little kitchen, smearing the cheese on the edge of the bread before I took a bite. I was still in my heels and my coat, the raindrops glued to the windows of my apartment. I leaned against the counter, mentally drained from staring at the computer screen and doing spreadsheets and booking appointments. The work was boring and unfulfilling, but it was good pay. Now I had the heater where I wanted it, could get groceries delivered instead of using what little time I had left to take care of that myself. Money didn’t buy happiness, but it bought time, and that freedom was happiness.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Bastien. What’s my woman doing?
Standing in my kitchen eating cheese and a baguette. What about you?
Just took care of something.
That could mean anything. Killing someone or signing paperwork. I’d rather not know which.
Put down that baguette and have dinner with me.
It’s a really good baguette…but you’re really hot…what will I choose?
He didn’t say anything. His dots didn’t appear.
Looks like the sexy man wins.
Good choice, sweetheart. I’ll be there in five minutes.
I left my apartment and exited the lobby to the street. Bastien was already there, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. He was dressed in dark colors, a dark blue shirt with black jeans. A grin slid over his face at the sight of me, and he moved into me and kissed me right there on the sidewalk, gripping my ass through my skirt. He abruptly pulled away and opened the back door for me to get inside.
The driver took us a few blocks away before he pulled up outside an expansive restaurant. There was a sea of tables covered in white tablecloths with little white vases on top, each holding a single white rose. Bastien pulled out the chair for me then took the seat across from me.
He grabbed the menu and took a look, distracted for a second so I could stare at him.
My god, he was so good-looking. Soft eyes in a hard face with a sharp jawline. He always carried himself with the kind of confidence that commanded the room. Even when he was seated, he felt like the tallest person in the restaurant.
His eyes flicked up to me, like he felt my stare.
I tried to hide how obvious I was. “Let me guess…you’re getting the steak.”
He smirked at the comment and placed the menu aside. “Roast chicken. Need to cut back on the red meat.”
“And the cigars…and the scotch.” I smiled so he knew I was teasing.
Playfulness was in his eyes. “I’ll give up red meat before I’d give up either of those things.”
“Really? I figured you would give up the cigars first.”
“No. Speaking of cigars, I noticed you haven’t smoked in a while.”
“You’re right, and I didn’t even notice.” The separation from Adrien stressed me out, but life had become easier since. Didn’t even realize I didn’t need it anymore. Bastien had taken up my entire focus. I looked at the menu. “I don’t know what to get.”
“Full of that baguette?” he teased.
“No. Everything just sounds so good.” I continued to stare at the menu. “Do I want the pasta or the pizza? Sometimes life can be so hard.”
He smirked. “Get both.”
“I can’t eat both, and I’m not sure if I’m offended or pleased that you think I can.” I set the menu aside.
“Take one to work tomorrow.”
“I already sit on my ass all day. I can’t sit there and eat pasta.”
“You can sit on my face all day if you want.”
I smiled at the joke.
But he stared at me like it wasn’t a joke at all.
The waitress came over, and the second she got a full view of Bastien, she hesitated before she spoke, like she was blindsided by a man so good-looking. Her eyes were wider than they should be, and she fumbled for her pad in her apron.
I couldn’t be angry, not when I understood all too well.
“What can I get you?” she finally said.
“We’ll take a bottle of the Bordeaux,” Bastien said. “I’ll take the chicken, and she’ll have the margherita pizza and the baked ziti.”
Did he really just order both for me?
“Of course.” She took the menus and left.
“How did you know I wanted the margherita pizza?” I asked.
“Because you seemed to like it when Gerard made it for you.”
He paid that much attention? That was something Adrien never would have remembered. “Our waitress must be judging me right now.”
“Who cares if she is.”
Probably wondering what a man like him was doing with a girl who ordered two entrees.
She came back a moment later, uncorked the wine, and filled his glass first, and when he gave a nod, she poured the rest and walked away.
The restaurant was only half full, quiet because it was early for the dinner rush. Bastien and I normally had dinner much later in the evening, but now that I had a job that required me to be behind the desk by nine every day, that had changed.
He drank his wine, licked his lips, and then relaxed in the wooden armchair, his arm over the back of the chair beside him.
I was perfectly content sitting in silence, enjoying the sight of this beautiful man across from me. Beautiful wasn’t even the right word, because a rose in a garden could be beautiful, and this man was hard as stone and rugged as a tree trunk.
He held my stare like he was even more comfortable with the silence, could sit in it for hours.
“How was your week?” I asked.
After a long pause, he gave a slight shrug. “Same as always.”
“What do you do, exactly?”
“On the first of the month, tariffs are due. The weeks leading up to that are spent policing production and distribution, having unscheduled pop-ins to keep everyone on their toes. There are meetings with dealers and investors. And then my obligations to the Senate and President Martin.”
“You sound so busy, I don’t know how you have time for me.”
“I don’t have time for you,” he said. “I make time for you.”
I looked into those confident eyes and felt myself float.
“You’re my priority, and it’s my job to make you feel like a priority.”
“You know, for a man who’s never been in a relationship, you’re awfully good at it.”
He gave a slight smirk. “Because there’s only one relationship I’ve ever wanted to be in.”
The fact that he’d chosen me of all people still shocked me, but I didn’t voice that insecurity when it would only ignite his fury.
He drank his wine again.
“Do you mind if I ask you questions about work?”
“No.”
“You said you used to be a hit man?”
“For a brief time.”
“So, people would just pay you to kill someone?”
“More complicated than that,” he said. “I didn’t aimlessly kill anyone. The target had to deserve it. So, men would hire me to take out the enemies they couldn’t take out on their own. If the target was ever a woman, I would kill the man who hired me instead. And if a woman hired me, I’d do it for free.”
“Why would a man want to kill a woman?”
“The number one reason is because she’s a mistress. She threatened to tell his wife, so instead of paying her to be quiet, he’d rather pay me to kill her.”
I gave a slow nod in understanding. “A whole different world out there…”
“That world is your world—but you don’t see it.”
I was glad I didn’t see it. “You said you did that for a brief time. What else did you do?”
“The drug business. I grew up in it, and I’ll die in it.”
“What do you mean you grew up in it?”
He was quiet for a while before he answered. “It was the family business. When I was fifteen, I was forced into it.”
I cocked my head as I listened to that answer. “Your mother ran a drug empire?”
“My father.”
I remembered one of our first conversations where he gave me conflicting information. “You said you never knew your father.”
“And I didn’t.” His mood soured noticeably, like speaking of him was a sore subject, like there was an entire wall of secrecy behind it. “We never got along. From the moment I was born to the moment he died, we were at odds with each other. We had very different business philosophies.”
He didn’t raise his voice or deepen his tone, but I could tell by the look on his face that this was a serious point of contention. There was an injury underneath the surface that hadn’t healed, and the wound continued to fester as time passed. Something told me I shouldn’t pry into this territory. It was like when I’d asked him why he felt so protective of the girls who were forced into hard labor. Bastien was easygoing and calm, like he didn’t carry the burdens the rest of us did, but it was clear that wasn’t the case. “So, this is the only life you’ve ever known.”
He stared at me for a while before he agreed. “You could say that.”
“Is this the only life you’ve ever wanted?”
He was quiet again, a pause so long, it seemed like he wouldn’t provide an answer to follow it. “There was a time when I wanted something else. To take a path no one else in my family wanted to walk. But I learned the hard way that this is what I’m destined for. I’m a criminal who earns his living in unsavory ways, but innocent lives remain untouched because of it, so some good comes from it.”
I wanted to ask how many people he’d killed, but I chose to keep the question to myself. I appreciated what he shared with me, especially since it visibly pained him to do so. “You’re so wealthy, I’m sure you could retire whenever you wanted.”
“Yes, but it’s not about the money.”
“Then that means you enjoy it.”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he said. “When I left my father’s house, I wanted to do something more with my life. But it was too late. I’d already made too many mistakes, and I got into drugs instead.”
The intense conversation dropped when the waitress brought our entrees—all three of them.
I looked at the pasta and then the pizza, and I didn’t know which one looked better.
Bastien looked at me with a sly smirk before he dropped his linen across his lap. His elbows moved to the table, and he started to feast on his roast chicken, a man who had to eat thousands of calories a day to keep up all the muscle on the steel of his bones. Sometimes he would look at me, but most of his attention was on his food, like a hungry bear.
I went back and forth between the pasta and the pizza, even scooping the pasta onto a slice and trying it that way. My food was a lot better than his, all fat and carbs, while he stuck to his chicken, rice, and veggies. But that was why he was hot and I had an ass.
He stopped eating, and his eyes were on the door, lingering there for a long time with a blank expression on his face.
Half of his food was still on the plate, and I’d never seen him not finish a meal, so I asked, “Did you not like the food?”
He didn’t blink. Kept up the hard stare like he saw someone he recognized but didn’t want to see.
I started to turn to look over my shoulder.
“Don’t move.” His voice was quiet, and his words were quick.
The relaxed ambiance between us suddenly disappeared when I detected the warning in the air. When I felt the hostility pour off him in waves. It seemed like my heart had stopped because I took his words so literally.
He continued his hard stare, not blinking once.
“Should I be worried?—”
“Get down.”
“What—”
He didn’t ask me again. He got to his feet and flipped the table, our food falling to the floor and the plates shattering. He pushed me down to the floor and shoved the table up against the wall, putting me in a cage without a roof.
I let out a little scream when I hit the floor because someone came at Bastien from behind, brandishing a long knife.
Bastien executed a series of moves that happened so fast, throwing up his elbow to hit the assailant in the face before he grabbed the guy’s arm and spun it down, slamming the blade into his thigh.
The guy screamed, the knife impaling him.
Bastien punched him hard before he yanked the knife out by the hilt and threw him aside.
I saw the guy hit the floor, screaming in anguish as he gripped his thigh and he tried to stop the bleeding.
Then I heard gunshots.
“Oh my god…” I stayed there, staring at the man bleeding to death on the floor, terrified the same would happen to me but with bullets instead of knives.
I could hear the commotion, hear the sounds of grunts and yells as the fighting continued. I knew Bastien was alive because there would be no fight if he were dead. Desperate to see what was happening, I inched closer to the man who continued to scream, and I peered around the corner.
Bastien made a flurry of moves that looked like action stunts in a movie from Hollywood, successfully spinning the gun out of his enemy’s hand and then firing at the next guy who came at him with a knife. It was three on one, but Bastien managed to hold his own, kicking ass in a fight he hadn’t known was coming.
He slammed one guy’s head onto the edge of the table, and his neck cracked when it broke. He was dead on the floor, eyes wide and lifeless.
The guy screaming next to me looked at me, but he seemed to be too distressed to come for me.
Bastien grabbed the next guy then literally threw him, sending him crashing into another table.
The last one hesitated before he faced off with Bastien, like he knew he was in deep shit.
Bastien tossed the gun aside like he preferred hand-to-hand combat rather than a cheap shot. He came at him in a rush, throwing a fist hard into his face before pummeling him again, moving at a speed that seemed impossible with his large mass.
The guests in the restaurant had already run out. The waiters had ditched too. Police had probably been called and were rushing to the scene, but by the time they got there, the fight would already be over.
Bastien grabbed the guy by the throat and slammed him down into the floor like he weighed nothing. Then he loomed over him like an intimidating statue about to come to life. He lifted his heavy boot and propped it against the front of the man’s neck, but he kept his weight on his back foot.
The guy lay still, his chest rising and falling with his deep, labored breaths.
Bastien stared down at him. “Tell me who sent you, or I’ll break your windpipe.”
I should duck behind the table again because I didn’t want to see this. Didn’t want to watch Bastien make good on his threat right in front of me. But my eyes stayed in place, needing to see the outcome of the attack. The guy beside me had started to bleed out and went silent. He continued to breathe because he was still alive, but not for long.
The man under Bastien’s foot kept his silence.
“And you know breaking your windpipe is only the beginning.”
He trembled on the floor, straining to draw breath as Bastien applied more pressure with his foot. “Based on the pathetic way you guys came at me, he sounds like an amateur. Are you willing to die for an amateur?”
Once Bastien applied more pressure, he tried to grab Bastien’s shoe and push back, but since Bastien had to weigh over two hundred pounds in muscle, it was pointless. “Please… If I tell you, he’ll kill my family.”
Bastien kept his foot in place with a stonelike expression. “Then this is your fault for working for a man who has no honor. And you deserve what’s about to happen to you.”
“You could let me go?—”
Without warning, he struck like a viper and slammed his foot down on the man’s throat.
I looked away so I wouldn’t have to see it.
There was no scream, not when his throat collapsed. The sound he made was like a guttural moan.
Then I heard Bastien stomp again, and that made the man wince like an animal that had been shot but forced to live. There was another stomp and a restrained scream—and then silence.
I squeezed my eyes closed even though I was behind the table and gripped my arms with clenched hands, shaking like I was the bleeding victim instead of some man who had just tried to kill us. My knees were to my chest, and somehow, the silence was more painful than the noise.
Then Bastien spoke to someone he knew, like he was on the phone. “Must be doing a good job…because some assholes just tried to kill me.”
Bastien pulled the table away like I was trapped against the wall and couldn’t get out.
I just chose to stay there and hide.
“Sweetheart.” He kneeled down beside me, blocking my view of the guy who’d bled out.
It took several seconds for me to have the courage to look him in the eye.
His stare was no longer vicious like it’d been during the fight. It was kind and gentle, the way it was whenever he comforted me. His blue eyes shifted back and forth between mine as he assessed my state of mind. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I trembled like I was afraid of him, but I just needed more time to process what had happened. “Me too.”
“It’s over now.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure why.
He continued to assess me. “You’re still afraid. I hope I’m not the one you’re afraid of.”
I wasn’t afraid of him, but only because we were allies and not enemies. However, under different circumstances, I would be utterly fucking terrified. “No, of course not. I’m—I’m just overwhelmed.”
“Come here.” He was on one knee, and he opened his arms to take me.
I left the wall and moved into his chest, and then I felt his thick arms encircle me and hold me close. They were the same arms that had destroyed all his opponents, but they made me feel safer than I ever had.
“It’s okay.” He rested his chin on my head as he held me tight. “I’d never let anything happen to you, sweetheart.” He dipped his mouth and pressed a kiss to my hair as he cocooned me in the safety of his arms.
“Bastien.”
I didn’t know Luca very well, but I recognized his voice.
Bastien let me go and rose to his feet.
Luca was accompanied by other men, all dressed in black. He looked around at the scene as he walked up to his friend. The police hadn’t shown up yet. “How’d they know you were here?”
I stayed on the floor because I wanted to disappear into the corner.
“They must have been tailing me. The only people who knew about my dinner plans were Fleur and my driver.”
“And you trust your driver?” Luca asked.
“Yes.”
Luca didn’t ask if he trusted me. His eyes found mine across the room. Even though he spoke loud enough for me to hear, he talked about me like I was deaf. “She okay?”
“Shaken up, but she’ll bounce back.”
“Or she’ll bounce out…”
Bastien ignored what he said and nodded toward the man he’d killed with just his boot. “Wouldn’t talk. Said his employer would kill his family.”
“Think it was Godric?”
Bastien didn’t hesitate before he answered. “No.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because if he wanted me dead, he’d want me to know.”
Luca nodded to one of his men. “Load ’em up.” He turned back to Bastien. “Called off the police. Tried to keep it from the press, but I was too late. Martin will be pissed about the backlash.”
“I can’t control the people who want to kill me.”
“It’s literally your job, Bastien.”
Bastien watched the men remove the bodies and clean up the mess left behind. “No one has put a hit on me in a long time. So, they are either very stupid—or very desperate.”
“Maybe they’re angry with how we handled Regis.”
“We handled Regis how we handle everyone else.”
“Oscar?”
Bastien shook his head. “He has other interests right now.”
Luca stood there with his arms across his chest. “When you’re at the top, all eyes are on you. Perhaps someone else wants to be seen.”
“I’d be more concerned if this weren’t the most amateur attack I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe that was why they did it,” Luca said. “Because you wouldn’t have suspected it…”
Bastien dropped me off at home.
He had business that required his attention, had to shake down his contacts to figure out who wanted him dead, so he didn’t have time for me. I got a quick kiss and a pat on the ass as a goodbye.
I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t want to ask him to stay—so I let him go. Despite the fact that I was unnerved by what happened, I wasn’t his priority right now. He had an entire city to run.
I went to work the next day and the next, the office exactly the same as usual, like whatever had happened the other night hadn’t affected this sector of his business. The attack at the restaurant was on the news, but reporters were calling it a failed robbery attempt.
I knew what had really happened.
I slept like shit every night, having nightmares about the violence I’d witnessed. I didn’t care about the welfare of the man with a stab wound in his leg beside me, but I wondered if he’d survived. Or maybe he did survive, and then Bastien killed him.
I knew Bastien was really wrapped up in the chaos when he didn’t text me. It was the first time in our relationship that I felt his absence when I needed him more. But out of fear of seeming clingy or desperate, I let it be.