5. Fleur
5
FLEUR
Bastien worked every single night for two weeks, and while I was disappointed he was gone so much, I didn’t complain. He’d bailed on all his responsibilities when I’d needed him most, so I couldn’t be greedy with his time.
I went through all the things that Bastien had retrieved from Adrien’s and put the clothes and shoes away in the closet in one of the additional bedrooms. It was more than a spare room, but a smaller primary that was worthy of an important guest. The walk-in closet was perfect for all my extra things. Adrien had also included my wedding dress in the contents. It was zipped up in a bag, so I assumed Bastien hadn’t noticed.
Even if that had been a special day, it felt weird to keep it, so I tossed it in the donations bag.
I could only organize my belongings for so many hours without getting overwhelmed, so I would take a book down to one of my cafés and read it while enjoying a midday coffee. I did cardio for an hour every day now because I was afraid I would gain a bunch of weight since I spent most of my time sitting on my ass. And Bastien was so fucking hot that I had to at least try to stay fit.
I’d thought I would be lost and bored without having a job to occupy my day, but it was the opposite. I didn’t miss staring at a computer screen and looking at spreadsheets and booking appointments for my boss. I didn’t miss the meetings and the mandatory luncheons and the bullshit.
I didn’t miss worrying about rent and what temperature I could afford to keep the heater and how much I could afford in groceries for the week. I didn’t miss hearing people argue down the hallway from my apartment because the walls were practically made of paper. I didn’t miss having to do my laundry in my kitchen. Now, I didn’t have to do laundry at all.
No laundry. No cooking. No dishes. Nothing.
When I’d been with Adrien, I’d still had to do everything else. I was a housewife, and I earned my keep by doing everything so he didn’t have to do anything. With Bastien, I felt like a queen in a castle whose only responsibility was to fuck the king when he came home.
I sat at the table at BO&MIE, a café that had café crème and raspberry croissants, my favorite. I was upstairs near the window, reading my book while I sipped my coffee. I normally went in the morning when it was quiet, but I’d come around lunchtime today and it was louder than usual with all the people, so I had my earphones in while I read.
The chair across from me was pulled out, and someone put down their tray of food, baked rigatoni and a croque monsieur sandwich.
I assumed it was some jerk who had come to make a pass, but my eyes lifted and locked on the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
He smiled at my surprise as he sat across from me, his tray holding enough food for two people, maybe even three. “Mind if I join you, sweetheart?”
I paused the music in my earphones and closed my book. “How did you know I was here?”
“I track your phone.”
“Oh…” I didn’t know that.
He grabbed his fork and started to eat his pasta. He seemed to pick up on my disapproval because he said, “It’s a two-way street. You can see where I am whenever you want.”
“I can?”
He took my phone from the surface of the table and tapped his name in my contacts. The map popped up, showing both of our dots in the same spot. “If you’re ever worried about me.” He returned the phone to the table. “Want any of this?”
It did look good, fresh pasta drenched in sauce with the cheese baked on top. “Sure.”
He scooped half of it onto the little place that held his croissant and slid it toward me. “I ordered cheesecake too, but the prick forgot to give it to me.” He gave me his fork and left to retrieve another one.
His sandwich looked good too, so I cut that in half and crammed it onto my plate.
When he came back, he handed me the fork then smirked when he realized I’d taken some of his sandwich too. “Attagirl.”
He was the only man in the world who encouraged me to eat. If I started to gain some weight when I was with Adrien, he would make little comments to indicate he noticed, like asking me to make salads and soups for dinner, things that didn’t have carbs. He thought he was being clever, but he was just an idiot.
That experience had made me strict with my diet. I ate whatever I wanted, but I always kept it under a calorie limit. I usually had a coffee and croissant for breakfast then skipped lunch and had a big dinner with Bastien before he went to work.
“Why are you awake?” I asked.
“I’m off tonight, so I just took a nap.”
“You are?” I asked a little too enthusiastically.
He smirked. “I’m all yours, sweetheart.”
“Ooh…what should we do?”
“I don’t care as long as you’re naked.”
I smiled and nearly rolled my eyes, but instead, I speared a piece of pasta with my fork and popped that into my mouth.
“You must like this place. You’re here nearly three times a week.”
That meant he watched me on his phone often. “I love their raspberry croissants.”
He smirked and continued to eat.
“What?”
“Those are my mom’s favorite too.”
“Well, she has good taste.”
“Guess so.” He continued to eat, inhaling his food like usual, arms on the table as he towered over his meal. “We have a wedding this Saturday. Totally slipped my mind until Luca reminded me.”
“We, as in you and me?”
“Did you think I was going to take Gerard?”
The chuckle escaped uncontrollably. “I’d love to see that.”
“He’s not my type.”
“He does all your cooking and cleaning and laundry, so he better be your type.”
His smile could win awards. “You’ve got me there.” He grabbed his sandwich and took a big bite, a manly bite. He chewed as he stared at me across the table then glanced at the book I’d been reading. “ The Chateau . Any good?”
“I like it. It’s about these two sisters who get trafficked working in a labor camp, and while the older sister is there, she falls in love with one of the guards…who ends up being more than a guard—and that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
He gave a slow nod. “That does sound good. You like romance?”
“I read everything. I just finished Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.”
“I didn’t know you liked to read so much.” He continued to eat, but his eyes were glued to my face like he was truly enraptured by my words. He wasn’t half listening, but actually invested in what I had to say.
“I used to want to be a literature professor.”
“What changed?”
“Well, I got married, and that dream kinda just died…”
“You still have time—if that’s what you want to do.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to work?”
“I said I don’t want you to work for money,” he said. “Working for passion is very different.”
I’d have to return to university and take classes and write dissertations and spend the next six years of my life studying and writing papers, and that sounded like so much work now that I was almost thirty. “I’d rather read whatever I want in a café and wait for my man to wake up than lecture a bunch of undergrads.”
His eyes lit up as if he liked that answer. “You seem to be adjusting well.”
“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t miss the office.”
That smile stretched across his lips like that answer truly made him happy. All he wanted to do was take care of me. It gave him more than happiness, but purpose and pride. “I assumed.”
“I doubt my boss misses me either. I was the worst assistant ever.”
“You were not.”
“As if he’d ever complain about me to you. You wanna know how I know I sucked?”
He cocked his head slightly.
“He never asked me to do anything. Like, ever. I could have sat in that office and played solitaire all day, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I had to find things to do for him.”
“That doesn’t mean you sucked. It just means he was scared shitless of pissing me off.”
“What did you say to him when you hired me?”
“That my woman would be working for him, and I’d shoot him in the back of the head if he gave you a hard time.”
My eyes nearly popped open.
He chuckled. “Sweetheart, come on. You think I’d say that?”
“Uh, yes.”
He smiled before he took another bite of his sandwich. When he swallowed, he spoke again. “I just told him you were my girl and needed work. That was it. I’m not sure if he even wanted an assistant. Maybe he thought I planted you to spy on him, so he walked on eggshells the whole time.”
“Well, that would mean he’s hiding something.”
“We’re all hiding something, sweetheart.”
“Even you?” I asked, turning those words around on him.
He looked me dead in the eye, the smile nowhere in sight. “Yes.”
I hadn’t expected him to say that, so my own smile drained out of my face.
He seemed to have lost his appetite because he didn’t touch any more of his food. He drank from his water then sat there, arms across his chest, as if he expected me to interrogate him about these secrets.
But I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to violate his privacy.
He continued to stare at me. “I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
My eyes flicked down to my plate, only a few bites left. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Bastien. You’re entitled to your privacy.”
He cocked his head in the other direction, his eyes narrowing as he stared at my face. Several beats passed, and he didn’t say anything. “I’ll have to tell you eventually, but now isn’t the best time.” Probably because we were surrounded by people and families and tourists.
“Why do you have to?”
“It’s just something you should know. Something I’m not proud of, but I’m not sorry about either.”
I felt my heart tumble into the abyss, and I didn’t want to think about whatever it was a moment longer. “Whose wedding are we going to?”
He clearly hadn’t expected the change in subject because he stared at me for nearly a minute before he answered the question. “One of my producers. His daughter is getting married at the Four Seasons.”
“Now that I have all my stuff back, I have something to wear.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t buy something new too.”
“You seem to have forgotten how many clothes you moved over for me.”
He gave a slight smile before he grabbed his fork and took a few more bites of his meal, his appetite back at the change in subject. “I’m sure the guys who moved everything could never forget.”
“Luca will be there?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“He’s kinda flaky.”
“Will you know anyone else there?”
“I’ll know a ton of people there.”
“A drug dealer wedding…that’s a first.” It was hard to picture criminals doing normal things like everyone else.
“I’ve been to a lot of drug dealer weddings and birthday parties and bat mitzvahs.” He finished his tray of pasta then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Not all criminals are bad. Some of them are just trying to provide for their family like everyone else. They sell drugs, but they run it like a family-owned pizza parlor.”
“Is that the kind of wedding we are going to?”
He nodded.
“And the others…?”
“The others need to be policed by me. Otherwise, a lot of bad things would happen to good people.”
I remembered the first night we’d met and how he handled the burglars. He’d spoken to the police like he knew them well. “I thought you were a cop when we first met.”
“I remember.” There was a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“If I didn’t know you, I would have a hard time believing all of this.”
He soaked up my words like a dry sponge that was suddenly damp. “There’s a lot of stuff that happens in Paris that most people don’t know about. The French Emperors have been a secret society that has existed on and off for centuries, founded by Napoleon Bonaparte before he became the first French Emperor. It was an important part of his strategy, to take hold of the country from the inside out. Over the centuries, the organization has changed, faded into the background, and then come into prominence when the Republic needed it. It’s grown to what it is now, protecting the Republic in the shadows. We have partners all over the world, and those people are the best sources of information for global terrorism and other threats to the Republic and our allies. I report what I hear to our generals.”
All I knew was the man before me, the man with a heart full of justice and kindness. It was easy to forget his position in light of that. “I had no idea.”
“I’m a descendant of Napoleon—on my mother’s side.”
“Wow.”
“We still have a couple things that once belonged to him. The Aristocrats allowed me to keep them because it’s mine by blood.”
“Allowed?” Bastien didn’t seem like a man who needed permission.
“Their intentions started pure, but they’ve become extremists through the generations. They are more like a cult these days, declaring war on anyone who doesn’t revere the French Republic. I thought Oscar was more practical than his peers, but I learned the hard way that he wasn’t.”
I shouldn’t care enough to ask this question, but a part of me would always care. “Do—do you think they’ll try to kill Adrien?”
Bastien didn’t bullshit me. He never did. “Absolutely.”
“Would they spare him if he gave them what he wanted?”
“This isn’t your problem, sweetheart. I warned him many times. He got himself into this mess, and even when he had a way out, he still didn’t take it. Your concern is misplaced.” He spoke calmly, like my interest in my ex’s well-being didn’t upset him.
“What about you?” I asked. “Will…will they try to kill you because you killed Oscar?”
He stared at me across the table, the light coming through the window and striking his face with the most beautiful glow. His eyes were like pools of clear blue water. “That’s my problem, not yours.”
“It is my problem, Bastien.”
“I’ll handle it, like I always do,” he said calmly. “Don’t waste another minute worrying about it.”
“Do you have a plan? Are you going to kill them first?”
He smirked. “That sounds like the opposite of not worrying.”
I appreciated the fact that he tried to shield me from sources of nightmares and shadows of anxiety, but he was the single most important person in my life, and the idea of losing him scared the shit out of me. “I fucking love you, so how am I not supposed to worry?” I raised my voice more than I should, but my frustration got the best of me.
His smile was brighter than the sun on a summer day. He relaxed in the chair, arms across his chest, staring me down with blue eyes that were both soft and amused at the same time.
His mood had completely changed, and I didn’t know why. “What?”
“How many times are you going to tell me you love me before you realize what you’re saying?” He cocked his head, that smile still wide on his mouth.
A tornado of anxiety burst in my chest and turned every organ and bone upside down. Fear hit me like a ton of bricks because I was scared. I’d gone to sleep one night, and then I woke up to a whole new life, a life I hadn’t wanted. But the roots I’d planted were too deep to run. My addiction to this man was so strong that a detox would kill me. It had all happened so fast, and it wasn’t until that very moment that I’d stopped to take a breath and accept this reality. It had always felt temporary, a moment in time that I should treasure before it was gone, but now, I knew this was it.
This was forever.
“I—I forgot I have a doctor’s appointment.” I grabbed my book and stuffed it into my bag, feeling his hard stare on my face. “I’ll see you later.” I left my chair and slid between our table and our neighbor’s before I passed behind him.
He didn’t order me to sit down. Didn’t force me to face the conversation like a man.
He just let me go.
I went across town to Mason Louvard to get one of their famous crookies, a chocolate chip cookie baked into a croissant, my go-to when I wanted to eat my feelings. But there weren’t enough crookies in the world to make this unease go away.
I sat at a table alone, my coffee sitting in front of me even though I’d had enough caffeine for the day. It was the only time I missed my old apartment, so I could have somewhere to go alone. But now, I lived with Bastien, so he’d be there waiting for me when I walked inside, prepared to finish the conversation once I was ready to have it.
Would I ever be ready to have it?
How had this happened?
How had it happened so fast?
The divorce papers had just gone through, and now I was living a whole new life with someone else. I was back in a position I didn’t want to be in, not when I hadn’t had enough time to heal and let go of the past.
But I must be ready…if I was the first one to say it.
It’d been hours, and Bastien hadn’t tried to call or text. He gave me space, even though it must have been hard for him. It must have hurt him to watch me run away…again. Just when I thought about him, he texted me. I have stuff to do, so the house is yours. I’ll be home in the morning. He didn’t want me out in the city, sitting alone in cafés while I tried to juggle my feelings.
I texted him back right away. Please don’t go. I’ll head home now.
His three dots didn’t appear. I had no idea if he was mad or not. It was hard to tell through a text. Now that I had debit cards and credit cards with no limits, I paid for a cab when I normally would have walked. Having unlimited funds made life easier, saved me time, made everything more convenient.
When I returned home, the gate immediately opened for me as if the guards had been expecting me to show up. I took the elevator to the top floor, my heart dancing in my throat, and then I approached the double doors that led to the primary bedroom—the suite I shared with him.
I was scared, scared of something that had already happened, something that had already come true. I stared at the door handle made out of gold before I turned it and stepped inside.
Bastien was in one of the armchairs in the living room, shirtless and barefoot, his knees wide apart as he sat in his gray sweatpants. His elbow was propped on the armrest, his fingers against his temple, and he stared at me with an empty look.
He showed no anger. No resentment. Nothing at all.
I moved to the end of the couch, the spot closest to the armchair, feeling his stare follow me then burn into my cheek.
The fireplace was cold because it was a warm day, the sun coming through the open curtains. It was almost five now, so the sun would be going down soon. I focused on the fireplace because it was so hard to look at him.
“Sweetheart.”
I blinked once or twice before I found the strength to meet his stare head on. When my eyes locked on his piercing blue eyes, I felt a rush of adrenaline.
“You’re the one who said it—not me.”
“I know…”
“Several times.”
“Yeah…”
“I’ve taken it slow like I said I would. My foot was on the brake, but you stepped on the gas.”
“I get it, Bastien.”
“Then why am I being punished right now?” His tone turned clipped, the anger coming out.
“Punished?”
“You tell me you love me, and then you leave,” he said. “That’s called whiplash.”
I stared at the fire.
“Look at me.”
I sucked in a deep breath and met his look.
Now, he looked furious, his eyes hard and angry. “What is the problem, Fleur?”
“There is no problem.”
“Then why did you run?”
“I didn’t run. I just needed a moment.”
“To what?” he snapped. “You can tell your ex-husband you love me, but you don’t have the balls to say it to my face?”
I sucked in another breath. “He told you that?”
“Yeah, he fucking did,” he said. “You’ve said it three times—that I know of. But you act like this is brand-new information?—”
“May I speak?” His anger had gotten the best of him, and he was running me into the ground.
A flash of anger moved over his eyes, but he gave a nod and conceded.
I tried to piece together my emotions, to build them into a story that would make sense. “I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way. Makes me wonder if I’ve always felt this way. Since the night we met. Since the first time I touched you…” I swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze because the anger was still visible. “I fought it for a long time, but then I fought it less, and that’s when it started to creep into my words and actions without my even realizing it. Because it’s just so inherently right that I knew it was true before I even admitted it.”
His eyes began to soften, his anger fading away like clouds on the wind.
“It scares me because…I know this is it. When I married Adrien, I thought it would last forever, but this is so different, I can’t even compare the two. I wasn’t the same person then that I am now—and this is who I’m supposed to be.”
He showed no anger at all now. Just a soft gaze.
I looked away because it was too much. “I love you so much—” within a single breath, the tears were in my eyes, blurring my vision “—that it fucking scares me. I drowned in a coffin, and I still want to stay. I’ve watched men try to kill you, men who would have killed me if they’d succeeded with you, and I still can’t imagine my life with anyone else. This is not the life that I wanted—but I don’t fucking care because you’re the man I want.” My voice rose louder as I continued to talk, continued to cry. “And I can’t believe this is it, that this is my life. Because even though I trust you, I’m still fucking scared because I love you more than I ever loved him, and you could fucking break me into pieces if you ever walked away.” My cries turned to sobs, an ugly cry, but I couldn’t stop the dam that had opened and the flood that rushed out. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I would rather drown in that coffin again than watch you leave me for someone else.” I knew he would be angry with me for what I said, for comparing him to Adrien, for suggesting he was capable of such deceit, but those were my true feelings. I didn’t believe he would ever hurt me, but just knowing the power he had if he chose to hurt me was fucking terrifying.
“Sweetheart.” He moved over to me, his knees on the rug, sliding his hands into my hair to pull it from my face. He swiped his thumbs over my cheeks to catch the tears that dripped to my lips.
I looked at him, his face blurry from the moisture that coated my eyes. My breaths continued, labored and shaky, and I felt stark naked in a blizzard, vulnerable to the cold, with a sharp dagger to my heart.
I blinked a few times, his face becoming clear.
He continued to stare at me. “I have the power to hurt you, but you have the power to bring me to my knees, to make me fall stupidly and desperately in love when I thought I was incapable of feeling a damn thing. Now I have something I love more than anything, something I must protect like my life depends on it, because it does. I’m wrapped around your finger, trapped under your thumb, so hopelessly in love with you that I would burn this city if you ever left me.” He slid his hand farther into my hair and cradled my face. “But I know you won’t, not when I’ll never give you a reason to. Not when I’ll suffocate you with my love and desire. When I’ll never make you question what you mean to me, when I’ll never make you wonder where I am or who I’m with, when your call is the one I’ll always take. When a minute doesn’t pass before your text gets a reply.”
He wasn’t angry with me. Instead, he showered me with love that I didn’t know he felt.
“We’re in this together, sweetheart.”
I stopped crying, holding on to his wrists for the strength I didn’t possess.
He continued to stare at me, my face cradled in his hands, with his eyes soft but determined. “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it to me, and he said it so calmly and so sincerely, like there was no doubt in his heart. “You’re the first, the last, and the only.”
“Bastien…” I felt my eyes water again before I pressed my forehead to his. “Fuck, I love you.”