6. Fleur
6
FLEUR
We’d made love before, but this was different.
I used to hide my heart behind my eyes, lock my soul in a cage so it couldn’t touch his, but now, everything poured out like sand from a bottle. My focus was no longer on protecting myself, but on letting myself be open to him, feeling everything that I’d been afraid to feel.
He was on top of me, my knees squeezing his torso, my ankles locked together in the center of his back, bending and tilting to accommodate him as he rocked into me, his muscular arms holding his body above mine, his hungry lips kissing mine with sexy slowness, really feeling my lips, savoring them.
My hands scooped behind his shoulders, and my nails dug into his flesh, feeling him worship me with kisses to the neck, to the corner of my mouth, his tongue in my mouth before he stole my breath away.
I’d already come at the start of this, not because it was the best sex I’d ever had, but because I was so fucking in love with this man. I admitted it to myself, felt it in my broken heart with a painful throb.
“I love you,” I said it against his lips, feeling the twinge of pain burn inside me, giving myself fully to him to do whatever he wanted. My fate was in the palm of his hand—and he could crush me.
He moaned against my mouth like I’d said something dirty. His cock twitched inside me like I’d said the perfect words to get him off. He continued to rock into me, but his thrusts slowed as he gave his final pumps—and then he filled me. He filled me as he rested his lips against mine, his muscular chest like a cloud over my sky, the smell of his sweat and the rain all around me.
He finished then rubbed his nose against mine, his blue eyes endless in their depth. He kissed me then kissed me again, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered to him. Still hard, like he didn’t need a break or a moment to catch his breath, he started to rock again, sliding through my cream and his come. “I fucking love you, sweetheart.”
I’d fallen asleep, and when I woke up, it was dark outside.
I looked at the time on the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was almost eight, so I’d taken an hour nap. Bastien wasn’t there, so he must have already showered or gone into the living room.
I lay there for a bit before I got out of bed, helping myself to one of his shirts like whatever was his was mine.
He was on the couch in his sweatpants, the TV off, the lights dim.
My stomach gave a loud rumble and announced my presence to the room.
He smirked before he looked away from his phone and stared at me. “You and me both, sweetheart. How about a pizza and strawberries in the tub?”
“I thought baths weren’t your thing.”
“I’m open to new things.”
I sat on the couch beside him, and he immediately hooked his arm around me and pulled me close, planting kisses on my neck and my exposed collarbone, making me feel like his favorite person in the world.
I knew he was mine.
He fired off a text to Gerard like it was room service. “I’ll start the water.” He began to get up, but I kept him down.
“It’s okay. Let’s just stay on the couch.”
He studied me, clearly picking up on everything I didn’t say. “Sweetheart, it’ll be okay.”
Sitting in a tub full of water reminded me of my watery grave. “I’d rather stay on the couch.”
“I know how much you love taking baths. Don’t throw that away?—”
“It’s too soon.”
“I’ll be there with you.”
I looked away.
He cupped my face and directed my eyes to his. “I’ll be there with you.” A calm confidence was in his gaze, not a sharp sternness. It wasn’t him telling me what to do, but him encouraging me to do it.
With every passing day, I felt better. Felt that memory drift further to the back of my mind. It was something that would stay with me for the rest of my life, a part of who I was now, but it didn’t have to define me. I stared into his eyes for a while before I gave a slight nod. “Okay.”
He kissed the corner of my mouth before he walked into the bathroom. The water came on a moment later, the faucet audible.
I’d taken a couple of baths in there as a guest. Reading in the bath every day while Bastien was asleep or at work would have been my favorite activity after I moved in, but I’d never even considered it after what had happened. Now I went to cafés and listened to music on my headphones so I wouldn’t have to hear the chatter of people nearby. The tub wasn’t even an option.
Bastien seemed to realize that and wanted it to change.
He came back to me on the couch, his arm moving around my shoulders as he pulled me into his side. He brushed a kiss against my hairline. “You’ve lived here a while, and never once have you used it. Time for a change.”
I swallowed, thinking about the cold water against my feet and shoulders, the way it pressed against the back of my neck as it continued to rise. It had been on my mind the first time I’d taken a shower after. Still crossed my thoughts when I waited for the temperature of the shower water to turn from cold to hot.
Bastien stared at the side of my face. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known.”
I gave a quiet scoff. “Your mother was married to a drug kingpin for however long—and I can’t take a bath.”
“She knew my father had mistresses, and she stayed. She was fortunate enough never to be a pawn in someone’s cruel game. In the face of adversity, she’ll choose to ignore it. But not you.”
“Leaving a cheating husband isn’t brave.”
“If it’s not brave, then why do so few women do it?”
I stared at the table.
“I know you can do this.”
“What does it matter?—”
“It matters because I don’t want you to live your life in fear, afraid to enjoy something that used to bring you joy. You give power to your enemies—power they don’t deserve.”
“Bastien, no offense, but you’ve never died.”
He stared at me for a long time, like the words dismantled his argument. “No. But you’re a hell of a lot braver than I am.”
Gerard brought dinner, drinks, and dessert, and Bastien got into the bathtub first. It was big enough to fit four adults comfortably, but Bastien was bigger than the average adult, so he took up two spots himself.
The bathtub wasn’t long and narrow, far rounder than a coffin, so at least they were aesthetically different. The pizza had been placed on a riser so it wouldn’t get wet from our movements, and there were several bottles of champagne for us to enjoy. A couple weeks ago, this would have been the most romantic night of my life, but now, it felt like a challenge, one that brought me a shit-ton of anxiety.
“Sweetheart, you got this.” He reached his hand over the edge of the tub so I could grab it and use it to step over the side and into the warm water. He wore his look of confidence, staring hard into my gaze with transparent calm.
I didn’t want someone else to dictate my life. Didn’t want a dead person to have such power over me. But it was hard to be brave. If it were easy, then everyone would be brave. I stared at the water then looked at his hand again, giving a quiet sigh before I grabbed his fingers.
The smile on his mouth and the pride in his eyes lit up the whole fucking sky. “Attagirl.”
One foot hit the water and then the next. I stood there with the water to my knees, the bubbles on the surface from the bath gel he’d added. The overhead lights had been dimmed, and I stood in a bathroom that was more expensive than an average apartment. It was nothing like a coffin in a muddy grave. The only commonality between them was the water that swirled around my feet.
After a beat, I lowered myself into the water across from him, letting the warmth submerge me to my shoulders. Nightmares still struck me, despite the weeks that had passed. Bastien didn’t know any of that because he was out working. But having the walls of his home surrounding and protecting me was enough to make me feel safe again.
He leaned against the edge of the other side of the tub, his arms stretched out along the sides, looking like someone who enjoyed a bath even though he never took one.
I sat there with my arms around my knees, looking at the bubbles that floated on the surface of the water. It took me a couple minutes to accept it, to rationalize the situation and convince myself I wasn’t in danger, that this moment was nothing like the other. My heart started to slow, and the smell of the pizza was suddenly noticeable.
He watched me the whole time but didn’t say a word, giving me time to adjust to the situation on my own. He picked up his champagne flute and took a drink before he grabbed the bottle and refilled it.
I looked at the pizza. “Smells good.”
The smirk on his face was so handsome. It’d melt my panties if I wore any. “There’s my girl.” He grabbed a piece off the platter then took an enormous bite, eating half of it in a single go.
I grabbed one for myself and took a bite, the cheese fresh like it was just grated, the sauce homemade like Gerard whipped it up on the stove before he’d poured it on the dough. It was covered in mozzarella and veggies—mushrooms, tomatoes, olives, and artichoke hearts. “Let’s hope Gerard doesn’t quit and open his own pizza place.”
He smirked. “I pay him too much to even think about it.”
“Does he live here?”
“Yep.”
“Does he get time off?”
“He does. He has an assistant cover for him, usually on the weekends because I’m out of the house.”
“That’s dedication.”
“It’s a dream job in the hospitality world. Makes two hundred thousand euros a year and has no rent or bills and eats for free.”
My jaw almost dropped. “That’s an insane amount of money.”
“I think he’s worth it.”
“How do you know he won’t just work for a couple years then quit when he can retire?”
Bastien grabbed another piece and took a bite. “If that’s his prerogative, I’ll hire someone else. But I doubt he will. I’m pretty easy to work for.”
“That’s what you think.”
He chuckled before he downed the rest of his slice. “He’s never complained.”
“Because he’ll get fired.”
“I’d only fire him if he betrayed me to my enemies or tried to fuck you. If the laundry isn’t done or there’s dust on the counter, I don’t give a shit.”
“Then maybe I should have taken you up on that offer to be your whore a long time ago.”
He gave me a long stare, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “It’s got a lot of perks. Great pay and a free place to live. But the job itself is a little challenging…”
“Isn’t it what I do now?”
He gave a slight shrug. “Close, but not quite.”
The conversation took my focus off the past entirely. Now, I didn’t associate the tub with the coffin at all. “Is there something you’d like to do that I’m not doing?” I thought our sex life was pretty great. I’d slept with a lot of men during my ho era, but I wasn’t exactly kinky. Bastien, on the other hand, seemed like he’d be down for anything.
“That’s not what I said.”
“But you just said it would be different.”
“It would be different,” he said. “But I don’t want it to be different.”
He said what he meant, but I was lost. “I’m having a hard time following this.”
“It doesn’t matter, so we should just forget it.”
“I want to know. Say what you mean.”
He smirked slightly, his own words thrown back at him. “Alright, sweetheart.” He grabbed his glass and took a drink. “If you were my whore, we’d have a very different relationship. I’d boss you around, tell you what we’re doing and how we’re doing it. But I don’t want that kind of relationship with you because I’m in love with you.”
My insecurity started to slip away.
“I wouldn’t pay a whore to do vanilla. But I’ll gladly do that with you. I’d fuck a woman in the ass, but I wouldn’t do that with you. That’s the difference.”
A surge of jealousy suddenly filled me but I wasn’t sure why. He didn’t care about all the guys I fucked around with, so it seemed immature to care about his past. But he spoke about prostitution like he was well-acquainted with it. “It sounds like you’ve paid for sex a lot.”
He responded honestly, like he always did. “A lot isn’t accurate. Some would be more appropriate.”
“But you’re so hot. Why would you need to pay someone?”
He would normally have smiled at the comment, but he didn’t this time. “Sometimes it’s nice to get down to business with no bullshit. And you can do things that you wouldn’t do with a woman you met at a bar or whatever.”
“Like?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“So…you wouldn’t fuck me in the ass?” I was almost offended by it, that he would do stuff with strangers but not with me.
He looked me dead in the eye. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.”
“You don’t know?—”
“I do,” he said firmly. “It hurts like hell. I don’t mind hurting a woman who’s being paid to be hurt, but I don’t have any desire to do something like that to you. You’re taking this offensively when it should be the opposite.”
“I just didn’t realize you were into…other things.”
“I’m a man. Of course I am.”
“But if you won’t do those things with me?—”
“What we have is so much better than anything I’ve ever paid for. You can’t put a price on this.”
He smacked my insecurity away like a buzzing gnat.
I felt better, but unease still lingered in my chest.
He saw it on the surface of my eyes. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”
I wanted to hide from the truth, lie and say everything was fine, but he didn’t lie to me, so I didn’t want to lie to him. “I guess…I’m jealous. Knowing you were paying whores to do whatever you wanted… I don’t know.”
“There were far more women I didn’t pay, if that makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t,” I said with a sarcastic laugh. “Just hard to wrap my mind around it.”
He stared at me for a while. “You said you’ve been with a lot of guys. It doesn’t bother me.”
“But I didn’t pay them.”
“Why does the exchange of money matter?”
“I don’t know…it just bothers me.”
“Prostitution is the oldest profession in the world. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman to look down on it.”
“I don’t look down on it. I just don’t like the fact that you turn to other women for something that you’d never want from me. Makes me feel…like I’m not enough or something.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth, sweetheart,” he said. “And this was before you, before I met you, before I walked into that bar and you set my heart on fire.” He stared me down with that intense expression, like he could grip me without even touching me. “Before I became insanely and dangerously obsessed with one woman.”
He defeated my insecurity once again, and I felt foolish for letting it bother me in the first place. “Was this one of the secrets you mentioned earlier?”
He cocked his head slightly when he absorbed the question. “No. The purpose of a secret is to conceal shame. I have no shame in paying for sex.”
Then, I didn’t know what secret he wanted to protect. He killed people all the time, so I assumed it had nothing to do with that. He didn’t seem like a thief or a cheat, so that didn’t make sense either. I was curious but didn’t ask. “It’s hard to imagine a scenario where you would feel shame.” Perhaps it was something he’d done a long time ago, before he became a man, when he was still a boy trying to find his way in the world.
His eyes finally left mine, looking at nothing in particular, staring at the wallpaper on the wall. The quiet was amplified by all the tile and porcelain, reflected by his brilliant blue eyes. His gaze eventually came back to me. “I’ve only shared this with one person—Luca. But I should share it with you too, because you deserve to know the man you love and decide if you still want to love him.”
“If love was a choice, I would have left a long time ago.” I had no control when it came to Bastien. From the moment we met, I was sucked into his magnetism like he was a black hole that could grab hold of something as transparent as light. “Whatever you say won’t change anything, babe.”
He stared with vacant eyes, looking at my face like I was a painting rather than a person. His closed fist was against his temple as he rested his face against it for support. The shine in his eyes was gone, like a cloud had moved over his sun. “I killed my father.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to say—but it wasn’t that. From what he’d shared about his father, he sounded like an asshole, but he must have done something really sinister for his own son to kill him. I didn’t press for more information, treading carefully around this subject because I could see how sensitive it was.
“We hadn’t spoken in two years. I told him I was ashamed to call him my father, and then he pretended I didn’t exist for the final years I lived in the house. I received shit marks in my final years of school, so university was out of the question. I moved out at eighteen and didn’t hear from anyone but my mother. No call. No text. Nothing. Then my father came by my apartment when I was twenty…and it happened.”
“Why?”
He took his time choosing an answer to that. His eyes were guarded like they were bulletproof. “Because his love was conditional. It had to be earned on his terms and under his regime. If I wasn’t a soldier in his army, then I was the enemy. He said some things he could never take back—and I did something I could never take back.” He didn’t give me specifics, like even after all this time, it was still hard to talk about. “It wasn’t premeditated, but it wasn’t self-defense either. I snapped.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to handle something so delicate. “Does your mother know?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “No. If she did, she would never speak to me again. There are times I want to come clean because she deserves to know who killed her husband, but I know it would kill her. And I mean that literally—she would swallow a whole bottle of pills to make the pain stop.”
She was better off not knowing, in my opinion. “Does your brother know?”
He nodded.
“And he’s never told her?”
“For the same reason. He knows she couldn’t take it.”
I struggled to find the words to say, to comfort him when I didn’t have the story or the facts. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that.”
“He’s a lot sorrier than I am since he’s dead.” He looked away, grabbed his glass, and took another drink.
“Whatever the reason you did it, I love you just the same.” His father’s love had been conditional, but mine wasn’t. If it were, I would have left the second our lives became tumultuous. I’d be dating some guy who ran a restaurant or something. A normal life with normal expectations.
His stare landed on my face with invisible heft and stayed there, rooted in place for what felt like forever. “I know you do.”